Chapter 2: Find the Woman

Chapter 2: Find the Woman

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mrs Kowalska,” Inspector Evans began. “Could you begin by telling us what the nightclub was like when you came to work this morning?”

“Everything looked normal,” she replied, looking him in the eye. “The doors were locked, and the lights were off. The sign outside was still turned on, but that happens quite often.”

“Is there an alarm system fitted here?” he asked.

Inspector Checchino was noting down the information and looked up at the cleaner when she did not reply.

“Do you have an alarm?” Evans repeated.

“Yes. Sorry, I do not understand everything you say,” Helena said. “The alarm was turned off when I arrived. I thought that the big boss was here, or the manager. They sometimes stay in the office and play poker until the morning.”

“I see. Can you tell me the manager’s name, please?”

“Omar Omari,” the cleaner smiled. “He is such a charming man, Inspector. He is always very friendly to me.”

“How many other people work here at the club?”

“I’m not sure. I do not know most of them personally,” Helena replied slowly. “There is a list of names and telephone numbers on the notice board. I can give you a copy.”

“That would be very helpful, thank you,” he said. “It would also help us a great deal if you could answer a few more questions.”

The cleaner sighed a little and looked at her watch.

“I must do some work,” she complained. “I have two more places to go to this morning.”

“I’ll try to be brief, Mrs Kowalska. Have you heard of any arguments involving Stanley Cooper recently?”

The young lady shook her head. “I do not see the big boss often. And when I do, he does not tell me anything like that.”

“I see, but maybe you’ve heard other people talking about him?”

“You should talk to Omar,” she replied. “He knows much more about his private life. In fact, he sometimes complains that he is too - hmm, what is the word? - too involved in it.” Inspector Evans paused and looked across at his colleague.

“I didn’t necessarily mean his private life, Mrs Kowalska. Do you know anything about any business deals, for example? Or have you heard any rumours involving other gangs?”

“Gangs?” she repeated, shocked. “Oh no! I am sorry, I really have nothing to do with any of that. I’m just the cleaner here.”

The police had been knocking for five minutes when Omar Omari finally opened the front door to his apartment in North London. His wild, curly hair was hanging over his eyes, and he was only half dressed. He did not seem at all surprised by the news of his boss’s death.

“So the dirty old swine is dead?” he laughed. “He had that coming.”

“Please take this seriously, Mr Omari,” Inspector Checchino said sternly. “We’re talking about a man’s life - and possibly a very serious crime.”

“What do you mean by ‘possibly’?” he asked.

“We’re still trying to find out exactly what happened last night,” she said calmly. “May we come inside?”

“Why, of course. Do come on in, Officers,” the man said with exaggerated politeness. “Take a seat in the lounge and I’ll be right with you.”

The pair sat down on an old, blue futon that was covered in large stains.

Omar came back a minute later wearing a white T-shirt. He was also carrying a rolled-up pair of socks which he put on as the police began their interview.

“Could you begin by telling us when you left work last night, Mr Omari?” Inspector Checchino asked in a tolerant voice. “Yes, it was a really busy night and I stayed until the end. We had some great DJs playing - Mad Daddy was there, you know - so it was an important event for us all. It went really well.” He brushed his hair away from his eyes and looked at the two inspectors, who both seemed to be expecting him to say more. “Oh, I was there until about 4:30, I suppose,” he finally answered.

Inspector Checchino wrote down the information.

“Did anybody see you leave?” she asked.

“At that time in the morning? No. At least, nobody I know. I got the night bus back up here.”

“Hmm. Well, what can you tell us about Stanley Cooper - was he alone when you left the club?”

“No. A man called Bruno Tartufo was in the office with him all night,” he explained. “He’s the boss’s right-hand man. They’re almost always together, and he was still there when I left.”

“And apart from yourself, Mr Omari, how many people have access to Mr Cooper’s office?” Inspector Checchino asked.

Omar did not flinch.

“I only go in there when I’m invited. Normally I work in my own office across the hall, but I know some people who don’t have to wait for an invitation, if you know what I mean.”

The young man grinned at the two inspectors with perfect white teeth. They looked back at him expressionlessly, not understanding what was so amusing.

“Well, it’s what they always say at the start of a police investigation, isn’t it? Cherchez la femme! And I can tell you right away that Cooper had a young lady friend: a Miss Kim Watt. She had him wrapped around her little finger”

“Kim Watt?” repeated Inspector Checchino.

“Yes, Kim Watt the Kumquat, I call her - a fruity little thing. She manages Cooper’s dog track in Walthamstow. But I’ve seen her in Lust quite a lot lately, too. She always comes to the bar as soon as she arrives and pours herself a gin and tonic, the little madam.”

“Did you see her at the club last night?”

Omar shook his head and brushed back his hair again.

“Who else would Mr Cooper let into his office?” asked the inspector, who suddenly felt there was something strangely attractive about the club manager.

“Just his idiot henchmen, I guess. They do everything for Cooper, and they have keys to all of his bars and clubs. Faithful as dogs, they are - and just as stupid.”

Inspector Evans laughed a little and took down the men’s names.

“Now then,” he continued, “has anything happened lately that could have made Stanley Cooper someone’s enemy?”

“Lots!” Omar exclaimed. “And you’re asking the right person, let me tell you! He tried to get me involved in some of his ‘business activities’ outside the nightclub, but I didn’t want to have anything to do with it.”

“Is that what Helena Kowalska meant when she said that you knew about his private life?” Inspector Checchino wondered aloud.

“Ah, Helena,” sighed Omar, “She doesn’t know the half of it. But yes, I’ve told her some things in private. The boss wanted me to ‘take a message to a client’ in Walthamstow. I’m not paid to go on dangerous missions like that, though!”

“One last thing, Mr Omari,” said Inspector Evans towards the end of the interview. “Do you know how to operate the security camera system at Lust?”

“Of course,” he replied. “I’m the manager there, aren’t I? Actually, I don’t have to do very much at all. It runs automatically, you see. The cameras are connected to a computer that saves the videos for a month, and then they’re deleted.”

“Someone stopped the computer from recording last night,” the inspector explained. “Have you any idea who that might have been?”

Omar blinked at him. “No. But it seems like a sensible thing to do if you’re going to commit a crime, doesn’t it?” he said dryly.

“Is it possible that there’s another copy of the videos somewhere?” Inspector Evans continued. “For example, is the footage sent to another company, or to Mr Cooper’s home computer?”

“Nope,” said Omar simply. “His house is the one place that is totally secure. Bad Manor Park. I’ve heard that it’s like Fort Knox there!”

“Bruno Tartufo!” repeated Inspector Evans after they left the apartment. “This isn’t the first time we’ve heard that name lately.”

The Metropolitan Police were trying to fight the sale of cocaine in and around the West End, and several unimportant members of a drugs ring had mentioned Tartufo.

“Another fine Italian citizen in the city of London,” said Inspector Checchino ironically. “We’re not related, before you say anything.”

Inspector Evans was more interested in finding Tartufo than making jokes. He radioed the station.

“I need addresses for Bruno Tartufo and Kim Watt,” he said. “And make sure that the family liaison officer reaches Stanley Cooper’s daughter before the Polish cleaner starts to gossip!”

Later that day, towards the midafternoon, the two detectives drove to an elegant town house in Chelsea. It was the address of the third and last Kim Watt in central London. The first two had said that they did not know anything about anyone called Stanley Cooper,

The pair had also tried to speak to Bruno Tartufo, but there was nobody home, Inspector Evans walked up the three white marble steps leading to the large, black front door, rang the bell and waited.

The voice that eventually came through the intercom was as sweet as honey.

“Hello?” she asked, her voice almost seductive, “Who’s there?”

“Police, ma’am,” replied the inspector with a small smile, “Please open up!”

The first thing the police saw on the other side of the door was a tall redhead with a surprised expression on her face. Her lips were painted bright red, Moments later; a short man with a thin moustache entered the hallway and stood next to her. He looked at the police and put his arm around the woman, “Miss Watt?” Inspector Evans began, “Yes?”

“We’ve come to talk to you about Stanley Cooper, May we come inside for a moment?”

“Hah! You’ve caught him at last, have you?” joked the small man in an unmistakably Italian accent.

“Bruno, be quiet!” Kim hissed,

“Ah, and you must be Mr Tartufo!” the inspector smiled, “We have a lot to discuss.”