Vicky Newham - Out of the Ashes

‘In what way are they difficult?’

‘ Detektyva , we are immigrants.’ She raised her fist in frustration, and dropped it back on the bed. ‘We work long hours. We’re in a lot of debt because we had to borrow money to set up the business and haven’t paid the loans off yet. Because we are foreigners, we didn’t get the best interest rates. Banks see a Lithuanian passport and immediately see you as high risk.’

I picked up the bitterness in her reply and my heart went out to Indra again. It had been the same for my parents when we arrived in the UK. It’d taken a good ten years for Dad to establish himself, earn enough money for us to live off and gain respect. ‘I understand that. My family were immigrants too, but I don’t see how that relates to you thinking your husband was murdered. Can you fill me in?’

Indra rolled her eyes.

She was a smart woman. Given she’d asked to speak to us, she must’ve known we’d ask her about the call to emergency services. There was something she wasn’t telling us. I was sure of it. ‘Did you think he’d been murdered because you heard that the fire was arson or because you suspected that someone might want to kill him?’

Marta muttered to her sister in Lithuanian.

Indra gabbled a reply and they had a heated exchange. Marta’s speech became faster and louder, and her hands gesticulated in agitation.

‘I don’t remember what I thought,’ Indra said finally. ‘I was in shock when I heard about the fire. I was scared for my husband, and the business is our livelihood.’

I suspected she was going to say something like this. ‘Of course. It must’ve been upsetting news to receive.’ I waited a few moments for her to regain her composure. ‘Who told you about the fire?’

‘Pardon?’

I repeated the question.

‘Tomasz Feldman.’

That was a surprise. ‘Why did Tomasz Feldman tell you about the fire? Do you know him?’

Maya, 8.45 a.m.

I was keen to hear Indra’s response to my question about Tomasz Feldman.

‘I don’t understand—’ Indra said, her voice weary.

‘Is Mr Feldman connected to your shop in some way?’ I was wondering why he had Indra’s phone number.

She muttered to Marta again, then spoke to me. ‘No. We are neighbours. He knows everyone round here.’

Dan raised his eyebrows at me.

‘OK. Last few questions – did your husband have any arguments recently?’

‘ Ne. ’

‘Anyone unhappy about you two opening the soup shop?’ She’d dodged my question about how things had been difficult for them recently.

Marta spoke to her sister in a low voice. Then to me, she said, ‘She can’t think of anyone. If she does, we’ll call you.’

‘I’ve almost finished. Mrs Ulbiene? It’s very important. Who might want to harm your husband or your business?’

Indra glanced at her sister for a cue. Marta was shaking her head from side to side.

‘I’ve answered. I don’t know.’

I didn’t believe her but there was something else I needed to ask before she clammed up. ‘OK. This is the last question. I’m so sorry. There’s no easy way to tell you this. We found a woman with your husband. They were curled round each other on what looks like was a bed. Do you know who the woman might have been?’

‘No idea,’ came her quick response.

Shock was written all over Marta’s face.

‘I don’t want to answer any more questions. I’m tired. Could you leave me now, please?’ Indra flashed me an angry expression. ‘Nurse. Nurse .’

‘Of course.’ I bundled my notepad into my bag. ‘An officer will come later today to take a formal statement from you. You will be asked to provide details of all the people your husband had fall-outs with, and anyone you think might want to harm him or you, or your business.’ I placed my contact card on the bedside table. ‘I’m sorry, but you will also be asked about the woman in the fire. If you remember why you rang 999, please call me. I hope you feel stronger soon.’ I turned to Marta and said gently, ‘Could I have a word, please?’ I gestured for her to follow me towards the ward exit and the lobby area where the lifts were.

Marta placed her hand reassuringly on her sister’s arm for a moment. ‘ Nebus ilgas. ’ She tailed me across the ward, dragging her boots on the linoleum and tutting loudly, in case we hadn’t got the message that she was pissed off with us.

Once we were out of earshot, I turned and faced her. ‘I understand that you’re concerned about your sister, but two people are dead, and you were hindering a murder investigation back there. Given you brought things to a halt, perhaps you can help us with the information we need? Do you know who might have had it in for your sister and brother-in-law?’

‘No.’

‘How about just Simas?’

She snorted contemptuously and her eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘That’s a completely different question. Lots of people. Simas was a piece of shit but love is blind – and my sister has always loved him.’

‘“Piece of shit” in what sense?’

She did an unzipping gesture at the level of the flies on her jeans, and I felt my heart sink.

‘Do you know who the woman in the fire is?’

She opened her hands wide. ‘Could be anyone. If he burnt in that place, it’s what that bastard deserved.’

‘Has he been unfaithful to your sister before?’

Disgust forced air out of Marta’s mouth. ‘Many times. She should have left him but it’s not easy when you’re from a country like ours. This shop, and the baby, were supposed to be their “new start”.’ She made a quotation mark gesture with her fingers as though she never believed it was going to happen, and they were empty words.

‘We have some photographs of the bodies in the fire. Could you look at them for me, please? I’m afraid they aren’t pleasant, or particularly good quality, but until we can see Artem, or persuade Indra to look at them, you’re the best person to identify them.’ On my phone, I brought up a cropped image of the man lying cupped round another person, and showed it to her. ‘Is this your brother-in-law?’

‘ Jėzus Kristus. ’ She turned away, doubling over, her hand over her mouth in revulsion. ‘ Tai virsta. ’ She staggered away from me. ‘Yes, that’s him. That bastard. I’m glad he’s dead. Except my sister will continue to suffer because of him.’ She lurched and stumbled around the lobby area and beat her fist on the lift door several times, muttering agitatedly in Lithuanian.

‘Marta, are you certain that’s Simas in the image?’

She spun round. ‘Yes. I recognise the stud in his ear and the watch. Indra gave them to him for Christmas. Spent far more on him than he was worth.’ She took her phone from her jeans pocket and swiped it into life. ‘Here. Look. This was at Christmas.’ She scrolled through the images and showed me a photo of Indra and Simas around a table, plates loaded with food. Crackers and wrapping littered the tablecloth. They both wore paper hats, and he had his arm round his wife’s shoulders. The watch was clearly visible. She scrolled to another image, one that showed Simas’ face and ear. ‘See. It’s white gold with a diamond.’

‘Are those images date stamped?’

‘Yes. Look.’ Beneath the images, location, time and date were shown.

‘Could I get copies of them, please?’

‘If you’ll let my sister have a bit of time to come to terms with losing everything before you show her these.’ There was an edge to her voice, as though she was used to having to negotiate.

I felt the pressure in her words and let it float for a moment. ‘Marta, I can’t commit to a timeframe, but I give you my word that we won’t put Indra through any unnecessary distress. It’s in your sister’s interests that the murders are solved. She can’t claim on her insurance until the investigation is over.’