One-off murders and the like. They’re pretty open-and-shut cases but because Omar has more money than Jesus we’ve never been able to apprehend him.”

“Omar?”

“He runs the place. It’s basically an illegal casino disguised as a bar.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Tyler parked their unmarked police BMW in a colorless back street that resembled something from the Victorian era. On either side of them were padlocked black doors with no markings. The pair walked to the end of the lane. Tyler knocked on the door.

After a minute of silence, a young, skinny, blonde-haired man opened the door.

“Yes?”

“Officer Tyler Easton of the London Metropolitan Police. This is Detective Cael Adler. May we come in?”

The gentleman looked back into the den, unsure of how to respond.

“Now isn’t a good time,” the man finally said.

“I don’t really care. A young girl has been murdered and we believe it may be related to you fine pillars of the community.”

“Look, just show us to Omar, you skinny runt. Then you can get back to snorting crack.”

“Omar,” the man shouted back without taking his eyes off the detectives, “there’s some men here for you.”

From the darkness, a voice shouted back. “Tell them to eat shit. I’m busy.”

“We’re coming in,” said Cael, barging past the blonde gentleman. A scent of grime and mustiness washed over them. It was like walking into a room that had been abandoned for decades.

Sitting at a table surrounded by four other gentlemen was Omar Sabir. He was in his 50s, stocky and with a face almost entirely covered by bushy hair.

“Tyler,” he said with feigned enthusiasm. “To what do I owe this unwelcome surprise?”

“I need to speak with you about a recent murder.”

“Please, you and your boyfriend take a seat.”

At the table, four men were playing traditional blackjack. At the center of the table was about £2000 in stacked bills. Their game had stopped so that they could focus on the detectives. They resumed when Cael and Tyler took a seat at Omar’s bar at the other end of the room.

Omar joined them after excusing himself from the table. He walked behind the bar.

“Can I get you gentlemen a drink?” he asked.

“No thanks,” said Tyler.

“Jack Daniels and Coke, if you’re offering,” said Cael.

Tyler stared at him.

Cael mimed a shrug. “What?” he asked.

“Coming right up,” said Omar. “So, what can I do for you two?”

Tyler slid a photograph of Stephanie Brady across to him. “Recognize her?” he asked.

Omar studied the picture while he prepared Cael’s drink. “No. But I wish I did. She looks like a feisty one.”

“Don’t mess around with us.”

“No. I don’t recognize her. Never seen her in my life.”

“Omar, we’ve had this exact conversation before and it usually turns out that you do know these people. So let’s save ourselves some time and cut to the end part, shall we?”

“I hate to disappoint you but I genuinely don’t know that girl. I’d be lucky to have a girl like her show up here.