Crane’s eyebrows shot up.
Erika went on, ‘How did you arrange to meet him?’
‘Craigslist. I put an ad on there.’
‘What kind of ad?’
‘The kind of ad where I meet up with guys, and they can give me donations. Giving donations isn’t illegal.’
‘And did Gregory Munro give you a donation?’
‘Yeah.’
‘How much?’
‘Hundred quid.’
‘And did you stay the night?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What did you talk about, Jordi?’
‘Not much. A lot of the time my mouth was full…’ He smirked.
Erika pulled one of the crime scene photos out of her bag and placed it on the polished wood of the table in front of Jordi.
‘Do you think this is funny? Look. Here Gregory is lying in bed, with his hands bound and a plastic bag tied over his head.’
Jordi gulped when he saw the photo, and what little colour he had in his face drained away.
‘Now, please. This is very important. Tell me what you know about Gregory Munro,’ said Erika.
Jordi took a gulp of vodka. ‘He was just like all the other guilty married men. Gagging for a good hard shag and then got all guilty and teary afterwards. The second time I went he was really nervy. Kept asking me if I’d taken his key.’
‘What key?’
‘His front door key.’
‘Why?’
‘He thought I was a thieving whore… Lots of them think you’re gonna steal, but then he asked me if I had been inside his house while he was out.’
Erika looked at Crane. ‘Had you been in his house when he was out?’
Jordi shook his head. ‘He said stuff had been moved around.’
‘What stuff?’
‘Underwear all laid out on his bed… He was really freaked out by it.’
‘He was getting divorced,’ said Erika, excitement rising in her. ‘Do you think it could have been his wife?’
‘He said it couldn’t be her. He’d just had the locks all changed. No one else had a key. He called this woman out to check everything, from some security company.’
A look passed between Erika and Crane again.
‘Did you see this woman?’
‘No.’
‘Did he say what she looked like?’
‘No.’
‘Okay, can you remember if he mentioned when this woman came to the house?’
Jordi pursed his lips as he thought. ‘Dunno. Hang on; it was the second time I went over. She’d just been there. He seemed relieved that she’d checked everything.’
‘Can you remember if it was a Monday? If so, that would make it the 21st June.’
Jordi grimaced at the photo again and bit his lip.
‘Um, yeah… Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was a Monday.’
Erika rummaged in her bag, pulled out three twenty-pound notes and held them out to Jordi.
‘What’s this?’ he asked, looking at the money.
‘A donation,’ said Erika.
‘I agreed a hundred.’
‘You’re not in a position to negotiate.’
Jordi took the money, grabbed a small rucksack from under the table and squeezed past her.
‘We’re so bloody close,’ said Crane, a few minutes after Jordi had gone. ‘Do you think she staged a break-in, and then went back posing as someone from GuardHouse Alarms on Monday, 21st June?’
‘Yeah. Dammit! If only Jordi had seen her, we could have gone into the Crimewatch reconstruction with an e-fit,’ said Erika. The door to the bar opened and she suddenly sat up in her seat. Gary Wilmslow had come in with a tall, dark-haired man in jeans wearing a Millwall shirt. A small boy accompanied them, and Erika realised it was Peter, Gregory Munro’s son.
‘Jeez. This is just what we need,’ said Crane. They went to the bar, then Gary noticed them. He said something to the dark-haired man and came over with Peter.
‘Afternoon, coppers,’ he sneered.
‘Hello,’ said Erika. ‘Hi, Peter, how are you?’
The little boy stared up at Erika, his face pale and drawn. ‘My dad’s dead… Yesterday they dug a hole in the ground and they put him in it,’ he said, tonelessly.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Erika.
‘This your boyfriend?’ asked Gary, tilting his head towards Crane.
‘No, I’m Sergeant Crane,’ said Crane, flashing his ID.
‘Whoa, what’s with the ID?’ said Gary.