Philip Kerr - January Window

‘I get a bit antsy when there’s lots of law around,’ I said. ‘So I’m not looking forward to all that myself. I’m on my way to Hangman’s Wood later on this morning. She — Byrne — wants to question everyone who was at Silvertown Dock yesterday afternoon.’

‘Sounds a little excessive.’ Toyah smiled thinly. ‘There were sixty thousand people there yesterday.’

‘Everyone in the club, anyway. From the kitman to our star striker. Even Viktor Sokolnikov is going to be interviewed.’

‘Good. Because personally I’d put him at the top of a list of possible suspects.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Oh, come on. You know. His background in Russia. All of these oligarchs are dodgy, Scott. Viktor Sokolnikov more than most. Speaking for myself I never trusted him. I mean, you don’t like to disappoint people like that, do you? I’m quite certain that Zarco was afraid of him.’

‘No, he wasn’t,’ I said.

‘Aren’t you?’

‘No. Not in the least.’

‘I’m surprised. You’ve seen some of the thugs he has around him.’

‘They’re bodyguards. He has to be careful. Okay, I wouldn’t want to tangle with any of them. But Viktor’s okay. Really.’ I paused for a moment. ‘Look, he’s asked me to take over as manager, Toyah. I wanted you to be the first to know. Before I told anyone that I’ve said yes. It all seems too soon to be appointing someone new, but—’

‘But there’s a Capital One Cup match on Tuesday. Yes, I know.’ She nodded. ‘I appreciate you telling me, Scott. Just be sure you know what you’re getting into. And remember what I told you. That Zarco was afraid of him.’

‘Thanks for the warning. But in relation to what, exactly?’

‘You remember that Zarco made those remarks about the World Cup in Qatar.’

‘Of course.’

‘It was Viktor who put him up to it.’

‘For Christ’s sake, why?’

‘I don’t know. But I think it was something to do with the naming rights for the Crown of Thorns stadium. But don’t ask me to explain about that because I can’t.’

‘All right. But did you tell any of this to the police?’

‘That he was afraid of Viktor Sokolnikov? I might have mentioned it. But I didn’t mention the Qataris.’

‘What else did they ask you?’

‘Nothing specific. It was more general stuff, really. Did we have any threats at home? Any anonymous phone calls? Did he have any money worries?’

‘Did he?’

‘No, I don’t think so. But he never told me things that he thought might worry me. Anyway, she kept asking me about some photograph of Zarco that had been found in a hole in the pitch at the Crown of Thorns. I didn’t know anything about it. He didn’t tell me. I felt like such an idiot. Did you know about it?’

‘Yes. He told me to forget about it. Not to tell anyone. He thought it was just hooligans, and so did I. I expect he didn’t want you to worry.’

When the coffee was made I handed her a mug. She kept the hot mug in her hands for warmth and indeed it wasn’t very warm in the kitchen. I still had my coat on and was glad of it.

‘What did you tell her?’

‘About what? Threats? Enemies? That kind of thing?’

I nodded.

‘You mean apart from the threats and abuse you guys get during an away game at Liverpool? Or Man U? What was it they used to sing about him at the Stretford End? One João Zarco, there’s only one João Zarco. With a zarky word and a cheeky smile, Zarco is a fucking paedophile . Charming. I don’t know how you stand it, Scott. Really I don’t.’

‘It’s rough out there sometimes.’

‘Not that Zarco was any kind of saint. No one knew better than you, Scott, what he was like. He could wind people up like no one I’ve ever met before. Me included. I probably shouldn’t have told that detective that there were a couple of times when I could have killed him myself. But I did and there were.’

She sipped her coffee noisily.

‘So, yes,’ she said. ‘He had his enemies. I’d like to tell you that things were different at home. But we were never going to win any popularity contests around here, either. Since we started work on number twelve we’ve had numerous complaints. Not to mention several noise abatement actions. Ironic, isn’t it? Me having been in Neighbours for all those years. Zarco even managed to pick a fight with our bloody builders.’

‘What about?’

‘They demolished a bathroom in number twelve we’d planned to keep. There were these two Victorian baths, side by side and they just disappeared. Stolen, we think. Anyway, the matter was under dispute until a couple of weeks ago. So it looks like everything has been sorted out. But that hardly seems to matter now.’

‘What will you do?’

‘Go back to Oz,’ she said. ‘As soon as the funeral is over. Finish the house and sell it. I can’t bear it here. I couldn’t feel less welcome in this square if I was a bloody Nazi war criminal.’

I nodded. ‘Look, Toyah, I know this is difficult but if you do think of something — something that you think might help the police find out who killed him — then I’d appreciate a heads-up. It could be anything at all. Anything that strikes you as strange. Anything you didn’t know about. Something that might fill in a few blanks, perhaps. As you know I’ve got a few reasons for distrusting the police and I want to make damn sure that no stone is left unturned in finding Zarco’s killer. Even if I have to turn sleuth myself.’

‘Good. I’m glad.’ She nodded. ‘He was right about you, Scott. He always said that you were the most dependable bloke in the whole club. Just make him proud, okay? That’s all I ask. Go and win the next one for Zarco.’

I drove back to Manresa Road so that Sonja would have her car when she returned to London from her French conference. We spoke again on the telephone and she told me she was on her way to the Gare du Nord to catch the Eurostar back home, for which I was very glad. Just having her around made me feel better about everything.

As soon as the cab company texted me to say that their driver was in front of the building I grabbed my bag and went outside. It was a bitterly cold January day and the sun was so ill defined in the uniformly white sky that it was almost invisible. With my face shrouded in the upturned collar of my new winter coat — a Christmas present from Sonja — I pushed through the many cameramen and climbed into the back of the people-carrier. I tried telling myself that I was lucky to be working in a sport which could generate this amount of media attention, that if it were any other game but football no one would have been there, but it didn’t work. I felt beleaguered and under pressure — not just from the press, but from my new job and the extra responsibilities given to me by my employer. How was it possible that I was going to successfully manage a Premier League football team and solve a serious crime?

The very next moment, as if he had been reading my mind, I got a text from Simon Page asking me if he thought we should be fielding a full-strength side against the Hammers in a competition like the Capital Cup. It was an easily answered question. In spite of what title-hungry fans thought, you always let the money do your thinking for you: staying in the Premier League was worth between forty and sixty million quid a year to a club; a place in the Champions League group stage was worth about twenty-five million quid; the League Cup was worth shit. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted us to stay in the competition; with the Mickey Mouse cup, sometimes losing was a better outcome than winning, and as poisoned chalices go the League Cup was more toxic than most. But even worse than winning the League Cup was the prospect of the winner being obliged to play in the Europa League, a competition that amounted to the biggest fucking headache in football. I texted back one word: RESERVES. Who knows: maybe we’d find another star like Christoph Bündchen; but for Zarco sacking Ayrton Taylor, Bündchen would still have been on the bench.