Deborah Crombie - And Justice There Is None

They found Otto wiping down tables after the last of the lunchtime customers. He smiled when he saw Gemma, but she noticed that his expression became neutrally wary as she introduced him to Kincaid.

"Otto, this is Superintendent Kincaid from Scotland Yard. He's working with me on this investigation."

"Please, sit." Otto pulled out two chairs for them. "Anything I can do. A coffee on the house?"

"No, we're fine, really," Gemma replied. "Could you join us for a moment?"

Otto sat, his bulk balanced with surprising grace on the small chair. "Young Alex is back, have you heard?"

"He came to see me this morning. Apparently, Fern took him to his aunt's in Sussex for a few days, but she was afraid to tell anyone where he was. Otto, both Alex and Fern have said that you warned them Alex might be in danger from Karl Arrowood. Why did you think that?"

"Karl is a dangerous man. Everyone knows that. One hears stories."

"I think it's more than that," Gemma probed gently. "I think you've had personal experience with Karl. First, a long time ago, when you put him in touch with some Russian, um, colleagues. Then, more recently, before your wife died."

Otto stared at them, his dark eyes unreadable.

"Did you work for Karl in his importing business?"

"Importing, pah!" Otto spat, stung. "He cheats people, Karl Arrowood. That is all he has ever done. I swore I would never again work for such a man!"

"Then you must have had a very good reason for doing so. Did it have something to do with your wife?"

His eyes were like pebbles now, cold and flat. "You will please leave my wife out of this."

Gemma met his gaze evenly. "You had nothing to do with Karl for what, twenty years? You made a life for yourself, a good business, you married, then all of a sudden you connect again with a man you obviously despise. We will find out why, eventually, but I would rather hear it from you."

Otto stared at Gemma, then at Kincaid, as if assessing them both. At last he said, "I have nothing to hide. For myself I do not care, only for my wife's name and my daughters' memories of her. You understand?" When they nodded assurance, he went on. "Karl Arrowood is an evil man. He hated me, merely because when I was a boy I decided I no longer wished to be involved in his… activities. He waited for years, like a spider, until he saw his opportunity. My wife, Katrina, was never strong. She had problems with drugs when she was younger, but she had been better, much better, for a long time. Then after Anna was born, and then Maria, Katrina was depressed, and Karl saw his chance. He made available to her little gifts, and soon she was back to her old ways.

"Of course I did not know at first, and then when I realized what was happening, it was some time before I learned the source. I thought I would kill him, then, but he was too smart for that. Who would take care of Katrina, and the girls, he asked me, if I went to prison? And then he told me that if I didn't do as he wished, he would cut off Katrina's supply. He didn't need me to make his contacts by then, he wanted merely my compliance. And I had no choice. My Katrina was more and more desperate.

"What would have happened eventually, I do not know. But Katrina died, an overdose, and Karl had no more hold over me. Now do you see why I warned Alex to beware? Karl is ruthless. If he had found out about Alex, he would not have let it go unpunished."

"Heroin? Arrowood?"

"But of course. His business is the perfect vehicle. He buys antiques for cash, which are then sold legitimately. Even if his profits are only on paper, it doesn't matter. He has laundered his money."

"Mr. Popov," Kincaid leaned forward, "if Karl Arrowood did such a terrible thing to you, to your wife, why didn't you go to the authorities?"

"My girls know nothing of this, of their mother's problem. They will know nothing."

"But what if you found a way to make Arrowood suffer as you suffered, and no one need ever know?"

"You mistake me, Mr. Kincaid. First of all, I do not think Karl Arrowood cares enough for any living thing to suffer at its loss. Secondly, I would never harm an innocent such as Dawn Arrowood, never. Although I will not lie to you- If I had the opportunity to kill Karl without my daughters being harmed in any way, I would do it in an instant."

"Otto," Gemma said, "you realize we will have to check your alibi for that night. Were you here in the café?"

"On a Friday night? Of course."

"And Wesley?"

"Yes, he was here. I suppose you will have to ask him, but how can you be sure he is not protecting me?" His brow creased as he considered the matter. "There is always the dishwasher, of course. Although his English is somewhat lacking, he can vouch for us both."

"Is Wesley here now?"

"No, he has gone to the produce stall to replenish a few things for tonight's menu, then he will walk the girls home from school. If you go now, perhaps you can catch him before he meets them. And of course, you would not want to give me the chance to fit him up ahead of time." Although a faint twinkle had returned to Otto's eyes, Gemma reminded herself that he was a capable man with the most powerful of motives, and that very few alibis were foolproof.

"Why don't you go back to the Yard?" Gemma suggested as she and Kincaid left the café. "Talk to your mates in the drug squad, see if they know anything about this. I'll find Wesley."

"Right, then. I'll ring you if I learn anything. Otherwise I'll see you tonight." He lifted his hand in a wave and disappeared round the corner into Kensington Park Road.

Gemma headed the other way, down Portobello, keeping an eye out for Wesley's dark dreadlocks. She spotted him soon enough, coming out of the fishmonger's, his arms laden with carrier bags.

"Wesley!"

He crossed the street to join her. "Police ladies have to be doing their own shopping, now?" he asked, grinning.

"I was looking for you." She fell in beside him. "Wesley, last Friday evening, did Otto leave the café for any reason?"

"On a Friday? No way he would do that. Even early, we have plenty customers. Some regulars, they like their dinners early, before the evening-out business starts."

"Including Alex?"

"Sometimes he comes early. That night he did."

"And there's no way Otto could have slipped out for a few minutes without your noticing?"

Wesley laughed aloud. "Otto, he's a little hard to miss, 'case you hadn't noticed. Especially in the kitchen, he be slammin' and bangin' and swearin' at the pots. Gives things more flavor, he says."

"You're absolutely certain?"

" 'Course I'm certain! You're not thinking Otto trotted out in his apron and murdered Miz Arrowood, then came back to finish off his veal osso bucco? That's downright daft!"

"No, I admit it's not very likely."

"Part of the job, accusing people who have shown you hospitality?"

"That's unfair, Wesley," she retorted, stung. "I'm not accusing Otto of anything, just ruling him out. And I don't like it any better than you do."

He glanced at her, frowning. "Why all of a sudden you think Otto would have done such a thing?"

"I'm afraid I can't say. But you could ask him yourself."

"Like the confessional, is it, conversation with the police?"

"Something like that, yes."

"That's good, then," said Wesley, apparently mollified, and they continued walking in companionable silence.

Suddenly Gemma spotted a few wrapped Christmas trees at one of the flower stalls. "Oh, my gosh! I completely forgot about a tree!"

"A Christmas tree? This be for your new home?"

"Yes. We're moving in on Saturday."

"I'll find you a good tree, if you want, and bring it to you. A big one." He chuckled. "A black Father Christmas, how you like that?"