“The sentence might have seemed inadequate to you, and for what it’s worth, I certainly thought it was, but if you think about it, Toma, even if she had been given a custodial sentence, no amount of time could bring them back.”
“It wasn’t her. She is just the monkey. I want the organ grinder. The bastard landlord that killed my beautiful Reveka and Benke but then wasn’t held accountable.”
“The landlord was exonerated. Winterdale lied to him about the checks she was doing, and she didn’t forward on the gas-board warnings to the owner. He was ignorant of all wrongdoing.”
Toma shook his head. “No. I do not believe this. He has walked away and still doesn’t change his ways, all these years later.”
The woman weighed it up. On one hand, aggrieved people had bias and denied facts. On the other, mistakes were made. “What are you saying?” she asked cautiously.
“I accepted what the court said. I was too tired, too broken, to question. I thought it was this Winterdale woman. She said she was guilty herself. But later I stayed in another place. I discover same man is the landlord and I discover he is criminal. The laws, they are clear about a landlord’s responsibility, right?”
“Right. Private-sector landlords are responsible for the safety of the tenants. The Gas Safety Regulations 1998 deal with landlords’ duties to make sure gas appliances, fittings and flues provided for tenants are safe.” It was clear the woman quoted this law frequently. Bad landlords were not confined to the Victorian era. She probably quoted it every day.
“But he doesn’t do this.”
She brightened. “We can investigate that. We can issue warnings. Have carbon monoxide alarms fitted by the council if the landlord fails to comply. We can stop this sort of tragedy from happening in another one of his properties. That would be something, wouldn’t it?” Toma listened to her trying to sanitize the matter. Trying to rectify without rocking the boat.
“He still rents out slums,” Toma insisted, his accent becoming thicker as emotion throttled him. “Since they died, I have suffered the pain, the grief, the loss, but I managed. Not lived, just existed. Never remarried although everyone said I should. Stayed loyal, stayed focused. Stayed here. How could I move back to Moldova to my sister and my cousins? I couldn’t bear to leave my wife and son here alone. I have no choice but to stay. Then I lose my job, move into a hostel. End up on the streets. Then last year someone takes me in. I work on a building site for a place to stay and food.”
“No wage?”
“No. I know this is exploitation. I have no choice. I don’t care. I stay in the place they offer me. It’s better than the streets. But I notice the law is broken in this property. I ask who the landlord is. No one has a name but one day I stay off work. I pretend I am ill because I know that this day is rent collection and I see him, and then I recognize him. It is the same man. My old landlord. He was called into court one day during the trial, so I am sure. I would never forget his face. Then I start to wonder. Did he know after all? Is he responsible?”
“But why would Elaine Winterdale take the fall?”
“He pay her.” Toma could see that the woman didn’t buy into his theory. She was interested in helping, but there was a limit.
“Come back to Citizens Advice Bureau with me. We can look into this,” she offered.
He understood what was happening here. He was a step ahead of her. She thought she was luring him in. She wanted him to trust her so she could introduce him to back-to-work schemes and find him better accommodation. She had enough compassion to want to see Toma on his feet again. Yes, undoubtedly she would issue warning letters about the carbon monoxide alarms to the bastard landlord, if she could track him down. She had a developed sense of responsibility and would want to stop this sort of disaster happening again if she could. She was good at her job. He nodded and stood up. He followed her through the park, back along the high street and into her office, certain that it was not him on the end of the line—it was her.
He would reel her in, a slippery, reluctant catch, maybe. But he would get her onside, convince her that his theory was a reality, and then he would use her office resources to investigate the bastard that had killed his loves. Toma would have justice. Or revenge.
CHAPTER 6
Lexi
Tuesday, April 23
I’m looking forward to the appointment with the lottery people. My family think my reserve is odd, but I’m not made of steel—of course I’m excited about this win. Over the moon. It is, as we keep saying to ourselves and each other, amazing, fantastic, spectacular. It is those and all sorts of other overused superlatives. However, I am a realist and I know that this sort of win comes with some complications and responsibilities, too. The timing couldn’t be worse. I try not to think of the Pearsons and the Heathcotes because whenever I do the excited glow inside is extinguished. I feel cold and sour in my heart. I just need to understand the process, have everything locked down and agreed, and then we can really relax and enjoy our ridiculously good fortune.
Over the weekend, Jake and the kids drew up a list of stuff they wanted to squander the money on. It was very general and included—but was not limited to—cars, property, clothes, parties, holidays. I groaned.
“Guys, that list is a lazy list.” All three stared at me, uncomprehending. Both my children look a lot like their dad: dark curly hair, dark eyes. They are all beautiful to look at, compelling. They wore the same expression, too—excitement. No, scrub that—jubilation. “At least
