Off the Rails

∨ Off the Rails ∧

19

Nikos

As John May descended the basement steps and entered the University College Cruciform Library on Gower Street, he realised he had no description of the man he was there to meet. He needn’t have been concerned, however, as Nikos Nicolau was waiting for him.

May knew it was wrong to judge by appearances, but it seemed that Nicolau had gone out of his way to appear unprepossessing. He had been put together wrongly; his head was too large, his back slightly hunched, his eyes protuberant. Thinning hair was slicked across a broad expanse of skull bone, but he couldn’t have been more than twenty-one. He was wearing a crumpled baggy T-shirt bearing the slogan A Joy to Have in Class, which seemed unlikely, as he didn’t smell very fresh. The senior detective was fastidious about personal grooming, and it bothered May to admit that he was adversely influenced by its lack in others.

“Mr May? There’s a corner over here where we can talk.” Nicolau led the way to a pair of red sofas screened off from the central part of the library. “I have trouble working down here because there’s no natural light. I have a melatonin imbalance, and get extremely claustrophobic, but it’s necessary for me to be here because they have good pharmacological reference tools, and that’s my study area.” He spoke with the clipped North London accent of a transported Greek, but sounded as if he had trouble with his sinuses.

“I appreciate your making the time to see me.” May seated himself and extracted a notebook. “Cassie Field gave me your details. She works for the Karma Bar just behind here?”

“Oh, the babe.” Nikos gave a snort of delight and was forced to wipe his nose. “She knows who I am?”

“Well, she must, because she gave me your number.”

“I give out my number all the time but people don’t usually – especially – ” He could see how that was starting to sound, and killed the rest of the sentence. “How can I help you?”

May produced the sticker in its clear plastic slip case. “Seen one of these before?”

“Yeah. They’re from the bar.”

“Were you aware that it’s an early Victorian symbol denoting lunacy?” He had promised Bryant he would ask.

“No, I had no idea. Interesting.”

“This one’s hand-coloured. Like the one on your bag.” May pointed at the satchel between Nicolau’s boots.

“Yeah, I coloured it in.”

“Any others like that?”

“A few of us have them, I guess.”

“Are you some kind of a group – a club?”

“Just friends. Some of us started on the same day. The guys are doing urban planning, I’m in biochemical engineering, ah – ” he scrunched his eyes shut, thinking, “ – and we have a girl doing computational statistics. There are six of us altogether, sharing the same house.”

“I can’t imagine you would have that much in common, doing different courses.”

“The bar. We have the Karma Bar in common. It’s a good place to meet girls and just hang out. There are a few pubs nearby but they get too crowded with suits in the evening, and they all have TVs tuned to sports channels. None of us is very interested in football.”

“So – what? Miss Field gave each of you a sticker? Or did one of you hand them out to the others?”

“I don’t remember, but I can tell you why we put them on our stuff. Nearly everyone who goes in there is carrying a laptop bag. They get piled in a heap by the bar, and many of them look the same, so one evening we coloured the stickers, so that we’d be able to find our gear when we were leaving.”

“And the girl? Does she come with you?”

“Sure. She’s Matt’s girlfriend. He’s one of the housemates, too. I don’t really know Ruby well; she kind of keeps to herself. I think it may have been her idea to colour the stickers.” Nicolau settled his glasses further back on the bridge of his nose. He was sweating heavily. “Can I ask why you’re so interested?”

“This one was found on a dead body.” May waited for the idea to sink in. “In an investigation of this kind, you check anything that’s unusual, or even just a little bit different.”

“If I can give you a suggestion? People often chuck their coats on top of the bags – maybe it got transferred?”

“You’re probably right.” There didn’t seem to be anything more May could glean that might be of use. “Well, it was a point worth covering. Thanks for your time.” He rose to leave. “Tell you what, though. In case I need to check any further I don’t want to disturb you. Perhaps you’d give me contact details for this girl – Ruby?”

“Sure.” Nicolau seemed relieved. He scribbled something on a scrap of paper. “Ruby Cates. Here’s her email address.”

May left, but somewhere an alarm had been triggered. The harder he tried to focus on what was wrong, the less sure he became. Leave the thought, he told himself, it will surface when it’s ready. The uneasy feeling stayed with him all the way back to the Unit.

Then he remembered. It was something Cassie Field had said. Too intense. Nicolau had been trying hard to convince. The look of relief on his face when May had switched his attention to the girl had been palpable.