The kitchen door banged open again to reveal a short, thin, dark-haired girl, who brought the policemen two glasses of water and enquired in a strong Polish accent whether they would like anything else to drink.
“No, thank you, miss. Are you Sophie Radzinski?”
The waitress flushed and squeezed her hands together anxiously. “Yes, that is my name.”
“Do you mind if—?”
The oily-haired man appeared from nowhere and shouted something in Polish at the girl.
“I am sorry, sir. We are very busy. I do not have time to chat.”
Bridges stood up and tapped the young man’s shoulder and displayed his warrant card. “We need to ask a few questions of this young lady, sir.”
“But we are busy, as you see. Cannot this—?”
“Why don’t you do some serving yourself? We are going to ask Miss Radzinski here to sit down for a moment. Just hold your horses and we’ll be as quick as we can.”
The young man reddened and muttered something as he went back into the kitchen from where they heard the sound of clanging pots and pans.
“Thank you, Sergeant. Miss Radzinski, do you know a Polish pilot called Kilinski?”
A shadow passed over Sophie’s face. Her very bright, red lipstick contrasted strikingly with the paleness of her face. Despite the make-up, she looked little more than a girl. “Something’s happened to him, hasn’t it?”
“I’m afraid it has.”
“He is dead, yes? Shot down by those Nazi killers?”
“Dead, yes, but not in the air.”
Sophie shook her head and looked off into the distance. Merlin expected tears and was conscious of how insensitively he had broached the news. “I am sorry if—”
The girl’s eyes bored into him. They had no tears. “Save your apologies, policeman. Death is death. I have lived with death for some time. Another death of someone I loved. There have been so many.”
“Had you known Mr Kilinski long?” Bridges grabbed a bread roll and nibbled at it awkwardly.
“A few months. He was a nice boy.”
“Did you see much of him in the last week or so?”
Sophie sighed and looked out of the restaurant window. A fire engine drove noisily past. “Yes, he stayed with me for a week or so. He had some clothes there from earlier in the summer. Said he had leave because of some injury. He seemed alright to me. If I asked what the injury was, he said it was a, how do you say, psychological injury and laughed.”
“Where do you live?” Merlin had copied Bridges and was picking at a roll.
“I have a small bedsit in Bermondsey. It is cramped but cosy.” Now, at last, a small tear appeared on the girl’s cheek. “How did he die?”
“I’m sorry, but he was murdered.”
With a sharp gulp of breath, Sophie closed her eyes. Then she slowly breathed out and looked at Merlin. “Glupi chlopak! That stupid boy. I told him to take care.”
“Do you know what he was up to, Miss Radzinski?”
The oily-haired maitre d’, or whatever he was, came up and glared at Merlin before delivering a dish to another table.
“I hope you are not going to lose me my job, Inspector?” Sophie brushed away a lock of hair.
“Don’t worry, we’ll have a word with your boss after.”
“Better make it a scary word. He’s a bastard. So, you want to know what I know about Simon?”
“You know his real name?”