you normally close the shop?’
‘We never close in the daytime. Neither of us has had a day off in two years. We work seven days a week. We were trying to build up the business so we could open another shop. Maybe set up franšizės around London.’
‘Has your husband ever suggested closing the shop before today?’
‘Ne.’
‘When you spoke to him, did he mention having any visitors at all?’
‘Ne.’
‘He didn’t say that anyone had called round to see him or that he’d arranged for someone to come round? Your GP? Or a friend?’
‘He was sick. I told you. He called me. Said he was in bed with a fever. That was it.’
‘Was he in your bedroom? The left-hand room at the front of the house?’ I gestured with my left hand to make sure there was no misunderstanding.
‘Of course.’ She frowned. ‘Where else would he be?’
‘I have to ask this, I’m afraid. Can you think of anyone who might wish your husband harm?’
Anguish spread over Indra’s face, and she looked at her sister and then me. ‘No. I cannot.’ No Lithuanian this time.
‘You told the 999 operator that you thought someone had tried to kill your husband. Why did you think that?’
She blushed.
‘Mrs Ulbiene?’
Dan had joined us again. He gave me a subtle thumbs-up.
‘If I remembered saying it, I’d say.’ Indra’s tone of voice told me she knew exactly what she’d done and why, but something was stopping her from saying.
‘Are you saying you don’t remember calling 999 or you don’t remember saying it?’
Marta sucked a breath in through her teeth.
‘Calls to 999 are recorded and this one was traced to your mobile.’
‘She said she doesn’t remember.’ Marta’s expression was mutinous.
Dan played the recording on his phone.
‘Poleece? My husband is in the fire in Brick Lane. I think someone’s tried to kill him.’ In the background, a female voice was talking. ‘I think someone’s murdered him.’
‘I take it that’s you, Mrs Ulbiene?’
‘Taip.’
‘Is that you in the background?’ I watched Marta.
She groaned. ‘Yes.’
‘Why did you think someone had tried to kill your husband, Mrs Ulbiene?’
‘Things are difficult.’ Indra seemed annoyed with herself, as though she’d given away something she hadn’t intended, or was hiding something.
‘In what way are they difficult?’
‘Detektyva, we are immigrants.’ She raised her fist in frustration, and dropped it back on the bed. ‘We work long hours. We’re in a lot of debt because we had to borrow money to set up the business and haven’t paid the loans off yet. Because we are foreigners, we didn’t get the best interest rates. Banks see a Lithuanian passport and immediately see you as high risk.’
I picked up the bitterness in her reply and my heart went out to Indra again. It had been the same for my parents when we arrived in the UK. It’d taken a good ten years for Dad to establish himself, earn enough money for us to live off and gain respect. ‘I understand that. My family were immigrants too, but I don’t see how that relates to you thinking your husband was murdered. Can you fill me in?’
Indra rolled her eyes.
She was a smart woman. Given she’d asked to speak to us, she must’ve known we’d ask her about the call to emergency services. There was something she wasn’t telling us. I was sure of it. ‘Did you think he’d been murdered because you heard that the fire was arson or because you suspected that someone might want to kill him?’
Marta muttered to her sister in Lithuanian.
Indra gabbled a reply and they had a heated exchange. Marta’s speech became faster and louder, and her hands gesticulated in agitation.
‘I don’t remember what I thought,’ Indra said finally. ‘I was in shock when I heard about the fire. I was scared for my husband, and the business is our livelihood.’
I suspected she was going to say something like this. ‘Of course. It must’ve been upsetting news to receive.’ I waited a few moments for her to regain her composure. ‘Who told you about the fire?’
‘Pardon?’
I repeated the question.
‘Tomasz Feldman.’
That was a surprise. ‘Why did Tomasz Feldman tell you about the fire? Do you know him?’
I was keen to hear Indra’s response to my question about Tomasz Feldman.
‘I don’t understand—’ Indra said, her voice weary.
‘Is Mr Feldman connected to your shop in some way?’ I was wondering why he had Indra’s phone number.
She muttered to Marta again, then spoke to me. ‘No. We are neighbours. He knows everyone round here.’
Dan raised his eyebrows at me.
‘OK. Last few questions – did your husband have any arguments recently?’
‘Ne.’
‘Anyone unhappy about you two opening the soup shop?’ She’d dodged my question about how things had been difficult for them recently.
Marta spoke to her sister in a low voice. Then to me, she said, ‘She can’t think of anyone. If she does, we’ll call you.’
‘I’ve almost finished. Mrs Ulbiene? It’s very important. Who might want to harm your husband or your business?’
Indra glanced at her sister for a cue. Marta was shaking her head from side to side.
‘I’ve answered. I don’t know.’
I didn’t believe her but there was something else I needed to ask before she clammed up. ‘OK. This is the last question. I’m so sorry. There’s no easy way to tell you this. We found a woman with your husband. They were curled round each other on what looks like was a bed. Do you know who the woman might have been?’
‘No idea,’ came her quick response.
Shock
