‘There’s a light on at the back so somebody‘s probably in,’ he remarked, and banged on the door.
It was a minute or two before the interior light came on. Silas slowly inched open the door. He’d seen them from an upstairs window and his heart was pounding.
‘Yes, officers, how can I help you? You wanna a tea or coffee perhaps?’
‘No thanks. Can we come in, Mr...?’ Gibbs started to ask and deliberately paused to let him answer.
‘Manatos, Silas Manatos,’ he replied nervously as he stepped back to let them through.
Gibbs noticed the serving counter was covered in dust yet the coffee machine was clean, as were the cups and saucers stacked beside it.
‘How’s business?’ he asked.
‘Not so good ever since council tore down the old housing across road to build that multistorey car park. I lose much trade, but I get by and have some regulars still, early morning, but afternoons quiet.’
Spencer nodded and jerked his hand towards the door.
‘Saw the refurbishing notice on the window — you hoping a new look might help bring a few more punters in?’
‘I was gonna make area to eat downstairs, then open evenings as well to serve nice real Greek meze food. I start work and someone tell council. They tell me stop, cos I have no right to do dat even though I lease the place.’
‘Sorry to hear that,’ Gibbs said.
‘The builder I hire to do work not happy. I say stop and he keep pesterin’ me for money for all materials he bought. I think he is, how you say, cowboy, right?’
Harris stood looking around, and then removed his helmet. ‘You live here, Mr Manatos?’
‘Yes, upstairs.’
‘Alone?’
‘My wife an’ kids already return to Greece as business poor. I gonna go over permanent soon as the council agrees how much I’m gonna get for what’s left on my lease. Did they send you to tell me I gotta leave?’
Gibbs gave him a reassuring smile. ‘No, we’re here because there was a break-in at the tailor’s shop. They tried the hardware store as well, but ran off when we arrived.’
‘This happen tonight?’ Silas asked, looking surprised.
‘Yeah, looks like kids nicking petty cash from the till. They got in and out via the back way. Did you hear anything?’
‘No, I hear nothing.’
‘It looks like they climbed over the adjoining walls. You mind if we check your yard?’ Harris asked.
‘Sure, lemme get the keys. But I telling you I don’t hear or see nothing.’
Sweating, Silas made a show of searching around the counter and then brought out a set of keys on a large ring.
‘Door is at back, I show you.’
Harris and Gibbs followed him.
‘Mind if I use your toilet?’ Gibbs asked, and Silas told him it was in the corner of the eating area.
Gibbs stepped out of view. Hearing them go into the yard, he nipped behind the serving counter and opened the door which, as he’d guessed, led down to a basement. He pulled out the torch he’d brought with him, shone it on the steep stairs and slowly made his way down. The cellar smelt damp, and as he shone the torch round he could see the far wall was lined with freshly painted plasterboard. In one corner there were two ladders, some stacked tables and chairs and on the floor were pots of paint, paintbrushes and a couple of old buckets. A white dust sheet caught Gibbs’s attention. Lifting it back slowly he saw two differently sized gas tanks on a metal trolley with pressure gauges and rubber tubes attached to them.
In the yard Harris flicked on his police-issue torch. Shining it at Silas’s face he noticed the Greek man was sweating more profusely than before. Looking around Harris saw there were stacks of bricks piled up on one side of the yard, and several sacks filled with soil were propped up against the wall.
‘That lot belong to the builders, do they?’ he asked Silas.
‘Uh, yes, I also ask them to build raised areas with small brick wall and fill with soil so I can grow my own herbs and spices for meze. Now that all a waste of time as well,’ he said, wiping his forehead with his shirtsleeve.
‘I doubt they would have come over your wall,’ Spencer said, joining them. He then pointed to the building to the left of the café and shone his torch on it.
‘I see next door have built an extension in their yard; they competition for you?’
‘Na, is part of new bank that open a few years ago. They build reinforced extension for vault area, terrible noise and filth for months.’
Gibbs grinned. ‘The kids will be having a crack at that next.’
Silas let out what was clearly a nervous and fake laugh as he led them back into the café serving area.
Gibbs and Harris thanked Silas for his time as he let them out and locked the door behind them. They walked back to the panda car parked round the corner and got in. As he drove them back to the station Harris told Gibbs about the bricks and soil in the yard and the spice and herb story Silas came out with.
Gibbs smiled. ‘They ain’t painting and decorating down there. All the brushes are dry and I saw remnants of soil in the buckets, also there were two gas tanks down there.’
‘What sort of gas?’
‘One was an oxygen tank and the other something called acetylene... whatever that is.’
Harris whistled. ‘You mix the two together in a blow torch so you can cut through metal.’
‘As all painters need to!’ Gibbs exclaimed cynically and did a drum roll on the dashboard.
‘What do you reckon to Silas then?’ Harris asked.
Spencer loosened his tie, unbuttoned the uniform jacket and sat back. ‘The Greek’s a detective’s delight. He had a rehearsed answer for everything, sweated like a pig and was shitting himself.’
It was almost 9 p.m. and Jane was in her pyjamas, about to go to bed after a long hot bath. She was just brushing her teeth when there was a knock on her door.
‘Hey there, it’s Sarah again. I’ve got the money I owe you.’
Jane was surprised Sarah hadn’t said her surname as usual. She held out her hand as Sarah plonked a bag full of 1p and 2p pieces into it, apologizing and saying she’d had to raid her penny jar.
‘Also, your DCI is in the quiet room and needs to speak to you again, but the old buzzard is patrolling as usual, so if you do go down I’d put some clothes on.’
Jane dressed quickly and gave herself a quick spray of Miss Dior perfume before hurrying downstairs, but Bradfield was not in the quiet room, so she tried the TV lounges and the snooker room, with no luck. She was just heading along the ground-floor corridor to walk over to the pub when she heard him call ‘Jane’ from behind her.
‘Sarah Redhead said you were in the quiet room — has something happened?’
‘I was, but I popped to the gents. There’s nothing new to tell you about the case. I just wanted your company, and to talk.’
There was an embarrassing silence as neither of them seemed to know what to say. Bradfield had obviously showered and changed and was now wearing jeans and a T-shirt.
‘Would you like a drink in the pub?’
She hesitated, and then he leaned towards her and took her hand.
‘This was a bad idea, sorry. You go back to your room and I’ll see you in the morning.’
She gripped his hand tightly. He lifted it to his lips and kissed her fingers.
‘Do you want to risk coming to my room?’
She nodded. He released her hand and looked up and down the corridor.
‘I’m on floor two, number 20. Use the stairs, I’ll go up in the lift and check the coast is clear.’
She watched him get in the lift, waited a minute and then with her heart thudding in her chest hurried up the first flight of stairs. Turning to head up the next flight she panicked as she heard a flurry of footsteps. The petite blonde girl she had seen at the Harker lecture, and in the bathroom, walked through the swing doors from the men’s landing, put a comical finger to her lips and giggled.