Stewart’s claims. The possibility that he had seen Nancy following this same route to Moszynski’s front door was disturbing. If true, it was a crucial new element. What could she have wanted with him?
A male voice challenged her from a speaker on the wall and she told them who she was. After a moment a maid opened the door.
‘I’d like to speak to Mrs Moszynski,’ Kathy said.
‘Mrs Shaka or Mrs Marta?’ the maid said. Her eyes looked puffy, as if she’d been crying.
‘Mrs Shaka, please.’
Kathy was shown into the same room in which she’d interviewed Clarke and Hadden-Vane the previous night. Now Shaka was sitting in one of the armchairs and a man was in the other, leaning towards her as if in the middle of some intense debate. Shaka looked up with irritation as Kathy walked in, and as the man turned Kathy recognised Vadim Kuzmin, Moszynski’s son-in-law, from the MI5 photos. He got to his feet and made as if to leave, but Kathy spoke to him.
‘Mr Kuzmin? I’m Detective Inspector Kolla from the Metropolitan Police. I’d like to speak to you too.’
He looked at her suspiciously. ‘How did you know my name?’
‘I was told that you had arrived this morning. Can you tell me when you left on your Russian trip?’
‘Last Wednesday.’
‘And when was the last time you were here in Cunningham Place?’
‘Last Wednesday.’ The suspicious frown was still there, and Kathy wondered if it was a perpetual mask through which he viewed the world. ‘I called in here to talk with my father-in-law before I left.’
‘Are you aware of any threats to Mr Moszynski, from people in Russia, perhaps?’
‘No.’
‘We believe he wrote a letter to The Times newspaper on Friday, suggesting just that.’ Kathy showed them a copy of the letter. ‘Are you aware of this, Mrs Moszynski? Did he discuss it with you?’
Shaka shook her head. ‘But he probably wouldn’t have spoken to me about something like that.’
‘I don’t believe this,’ Vadim said. ‘He never mentioned this to me, and I would know if there was a problem in Russia.’
‘The Aleksandrovs,’ Shaka said, ‘at dinner last month, they were going on about the FSB spying on their bank accounts.’
‘Expats!’ Vadim snarled dismissively. ‘The Aleksandrovs are paranoid. It’s nonsense. There was no threat to Mikhail. I tell you, I would know.’
‘Yeah, but maybe he wrote the letter for the sake of his friends, like the Aleksandrovs, that’s what I’m saying, Vadim.’
‘Do you know this woman, Mr Kuzmin?’ Kathy showed him Nancy Haynes’ photograph.
He shook his head.
‘How about you, Mrs Moszynski?’
‘No, I don’t know her. Who is she?’
‘It’s the American woman who was murdered last Thursday. She was staying at the hotel next door.’
‘That dump?’
‘You’re quite sure you’ve never seen or heard of her? Her name was Nancy Haynes.’ Kathy spelled it.
‘No, I told you.’
‘Only someone saw her call in here last Monday or Tuesday, at around one o’clock.’
‘No, you’ve got that wrong. Why would she come here?’
‘I don’t know. I’d like to show your staff the photograph.’
She shrugged. ‘Be my guest.’
‘I also need to ask them and both of you if you can remember any strangers hanging around in the square recently.’
She continued with them for a while without getting anywhere, then went to speak to the staff, beginning with Moszynski’s secretary, a middle-aged woman, elegantly groomed in an inconspicuous way, as if to blend into the greys and beiges of the decor. Her office seemed to be equipped with every latest business machine, yet Kathy had the impression that there was little work for her to do.
‘Ellen Fitzwilliam,’ the woman said, offering her hand. Like the maid, she too looked as if she’d been crying, and there were crumpled tissues in the bin beside her desk. ‘This is so dreadful. I heard it on the radio this morning when I was having breakfast and I still can’t believe it. People are saying that he was killed by the Russians, or by a serial killer.’
‘We really don’t know at the moment, Ellen. You must have spent a lot of time with him. Is there anything that you can tell us?’
‘Me…?’ She looked as if she hadn’t expected the question. ‘Well, yes, I’ve worked for Mr Moszynski for almost eight years now, but I can’t think of any reason why someone would want to hurt him. He was a perfect gentleman.’
‘A good boss?’
‘Oh yes. He was firm, very clear about what he wanted, but considerate too. When my mother was sick and I needed time off at short notice he was completely understanding. And he was just such an interesting man-he knew so many famous people. He started as a penniless apprentice, you know.’
‘Yes, an interesting family. How about his mother, Marta?’
‘Oh, she’s a character. Quite the matriarch. Of course she’s had a very hard life. She’s so proud of her son.’
Tears began to form in Ellen’s eyes. Kathy said quickly, ‘And his son-in-law, Mr Kuzmin?’
‘Ah, he is…’ She seemed to have trouble finding the right word. ‘Very vigorous,’ she said at last.
‘Vigorous?’ Kathy looked at her, puzzled, and the woman coloured slightly.
‘A great sportsman. He likes shooting, and he plays football.’ She hesitated. ‘And very loyal to Mr Moszynski, of course. Was there anything else?’
Kathy showed her the Times letter. ‘Have you seen this before?’
She frowned as she read it. ‘Friday… No, I haven’t.’
‘Is there someone else who might have typed it for him?’
‘No, I do all his typing. But he does sometimes write his own notes and letters on the computer. And that is his signature.’
‘Could you check your computer?’
Kathy stood behind her as she opened a file marked Gen Corr on the machine on her desk. ‘Nothing on Friday the twenty-eighth…’ She tried the previous day and scanned the list to one marked Times, which she opened. ‘Here it is.’
‘Can you find out for me when it was written, please?’
Ellen tapped the keys and brought up the properties information on the document. It had been created on Thursday 27 May, at nine thirty-two p.m.
‘Do you know when you left work that day, Ellen?’
She consulted her electronic diary. ‘Yes, I remember. I was taking my mother to the theatre and I had to leave on time, at five thirty.’
‘So you wouldn’t know who was here that evening?’
This time Ellen thumbed through a thick desk diary and said, ‘Mr Moszynski had pencilled in that evening for a business meeting here at the house with his close advisers. He didn’t say what it was about.’
‘His close advisers being…?’
‘Well, Mr Clarke, Sir Nigel Hadden-Vane and I suppose Mr Kuzmin, if he was still here. I think he left for Russia around then.’
‘So Sir Nigel was a business adviser to Mr Moszynski?’
‘Oh yes, and on social matters too. They were very close.’
Kathy moved on to show her Nancy’s picture.
‘Isn’t that the American lady who was staying at the hotel next door?’
‘You recognise her.’
‘Well, from her picture in the newspapers, yes, of course. We were shocked.’
‘We?’
