Chapter 74
On the verge of breaking into a run, Thurstan called to the old woman who stepped out of the door. “Could you just hold that for me, please! Thanks, very much.”
He saw she was unsure, “I’m just visiting Mister Kamiński on the first floor.” He smiled.
She smiled back. “He’s not there.”
“Oh, do you know when he’ll be back?” He held up the carrier bag. “It’s just that I’ve brought him some stuff.”
She shook her head slowly. “He’s never coming back.”
Thurstan stared at her expectantly. Nothing. Eventually, he said, “He didn’t die, did he?”
She chuckled. “No, what made you think that. He’s moved. I think he swapped with the new chap. He’s in. Go speak to him.” With that, she turned and shuffled off.
On the first floor, he knocked for a second time. He heard the flush of a toilet and then a call. “I’m coming. Have some patience!”
The door opened; the chain still in place. “Who are you?” the old man with watery eyes asked gruffly.
“I’m Detective Chief Inspector Baddeley.” He rummaged in his pocket for the wallet containing his warrant card.
“Where’s your badge?”
“Look, it’s here, see.” He held it up showing the badge on the front then opened it to show his picture identity card.
“How do I know it’s real?”
Thurstan was dazed. Nobody had said that to him before. He looked at the card and had to admit it was a good question. All he could think of was, “Well, I can assure you it is. Look, I’ve come to see Mister Kamiński.”
“Who?” The old chap eyed him suspiciously.
“The man who used to live here.”
“Well, he’s not here anymore.”
“I know that.” Thurstan smiled, pleasantly.
“So, why have you come to see him?” A look of bewilderment.
“Because I didn’t know he’d moved.” He was starting to feel a sense of frustration.
“You just said you did. Go away,” he said and started to close the door. “I’m calling the Police.”
Thurstan stuck his foot against it. “Look, I am the Police. I just need his address. I assume you swapped with him, through the council?”
He nodded.
“Well, is it possible you could give me your old address, so I can visit him there?” He held the bag up. “I’m a sort of friend of his and I brought him some stuff.”
He felt the pressure of the door against his foot and removed it. It clicked shut. He stood and waited. After a while, he decided he’d seen the last of the occupant and started to walk back to the stairs. The door opened again. A hand and a piece of paper gently shook by the doorframe. He returned and took the note with its weak scrawl. “Thank you, thank you very much,” he said with a sympathetic smile.
He’d made it halfway down the steps when the thought came to him.
The old man answered the second knock at his door. It was him again. “Yes?”
Thurstan held the bag up. “I just wondered if you could make any use of these?” he said. “I’ll leave them here.” Placing it on the carpet, he pointed to the stairs. “I’m off now, have a nice day.” With that, he left. The old guy slipped the chain and quickly retrieved the white plastic bag. Door shut, he tottered to the kitchen and took the little plate with the crumbs on, the remnants of his meal, and placed it in the sink. He put the bag on the table, opened his spectacles’ case and examined the treasure. One by one he removed the items, read the labels, and placed them in a line.
He took out his hanky, removed his glasses, and softly wiped his eyes with trembling hands.