said. “I understand after Demarku finished his sentence he was inadvertently released instead of being deported.”
Crow grinned knowingly. “So that’s your angle.”
“One of the angles,” Tallis countered.
“Fucking disgrace. If I’d had my way, he’d never have been let out.”
“But he was,” Tallis said, trying to keep her on track, “and now he’s on the loose somewhere.”
“Frankly, not my problem,” Crow said. “We did our bit twelve years ago.”
“So no effort’s been made to find him?”
“Seen my workload?”
“I’m not criticising.”
“Should hope not,” Crow said, taking another pull of her drink. At this rate, he was going to be making an early trip to the bar, Tallis thought. “Put it this way, we’ve trailed likely haunts, talked to the usual suspects …”
“Informers?”
“Uh-huh.”
She didn’t sound very convincing. Actually, it cheered him. Demarku wasn’t so much as eluding the cops as they weren’t exactly busting a gut to find him. It meant he was in with more of a chance of unearthing his man. “What about the guys he shared a cell with, all that kind of stuff?”
Crow cast him a withering look. “Two words—targets, clear-up rate.”
“That’s more than two.” He laughed.
“You get my drift. It’s all about moving onto the next case,” Crow said, stubbing out a cigarette and lighting another. A young woman with a child in a pushchair cast her a venomous look, but Crow either didn’t mind or wasn’t taking any notice.
“What was Demarku like?”
Her face drooped then she began to cough, eyes watering and streaming, mouth opening and closing like a struggling perch as she tried to get her breath. Beating her large chest with one hand, she grabbed at her glass with the other, taking a large swig. It seemed to do the trick. “Disturbing,” she croaked. “Came across as being very polite, quiet, thoughtful even, the type of guy who most mothers would want as their son. If only they knew.” She frowned, taking a drag of her cigarette. “Underneath the little-boy-lost facade, he was seething with fury. He’d as soon as slip a blade between your ribs as look at you. Probably smile while he was doing it.”
For the first time, Tallis registered a note of respect in Crow’s voice, not born of admiration but fear. “Another?” he said, gesturing at her empty glass.
“I’ll get them,” Crow said, making to get up.
“Stay where you are, admire the scenery.” He wanted time to collect his thoughts, think about what he was going to ask next. He ordered another pint and the same again for Crow.
“Gather Demarku had also been linked to a serious rape,” he said a few moments later, putting their glasses down on the table.
“Didn’t have the evidence to nail him.”
“No DNA?”
“No.”
“What about the victim? Couldn’t she ID him?”
Crow shook her head. “Never properly recovered.”
“Too scared to point a finger?”
“I’d say so, yes.”
“Think she’d talk to me?”
Crow snorted. “You’re a charmer, but I don’t think so. She’s had a shit time since the attack. Marriage collapsed under the strain. Kids went with dad.”
“Christ.”
“Christ indeed.” Crow picked a flake of tobacco from her tongue.
“Keep in touch?”
“Yeah, I do, actually. Not on a regular basis. Just call in when I can. And no, I’m not telling you who she is and where she lives,” Crow added, giving a deep, dirty, thirty-a-day laugh.
“Fair enough. Think Demarku might try and find her?”
“Have a hard time. She’s moved twice in the last twelve years. Anyway, I don’t think that’s his game.”
“And what is his game?”
“Prostitution, and if he embraces our brand-new world and joins his brothers, people trafficking and drugs. The Albanians have cornered the market in London. Should suit you, if you’re ever out of a job.” She laughed.
Tallis eyed her over the rim of his glass. He wasn’t joining in.
“Keep your pants on.” Crow grinned. “The Albanians trust no one but, at street-distribution level, they employ Croats. Fuck knows how they understand each other.”
Tallis quietly filed the information away. Crow obviously didn’t know much about the Balkans. Croatians spoke and understood Serbo-Croat as did the Albanians, even if they didn’t like to admit to it. “Going back to the rape. Anything stick in the victim’s mind about the attack?”
“Apart from its degrading nature?”
“Thinking more along the lines of Demarku himself, about his character, the way he behaved.”
Crow’s dark eyebrows drew together. “You into all that psychological stuff?” She didn’t sound very enamoured.
“Just trying to find something original to say.”
“There was something, actually. I picked up on it too, so it’s not exactly revealing a trade secret.”
“Yeah?”
“Cologne. The guy liked to smell good. Not any old cheap rubbish either. And he liked expensive clothes. Definitely got a bit of a flash streak.” She gave her glass a mournful stare. “One for the road, I think. What’s yours?”
Tallis told her. “A half’s fine,” he added.
Crow returned with a pint for him. “No point in pissing about,” she said, grinning happily. “Thought of someone else you could talk to.” Tallis raised an eyebrow. Alcohol was definitely having the desired effect. “Guy called Peter Tremlett. He was the probation officer involved in the parole board decision to release Demarku.”
Tallis knew enough about this most secretive of breeds to know that Crow was way off the mark. Probation officers had much in common with customs and excise officers: both kept their mouths shut. “He won’t talk to me,” he scoffed.
Crow winked. “Twenty quid says he will.”
Tallis eyed her. She was definitely confident. “All right,” he said, intrigued, taking two tens from his wallet. “But, remember,
