Dark Market

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four

The door of the estate agent's office swung shut behind Savage. It was empty apart from two gloom-mongers sat behind their desks. Only one of them said anything.

'Can I help you?' the man said, pouting.

Savage walked over and sat down.

'Maybe,' he said. 'But I'm not looking to buy.'

'Sure, everyone's looking, no one's buying.' He steepled his hands beneath his chin and looked over his wire frame glasses with big eyes. 'So how can I help you?'

'Michael Fincher. The apartment in Canary Wharf, three years ago.'

'Stacy,' the man barked at the young woman on the next desk. 'Be a love and make us a cup of tea, hey?'

Stacy looked like she might tell the man to make his own tea, then thought better of it. She walked to a room at the back of the office and started clinking cups.

'And close the damned door.'

She slammed it.

'Who are you?' he said.

Savage handed him one of his investigator cards.

'These could have been knocked up at the print shop half an hour ago.'

'So they could,' Savage said.

'So fuck off then. I had enough questions about that disaster three years ago.'

'What sort of questions?'

'Never you bloody mind. Fuck off already.'

'No.'

'I'll call the police.'

'There's really no need. I'm not here to do you any harm. I imagine after the suicide people talked. Wondered things about you? Whether they could trust you? That sort of thing.'

The man said nothing. He picked up the phone with surprisingly thin hands and hesitated.

'Can't remember the number?' Savage said.

'Of course I can.'

'Nine nine nine.'

'I know,' he said and dialled the number.

'Do you remember that Michael was on the phone before he jumped?'

Savage saw that he did. The man pouted again. And said, 'Police please,' when asked the question.

'Do you remember what he said?'

The man played with his pen, fussed with the items on his desk.

'He said, “Are you listening?”'

The man gasped, Savage heard the voice on the other end ask the caller to state the emergency. Savage took the phone from the man's frozen hands.

'I'm so sorry, false alarm,' Savage said and hung up. He levelled his eyes at the thin man. 'Want to know how I know?'

The man nodded so much Savage thought his head might roll on to the desk.

'I was the man on the other end of the phone. I know all about wagging tongues. I had to leave the country.'

'I never told anyone,' he said. 'I saw him mouth the words, but never knew what he said. Not for sure. Not until you said it just then. Oh god,' he fanned himself with a property update. 'Oh god, where's that girl with the tea? Stacy?' he shouted.

'Coming!' she shouted back.

'Mind if I ask a few questions?'

'Why?'