Blood Never Dies Read Online Free PDF

doors.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know the different makes.’
    ‘What about the black plastic sack? You said it was full. Could you tell how heavy it was?’
    She stared again. ‘Not very,’ she said at last. ‘I mean he was carrying it all right, not staggering along. And he swung it into the car. I’d say it was bulky more than heavy – like maybe it was full of clothes.’
    And perhaps it was, Slider thought – along with personal papers and wallet and mobile – and a laptop. Unless it
had
been one of the other tenants, or a guest of theirs. Or customer. There was going to have to be a lot of careful questioning, and a lot of time-consuming cross-checking, which was a nuisance. Because although the sack, its contents, and the murder might not be connected, there was a chance they were, and the beanie-clad figure and the sack were well away from here by now.
    ‘Did I see a murderer?’ Michelle asked in a small, impressed voice.
    Natasha looked at her with mouth ajar. ‘I thought it was suicide?’ she said.
    ‘We don’t know for sure that it wasn’t,’ Slider said, a form of words which confirmed each of the girls in her separate view.
    Renker had gone with the body and the coroner’s officer to the morgue: as there was doubt as to the identity, continuity had to be ensured, and he was the first officer to have seen the body. Hollis had brought Mr Botev back to the station. When Slider arrived, he fetched Mackay from the CID room and went in to question him, and let Mackay do the asking while he listened and studied the man. Botev was clearly unhappy about his surroundings, and was glaring about and sweating heavily. He complained vociferously about having been brought to the station. ‘I done nothing wrong! What is this, police state?’
    He had little to tell them about the deceased. He had given his name as Robin Williams, but Botev had not asked for any form of identification. ‘Why should I? Name mean nothing to me. Long as he pay rent and make no trouble, call himself what he like.’
    ‘And
did
he pay his rent?’
    ‘Sure he did. Wouldn’t be there otherwise.’
    ‘How did he pay? Cash, cheque?’
    ‘Cash,’ said Botev. Of course, thought Slider.
    ‘Did he give you his previous address? Any references?’ No in both cases. ‘So you really knew nothing about him.’
    ‘What I need to know?’ Botev said simply. ‘He want room, I got room. He pay me, I leave him alone.’
    It was a nice choice of words, Slider thought, looking at the meaty hands resting on the table. On the shady side of the street, might is right. Some landlords had to pay and retain a couple of shaven-headed suit-bulgers with hams for hands to put their point of view across, but Botev was like a boulder in human clothes. What he lacked in height he made up for with a usefully low centre of gravity.
    Mackay pursued the barren path doggedly. ‘How did he find out that you had a place vacant? Was it through an agency?’
    Botev gave the suggestion a contemptuous snort. ‘Advert. I put cards in shops. Many cards, many shops.’
    No trail there, then, not after three months. Slider came in for the first time. ‘There must be something you can tell me about this man,’ he suggested. ‘There he is, dead, in your house—’
    ‘Kill himself!’ Botev interrupted indignantly. ‘I not control this. If I know, I throw him out, do it someplace else. Not my fault!’
    Slider went on as if he had not spoken. ‘I’m sure there are many things about that house you would rather we didn’t know about. Illegal immigrants, drug dealers, not to mention over-occupancy, fire-regulation breaches, probably planning breaches too. And then there’s the question of tax and VAT. If you think having the police on your back is bad, you should try Revenue and Customs. I promise you they make us look like little fluffy kittens by comparison.’
    Botev licked his lips, and his eyes looked angry and trapped. ‘What you want from me?’ he