CHAPTER 27. THURSDAY SEPTEMBER 2, 00:01.
Prosto Radio 102.5 FM. Midnight News.
"News just in. Militsia sources have confirmed that a young woman's body has been found in a warehouse near Leninhrads'ke Highway. Rumours that the woman was tortured and mutilated have not been confirmed nor has her identity been released until next of kin have been notified.
"However, the initial investigation by the Militsia leads them to believe there is a gangland connection and are pursuing all possible leads at this time.
"In another disappointing night for Chornomorets Odessa FC..."
Caramarin switched off the radio. He held his head in his hands. If he had any left, he'd get drunk.
There was a pounding on his apartment door. Wearily he stood to answer it. No prizes for guessing who was on the other side. He stood.
"C'mon in, officers."
The two burly uniformed Militsia officers shoved past him into the small apartment and looked around. One flashed his warrant card, not that he needed to. His friend, Sergeant Grodzyk. Grodzyk placed a hand on his chest and pushed him down onto his sofa whilst the other opened drawers and dropped his stuff onto the floor. Walked all over it. Not that he had much. Caramarin didn't say anything. Just sat with a slight smile and tried to look non threatening.
"What's it about, officers?" he asked.
"We'll tell you when we're good and ready, you Romanian dirt-bag." said Grodzyk.
Didn't take them too long to go through his little apartment. They didn't find his emergency stash. But they'd have to take the place to pieces before they found that.
"Where were you tonight?"
Knew this was coming.
"Ate at Havanas up on Prymorsky Boulevard. I was with Eugen Maiorescu, Dmytro Litovchenko, Serhiy Bilokin, a couple of others."
"Fine upstanding citizens, all."
"He's a respected businessman. I know he's friends with a number of senior officers in the Militsia."
"Don't try to be funny. We know who you mean."
"When did you finish eating? Then what did you get up to?" said Grodzyk.
"Finished about nine, nine fifteen? Then we all went over to Maryana's Massage over on Mala Arnouts'ka for a massage..."
"And I'm sure those whores, sorry, highly trained masseuses, will verify that, will they?" said Grodzyk.
"Sure, go and ask them. I was seen by a girl called Yulia. She's very good at a deep muscle massage. You should try her."
"Don't try to be funny. You left when?" said the second officer.
"Maybe eleven thirty or so. Then Eugen Maiorescu dropped me off here about midnight. And I've been here ever since. By the way, I think I saw a couple of your guys at Maryana's. Can't be sure of their names but I'm sure I've seen 'em before."
"Anyone saw you come home?"
"My landlady. She was still up. I saw her watching television."
"We'll check all that. If you're lying you can put your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye." Grodzyk said.
"So you've never been anywhere near the industrial estate off Leninhrads'ke Highway, then?"
"This about that dead girl?" he said incredulously.
"We'll ask the questions."
"No, like I say, had dinner, a massage and then come home. That's all."
"So, if I said Maiorescu's Mercedes was seen coming out of Promyslova Street?"
"Then I'd say whoever saw it must be mistaken. We were nowhere near there."
Sergeant Grodzyk grabbed Caramarin by the lapels and dragged him upright. He shoved his face within centimetres of Caramarin's and shouted.
"Listen, you Romanian dirt-bag. Some poor girl was brutally killed this evening. I know Maiorescu and his shitty little gang is involved. I know that bastard's into people trafficking now. What was it? She wouldn't do as she was told? You all fancied a gang bang and she objected? Wanted to send a message to the others? Or are you all just psycho nutters?"
"I wasn't anywhere near the warehouse..."
Sergeant Grodzyk shouted him down with a cry of triumph.
"Who said anything about a warehouse, dirt-bag?"
"It was on the radio. Honest, that's all I know."
"We found footprints in the blood. Let's see your boots, dirt bag."
Oh shit, thought Caramarin. He took off his boots and handed them up. The two officers looked at each other and shook their heads then dropped them.
"I've half a mind to take you in for further questioning, anyway. But I'm gonna check out your laughable alibis and if anything doesn't check out, we're coming back." Grodzyk said.
"Yeah, don't go anywhere without informing us."
"Oh, by the way, have this on account," suddenly Grodzyk slammed his knee up into Caramarin's crotch. Red-white fire filled his body. He doubled over and collapsed to the floor in agony.
"You filthy pervert." said the other.
Caramarin looked up from the floorboards.
"Nothing to do with me," he managed to gasp out.
"There's more where that come from 'cos I know you're involved in this clusterfuck somehow. When I get the proof, you're gonna be a senile old man by the time you get out."
"A very old man with an arse hole the size of a bus," said the other.
"Listen," Grodzyk said more quietly. "I'm getting fed up coming to this shit hole. I'm coming for you. Unless you do us all a favour and fuck off back to Romania. Am I coming through loud and clear?"
They had another look round before leaving. As their footsteps clattered down the outside stairs, Caramarin breathed a sigh of relief. Hauled himself onto his sofa, clutching his aching nuts. Just as well he hadn't accidentally stepped in any of the blood splashed around or he'd be in for several beatings down at the station. He'd put his clothes in the wash to rid them of any fibres or DNA when he'd got back but he'd forgotten his boots.
A stupid mistake.