his flat. Why would he bother to unlock the shop,go out into the street, lock the shop door, then unlock the door from the street to go upstairs?’ He frowned. ‘Did you see where the two sets of stairs came into the upstairs flat?’
‘Yes.’ Conway nodded.
‘Do either of them go straight into one of the bedrooms?’
‘No,’ said Conway. ‘They both came up to a landing.’
‘So it’s not a case of not using one particular set of stairs because it goes into a personal living space of his brothers-in-law, or his sister-in-law.’
‘No,’ said Conway, shaking his head.
‘So, it’s still the same question,’ said Georgiou. ‘Why does Mr Sun use the stairs from the street rather than from the kitchen?’
Conway shook his head again.
‘No idea,’ he admitted. ‘Do you think that’s what happened? That he went outside to go upstairs using the door from the street, and was grabbed by the killer, who then took him to Birdoswald?’
This time it was Georgiou’s turn to shake his head.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I think Mr Sun went somewhere else after he finished work for the night.’
Conway looked at him, startled.
‘You think he’s got a fancy woman?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Georgiou. ‘If my hunch is right, we’ll know where he was taken from, and it won’t be outside his takeaway.’ He picked up his phone, dialled the IT department, and asked to speak to DS Tennyson.
‘Mac,’ he said. ‘I’m going with Conway to have another word with the Sun family. It might be a bit of a delicate chat, so I’m going to keep my mobile switched off so we’re notinterrupted. If anything comes up, I’ll sort it out when we get back. OK?’
‘No problem,’ said Tennyson.
‘How are you getting on with IT?’ asked Georgiou.
‘Slow,’ said Tennyson. ‘Slow, but steady.’
‘I’ll see you when I get back,’ said Georgiou.
Conway frowned, puzzled.
‘What do you mean, a delicate chat?’ he asked.
‘I’ll tell you if I turn out to be right,’ said Georgiou. He stood up. ‘OK, let’s go and see this Mr Li.’
SEVENTEEN
G eorgiou and Conway sat in the same small cramped room above the takeaway where Conway had sat just an hour or so before. This time only Mr Li, the elder of the two brothers-in-law, was in the room with them. Mrs Sun was in her bedroom being comforted by her sister. The younger brother was downstairs in the kitchen of the takeaway, preparing food for that evening. As Mr Li had told them as they sat down: ‘Work goes on.’
Georgiou studied Mr Li. He was in his fifties, Georgiou guessed, and with the death of Mr Sun, Mr Li was now the head of the family. Before, Mr Li had just been ‘a worker’; the name on the shop front was ‘Han Sun Chinese Takeaway’, so Mr Sun had been the boss. There was a great deal of wariness in Mr Li’s eyes. He wasn’t happy about being alone with the two policemen. With his two sisters and his brother in the room, he could hide, divert attention onto many other things, but not alone with these two.
He’s wary because he’s hiding something, thought Georgiou. And I think I know what it is.
Georgiou offered his condolences again, in a sympatheticvoice, and asked a few mild questions about Mr Sun, rephrasing most of them from those which Conway had asked in his earlier visit, all to lull Mr Li into dropping his guard a bit. It didn’t work. Mr Li remained as wary as ever; so Georgiou dropped his bombshell, still keeping his voice low, gentle, concerned, as he asked: ‘Where was last night’s game?’
Mr Li looked back at him, a puzzled expression on his face, but Georgiou had caught the momentary look of concern in his eyes.
‘Game?’ repeated Mr Li. He shook his head. ‘What game?’
‘Mahjong,’ said Georgiou. And he added a brief sentence in some strange sounds that caused Conway to look at his boss, taken aback.
Mr Li looked uncomfortable, then shook his head fiercely.
‘No game,’ he said firmly.
Georgiou leant
‘Yes.’ Conway nodded.
‘Do either of them go straight into one of the bedrooms?’
‘No,’ said Conway. ‘They both came up to a landing.’
‘So it’s not a case of not using one particular set of stairs because it goes into a personal living space of his brothers-in-law, or his sister-in-law.’
‘No,’ said Conway, shaking his head.
‘So, it’s still the same question,’ said Georgiou. ‘Why does Mr Sun use the stairs from the street rather than from the kitchen?’
Conway shook his head again.
‘No idea,’ he admitted. ‘Do you think that’s what happened? That he went outside to go upstairs using the door from the street, and was grabbed by the killer, who then took him to Birdoswald?’
This time it was Georgiou’s turn to shake his head.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I think Mr Sun went somewhere else after he finished work for the night.’
Conway looked at him, startled.
‘You think he’s got a fancy woman?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Georgiou. ‘If my hunch is right, we’ll know where he was taken from, and it won’t be outside his takeaway.’ He picked up his phone, dialled the IT department, and asked to speak to DS Tennyson.
‘Mac,’ he said. ‘I’m going with Conway to have another word with the Sun family. It might be a bit of a delicate chat, so I’m going to keep my mobile switched off so we’re notinterrupted. If anything comes up, I’ll sort it out when we get back. OK?’
‘No problem,’ said Tennyson.
‘How are you getting on with IT?’ asked Georgiou.
‘Slow,’ said Tennyson. ‘Slow, but steady.’
‘I’ll see you when I get back,’ said Georgiou.
Conway frowned, puzzled.
‘What do you mean, a delicate chat?’ he asked.
‘I’ll tell you if I turn out to be right,’ said Georgiou. He stood up. ‘OK, let’s go and see this Mr Li.’
SEVENTEEN
G eorgiou and Conway sat in the same small cramped room above the takeaway where Conway had sat just an hour or so before. This time only Mr Li, the elder of the two brothers-in-law, was in the room with them. Mrs Sun was in her bedroom being comforted by her sister. The younger brother was downstairs in the kitchen of the takeaway, preparing food for that evening. As Mr Li had told them as they sat down: ‘Work goes on.’
Georgiou studied Mr Li. He was in his fifties, Georgiou guessed, and with the death of Mr Sun, Mr Li was now the head of the family. Before, Mr Li had just been ‘a worker’; the name on the shop front was ‘Han Sun Chinese Takeaway’, so Mr Sun had been the boss. There was a great deal of wariness in Mr Li’s eyes. He wasn’t happy about being alone with the two policemen. With his two sisters and his brother in the room, he could hide, divert attention onto many other things, but not alone with these two.
He’s wary because he’s hiding something, thought Georgiou. And I think I know what it is.
Georgiou offered his condolences again, in a sympatheticvoice, and asked a few mild questions about Mr Sun, rephrasing most of them from those which Conway had asked in his earlier visit, all to lull Mr Li into dropping his guard a bit. It didn’t work. Mr Li remained as wary as ever; so Georgiou dropped his bombshell, still keeping his voice low, gentle, concerned, as he asked: ‘Where was last night’s game?’
Mr Li looked back at him, a puzzled expression on his face, but Georgiou had caught the momentary look of concern in his eyes.
‘Game?’ repeated Mr Li. He shook his head. ‘What game?’
‘Mahjong,’ said Georgiou. And he added a brief sentence in some strange sounds that caused Conway to look at his boss, taken aback.
Mr Li looked uncomfortable, then shook his head fiercely.
‘No game,’ he said firmly.
Georgiou leant
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