‘No, I’m sure. Neither of us knew him.’ She was rattled. Understandable. Bad enough to walk on by while someone bleeds to death; even worse to think you might have known them.
‘How did you hear?’ I asked her.
‘Sorry?’
‘About the death. There weren’t any papers on New Year’s Day.’
She paused. ‘The radio, there was something on the radio.’
‘OK. So you went to the police on New Year’s Day?’
‘Yes.’ She took another long drag on the cigarette. ‘We told them what we’d seen and they arranged an identity parade.’
‘And you both picked the same suspect?’
‘Yes.’
‘Had you seen him before?’
‘No, only that night.’
They’d been very reluctant to get involved. So reluctant that they didn’t even phone for an ambulance or alert the security staff at the club, but the next day they were contacting the police like model citizens. ‘What made you go to the police?’
She shrugged. ‘We’d seen what happened. We felt obliged…’ She tasted filter and grimaced, ground out the cigarette in a large glass ashtray. ‘Is there anything else?’ She tried to be dismissive but there was no conviction behind the phrase.
‘Just a few points,’ I said. ‘What time did you get to the club?’
‘About ten o’clock.’
Luke and friends had gone early knowing it would sell out.
‘Did you meet friends?’
She looked perplexed. ‘No.’
‘Just the two of you?’ I sounded surprised.
‘Yes, just the two of us.’
‘And you didn’t bump into anybody by chance, no acquaintances, friends?’
‘No,’ she insisted. ‘It’s not somewhere we usually go; we don’t know those people.’
‘So why were you there?’
‘I don’t see what this has to do with anything.’ She stood up ‘I’ve helped you all I can, now please…’
‘You didn’t drink. Did Rashid?’
‘A little.’ She shook her head impatiently.
‘I’d like to see Mr Siddiq,’ I said, ‘when’s a good time to catch him?’
‘Why?’ She looked appalled.
‘To hear his version of events.’
‘It’s the same as mine,’ she said urgently.
‘There are always differences in what people notice, what they remember.’
Unless they’re rehearsing a story.
‘We identified the same man,’ she said, ‘we both saw what he did. The police believe us. You’d better go.’
‘OK. Thank you for your time. When can I call on Mr Siddiq?’
‘I don’t know, he’s very busy.’
‘Where does he work? I could call in, perhaps?’
She hesitated. She was behaving like a suspect, not a witness. What the hell was going on? ‘Or I could come back here one evening?’ She paled.
‘Is there something wrong?’
‘No. No,’ she blinked. ‘He’s just…very busy.’
