by Liz Mistry
‘Mmm, nice model isn’t it? She pulled him round towards her and pirouetted on the spot. ‘Do I look sexed up or will I do for work?’
Gus turned to look at her. ‘You look sexy, but you’ll do for work.’
13:30 Marriners Drive
What a stroke of luck that he’d recognised her car as she turned left onto Emm Lane. He’d been at the Subway next to The Turf pub for his lunch and was heading back to work when he’d noticed her turning off Keighley Road. So, he’d quickly slipped into the right hand lane and followed her in time to see her turning into McGuire’s street.
He couldn’t have planned it better if he’d tried. He’d seen her pull into McGuire’s drive and managed to get a few photos of her taking the key out of her pocket and using it to gain access to Gus’ home. The fact that she had her own key was a loaded gun as far as he was concerned.
He’d driven past the car and gone down to the bottom of the road that was blocked off by bollards to stop people using it as a shortcut to avoid the lights. He’d done a U-turn and ended up parking halfway up the incline in prime position to see Gus heading along the road on foot. Things just got better and better. He picked up the camera from the passenger seat where he’d put it moments earlier and thanked God for digital dates and times. More incriminating evidence. He fired off a few more shots as Gus glanced at Sadia’s car and then ran up the few steps, slipped his own key into the lock and entered the house.
Wonder what those two will be getting up to… in the middle of the day too. Naughty, naughty!
Barely five minutes later he was aware of movement at the upstairs front window; the master bedroom, he presumed. He raised his camera on zoom and laughed to himself as he took a series of pictures of Sadia arms raised to close the curtains and Gus’ distinctive dreads bouncing in the frame as he nuzzled her neck and slipped her jacket off. You beauty! Conclusive, indisputable evidence. He giggled, knowing exactly what was going on behind those closed curtains, and knowing he’d captured enough to prove it. Putting the camera down, prepared for a long wait, he picked up his Subway roll and unwrapped it. He’d taken only a single bite when another car pulled up at the bottom of Gus’ drive. Shoving the roll onto the dashboard and hastily wiping his fingers, he grabbed his camera and took a few photos of the diminutive woman who alighted from the Range Rover. Catching a glimpse of the woman’s features as she walked round her vehicle, he realised that she must be McGuire’s mother.
Again, he watched as she went up the steps and used a key to enter the house. Maybe McGuire should be a bit more discerning about who he gives a key to. He smirked, wishing he could be a fly on the wall right now. Wonder what Mumsie will make of her son bedding a Paki. Mind you, half those bloody blacks’ll shag owt that moves by all accounts.
Minutes later he saw Gus’ mum leave the house with a yapping dog, which jumped into her car before she drove off. He grinned. Wonder how McGuire reacted to coitus interruptus. Wonder if Mumsie’s presence put the kybosh on him getting his leg over. Fifteen minutes later the curtains opened and he saw Gus silhouetted against the window. Seconds later Sadia joined him resting her chin on his window, as they looked out. Brighton flicked his cigarette out the partly open window and again took a few photos. Happy with the day’s work he put the camera down and headed off before Gus and Sadia came out and saw him waiting there.
14:15 The Fort
‘Right, dig in,’ said Gus dropping three huge boxes of Mo’s samosas on the table. He was a firm believer in rewarding hard work and he knew his team deserved a treat, so he and Sadia had stopped off at Mo’s to grab the food and cans of Rubicon Mango for everyone.
Compo, nose in the air sniffing like a bloodhound, jumped to his feet and dived on the box marked ‘meat’. ‘Bloody starving’ he said, ‘Takes it out of you giving evidence in court you know?’
Gus laughed, ‘Thought you’d already had cookies from my mum.’
Mouth half filled with samosa, pastry flakes floating down to land on his white shirt, Compo nodded. ‘Yeah, great. Had some earlier. I’ve left a few in the tub by the Tassimo machine.’
Alice nudged Compo out of the way and homed in on the veggie samosas. ‘You’ve left crumbs, Compo. Just crumbs and, to be frank, I’m surprised you didn’t hoover them up too.’
Compo stopped chewing and looked up at Gus, contrite. Alice nudged him again ‘Idiot! I’m only teasing. You should know by now you’re the only one that ever eats Mrs McGuire’s cookies – they’re perfectly vile.’
Shaking his head, Compo gulped down the last of his samosa and hand outstretched to grab another said, ‘I think they’re great. Dunk them in some hot chocolate and you’d never even know they’re slightly charred.’
Gus patted him on the back, ‘Just glad you’re here to eat them, Compo. She’d be right offended if no-one ate them.’
After the others had gathered round and helped themselves to samosas, Gus called the briefing to order. ‘Updates? Who’s going first.’ He perched himself on the corner of his desk and looked round his team. Alice and Sampson looked like they were buzzing. Sampson was grinning and Alice was flushed. Brighton sat at his desk, his expression guarded. He was the only one who hadn’t availed himself of Gus’ hospitality stating that he’d eaten his lunch already. Gus didn’t like the vibe the other man was giving off. He felt there was an arrogance in the way he swung on the back two legs of his chair like a know-it-all adolescent cheeking the teacher. He hoped Brighton had come up with the goods in his absence. That would go a long way to dispelling some of the doubts Gus had about the man.
‘Sampson and I’ll start, if you like?’ said Alice, bouncing in her chair like an eager schoolgirl.
God thought Gus what is it with the school analogies today. Anybody’d think I was a damn head teacher or something. He nodded at Alice and, picking up the marker pen, stood to update the crime board as she spoke.
When she’d finished he said, ‘So, none of Bazza’s girls added anything other than possible underage girls from Eastern Europe and a big foreign guy in a baseball hat. Better check that out with Khan’s girls. See if they’ve seen him. You and Sampson’ll do that this after?’
Alice nodded, ‘Sure. Mind you, Gus, I think there was something they were holding back. Something to do with a boyfriend, I’m sure, but they wouldn’t spill. What did you think, Sampson?’
Sampson’s habitual flush stole across his cheeks. ‘Yeah, they looked edgy. And Armani shut them up before they slipped up.’
A loud snort interrupted Sampson and everyone turned to look at Brighton. ‘Yes?’ said Gus, his expression stern.
Brighton shrugged and dropped his chair back onto four legs with a bang. He grinned, ‘It’s just some of the names they come up with. Makes me laugh.’
Gus stared the other man out, then, ‘You have a strange sense of humour, Brighton, and it’s not one I appreciate, so just can it, eh?’
Brighton held Gus’ gaze and swung his chair back onto two legs. Whilst his voice sounded contrite when he apologised, his look said otherwise. Gus was unconvinced of his sincerity, but let it pass.
Alice, sending a dirty look in Brighton’s direction, said. ‘I’ll try with them again tomorrow, if we don’t get anything else to go on. I’ll take Sampson with me. He earned his stripes this afternoon at The Prossie Palace, didn’t you, Sampson?’
Sampson nodded with a slight smile. ‘Think I did all right.’
‘All right?’ Alice looked at Gus. ‘This guy had them eating out of his hand and you know how hard that can be.’
Gus grinned, remembering his first encounter with the working girls at The Prossie Palace three years previously, when it had first opened up. He’d barely made it out alive, especially after Scarlet, the ringleader had taken a fancy to him. Hats off to Sampson if he coped so well on his first visit. ‘Well done, I’m in awe. I embarrassed myself totally on my first visit and couldn’t get out of there quickly enough.’
Gus turned to Brighton. ‘Well how did you
get on this morning? Anything from the door-to-doors or the phone line?’
Brighton frowned, ‘Not a bloody thing. Selective hearing and vision if you ask me. Half of them don’t want to get involved, according to the troops on the ground.’
‘You’re probably right, but keep on top of it, will you? Something might pop. Any luck with tracing Trixie or possible similar crimes elsewhere?’
‘Well, I did have a go looking for crimes with a similar MO, but nothing so far. I’ll keep at it though, there’s still a lot to get through. I’ve sent a photo of Trixie to the Bridlington area Missing Persons in the hope that something’ll pop. If it’s okay with you I’d like to enlist the media to circulate her photo so we reach a wider audience. Maybe that’ll help.’
Gus nodded, wondering if his blow up earlier had done Brighton some good; he seemed to be pulling his weight, even if his attitude left a lot to be desired. ‘Yeah, good idea. Get onto that.’
Sadia took over updating the crime boards whilst Gus updated his team on the preliminary PM report and what they’d discovered in Trixie’s room. ‘So, I sent two PCs to The Delius to pick Shahid Khan up, but they were informed that he’s attending a family wedding in Birmingham and isn’t due back till Sunday. Naturally, the bouncer in charge doesn’t know where the wedding is. Anyway, I’ve got onto my contact on the Birmingham force and he’s looking into checking out Arshad and Shahid’s relatives in Birmingham. Hopefully they’ll get back to us with an address this afternoon.’
Compo raised his hand, looking, to Gus, like a naughty schoolboy with his white shirt, now splodged with the ketchup he’d dipped his fourth samosa in. His tie hung loose with one bit flipped over his left shoulder.
‘Is the baby Shahid’s, then, Gus?’
‘Well, until we get proper confirmation we can’t be certain but, clearly, we need to get that clarified ASAP.’
‘Well, in that case, do you want me just to bypass the Birmingham lot and get Shahid’s relatives’ addresses in Birmingham. It’ll only take five minutes or so.’
Gus nearly got up and kissed Compo. ‘You’re a whizz kid, Compo. Do it.’
15:15 The Fort
As everyone got back to work, Brighton sidled over to Sadia who was inputting her report from the morning’s work into her computer. In a quiet voice, he said, ‘You feeling okay, DS Khan?’
Sadia glanced at him, looking puzzled. Brighton smiled, satisfied that he’d put her on the back foot, as she said, clearly forcing a neutral tone, ‘Perfectly, DC Brighton. Why?’
He shrugged. ‘Just thought you looked a bit flushed like. And your hair looks a bit damp. Wondered if you’re running a temperature. You know, coming down with something? Maybe you’ve been overdoing it?’
Sadia frowned, but continued writing. ‘I’m fine, Brighton, but when I’m poorly you’ll be the first to know, okay?’
Brighton nodded. ‘That’s good, wouldn’t like to think the boss has been taking advantage of you.’
Sadia darted a glance at him, but Brighton stood, hands in pocket, an innocent expression on his face. He knew she was wondering what he was up to and he enjoyed the feeling of power that gave him. He disliked her supercilious expression, her arrogant assumption that everyone would jump when she asked. Her dad was nearly as bad, but, as far as Brighton was concerned at least he was a male, albeit a Paki, so he had the right to act a bit superior. Enjoying toying with her he continued, ‘Maybe you should get a bit of exercise. They say getting a bit of a sweat going is good for the endorphins, you know?’
This time when Sadia looked at him, he replaced his innocent expression with a blatant smirk. Let the cow wonder what he was on about. Make her squirm. She deserved it after the way she’d treated him the previous night and judging by McGuire’s reaction today she’d indulged in a bit of pillow talk. Well she’d soon see. The last laugh would be on him.
She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. ‘Something on your mind, Brighton?’
With pointed arrogance, he increased his smirk, raising one eyebrow to accentuate his amusement and said, ‘No, nothing at all.’
He walked over to the table and helped himself to a samosa. He took a bite and then, raising his voice, said, ‘DNA on the sperm’s come through.’
‘What?’ said everyone at once, all turning to look at him.
‘Came in earlier. They put it on your desk, Gus, but I picked it up in case it got misplaced.’
Gus stood up, swallowed a too large mouthful of samosa, coughed and spluttered crumbs all over his desk before moving over to Brighton and in a quiet voice said, ‘What the fuck were you doing, removing things from my desk? What you should have done is contacted me straight away. What the hell were you thinking?’
Brighton glanced at Sadia, ‘I thought you might be busy.’
Gus slammed his hand on the table, but kept his voice low. ‘Busy? Course I’m busy. We’ve got three unsolved murders here. That evidence is crucial to the investigation. Why didn’t you include it in your report a minute ago?’
Brighton blanched and his shoulders tensed. Who the hell does McGuire think he is, talking to me like that? He wouldn’t even have noticed the fucking report on his desk of it wasn’t for me. Worst case scenario that idiot Compo would have spilled something on it or, at least, it would have got covered with the rest of the files everyone kept piling up there. He should be grateful to me. He handed the report to Gus, annoyed when he noticed his hand was shaking.
Gus glanced through the report and then punched the air with his fist. Ugly bastard, thought Brighton as Gus’ dreadlocks bounced around in his enthusiasm. Looks downright manic with those dark rims round his pupils. Like the fucking devil. How the hell does a darkie end up with blue eyes anyway?
With effort, Brighton managed to maintain a bland expression as Gus told the team, ‘Right the sperm matches DNA on file from Shahid Khan. That places him with Trixie sometime before she was killed.’ He snapped his fingers at Compo. ‘Got that address in Birmingham?’
Compo nodded and pointed to the printer which had just whirred into action. Gus grabbed the printout and thrust it at Alice. ‘Get Shahid Khan picked up, ASAP.’
Whilst Alice scurried off to activate the request, Brighton cleared his throat again. He knew he was pushing his luck but, if he played his cards right, he’d wouldn’t have to worry about DI Gus McGuire for much bloody longer. He’d have someone with a bit more clout in his pocket. He lowered his head and feigned an apologetic look, ‘Em, the fingerprint results from the bottle came through too.’
‘Give me bloody strength’ said Gus, grabbing his head with both hands ‘Don’t tell me the fingerprints are Hussain’s too?’
Covering his smirk, Brighton continued, his tone placatory, ‘No, No they’re not. They belong to one Patrick O’Donnell, previously arrested on public disorder.’
Gus ran his fingers across his forehead. ‘Please someone tell me why Patrick O’Donnell sounds familiar?’
Sampson stood up. ‘Well, sir, when I was in bookings, I remember one Patrick O’Donnell got picked up most weekends. Special needs like, you know? Alcoholic but simple as well. Tended to sit outside the church singing hymns all night so the locals couldn’t get to sleep on a Saturday night. That church near the allotments, now I come to think of it, St Augustine’s, I think it is.’
‘Right, Sampson, see if you can locate him and bring him in. If he’s drunk, try to sober him up with black coffee and sandwiches.’
Gus turned back to Brighton and said, ‘I suppose Doc McGuire’s written report’s back too?’
Brighton sifted through a pile of papers on the desk. ‘Yes, it’s here too. Looks exactly like you said; cause of death, strangulation. Evidence of unprotected sexual activity. No evidence of rough sex, unlike with whore one. Tox report’s not in yet, though.’
For seconds everyone in the room stood still, waiting for Gus’ response. Brighton knew he’d blown the placatory attempt. Fuck’s sake, why’d they have to be so PC about everythin
g? The girl was a whore and no using fancy terms, like sex worker, changed the fact that they opened their orifices, in exchange for cash, from any punter that happened to take a fancy to them.
Gus’ response blasted across the room like a firebrand. ‘Are you a fucking arsehole on purpose or can you just not help it, Brighton? If you’ve got Tourette’s, get it diagnosed and I’ll ignore your disgusting unfeelingness for the deceased, otherwise get yourself a dictionary and look up some respectful ways to refer to murder victims. You are seriously trying my patience and its only day one.’
Gus turned away, but swiftly swivelled back his sharp features pinched in anger ‘and while we’re at it my “dad” as you call him, has a title. He’s a renowned and well respected pathologist and it is in that capacity, not in the capacity of being my parent, that he makes his post-mortem reports.’ And prodding Brighton fiercely in the chest he ended, ‘Use his bloody title.’
16:15 M1 North
Shahid was content to let Imti drive. He was by far the better driver and he didn’t get stressed by the motorway queues in the same way Shahid did. Besides which, Shahid had enough to worry about. They’d finally dragged themselves away from their cousin’s wedding. He’d noticed that despite his uncle’s obvious sincerity in begging them to stay longer, his aunt had looked distinctly relieved to see the back of them. There was no love lost between Shahid and her, although to give her her due she did always treat Imti as if he was one of her own kids and that redeemed her in Shahid’s book. She could be a prize bitch to him as long as she kept her toxic attitude away from Imti.
What had started as mild annoyance with Trixie for not picking up the previous night had escalated to outright anger after a couple of hours. However, now, nearly twenty-four hours later, Shahid’s anger had given way to a deep and persistent sense of foreboding. This was so not like Trix. Yeah, she could be a bit erratic but they had something to celebrate now. She was happy and he was getting ready to move her away from Bazza. He bit his fingernail, grimacing when he drew blood and wondered if Jessica had something to do with Trixie’s radio silence. He’d promised Trixie he’d let her break the news to Jess, but who knew how she would’ve reacted.
