Chapter Twenty-Two
15:00 hours
He was in his late fifties.
He had brown eyes, neither large or small, and his hair was short. Brown curls sprinkled with grey. He wasn’t particularly good-looking or unattractive.
Simply average.
A face in a crowd. Instantly forgettable apart from his cheekbones. So pronounced you could sharpen a knife on them.
Love and Stuart watched as he moved about the shop. He wore a pair of black jeans and a grey cashmere crew-neck jumper. Stuart gazed at him. Summoning the man up. The clothes certainly weren’t cheap but not at the highest end of the range either.
‘What do you think?’ Love said.
Stuart tilted his head to one side. ‘I reckon we’re looking at a man who is controlled, possibly cold, neat, and likes to be surrounded by nice things. He appreciates quality clothes and wears them well.’ He glanced down at the man’s feet. ‘Hard to say from here where his shoes are from but I would guess you wouldn’t get much change from £150.00.’
‘He doesn’t mind spending money on his gear.’
‘No,’ Stuart said. ‘He’ll pay and be happy to do so.’
The shop wasn’t at its busiest and for that, Love and Stuart were thankful. They stepped over the threshold and walked across to one of the shelves stocking a variety of toys. Amongst the die-cast metal toys were some that looked like they were made in China. Cheap but fun. Inexpensive pieces of plastic to make your stay in hospital just that little bit more pleasant and forgettable.
Stuart reached forward and took from the shelf a Corgi Toys red tractor. As he gazed down at it resting in his hand, he said, ‘I remember playing with my older brother’s Corgi and Dinky Toys and of course his Lesney Matchbox cars and boats.’
‘I’ve heard of them,’ Love said.
‘They were all great,’ Stuart said. ‘Dinky’s Ed Straker’s car from the series UFO.’
‘Yeah, cool series.’
‘He amassed quite a collection by the time I came along twelve years later. Not ostentatiously large but select.’ Stuart smiled. ‘I remember he had a white Police Mini Cooper,’ he paused momentarily, ‘oh yes, and a Thunderbird 2 from the series Thunderbirds.’ He placed the tractor back on the shelf next to a Moshi Monsters Bus. ‘This Moshi bus is one of Shannon’s favourites along with her Corgi Toys emergency services pack.’ He looked at Love. ‘She diversifies.’
‘Good for her,’ mumbled Love.
‘And this is another favourite this Breyer Saddle Up Eva doll,’ he said. He picked up the palomino standing next to the doll and chuckled softly. ‘Especially the horse,’ he added as he replaced it on the shelf.
They continued down the entire aisle passing the whole series of the Moshi Monsters die-cast 2D pin badges along with a decent selection of Airfix military aircraft kits. Something for all children to suit all ages, tastes and pockets.
They turned the corner. Music drifted over the shopper’s heads as a handful of relatives, friends and parents strolled past an impressive display of fresh flowers, a variety of chocolates, a selection of pretty toiletries.
The two men continued, turned the corner and came back to the entrance. A large display of books, newspapers and magazines lined the stands along with a variety of cigarettes and sweets. The man with the peppered curly hair was standing behind the till.
‘Can I help you?’
His voice and mannerisms were familiar. Love pulled his wallet out, opened it and flashed his badge. ‘DCA Love and this is DCA Le Fanu.’
Stuart flashed his badge. ‘We’re looking into the recent abduction and murder of a woman whom we believe was a customer of this shop,’ he said. ‘Are we addressing the owner?’
The man smiled. Fine lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes. An average face granted but pleasant. ‘You are indeed,’ he said.
‘And you are?’ Love said.
‘My name is Robert Pfeiffer.’
‘Mr Pfeiffer, sir, I’d like to show you a photograph of the victim,’ Love said. He pulled out a colour snap. It was a recent photograph taken of Monica in the back garden of her home in Exford Road, Lee. An attractive 1930s semi-detached house with mock-Tudor frontage so prevalent of the art deco period. The picture showed an attractive woman. Happy. Smiling. He handed it to Pfeiffer. ‘Do you recognise her?’
The man took the photo and gazed down at it. ‘Pretty girl,’ he murmured. He shook his head and handed it back. ‘Sorry, I don’t recall seeing her.’
‘She would have been here during the week Monday, 15 October, sometime during the evening,’ Stuart said.
‘No, sorry,’ the man replied. He looked at Love, and said. ‘Are you sure she shopped here?’
‘Yes, we have some receipts,’ Stuart said, and pulled out a sheet of A4 on which were copies of six different receipts. No names of the shops or items simply a few codes, the amount, the total amount and the date. Chris had sent it through on the M-CADD just as they were pulling into St Katherine’s. He handed it to Pfeiffer. ‘Do you recognise any of these?’
Pfeiffer took the paper from Stuart’s hand and looked closely at it. ‘Bit difficult to read some of these,’ he said.
‘Sorry about that but that’s the state they were received in,’ Love said.
‘This isn’t mine,’ he said, pointing to one. ‘And neither is this or that one.’ He looked up at Stuart and then Love. ‘But the other three look like mine.’
‘Can you tell me what the items were for?’ Love said.
‘Yes, certainly, this one is for flowers, cigarettes, paperback, toy aeroplane.’
Stuart gazed up at the model aeroplanes sitting on a shelf. Spitfires, Concorde, and dangling from the ceiling like they were coming in to attack were Messerschmitts Me 109 and the Me 262. ‘I like your aeroplanes,’ he said. ‘Interesting choice.’
Robert Pfeiffer followed Stuart’s gaze. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Good, aren’t they? My son’s choice actually.’
‘Really?’
‘They’re a good seller.’
‘Which models?’
‘All of them.’
Love glanced at Stuart just as a woman with white hair dressed in a woollen overcoat, pushed past him. She looked up at Love. ‘Excuse me, but are you going to be much longer, dearie?’
‘Please, go ahead,’ Love said. He stepped to one side.
Mr Pfeiffer took the woman’s items, rang them up on the till, she handed over a five-pound note, he gave her some change. He placed the items in a paper bag. She took it, smiled up at Love.
‘Thanks, love, you’re a good boy.’
‘My pleasure, ma’am,’ Love said, and grinned. It was long time since he’d been called a boy.
‘Look,’ Mr Pfeiffer said. ‘Let me get my son out to man the front.’ He edged his way out from behind the till, gave the sheet of receipts back to Stuart, and said, ‘He’s in the back doing some stocktaking it won’t take a minute.’
He strode through the shop opened a door which had “Private” written on it and a moment later returned with a younger version of himself following right behind.
‘DCA Love, DCA Le Fanu, this is my son, Heinrich.’
Love took the hand being offered to him. ‘I believe we’ve already met,’ he said.
Heinrich gazed at Love with no sign of recognition. He glanced at Stuart then back at Love. Suddenly, he smiled. ‘Oh yes, from earlier today, I remember.’
‘We’d like to ask you some questions if we may,’ Stuart said as he shook Heinrich’s hand. He noticed he was wearing a different outfit. ‘I see you’ve changed clothes from this morning.’
Heinrich looked momentarily surprised. He glanced down at his jeans and smiled. ‘Wow! How observant of you. Yes, I spilt some washing-up water on them so I went home and changed.’
‘And where is home?’ Love asked.
‘Mill Hill,’ Heinrich said. ‘I share a house.’
‘My house actually,’ Mr Pfeiffer said. H
e smiled. ‘Heinrich made a couple of the rooms into his own space. They were just sitting empty so Heinrich did them up and made them his own.’
‘Nice idea,’ Stuart said.
‘Yes, we thought so.’
Love watched as Heinrich shoved his hands in his pockets. He had shoulder-length, wavy brown hair not as curly as his father’s, and a pair of brown eyes. He smoothed down his blue jeans. He was neat. Possibly obsessive. Going home because of some washing-up water? What had he done - bathe in it?
Stuart handed Heinrich the photo of Monica. ‘By the way, I hope you don’t mind my asking but Heinrich Pfeiffer sounds like a typical German name,’ he said, and smiled. ‘My name is Irish and I get asked all the time where in Ireland I’m from but I was actually born in Oxford although strictly speaking I’m half Irish.’
Heinrich smiled. ‘That’s all right, Detective, my father and I were both born in London but my grandfather and his forebears are from Hamburg.’
‘And you’re named after your grandfather?’ Love asked.
‘Yes, he was a pilot during the war,’ Heinrich said. ‘In 1945 he was shot down and wounded over Redhill where he baled out and was captured.’ He shrugged. ‘Then after the war he just stayed on in England.’
‘Nice place,’ Stuart said.
‘Redhill?’ Heinrich asked.
‘Hamburg,’ he said, and pointed to the photo in Heinrich’s hand. ‘Do you remember this woman?’
He looked down at the picture. No emotion crossed his face. He returned it almost immediately. ‘Should I?’
‘She was in your shop during the week 15 October on three separate occasions,’ Stuart said. ‘We’ve asked your father but he doesn’t recall seeing her.’
‘No, I’m sorry I can’t help you but I don’t recognise her.’ He licked his lips.
Stuart stared at him. He was young, early twenties, average height, good-looking. Neat. Presentable.
Stuart handed Heinrich the sheet of receipts. ‘Your father has identified these three receipts as yours,’ he said, pointing to the sheet. ‘Do you recall seeing the victim on either of these dates?’
Heinrich gazed down at the sheet before handing it back to Stuart. ‘No, sorry, still doesn’t ring a bell.’
‘Do you recognise her son?’ Stuart pulled out a recent school photo of Timmy.
Heinrich took it and looked down at the face of the young boy. His father leant towards it to get a better look. ‘Nice-looking boy,’ he said.
Love smiled. ‘Do you recognise him?’
‘Sorry,’ Mr Pfeiffer said. ‘No, I don’t, Heinrich, do you?’
Heinrich smiled and shook his head. ‘Sorry, I don’t.’
‘Do you have any other staff working here, Mr Pfeiffer?’ Love asked.
‘Yes, we have two others. Their names are Anna Brown and Susan Marshall.’
‘And is either one here today?’
‘No, Detective Love, Susan works only on weekends in the morning from nine o’clock when we open to twelve o’clock and from two o’clock until we close.’
‘And Anna Brown?’
‘Anna comes in every day during the week from two o’clock until closing but today she’s coming in later,’ he paused, ‘she’s running an errand for me.’
‘And when is that?’ Stuart asked.
Mr Pfeiffer looked questioningly at Stuart.
‘What time do you close?’
‘We close every evening at seven o’clock.’
‘Close for lunch at all?’ Stuart said.
‘Yes, every day, from twelve o’clock to two but mostly I stay on the premises.’
‘Not your busiest time?’ Love said.
‘No, not many visitors and the staff usually gravitate to the cafeteria.’
‘Good employees?’ asked Stuart.
‘Yes, most trustworthy.’ Robert Pfeiffer nodded. ‘I can rely on Anna or Susan to open up or lock the shop if I’m not here although that’s not very often.’
‘I’d like to talk to Anna can you give me her address, please.’
Mr Pfeiffer shrugged. ‘Of course I will but it won’t help.’
‘Why is that?’ Stuart said.
‘She wasn’t working that week.’
‘Really?’
‘She was on holiday.’
‘You didn’t get anyone else in to cover for her?’ Love asked.
‘No, it was just my son and me.’
‘I imagine it was pretty hectic just the two of you here.’
‘It had its moments,’ Mr Pfeiffer said, and chuckled. ‘But we managed.’
‘So,’ Love said. ‘It’s possible that you simply don’t remember the victim or her son because you were so busy?’
‘What other reason would there be?’ Mr Pfeiffer said. He looked puzzled.
Love watched as Stuart slipped the photos inside his pocket. He turned back to face the two men. Watching. Waiting. ‘None whatsoever, Mr Pfeiffer, that’s it exactly. You don’t remember because you were busy.’
A man coughed. He was standing in front of the till waiting to be served.
‘Excuse me,’ Heinrich said. ‘Someone needs serving.’
‘I’m sorry I don’t know what else I can tell you,’ Mr Pfeiffer said. He smiled at Love and Stuart.
Love smiled back. ‘We thank you for your time, Mr Pfeiffer.’ He zipped up his Donegal, ready to leave. ‘There is one other thing,’ he said.
‘Yes?’
‘Were you and your son here at the shop on Monday, October 29th?’
‘This Monday just gone?’ Mr Pfeiffer said. He rubbed his chin. ‘Monday… well, I was here all day from about half past eight in the morning until closing.’
‘And your son?’ Stuart said. He was pulling on his gloves.
‘He was here too apart from when he checked on the flower order first thing.’
‘When was that exactly?’ Love asked.
‘I’m sorry but I don’t understand.’ He looked puzzled. ‘Why are you asking about this Monday just gone, Detective, I thought the woman you’re investigating came in here over two weeks ago?’
Love looked at Stuart. Stuart winked in return, and said, ‘These really are some of the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen.’ He strolled over to where a chrome bucket full of orange and yellow roses took centre stage. ‘You don’t have a ban on the giving of flowers in this hospital then,’ said Stuart glancing at the man standing behind him.
‘Because of the alleged connection with the MRSA bug? Happily, no,’ Mr Pfeiffer said. ‘The cleaning staff and medical personnel here carry out their jobs thoroughly and properly and the hospital is run by a body who appreciates that.’
‘You have a good eye for quality.’
‘Thank you,’ Mr Pfeiffer said, and walked over to join Stuart. He bent down and gently touched one of the rose petals. ‘We’re very happy with our supplier.’
‘Local?’ Stuart asked.
‘Not far, actually, a firm five minutes down the road from where we live.’
‘And look at this,’ Stuart said as he pointed to a posy of large lilac flowers with a scarlet stigma. ‘A perfect example of crocus longiflorus.’
Mr Pfeiffer stared at Stuart and smiled. ‘You know your flora, Detective Le Fanu,’ he said. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘I’ve been known to dabble,’ Stuart said. He bent down and smelt the flower. ‘The fragrance is incredible.’ He stood up and turned to Mr Pfeiffer. ‘I would say you’re the one who knows his flowers, Mr Pfeiffer.’
‘I do my best.’
‘Do they deliver every day it looks like they do.’
‘Yes or else we pick up.’
‘Do you manage to get fresh flowers straight after the weekend as I imagine that can be a problem in some areas.’
‘They’ve never let us down,’ said Mr Pfeiffer. He raised his eyes and added, ‘Which is more than I can say for our van.’
‘Why, what happened?’
‘Just as I was turning into Lando
r Road the van broke down.’
‘When was this?’ Stuart said.
‘This Monday just gone,’ Mr Pfeiffer said. ‘It just died on me.’
‘But you and Heinrich managed to get it going again?’ Stuart said.
‘I couldn’t,’ Mr Pfeiffer said. ‘I’m hopeless with anything mechanical.’
‘Same with me, petrol and water I can just about manage,’ Stuart said, and laughed. ‘And Heinrich too?’
‘He wasn’t with me unfortunately.’
‘That was unfortunate as I imagine normally he comes in with you?’
‘Normally, yes, he drives in with me.’
‘That’s handy you can share the driving,’ Stuart said.
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘Heinrich doesn’t like driving the van for one thing he finds it too antiquated.’ He laughed. ‘The gears are erratic and hard to handle. I can drive the thing but I can’t repair it when it breaks down.’
‘Well, sounds like you make a good team,’ Stuart said.
‘Yes,’ Mr Pfeiffer said, and smiled. ‘Anyway, he had a few errands to run so he made his way in under his own steam.’
Love turned his attention to a woman as she picked up a magazine. She flicked through it before replacing it on the shelf. Music from a popular radio station played in the background. A love song from the seventies. Easy listening music. He continued to watch the customers in the shop until finally he said, ‘And what time was that exactly, Mr Pfeiffer?’
Mr Pfeiffer walked the few steps back over to where Love was standing at the end of the counter. ‘I can’t say for sure but it must have been around quarter to nine or thereabouts perhaps a bit later.’ He gazed at Love. ‘I went into the back just as the nine o’clock news came on and Heinrich was busy in the kitchenette area making chamomile tea.’
‘Perhaps he’d just arrived,’ Love said.
Robert Pfeiffer shook his head. ‘No, he’d been there a little while besides I noticed a couple of cigarette butts in the ashtray,’ Pfeiffer said, and grimaced. ‘Horrible habit but luckily he’s a very light smoker and doesn’t often indulge.’
Love smiled. ‘Indeed. But how can you be so sure?’
‘Sorry?’
‘That the cigarettes had just been smoked or perhaps someone else had smoked them.’
‘Oh! Well, the other staff members aren’t smokers and they weren’t even here,’ he said. ‘Besides, one was still burning in the ashtray and I personally ensure the ashtray is clean and emptied before I leave every evening fire risk and all that.’
Stuart joined the two men. He glanced at Heinrich who was busy serving a customer. ‘Really?’
‘Nothing serious with the van, I hope,’ Love said.
‘No, Heinrich managed to get it going again.’
Love smiled. He said quietly, ‘That was a piece of luck.’
Mr Pfeiffer smiled. ‘And it was also lucky we were having a quiet morning here in the shop.’
‘Yes,’ Love said. ‘I’d say lucky all round.’