‘So you never saw Sofia with a man with dark, curly hair?’ Robin asked Gretchen, but Max answered for her again.
‘Gretchen has already said no. She’s tolt the police everything she knows.’
‘I don’t know everyone Sofia met,’ said Gretchen. ‘I told the police so. It’s like Max says. There were lots of different men.’
‘Did you ever know her to steal anyth—?’
‘No,’ said Gretchen.
‘Are you sure?’ said Robin.
‘She could… forget to return things,’ said Gretchen uncertainly, ‘but that’s not like robbing somebody’s flat.’
As friendliness was getting Robin nowhere, she decided a change of tone was warranted.
‘Why did you agree to meet me, Gretchen?’ she asked, no longer smiling.
‘Because – I wanted to know what it was all about,’ said Gretchen.
Robin could hear the strain in her voice. She could also tell that Max was itching to spirit his girlfriend away from this dangerous woman, to regroup, to think out their next steps. Robin decided a bluff was the only way to go.
‘Gretchen, our agency’s got good police contacts. The police already know Sofia was hanging around with a man who had dark, curly hair. That’s how we connected Sofia with the pair who robbed the flat in Newham. I think you know who that man is, and I think you know Sofia was with him, the weekend she was killed.’
‘How could Gretchen know who Sofia vos vid?’ said Max angrily. ‘She vosn’t dere.’ He stood up. ‘
Gretchen half-rose.
‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to inform the police I believe you’ve deliberately withheld information,’ said Robin.
Gretchen fell back into her chair as though her legs wouldn’t support her weight. Max stooped to hiss in his girlfriend’s ear.
‘
Robin, who’d taken three years of German at school, seemed to remember the word ‘Anwalt’ cropping up while learning the names of various professions. At her boyfriend’s words, Gretchen’s face crumpled. Hiding it in her hands, she began to sob.
‘
‘
‘You don’t have to tell me what you know,’ said Robin, ‘but you
Gretchen was still crying. Max sat down again, putting a tentative hand on her back, muttering in German. The girl shook her head, her shoulders shaking, her face still hidden. Four young people at a nearby table, who were sharing a jug of some purple liquid, were staring over at the scene. Robin cast a cold look at them and they turned hastily back to their pitcher of cocktails.
‘Tell me more about Sofia,’ Robin said, judging it best to leave the subject of the curly haired man for now.
Gretchen looked up. Her tear-stained, woeful face looked childish now. She wiped her nose on the cuff of her fleece.
‘She vos… what Max said,’ she whispered.
‘A party girl?’ said Robin gently. ‘Well, he’s right, there’s no harm in that, is there?’
Still rubbing his girlfriend’s back, Max said through clenched lips,
‘
‘I might not be a policewoman,’ said Robin, ‘but we work closely with the police, and continuing to hide what you know—’
‘She vonted a sugar daddy,’ blurted Gretchen.
Robin wouldn’t have needed to know any German at all to recognise that Max had just sworn under his breath. An argument now broke out in their native language, Max speaking in an angry whisper, Gretchen tearful, her voice rising higher and higher in pitch. Several words recurred:
‘
In the stress of the situation, her flawless English accent was deteriorating.
‘They do, yes,’ said Robin.
‘You see?’ said Gretchen desperately to her boyfriend. ‘
‘Tell me about this man,’ said Robin. ‘Where did Sofia meet him?’
‘On… on OnlyFans,’ said Gretchen.
Robin took her notebook out of her bag. Both her interviewees looked frightened at the sight of it, but they were in too deep, now, to run.
‘How long were they together?’
‘Only… a month or something, before she died. She said she
‘It vosn’t