Bradfield asked if Mannie had seen anyone watching or asking about any of the nearby banks, or heard any sounds that were out of the ordinary, like heavy machinery or digging perhaps. Mannie shook his head.
‘Have any of the other shop owners mentioned anything unusual?’
‘I don’t really have anything to do wiv ’em, Mr Bradfield. I just get on with my business and my customers are mostly regulars that book an appointment for fittings. Passing trade is very poor.’
‘Who runs the store on the corner?’
‘A bunch of Indian schmucks. They sell electric tools and machinery, but we never talk.’
Bradfield smiled. ‘Do you get on with anyone in the street, Mannie?’
‘The woman who owns the shoe shop is very nice and bought a coat and matching skirt from me.’
‘What about the Greek guy who runs the café?’
‘Silas, yes, he’s always pleasant and friendly.’
‘I take it he bought goods from you as well.’
‘No. Why would he wear a suit in a café? He always gives me a little discount, which is kind considering he doesn’t do much business apart from the bank staff next door to him. You should try his Greek coffee with a sweet honey and nut baklava. I love it, but the nuts always get stuck in my teeth.’
‘Have you heard any noises coming from the café at night – drilling or stuff like that?’
‘No, but I don’t usually work here late at night. Me and the wife just wanted to get all the detectives’ suits done.’
Bradfield asked about the back yards belonging to the shop owners in the street and Mannie told him he rented his out to a carpenter. He was unsure about the others, but as far as he knew most shop owners used them for their vans or storage.
Mrs Charles returned with her coffee in a chipped mug and sat at her sewing machine. She began altering the waist on a pair of suit trousers, and twisted the cloth expertly, working at unbelievable speed.
‘Do you have a cellar, Mannie?’ Bradfield asked.
Kath waited upstairs with Mrs Charles as Mannie led Bradfield down the narrow stone stairs to a large cellar the size of the entire space of the floor above. Racks of wrapped material were stored amongst cardboard boxes and old sewing machines. The walls were red brick and in many areas worn and in need of repointing. They could hear the sound of Mrs Charles on the sewing machine as it echoed through the floorboards.
Bradfield couldn’t see any reason to remain there and asked Mannie to have a chat with his wife and let him know if she could add anything of interest. Walking back into the sewing and fitting room Bradfield saw Kath standing with her arms stretched out and Mrs Charles holding a measuring tape round her chest.
‘What you doing, Morgan?’
‘Well, now I’m working in the CID as an acting detective, sir, I thought I’d get a nice two-piece skirt suit for work.’
‘Do it in your own time, not on the job. We’re done here.’
Kath thought this was rather ironic as it was obvious he and a few other detectives were getting new tailored suits, but she said nothing.
Mannie unlocked the front door, and was ushering them out when he tapped Bradfield’s arm.
‘There is something a bit odd. I mean it might not mean anything, but we’ve all been given our marching orders by the council as they is going to knock this row of shops down. The leases are up in six months. Me and Mrs Charles can’t work from home as the house is small and not big enough for all the materials and sewing stuff, so we looking for a new place to set up business.’
‘What’s odd about that?’ Bradfield asked.
‘Well, the Greek café, they got notices up that he’s doing refurbishing, so to me it’s a waste of good money if the place is gonna be pulled down, understand what I mean?’
Bradfield made no comment about the information, but asked Mannie for an empty suit-bag to be padded out with paper and old useless cut-offs. A puzzled Mannie did as he was asked and Bradfield thanked him for his time. ‘We’d appreciate it if you kept quiet about our chat, Mr Charles.’
Mannie nodded.
As Bradfield and Kath walked to the car she said, ‘Do ya not want to take a look at the café?’
He put his arm around her shoulders. ‘If they got a lookout positioned somewhere round here I don’t want them getting suspicious. That’s why I asked for an empty suit-bag that looks full – we just move on nice and casual.’
On the way back to the station Kath sat in the passenger seat as Bradfield drove. It was almost midnight: she was really tired and had been in bed suffering from an almighty hangover when they had called her in.
‘There was something going on that I thought was rather odd,’ she said, yawning.
He turned and frowned at her. ‘I know, so that’s why we’ll check out with the council in the morning about the lease and see what we can get on this Silas geezer.’
