The Dark Lady by Sally Spencer Read Free Book Online Page A

had chosen was at the opposite end of the room to the one Bernadelli had selected.
    â€œHeinz Schnieder,” Tony had said, out of the corner of his mouth. “You know, like the baked beans.”
    And so it had gone on. The Germans, so it seemed to Woodend, had no objection whatsoever to sitting close to the English, but they made quite sure that they kept well away from the Italians. The Poles, on the other hand, didn’t mind being near the Italians, as long as, in doing so, they managed to maintain a distance between themselves and the Germans.
    â€œIs it always like this?” Woodend asked Tony.
    â€œPretty much,” the bar steward said. “This place is a bit like four different clubs that just happen to meet under the same roof. There’s some mixin’, I suppose, but not enough to write home about. On the whole, they prefer to stick to their own kind.”
    â€œHas there ever been any trouble?”
    The steward shrugged. “Now an’ again, when they’ve had a few drinks, there’ll be an argument – usually about the war, of course – but it’s never come to blows. Leastwise, it hasn’t come to blows in here. They all like the subsidised beer they get in the club too much to do anythin’ which might make me recommend to the committee that they should be barred.”
    â€œRight,” Woodend said. “It’s time to get this show on the road.” He turned to face the BCI shift men. “Can I have your attention, please,” he called out in a loud voice.
    At the individual tables, muttered conversations gradually petered out. Woodend waited until he had total silence, then said, “I expect some of you are not happy about bein’ here. That’s perfectly understandable. But the plain fact is that you were the last people, apart from the murderer, to see Gerhard Schultz alive. Now, that doesn’t make you automatic suspects, but you must appreciate that it doesn’t rule any of you out, either.”
    He stopped to light a Capstan Full Strength. The killer could be one of these men, he thought – in fact, it was highly likely that that was the case.
    â€œIf the guilty party is in this room,” he continued, “I’m tellin’ him one thing right now – it might take me a while, but I’m goin’ to find him. For the rest of you, I’m simply appealin’ for your help. Anythin’ you might have seen that was a little unusual, tell me about it. Anythin’ you might have heard that could provide me with a pointer, let me know.”
    He paused to give his words time to sink in, and noticed that one of the Poles had leant across the table and was talking to one of his friends in a low voice.
    The chief inspector nodded his head in the Pole’s direction. “What’s yon bugger’s name?” he asked Tony.
    â€œZbigniew Rozpedek.”
    â€œExcuse me for interruptin’, Mr Rozpedek,” Woodend said, “but if you’d like to share your thoughts with us, sir, instead of just tellin’ them to your mate, I’m sure we’ll be very grateful.”
    Rozpedek looked up. He was around forty – as most of the men in the room were – and had a large nose and fiery eyes.
    â€œI do not have thoughts to share,” he said defiantly.
    â€œYou seemed to have enough a minute ago.”
    â€œI am merely translating what you said for my cousin.”
    So some of these sods didn’t even speak English, Woodend thought. Things were just getting better and better.
    â€œThe way you can help is that
you
know what’s usual around here an’ what’s not,” Woodend continued to the men in general. “That’s not an advantage I have as somebody comin’ in from the outside. So what I’m goin’ to do now is give you a couple of minutes to rack your brains for any little incident that evenin’ which was out of the