smile or offer me anything to drink, she just jerks her head towards a chair, indicating I sit.
I look around as I do. Nunes stays planted in the doorway, as though worried I might try to bolt. My pulse leaps, my heart rate doubling. Sweat trickles down my spine and prickles beneath my arms.
‘How do you know Konstandin Zeqiri?’ Reza asks with no preamble.
‘Um … he drives an Uber.’
‘That’s how you know him?’
‘Yes, he took Kate and I to the bar we went to on Friday night. Is something …?’
Reza leans forward across the desk. ‘But you’ve seen him since then?’ she interrupts.
I swallow. No point denying anything. ‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘He’s an Uber driver,’ I say. ‘He’s been driving me around.’
‘You have receipts for that?’
I open my mouth, then shut it. Damn. I left fifty euro in the glove compartment of his car but I didn’t get a receipt for it. ‘No,’ I say.
‘Do you normally go to Uber driver’s houses?’ Reza asks with a curious smile.
I draw a breath. ‘How do you know that?’ I ask. ‘Are you following me?’
‘Why were you there?’ Nunes asks, ignoring my question. There’s a pointed look on his face, a snide smile accompanying it. I get his inference and it makes me mad.
‘It’s not like that,’ I say.
‘Why did you go to his house then?’ He’s stepped away from his sentry post at the door and taken a seat beside Reza.
‘I … we … we’re just friends,’ I stammer.
Nunes pulls a sceptical face. ‘Friends? You met three days ago.’
‘He’s been helping me,’ I stammer, ‘translating and bringing me here to file a missing person’s report. He was helping me look for Kate. That’s all. Is he a suspect?’ I ask, wringing my hands. ‘Do you think he killed Kate?’
Reza leans back in her chair, pressing her fingertips together. ‘What did he tell you about himself?’
I shake my head, trying to understand. ‘Not very much. I know he’s from Kosovo, that he came here in the war as a refugee.’
Nunes snorts. ‘I thought you were friends. Don’t friends know things about each other?’
I glance at Reza and notice the flash of irritation on her face. She’s annoyed that Nunes is interfering with her questioning of me. She’s the one in charge, not him.
‘Did he tell you what he does for a job?’ Reza asks.
‘He told me he was studying to be a doctor. Now he drives an Uber.’
‘His other job.’
I shake my head slowly. ‘No.’
She leans forwards, her eyes lighting up, clearly happy at her little victory of knowledge. ‘He works for the Albanian mafia.’
I wonder for a moment if she’s having me on or joking. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Konstandin Zeqiri is a well-known associate of the Albanian criminal organisation,’ Nunes says. ‘The mafia.’
‘Mafia?’ I repeat dumbly. All I can think of is The Sopranos and Goodfellas and Marlon Brando in The Godfather.
‘Yes. The Albanians have a big presence here in Portugal – illegal guns, drugs, trafficking.’
I start to laugh but then stop, thinking of how Konstandin extracted the information I needed from the barman and the bouncer and Joaquim. Oh. No wonder he was so good at it. He’s a pro. I’m stunned into silence. But he seemed so nice, I want to protest. Apart from the threat of violence. And the actual violence. And the time he jokingly suggested he might have killed someone. Oh good Lord, what if that wasn’t a joke?
Orla, you really are an idiot. Here you are, running around town with a known criminal. I’m clearly the most dupable person on the planet. My instincts are terrible. It also helps explain the deferential reaction of that man in the Turkish restaurant, and why he kept turning down my offers to pay him for driving me around. Perhaps driving an Uber is just his cover story. It’s not how he makes his money.
‘Was it him?’ I ask, my voice quavering. ‘Did he kill Kate? Is that what you think happened?’
Reza shakes her head. ‘We don’t know. But he does have a background that puts him on the suspect list.’
‘OK,’ I say, mind leaping ahead and trying to sort through all the knowledge I have. That previous idea I had about Toby hiring someone to kill Kate has re-awoken. Konstandin could easily be that person, if what the police are telling me about him is true.
‘Why do you think he’s so interested in you and in helping you?’ Reza asks. ‘Did you not think it was strange?’
‘A little,’ I stammer. ‘I mean,