Murder in Hampstead by Sabina Manea (read this if txt) 📕

Nina to the best table in the house. The waiting staff acknowledged her presence with a bow of the head – she was a good customer.

When Lucia arrived, the drinks had already been ordered, a crisply cold vodka martini as her placeholder. The blue eyes narrowed and crinkled into a broad smile. Carliss had made a special effort for the occasion. She could smell the freshly polished leather brogues, and his well-cut blazer was beyond reproach. Nina had helpfully taken the lacquered armchair, leaving Lucia no option but to sink into the black and gold patterned sofa alongside the policeman.

‘Looking good, Detective.’ She rested her fingers on the elegant glass. It was a million miles away from broken lives, convoluted motives, and the resulting dead bodies.

‘So are you. I’ve done very well for myself tonight, haven’t I?’ He smiled at Nina, who shimmered in a pink metallic minidress that only she would have dared to wear so cavalierly. His eyes lingered on Lucia. They made a striking trio.

‘Cheers. To our victory. First martinis, then champagne with dinner, then… who knows?’ rejoiced Nina. She was in her element, with her blonde curls catching the low, theatrical light that reflected off her hazel eye, like a cat in the dark. Lucia wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d named a cocktail after her.

Lucia took a long sip and leaned back, as if resting in an ancient Egyptian sarcophagus. All the other times that she and Nina had been here, they had drunk at the bar on the old cabaret stage, blinded by the mirrors and the possibilities. The alcoves were for lovers, or secretive businessmen striking opaque deals. Her mind wandered. She was loath to bring up the unpleasant subject of the murders but knew she couldn’t find peace until she did. ‘I wonder what gave Emilia the idea of the 1080.’

‘Oh, Lulu, just leave it be,’ Nina groaned. ‘We’re here to forget.’

‘She probably just found it under the sink by accident, and that gave her the perfect means of killing the Professor,’ Carliss said, stifling a bored yawn.

Lucia stubbornly ignored the signals that her friends weren’t in the mood for talking shop. ‘Perhaps. Someone whose job is to kill could have put the idea in her head.’

‘Who? Glover? We can’t prove it, and she confessed,’ interrupted Nina impatiently.

‘What do you think he got up to in Belarus? People like him have extensive knowledge of poison. And the Professor’s murder was so audacious. The poison was in plain sight – anyone could have done it. You just had to keep your cool and nobody could prove it was you. And the clingfilm – that was very smart. He couldn’t have done it himself – not with those stiff fingers. But, in the end, Emilia couldn’t quite deliver – she made two tiny errors. She must really love him to go to prison for him. No man is worth giving up your freedom for.’

‘Lucia, that’s fanciful. I’m with our dear inspector on this – let bygones be bygones. You’re making this story into more than it actually is,’ chided Nina as she ordered another round of drinks.

Lucia wasn’t wholly convinced, but she decided to let it go for the time being. All that hanging around the Professor’s library pretending to sort out her papers – what was to say Emilia and Glover weren’t making sure that no incriminating evidence had been left behind? Nevertheless, Emilia had owned up to her transgressions with full knowledge of the consequences, as was her prerogative. Right now, there was another matter that she wanted to set straight. ‘What happened with Danny in the end?’

‘We charged him. Given how much coke he had in the van, he’s in a lot of trouble,’ replied Carliss, sipping his fresh martini.

‘And the pub?’ It was Leila and Becky that Lucia was worried about.

‘Not enough evidence to close it down. In all likelihood, that’s where he was selling his wares, but none of his suspected customers would talk, and we found nothing. We questioned the landlady – that was an experience that nobody at the station is likely to forget any time soon – and that young barmaid, but they seemed innocent enough, at least for the record.’

Lucia had her own suspicions but decided to keep them close to her chest. Becky was probably not in on it – for all her airs, she was surprisingly naïve. Recalling Leila’s erratic behaviour, Lucia had surmised that the landlady was turning a blind eye to Danny’s line of work in exchange for a steady supply of the product. You couldn’t hold it against her – one of the more plausible stories about the woman’s escape involved a high price paid to the guards on the Turkish border, the kind that didn’t involve any money.

The detective’s eyes were on Lucia, weighing her up. ‘What would you have to say about joining the police as a civilian investigator?’ He watched and waited for her reaction.

This really had come out of the blue. Lucia was speechless. Nina too was watching her closely.

‘Well? I hadn’t banked on total silence,’ the inspector said.

‘I don’t know. I need to think about it. It’s a tempting idea, I must admit.’ The grin on Lucia’s face said it all. ‘Is that actually a thing? Don’t you need… qualifications?’ It sounded too good to be true.

‘Yes and no. You need investigative experience, and I’d say you’ve got plenty. Worth a shot, in any case, if you’re up for it,’ replied Carliss, as if he dared her to refuse.

Martinis morphed into a lavish dinner, and they found plenty to talk about that wasn’t murder. Hours later, after all the champagne had been drunk, Nina kissed them both goodbye and ordered a taxi. ‘Good night, darlings. I know when I’m a third wheel so I’m off. I’ve just remembered I’ve got a husband.’

Lucia