Scared to Live (48 page)

'So you weren't put in touch by a business contact, as you said earlier?' 'No, that wasn't quite true.' 'How did she first contact you?' 'She phoned the hotel we were staying at. Don't ask me how she knew where we were staying, or even how she knew about us. It was all a bit hush-hush - we had no way of getting in touch with her while we were there. We always had to wait for her to phone. But it was obvious from the start that Miss Shepherd had plenty of... well, contacts within the system. I'm certain she must have been working with some of the people at the orphanage, but it was never stated, and we didn't ask.' 'All right. What did she offer you?' 'She offered us a shortcut through the bureaucracy. She said she could arrange the necessary paperwork and deliver Zlatka directly to us. For a fee, of course. But frankly, the amount she asked was a good deal less than the cost we'd calculated for continuing the adoption process through the regional court. She told us she'd done it before for other foreign couples, and she even offered us testimonials.' 'And you believed her, Mr Lowther?' 'Certainly - especially after I met her for the first time. Rose Shepherd was very plausible, you know. She gave the impression of being completely nice and harmless, but a bit secretive, like a sort of maiden aunt. And it helped a lot that she seemed so ... well, British. We were reassured by the fact that she was very like us - but she was Bulgarian, too. She was familiar with the ways of the country, so she knew how to deal with officials. She could play the system, if you like. Well, the upshot was that Miss Shepherd promised us an end to our frustration. She offered to provide exactly what we weren't achieving through the official channels.' 'And did she happen to mention that what she was offering was illegal?'

'No, certainly not. It was never hinted at. She led us to believe that it was entirely above board. She described herself as an international adoption agent.' 'Oh well, a bit of fancy language makes all the difference, doesn't it?' said Fry. Lowther pulled a face and looked at her accusingly, as if disappointed rather than offended by her sarcasm. 'She seemed like a godsend at the time, you know. Particularly for Lindsay. Bear in mind that she'd already met Zlatka several times and they'd bonded like mother and daughter. Lindsay had already made a place in her heart for that child. The official process had demanded it, almost. It's very cruel to make a woman go through that experience and then tear the child away from her again. Don't you think so?' 'It's not my place to pass judgement on another country's legal system,' said Fry. Mrs Lowther smiled sadly. 'You don't have any children yourself, I imagine.' Fry stiffened. 'Are you really telling me that neither of you, nor any member of your family, ever suspected that what Miss Shepherd was proposing would be against the law?' Lowther sighed. 'I think the only person who had any doubts was Brian. But he only wanted whatever would make Lindsay happy, you know. So he went along with it, despite his reservations.' 'And who paid the fees?' 'I did. And I was happy to do it. Miss Shepherd knew Bulgarian, and she was able to arrange things that we couldn't do for ourselves. She knew the system.' 'Was it difficult getting Zlatka out of Bulgaria?' 'Not so far as I know.' 'What do you mean?' 'It was Miss Shepherd who brought the child out of the country. The arrangement was that we would travel to

Promahonas, just over the border in Greece, and she would deliver Zlatka to us there. So that's what we did. We stayed at the Hotel Olympic in Sidirokastro, about fifteen kilometres from the border.' Lowther fiddled with the leaves of one of the pot plants, releasing a few drops of water that scattered on the oak floor. Fry waited for him to continue, recognizing it was best not to interrupt. 'From the balcony of the hotel, we could see a hill with a white church on top,' he said. 'Or it might have been a mosque, I'm not sure. But I remember it very well. The night we arrived, we spent some time on the balcony looking at it, because we didn't know what else to do with ourselves. I could see Lindsay didn't want to talk about the meeting she was too anxious about it.' 'Was she worried that Miss Shepherd wouldn't keep her part of the arrangement?' He shook his head. 'I think we both trusted her. Partly because she was British, like us. But also she seemed a very genuine person when we met her. No, it wasn't Rose Shepherd we had any doubts about. But we didn't know what problems might crop up, what could go wrong along the way. I'm sure Lindsay was imagining the worst - imagining that she would never see the child again.' 'So you were due to meet up the next day . . .' prompted Fry. 'Yes. In the afternoon, to give Miss Shepherd time to drive down from Pleven. That meant we had some time to kill. So the morning was even more difficult. But Miss Shepherd was as good as her word. She came down the E79 from Sofia to Promahonas, and the exchange took place in the back of our hire car. She handed over Zlatka, and the documents we needed. Everything seemed in order. Perfect, in fact. We were delighted.' 'And the money?'

'I paid for everything. I always wanted to help Lindsay as much as I could, financially. For example, I helped buy some of the things for their house.' 'A Smeg dual-fuel cooker, for example?' 'Yes, that was something Lindsay particularly wanted. Brian would never have been able to afford it himself. But for some reason, he seemed to resent accepting my help. It was very short-sighted of him. I only ever wanted to do the best for my little girl.' 'So how did the arrangement with Rose Shepherd work?' 'I paid half of her fee up front, and the remainder when she delivered the child. That was the agreement. It seemed very businesslike, and it was one more reason to trust her. I paid in pounds sterling, which was what Miss Shepherd had specified. I suppose they must have done it before.' 'In fact, they had quite a business going.' Lowther looked dejected. 'They told us it would be all right. They said that no one really bothered about what happened to children like Zlatka. You know the sort of children I'm talking about ' 'Roma children,' said Fry. 'That's it. They said Bulgarian couples didn't want them. Well, it didn't matter to us that she was Roma. She's a beautiful baby. You've seen her, haven't you?' 'Yes, sir. Can you tell me who the person was you spoke to at the orphanage?' 'Her name was Piya. Piya Yotova. I hope she doesn't get into trouble over this. She was only trying to help.' 'Piya Yotova is dead.' The Lowthers gaped at her in amazement. 'We didn't know that.' 'She was shot, along with a colleague, Dimitar Iliev.' Fry took advantage of the shock clear on the Lowthers' faces at the news. 'Mr Lowther, now that we've got the truth about the

so-called adoption, would you like to tell me again how you came to meet up with Rose Shepherd last Saturday.' 'I told you, Lindsay wanted to say thank you. She wanted Miss Shepherd to know Luanne was happy and doing well, that it had all been worthwhile. There was nothing wrong with that, was there? No matter how Miss Shepherd might have bent the rules in Bulgaria, she was a caring person. You could see that she genuinely wanted the best for the child.' 'And you got in touch with her by using the email address she'd given you in Bulgaria?' 'Yes, that's what I said,' agreed Lowther cautiously. 'Yet you've told me you had no way of getting in touch with her while you were there - that you always had to wait for her to phone you at the hotel.' He hesitated, and Fry knew she was on the right track. There was more to be squeezed out of him yet. 'Actually, that's right,' he said. 'She gave me that email address when we saw her in Matlock Bath.' 'I see. And did she happen to give you her phone number at the same time?' 'Well, yes. So we could keep in touch in the future, you know.' Fry could tell by the frozen expression in his eyes that Henry Lowther had no idea now whether he was saying the safe thing or not. If he denied having Rose Shepherd's phone number, would the police be able to prove he was lying? Poor Mr Lowther. He hadn't been as clever as he thought. He hadn't planned his story in enough detail. 'So the question remains, sir, how did you manage to get in contact with her before that meeting?' 'It was the other way round,' said Lowther. 'It was Miss Shepherd who got in touch with us. Perhaps you've worked that out.' 'Why on earth would she do that?' Lowther had to think about that for a while. His dazed

expression was starting to remind Fry of Wayne Abbott's lamping theory. This was the way she imagined the quarry would look, caught suddenly in a beam of light, not knowing which way it should run to escape. 'To be honest,' he said, 'I think Rose Shepherd was lonely.' 'Lonely, sir?' 'Yes. She knew no one in this country. I think she needed some kind of contact.' 'She risked a lot for a bit of conversation over a cup of tea, didn't she?' said Fry incredulously. Lowther shook his head. 'What do you mean?' 'I mean, there wasn't much in it for Miss Shepherd, was there? She'd gone to a lot of trouble to give herself a new identity and made herself a recluse, all out of concern for her own safety. Why would she decide to risk all that for an hour with you in a tea room in Matlock Bath?' 'I really don't know. I just know that she asked us, and we agreed.' Fry watched him, inviting him to say more, but he remained silent. She looked at his wife instead, and saw that a worried expression had come over her face, a grey wash of despair. 'It was our fault, wasn't it?' she said. 'I'm sorry, Mrs Lowther? Would you repeat that?' 'It was because of us that Rose died. We got her killed, didn't we?' 'Well, I wouldn't say that exactly.' Mrs Lowther shook her head, dismissing her denial. 'The people she mixed with in Bulgaria, they must have come looking for her, to kill her. The same people who shot the couple in Bulgaria. And it was because of us that they found her.' 'Really? You think so?' Lowther nodded at what his wife was saying, and sighed deeply. He thought he'd seen a way out, after all. 'It all makes sense now,' he said. 'That's exactly what

happened, isn't it? It just goes to show what awful consequences the most innocent of intentions can have. I'm only glad that Lindsay never knew anything about all this.' Fry felt a physical surge of revulsion at his sanctimonious expression. She could see him relaxing now, smug in the belief that everything would be smoothed over and he'd get away with what he'd done. He thought he might escape the light, after all. 'Actually, Mr Lowther,' she said, 'that's not the way we see it at all. And it isn't what your former employee, Tony Donnelly, says either.' Lowther just stared at her, shaking his head slowly from side to side. Fry leaned forward and spoke to him quietly, fixing her gaze on his. Rain surged against the glass all around them, but she knew that he heard her perfectly well. 'Nor was it the reason your son killed himself. Was it, Mr Lowther?' And that was the bullet he was waiting for. Right between the eyes.

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Fry had bought a new packet of Paracetamol, but was keeping it in her pocket for safety. After the interview with Henry Lowther, she fished it out and found a few tablets left. She had just taken two with a cup of water when her phone rang. 'Alo. It's Georgi Kotsev.' 'Hi, Georgi. Will we see you today?' 'Diane, I'm sorry to tell you that my chief has recalled me. I would have liked to stay a little longer, but my duty is in Pleven now.' 'When do you leave?' 'There's a flight this morning, in three hours' time. Lufthansa, but what can you do?' 'Do you need a lift to the airport?' 'I have permission to obtain a taxi. My ministry is paying, so who can refuse? It will be here very soon.' 'I'm sorry we won't get a chance to say goodbye properly. It's been very interesting working with you.' 'Not like one of those bloody civilians, eh?' 'No, you're not like one of those bloody civilians, Georgi.' 'Blagodariya. Thank you.' 'Did you hear that we've arrested Henry Lowther for the murder of Rose Shepherd?'

'Yes, I heard.' 'We believe he killed Miss Shepherd because she was attempting to blackmail him over the child. Unfortunately, Mr Lowther no longer had enough money to pay her off. His export business was failing. I guess he hadn't kept up with the times.' 'A bad choice of blackmail victim,' said Kotsev. 'What a pity.' 'Well, Lowther wasn't going to throw away everything that he'd done for his daughter. There was no way he could let the child be taken away from her after all that. Not to mention all the money he'd invested in her happiness. When you've already been involved in one crime, it isn't a big step to the next one, is it?' 'No, that is true.' 'And Mr Lowther felt confident he'd get away with it, because he knew Miss Shepherd was a recluse and never talked to anyone.' 'It will be a tight case?' 'Yes. We found the gun when we searched the Lowthers' bungalow. And his son was driving the car. So we've cleared that up, Georgi. I'm sorry if it means you wasted your time here.' 'No, it was not a waste of time,' said Kotsev. 'Your theory is interesting. But it is a lot of gluposti. Bullshit.' Fry was stunned into silence for a moment. 'You think we have it wrong?' Then she laughed. 'You have your own ideas. You want it to be connected to your Bulgarian Mafia. But, Georgi ' 'Where do you think the child is?' asked Kotsev. 'I don't know. Do you?' 'She was taken efficiently. She will be back home very soon.' 'Back home?' 'In Bulgaria. With her father.' 'Georgi, I hope not.' 'Could it not be for the best, Diane?' he asked tentatively.

'No, of course not. What do you mean?' 'No matter. And the Zhivko bombing? Entirely unrelated?' 'So far as we can tell.' Fry wanted to ask Kotsev more. She wanted to ask him lots of things. But there was a hint of distance in his voice that made her hold back. 'I will be pursuing my own enquiries in Pleven. Meanwhile, if I'm not available, you may speak to my colleague, Inspector Hristo Botev.' 'Could you spell that for me?' Kotsev spelled out the name. 'Hristo Botev. You pronounce the "H" in the throat, almost as if it was a "C".' 'It sounds a bit Welsh.' 'Yes, a bit Welsh. My friend Hristo is very celebrated in Bulgaria. A great hero.' Fry smiled at his exaggeration. She didn't imagine that police officers were any more celebrated in Bulgaria than they were in Derbyshire. For most people, they were a necessary evil, at best.

Cooper came into the office, and saw at once that something was disturbing Fry. 'What's up?' he said. 'That was Georgi Kotsev. He's going back to Bulgaria this morning.' 'Well, his interest in the case is over, I suppose.' 'Not really. We still don't know where Luanne Mullen is. Or should I say Zlatka?' 'If she's not dead, she'll be back out of the country by now. Don't you think so?' 'Georgi does.' 'Well, then. Sergeant Kotsev will be more use back in Bulgaria, if she's ever going to be found. I think they did the right thing recalling him.' 'Yes, you're right.'