To Make a Killing by K.A. Kendall Page A

accompany the Colonel and get his full statement, Jenkins you take the Eastmans. I want a really good photo fit of Miss Passant – there are now at least 5 witnesses who have either seen or spoken to her. Jenkins, we still need to get hold of Khater. Let him know we apologize for bending his door, etc. but more so, get him in TONIGHT for a full statement on everything he knows about Miss Passant; find out what the arrangement was with the flat etc..
     
    Hayes, I still want you to contact Penrith about Russell’s “holiday”. Ask them, too, if they know of a ‘Mike’ who knew Russell. Oh, and don’t forget to return the Colonel’s crow bar – then we can always blame him”, smiled Keane. “I’m going to have a chat with the students. I want to see everyone in the incident room at 9 sharp tomorrow. Yes, I know which day of the week it is. We’ve made a lot of progress today, and I’ll let you get back home to loved ones as soon as possible.”
     
    “How will you get back, sir?”
     
    “Oh, I’ll take a short walk to refresh the little grey cells, and then I’ll take a cab back to the station. See you there.” And with that Keane walked back upstairs to the top floor.
     
    The music being played behind the door was fairly loud, but Keane’s knock was heard after the third attempt. A pretty young girl opened the door. He explained who he was and asked if he could come in and ask a few questions.
     
    “Yeah, come in. I’m making a cup of tea, do you want a cup?” asked the girl who must have been about the same age as Elaine.
     
    Keane followed her through the hall into the living room, “Er, do you have any coffee?”
     
    “We’re usually out of coffee. Frank’s the only one who drinks it and he always forgets to buy some.”
     
    “Well just a glass of water will be fine.” Keane stepped into the kitchen, feeling strangely awkward as he passed two other girls studying at each their end of the living room. They glanced up at him as he passed, and then turned back to their books, without saying a word. He wanted to explain who he was, but he wasn’t sure he’d be heard over the noise, and he felt anything he said would just make him look defensive. He decided to talk to the girl who had led him in, but she spoke first.
     
    “We told your hunky Sergeant what we know. We’ve never spoken to her.”
     
    “I’m sorry, what is your name?”
     
    “Cheryl”
     
    “And the other girls?”
     
    “Theresa and Susan”
     
    “So Frank is the fourth tenant who lives here?”
     
    “Yeah, but he’s out at a concert right now.” Cheryl handed Keane his glass of water – poured from a freshly opened and chilled bottle, which impressed him – and continued to make her tea and sandwiches with her back to him. As there was no chair to sit down on, Keane wandered around and mused over the contents of the shelves.
     
    “Did you ever see her?”
     
    “No”
     
    “Did you see anyone visit her or leave her flat?”
     
    “No”
     
    “Were there ever any noises or . . .”
     
    Keane stopped abruptly. He knew what he was looking at on the shelf, but he didn’t dare believe it. Among a myriad of jams, honeys, spice jars and Bovril jars, all from Tesco, he saw a jar of Nescafé. Or – more to the point - a jar of Nescafé with a label in French, sold at Carrefour. “Tell me, Cheryl, if, er . . . if Frank was out of coffee, do you think he would ever have popped downstairs and asked for some?”
     
    “Frank would ask the Pope for a fag and can of beer if he was short of them, so I wouldn’t put it past him.”
     
    “Do you have a plastic bag I could borrow?”
     
    “Yeah, sure.” The girl turned round and gave him a see-through plastic bag intended for a sandwich.
     
    Keane carefully placed the bag over the jar, took it from the shelf and tied a knot in the bag.
     
    “So you got your coffee after all!”
     
    “I’ll be taking this with me. Tell Frank thanks for the coffee. The