by M A Comley
Katy faced Charlie and frowned. “In what way?”
“Some of the bruisers, the heavyweights who have been in bother with the police. He offered them free legal advice.”
“Ah, I get you. No sign of trouble at all in the last few months?”
“Nope, nothing of that nature at all. He got on with everyone, and they all appeared to like him for who he was and what he could do for people.”
“Like offer legal advice for free?”
“Yep.”
“Okay. While you were there, we received a call from the pathologist. We’ve just left another crime scene. Another black man has lost his life. He was found bobbing around in the River Thames by a jogger. We’re at his place of work now but on our way to break the news to his wife—apparently, she doesn’t speak a lot of English. How’s your French?”
“Rusty as fuck, sorry, rusty at best. Where’s he from?”
“The Ivory Coast. We think there’s a pattern forming here. I suspect he was dumped in the river after taking a severe beating, to disguise any possible traces of DNA lingering on his body.”
“What the heck is going on? What career did he have, boss?”
“A teacher at a college. Not sure which subject as yet. We’re going to speak to the wife and then return to question the staff.”
“Anything we can do?”
“Not really. Wait, yes, go back to the station and begin delving into the backgrounds of both men, see if there’s any kind of connection. I’ll ask the wife if she knew Adama, that is, if she’s up to answering any questions.”
“Good luck. We’ll get back and crack on.”
“See you later, much later. Ring me if you find out anything interesting.”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
Katy ended the call and placed the phone in the central console. “I could do with something to eat, how about you?”
“I’m fine at the moment.” Charlie peered over her shoulder. “Ah, I see, you’ve spotted a baker’s in the rear-view, haven’t you?”
Katy grinned and ran her tongue across her pink-stained lips. “Maybe. Are you sure I can’t tempt you?”
“Go on then, you’ve twisted my arm. I might partake in a small sausage roll.”
Katy plucked a fiver from a hidden compartment underneath her steering wheel and winked at Charlie. “Emergency funds. Would you mind going to fetch them? I’ll have the same as you, just to take the edge off any hunger pangs which might strike while I’m waiting for Mick to get back to me. I’ll have a Fanta orange, too, if you have enough.”
Charlie stared at the five-pound note in her hand. “Are you still living in the Dark Ages?”
“What? Not enough?”
“I’ll take my purse just in case.”
Charlie left the vehicle, and Katy watched her trot down the road and join the small queue outside the baker’s. She drummed her fingers and glanced down at her phone periodically, willing it to ring.
The front passenger door opened a few minutes later. Her heart skipped several beats until she spotted her partner. Charlie slipped into the seat and handed her a paper bag, already showing signs of grease.
“Bloody hell, you scared me half to death. This looks fattening.”
“That’ll be the pastry element,” Charlie replied, giving her a sarcastic grin.
“Smartarse.” Katy bit into the crisp pastry, and it shattered, making a mess of her blouse and jacket. “Damn, whose bloody idea was it to get one of these rather than a sandwich?”
Charlie sniggered. “If you think I’m going to admit to that, you’ve got another think coming. All I said was what I fancied, you made the call to join me.”
“Get you!” Katy’s mobile rang. She hopped out of the car, swept the crumbs off her rather than have to valet the car later and jumped back in. “Hi, Mick, what have you got for me?”
“I have a constable who is half French so she’s fluent, how about that?”
“Perfect. Can she meet us at this address?” She read out the address before he had a chance to answer.
“I’ll tell her to meet you at the location right away, ma’am.”
“Excellent. Great job, tell her not to rush, we’re just having a bite to eat in the car before we set off.”
“I’ll pass the message on. Bon appetite!”
Katy ended the call and shook her head. “I’m surrounded by smartarses today,” she muttered.
Charlie laughed. The jiggling made her drop crumbs all down her front.
Katy leaned across her and shoved the door open. “Oh no you don’t. Get out and eat it, in fact, we both will. Jesus, they’re incredibly flaky.”
“And you’re not?” Charlie mumbled just loud enough for Katy to hear.
“Cheeky mare.”
They spent the next five minutes finishing off the sausage rolls and swilling them down with a can of pop. Katy spotted a bin a few feet away, held out her hand for Charlie’s rubbish and deposited it in the receptacle. She returned to the car, gave herself a final brush down and hopped back in.
Charlie had the sense not to wind her up and spent a few extra seconds ensuring she was crumb free before she joined her.
“Nice and satisfying but extremely messy all the same. Not something I’ll be opting for in the future. Are you ready for the off?” Katy said.
“I agree. I’m ready.”
They buckled up, and Katy set off, heading for the address she’d already punched into the satnav while she’d been waiting for Charlie.
The house formed part of a terrace situated in a large street of similar properties on either side. Kids’ toys and bikes were strewn willy-nilly across the pavements on both sides of the road. “Nice area, not.”
Charlie nodded. “If I recall, this is quite a rough area.”
“Great. Maybe you should stay in the car in case someone realises we’re coppers and decides to key it, or worse still, punctures a few tyres just for the fun of it.”
“I will if you want me to.”
“Nah! I was joking, although now I’ve put the thought into my head, I’m going to be anxious inside, once the car is out of sight.”
“I’ll stay here.”
“No, it’s me being silly. I’m going to need you to take the notes as usual. I sense this one is going to be a traumatic interview. I’m going to need to keep my wits about me.”
“Fair enough.”
Katy spotted another car pull into a space a few yards behind them. “I think the constable is here.”
They left the vehicle. Katy double-checked the car was locked and then approached the constable who was also locking up her car.
“Hello, DI Foster, I’m Nicole Babin. Sergeant Crawford asked me to join you to act as an interpreter.”
“Thanks for coming along. This is bound to be tough. I have to inform the lady of the house that her husband has been murdered.”
The young officer’s expression saddened. “Oh dear, that’s so sad. I’ll do my best to try and keep her calm. I’ll take my lead from you, though, as I’ve never been in this position before, you know, having to tell someone their loved one has passed.”
“It’s okay. Take your time, I appreciate how daunting this is likely to be for everyone involved. Let’s treat the woman with as much compassion as we can muster and hopefully nothing will go wrong.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Katy and Charlie took the lead, and Nicole joined them at the front door of the house. There was no garden to the property, something Katy personally detested. The thought of kids ringing the bell and running away made her shudder. Mind you, that was only because she had done it once or twice herself when she was a nipper, that was until her father had driven past one day and caught her in the act. He’d thrashed the shit out of her, the one and only time he’d ever laid a hand on her. She’d sworn to him that day she would mend her ways and never step out of line again, and she hadn’t. She sensed he regretted his actions more than she did at times.
Anyway, that was many moons ago.
Katy used the letterbox to knock on the door as the bell hadn’t chimed when she’d rung it.
The door was opened by a frail-looking black woman who was no taller than five feet. “Hello,” she said in a quiet voice with a thick accent.
Katy flashed her ID. “Hello, Mrs Kouassi. I’m DI Katy Foster, and these are DS Simpkins and PC Babin from the Met Police, can we come in?”
A frown quickly developed, tugging at the woman’s features. Katy glanced at the constable, urging her to speak up and make the introductions.
Nicole did her bit, and Mrs Kouassi placed a hand over her heart and whispered her husband’s name. “Mamadou…”
“Can you ask her if we can go inside?” Katy asked Nicole.
The woman, who appeared stunned by their arrival, took a step back and then turned to walk into the hallway which was cluttered with toys. Large toys, the type older kids tended to play with as opposed to toddlers.
Once they were all inside the house and the front door had shut out the rest of the world, Mrs Kouassi led them through to the back of the house into a kitchen-cum-diner. She gestured for them all to take a seat and pulled out a chair for herself which she sank into with all the grace of a princess at an official dinner party. She said something in her own language which Nicole translated.
“My husband, have you found him? He went missing yesterday. I didn’t know what to do. I’ve been sitting here, waiting for him to come home. But he hasn’t, have you found him?”
“Can you tell her yes, but the news isn’t good? Sadly, her husband has lost his life.”
Mrs Kouassi’s terrified gaze flitted between Katy and Nicole.
Nicole relayed what Katy had suggested she tell the woman, and immediately Mrs Kouassi let out a scream that rattled Katy’s bones.
Jesus! Scared the shit out of me.
Within seconds, two children appeared in the doorway and whispered something to their mother. Both the children had tears bulging in their eyes. Mrs Kouassi beckoned them and gathered the little boy and girl in her tiny arms. She rocked back and forth, the kids swaying like small boats caught up in the eye of the storm.
“Maybe it would be better if the children went upstairs,” Katy suggested.
Nicole did her best to keep the woman calm and show a vast amount of sympathy relaying the request.
The woman shook her head and gripped her children tighter.
Katy glanced over at Charlie, feeling out of her depth. She sighed and said, “I don’t think the children should be here to hear the details of your husband’s death. I’m only protecting you and your children, Mrs Kouassi.”
Nicole interpreted, and Mrs Kouassi relented and spoke to her children in her native tongue. The children clung to their mother until she ran a hand around their faces to reassure them. Then they left the room.
Mrs Kouassi spoke to Nicole, the strain showing in her face.
Nicole nodded. “Mrs Kouassi wants to know the details of her husband’s death. She would prefer it if you were open and honest with her. Yes, she knows she will be upset but she doesn’t want to be lied to.”
“I wouldn’t lie to her. The truth is, we can’t tell her much at this moment, not until the post-mortem has been carried out. So it won’t be a case of me trying to avoid telling her the truth. If you can tell her that before we proceed.”
“I’ll try.” Nicole spoke to the woman in a clear but quiet voice.
Mrs Kouassi nodded, wiped the tears that were staining her face on a tissue she extracted from her sleeve, and then locked gazes with Katy.
Katy cleared her throat and began to fill the woman in on the circumstances in which her husband had been found.
Mrs Kouassi’s gaze turned to Nicole. Her head shook repeatedly, and she gasped several times as she listened to the account. Suddenly, the woman let out an ear-piercing scream and flung herself across the dining table. The next second, the two children burst into the room again to comfort their mother. Katy had never felt as hopeless as she did at that moment.
“Please, Mrs Kouassi, you need to calm down, if only for your children’s sake.”
It took a while for the request to sink in. The woman sat back in her chair and hugged her kids and then sent them out of the room after quietly talking to them for a few seconds.
“Is she okay now?” Katy asked.
Nicole nodded and smiled, first at Mrs Kouassi and then at Katy. “Yes, she apologised for reacting the way she did. Her husband meant the world to her. She is going to be lost without him in her life. The children will grow up not knowing how loving their father could be. She’s devastated he is no longer with them.”
“I understand all her uncertainties. Can you reassure her that we will do our very best to help her in the months ahead?” Katy listened to Nicole with trepidation sparking through her.
She watched Nicole and Mrs Kouassi have a conversation back and forth for a couple of minutes before Nicole revealed what the woman had said. “She says she’s all alone in this country now, her husband was the sole earner and she doesn’t know how she’s going to survive. Will she be forced to return to her own country?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer those types of questions for her but I’ll do my best to put her in touch with a specialist within the next day or two, if that’s what she wants.” Katy waited to hear the woman’s response.
Mrs Kouassi appeared relieved to hear the news. She offered a weak smile and whispered, “Thank you.”
“Would you ask her if she is up to answering some questions for me?”
Nicole quickly asked the question. “She says she’ll do her very best to answer any questions you want to put to her but she’s afraid she won’t be able to answer them fully. Meaning that her husband was a very private person. It used to be in their culture, the women only got told what the husband deemed necessary.”
“I understand. Let’s see how we go then. Did her husband ever mention if he was involved in an argument with anyone recently? Any kind of trouble perhaps?”
Mrs Kouassi thought about the question for a few moments and then placed a hand over her chest, shook her head and spoke to the constable.
“Not that she knows. Again, she thinks it would be unlikely that her husband would tell her anything like that for fear of scaring her and the children. Mrs Kouassi is often scared of her surroundings, such as when she goes out for a walk or goes to the shops to pick up some groceries. She has anxieties that run very deep that are hard to dismiss. It used to annoy her husband because it prevented them from going out at the weekend. He mostly took the children to adventure parks et cetera on his own while she stayed behind, doing chores around the house to fill her day,” Nicole said on Mrs Kouassi’s behalf.
“That’s a shame. So she was dependant on her husband in many different ways.”
Nicole didn’t bother interpreting that suggestion. “So it would appear. Would it be possible for me to help Mrs Kouassi? I know a few people who assist immigrants who find themselves and their families in precarious situations through no fault of their own, such as this.”
“That would be amazing, if the desk sergeant agrees, Nicole. Thank you for caring.”
“The woman is distraught and alone in this country, she’s lost and bewildered, it’s the least I can do in the circumstances. She told me they came here for a better life, not expecting her husband to be killed. She thought they had left all the signs of violence at home in their motherland. They had to endure extremely volatile situations. She’s heartbroken her husband is no longer around to protect her and the children. I feel a compassion for her like no other, ma’am. I’d like to make a difference to her life, or at least try to.”
“That’s definitely going the extra mile. You’re to be commended, Nicole.”
“It’s part of the job to me, ma’am, to protect and serve the public. Isn’t that what our main role is in the community?”
“Indeed. Can you ask Mrs Kouassi
if she can think of anything that has come to her attention in the last few months that may have unnerved her, perhaps?”
Nicole fired off the question. Nodded throughout as Mrs Kouassi replied. “No, nothing that is coming to mind. Although she says her head feels like it is about to explode with everything that has happened.”
“I know. It must be difficult, sitting here answering what appear to be futile questions about a man who did his best to protect her, however, at present, we have very little to go on to help us with the investigation.”
“I’ll try and get that message across to her.”
While Nicole spoke to Mrs Kouassi, Katy racked her brain for what else to ask the woman who, so far, had been able to answer all of her questions.
“Sorry, ma’am, she’s still telling me there’s nothing more that she can add.”
Katy sighed and then smiled at the distraught woman. “Okay, we’ll have to make a move then, as harsh as that might sound. We need to get out there and put our all into finding her husband’s killer. Will you thank her for her time for me?”
“I’ll do that.”
Katy moved towards the door. Charlie followed and said, “Can I say something? The last thing I want to do is step on your toes.”
She frowned. “Go on, and you won’t. Have I missed something? I know I’m guilty of losing my train of thought throughout the interview, it’s difficult to keep on track when you’re having a three-way conversation.”
“What about the link? We should try and find out if her husband knew the first victim, shouldn’t we?”
“I knew I wanted you as a partner for a reason. Good call.” Katy returned to where Mrs Kouassi and Nicole were finishing up their conversation. She waited for Nicole to look up at her, giving her the go-ahead to speak. “Sorry to interrupt, one last question, if I may. Can you ask her if she knows Adama Kone?” Katy studied Mrs Kouassi and noticed her reaction to the name. “I think she does. Can you ask her how she knows him?”
Mrs Kouassi spoke animatedly for the first time since they’d arrived. She smiled and nodded as she spoke as though she had been grateful for the man’s friendship. Katy could be wrong, but that’s how she was interpreting it.
