‘I understand a young woman named Angelica Whitaker was murdered the other week,’ she said softly.

‘That’s right.’

‘Have you made any arrests yet?’

‘We have,’ Tomek answered after a short pause.

‘I was wondering if you might be able to tell me who it is you’ve arrested?’

Tomek took another moment. This time to stop himself from accidentally leaking Johnny Whitaker’s name to a complete stranger.

‘I can’t share that with you, no. It’s a private and confidential matter.’

‘Ah. I see. Well…’ She made a small tear in the tissue. ‘If I say his name, will you make a note of it?’

Tomek confirmed he didn’t have a problem with that.

‘Does the name Roy Whitaker mean anything to you?’

Tomek began writing the name as she said it, then caught himself again.

‘That wasn’t part of the agreement. That wasn’t very fair.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘Please, forgive me.’

Tomek set his pen on the table. ‘Why do you say that name?’

‘Because…’ Now the tears started. Slow, steady, nothing but a single tear at first. She gently hovered the tissue beneath her eye in anticipation. ‘Because, about thirty-five years ago, we used to work together. He was a pilot for British Airways and I was a flight attendant on several of his flights.’

That explained her good looks.

‘We did a lot of long-haul flights together. Bali, Indonesia, the Caribbean. And so we often had to spend a couple of nights in the hotels to get over the jet lag before we flew back. One night, we got drinking in the hotel bar in Barbados and, well, he took advantage of me.’

Tomek nodded slowly, letting her know that he was listening to her.

‘Took advantage of you, how?’

‘He… Rape. He raped me. In the hotel room. I don’t remember it fully, but I know it happened. I’d had a few, but not enough to forget what had happened the night before.’

‘Did you confront him about it?’

She shook her head.

‘Did you tell anyone?’

‘Only some former work colleagues, many, many years later.’

‘Had any of those people worked with Roy? Any of them experience something similar to you?’

Sylvie nodded weakly.

‘Six of them said he’d raped them too. I’m not alone. I don’t know what happened to that poor woman, and I feel so sorry for her family, but not that man. That man is evil and dangerous. And you must look into him because I fear he has done something so much worse than anything he’s ever done before.’

CHAPTER SIXTY

Roy Whitaker had come in without a fuss. He hadn’t argued. He hadn’t kicked off or tried to escape. He had behaved himself, all the way from his front door to the interview room where he was now.

‘I will keep this short,’ Tomek began. But he had no intention of keeping it short at all. He wanted the man to sit and grow increasingly agitated the longer he was kept there. ‘Does the name Sylvie Weiss mean anything to you?’

‘Sylvie…? Weiss?’

‘You may know her by her maiden name: Greene.’

‘Sylvie Greene? Yeah. It rings a bell…’ The reticence in his voice was tangible.

‘Can you tell me where you know her from?’

Roy hesitated, brushed his hair backwards, then patted it repeatedly, so it sat firmly in place. ‘We used to work together. She was one of the air stewards. We did a lot of long-haul flights together, to the other side of the world.’

‘Did the two of you ever stay in hotels when you were on the other side of the world?’

‘We all did. It was a stipulation from the airline. We’d just flown ten, eleven, twelve hours. They weren’t going to make us fly straight back. We needed a rest, so we stayed a couple of nights, then returned.’

‘Do you remember much about the time you first met Sylvie?’

‘Why?’

Roy’s tone rose steadily, as did the level of concern in his voice.

Tomek ignored the counter question and continued. ‘Had you met Daphne by this point, or did Sylvie come before you met your wife?’

‘I don’t see what this has got to do with anything.’

‘Do you remember staying in the Hilton in Barbados?’

‘What?’

‘The summer of eighty-eight.’

Roy shook his head in disbelief, as if trying to piece together his thoughts.

‘I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about!’

‘So you don’t remember being at the bar with Sylvie at the Hilton in Barbados during the summer of eighty-eight?’

A long, empty breath left Roy’s lips. ‘I thought you’d brought me here to discuss Angelica.’

‘That’s correct, but first I want to discover what happened between you and Sylvie on the night of the fifteenth of July 1988.’