by Liz Mistry
His phone rang, breaking him out of his thoughts. He flicked the screen, saw Jai’s name on the screen and answered. ‘What’s up, Jai?’
Frowning, he listened as Jai explained that the police had been round looking for him. What the hell did they want? He’d not got anything dodgy on the go at the minute. Nothing that warranted a piggy visit anyway. When he hung up, he glanced at Imti who had turned the music down in order to listen into the conversation. He was tempted to ask Imti to contact Sadia Hussain to see if she knew what was going on, but decided against it. It was probably about Camilla and Starlight and, as he knew nothing about their deaths, he reckoned he needn’t worry about the police for now. Not when he had Trixie to worry about.
Halfway through explaining to Imti what Jai had said his phone rang again, this time it was his Uncle Majid. Assuming that Imti, as usual, had forgotten something, Shahid grinned at his brother and answered, ‘What’s he forgotten this time, Uncle?’
However, when he heard the police had gone to the trouble of tracking him down at his uncle’s house, Shahid felt the first stirrings of unease form in the pit of his stomach.
This didn’t seem like just routine enquiries. This had the feel of something altogether more serious. Why else would they track him down in Birmingham when he was due back in Bradford soon?
Hanging up, he looked at Imti. ‘Put your foot down, Imti, something’s not right.’
He just hoped it wasn’t anything to do with Trixie.
16:30 The Fort
Gus walked over to a chair carrying his umpteenth mug of coffee of the day in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other. He sat down and rolled his shoulder. A stab wound to that shoulder had been followed, a few months later, by a bullet wound earlier in the year and it was prone to seize up if he didn’t move it regularly – and for the past couple of hours he’d been hunched over his desk doing paper work. The office radiators, which, for some obscure reason were regulated centrally, blasted out heat making him feel lethargic. Raising his arm up to stretch his stiff shoulder, he exhaled before pulling his jumper off. He tucked his shirt back into his jeans, grimacing when he noticed the numerous creases he’d hoped would stay hidden under his jumper when he’d put it on this morning. He really did need to get on top of his laundry. Either that or invest in some crease-free shirts for work.
Glancing up, he saw Alice grinning at him. God, couldn’t a man forget to do his ironing without getting found out? He jutted his chin out, ‘Yeah, got something to say, Cooper?’
Her grin widened, ‘Not a word boss. Your sartorial elegance is, as usual, unsurpassed by us mere mortals who utilise irons.’
Trying to hide his embarrassment he opted for an indignant response. ‘Hmph! Waste of bloody time ironing clothes. All it does is add to global warming.’
‘Yeah, yeah if you say so.’ Alice took a bite of a Mars bar and chewed. ‘You know you could just pay someone to do your ironing if it’s an issue.’
Gus looked at her, assuming she was taking the piss but she looked quite serious. Did people really pay to have their ironing done? Hmm, maybe he could ask Mo’s wife if she knew someone who’d do it… then again, maybe not. He could imagine the slagging he’d get from Mo. Pushing the pile of paperwork away from him, Gus stood, stretching his leg. ‘Apparently, Shahid Khan’s on his way back from Birmingham. What do you reckon to the DNA results, Al? Think he’s the father?’
‘I think those letters you found in her room combined with the fact that it’s his sperm is pretty conclusive evidence of some sort of relationship with Trixie.’ Alice perched on the edge of Gus’ desk and, popping the last of her Mars, into her mouth, she chewed furiously before continuing, ‘Maybe a relationship gone bad? I mean the unprotected sex makes me think “relationship” as opposed to a quick shag. I mean, why would Khan, with all those girls of his, fraternise with one of Bazza’s if there wasn’t something more to it?’ She licked her fingers and popped the wrapper into an empty Irn Bru can, which stood on Gus’ desk. ‘Most of the women are pretty health-conscious, you know? The Prossie Palace drums it into them. Mind you, Trixie was a recovering addict, maybe she lapsed and took a risk in exchange for a quick fix… but it doesn’t seem Shahid’s style, does it?’
Gus had been thinking that himself. Khan wasn’t the sort to fraternise with the enemy’s girls, nor was he the sort to take unnecessary health risks. Besides which, Trixie’s tox screen results had come back. ‘There were no drugs in her blood. Jess said she was clean and it looks like she was right. Hopefully, we’ll find out more from Khan when we pull him in. What I’m having difficulty with is working out if the three murders are linked or not. Trixie’s makes me feel uneasy’
‘Okay, we have a relationship between Trixie and Khan, but what about the other girls? Are all three murders linked or not?’ asked Alice
‘Why were Patrick’s fingerprints on Trixie’s bottle when the others were wiped completely clean?’ said Gus standing up and stretching his leg using the rubber physio band that looped around one leg of his desk.
‘Well,’ said Alice, jumping down and moving back to her own desk, ‘My money’s on two perps, the second being a copycat. I reckon Khan did Trixie in a fit of passion and then tried to cover up by using the bottle. After all, he knows exactly how Camilla and Starlight died.’
‘It’s one theory, but let’s keep our options open. I’m still intrigued by the report from The Prossie Palace of the Eastern European girl being beaten by an unidentified punter. We need to look into a possible takeover bid from an external company. I’m waiting on reports from Vice about that.’
‘I suppose Sadia will be interviewing Khan with you, Gus?’
Gus shook his head. He knew Alice still thought he was favouring Sadia but he couldn’t be arsed getting into that at the minute. ‘No, Alice, it’ll be you and me. Sadia’s close to his brother Imti and she knows Shahid. She’ll not be involved in this aspect of the investigation.’
16:45 The Fort
Sampson heard Patrick O’Donnell before he saw him and, following his dulcet tones along the corridor, he also smelled him first. Alcohol fumes floated after him, strong but unfortunately, not strong enough to cover the fetid stench of his unwashed body or the waft of dried urine that seemed determined to clog Sampson’s throat. Raising an eyebrow at the duty officer who had escorted O’Donnell up to the interview room Sampson said, ‘Give him a trough full of black coffee will you, Bob. Maybe he’ll sober up enough to be interviewed in a bit.’
Bob humphed, shaking his head, ‘It’ll take more than coffee to sober him up.’
Sampson suspected he was right but he knew he had to try anyway. Neither he nor Gus held high hopes of the interview with Patrick O’Donnell proving fruitful but they had to try. It seemed likely that O’Donnell had just chucked the empty bottle in the allotments and the killer had just grabbed it to use on Trixie. Mind you, that didn’t explain why he hadn’t wiped the prints off this time like he had with the other two women. Maybe he had been disturbed.
Sampson looked through the peep hole and saw Patrick O’Donnell sprawled on a chair, legs spread out, revealing a spreading wet patch blossoming out from his groin area. From the bottom of his trouser leg urine dripped in an expanding puddle. His head was flung back and quite clearly his lungs were in excellent working order as he belted out an upbeat rendition of Onward Christian Soldiers. Lovely! No wonder the locals complained. O’Donnell’s singing was bloody tortuous.
By the time he’d managed to interview O’Donnell, Sampson had been regaled with The Lord’s My Shepherd, All Things Bright and Beautiful and a rather ponderous rendition of Once In Royal David’s City. It appeared that O’Donnell’s choices were not entirely seasonal. It was also very clear that the only murder committed by the warbler, was of the songs he sang with unmelodious gusto.
17:00 The Fort
Gus’ nerves felt frazzled and he knew it was because he’d drunk too much coffee today. He usually limited himself knowing that an e
xcess of caffeine often preceded a panic attack, but, in the middle of a big case he often found it difficult to find the time to make a pot of decaffeinated. He was just considering making himself some when Sadia walked over to his desk. He raised an eyebrow and waited. He knew from her expression and the way she looked round at her colleagues, who were engrossed in their work, that she was about to ask him something he might not be happy with. She bit her lower lip. Yes, she was after a favour of some sort. He hoped it was nothing to do with cutting Shahid Khan some slack. No, he corrected himself. She wouldn’t ever ask him to compromise an investigation, especially not for the likes of Shahid Khan. He leaned back, linking his hands behind his head and waited.
‘I want to look out the files of Jessica’s mum’s death. Maybe we’ll find something there that’ll give us an in with Shahid. It’s quite interesting that Khan was there that night and smelling of petrol and we’ve got a witness who will say that.’
Gus studied her for a moment. He knew from the way she avoided meeting his eyes that there was more to this than she’d revealed. He considered his response then said, ‘That was a long time ago, Sadia. It’s a cold case and it’s not directly relevant to this. I’m not sure I can justify one of my officers spending time looking into something with such a tenuous link to our current case.’
Sadia’s shoulders slumped and he saw a tell-tale flush spread across her cheeks as she glanced at Alice and then lowered her tone. ‘It’s Jess. She begged me to look into it and…’ biting her lip, she wrung her hands together, her face anguished, ‘I sort of promised. I know it’s not related really and I know it happened years ago, but Jessica is convinced Shahid killed her mother. Stands to reason that if he did that, he might just as easily be responsible for these murders.’
‘There’s a vast difference between the isolated killing of a woman twenty years ago and the current three murders linked by a similar MO, Sadia.’
‘Yeah, I know, but maybe there’s something to it. Stranger things have happened.’
On the one hand, Gus was sceptical but, on the other, he had to admit to some curiosity about the Millie Green case. It seemed strange that no-one had ever been held accountable for it. Especially, with Millie’s links to Arshad Khan. He’d have thought the police would’ve been all over it, hoping to get something on him. Aware that Alice was earwigging Gus said, ‘And what do you think? Don’t you think you’re a bit too emotionally involved in all of this?’
Gus hated interrogating her like this, but he’d no intention of treating her any differently from the rest of the team. If she wanted to follow a lead away from the main investigation then she’d have to justify it, just like any of the others would.
She sighed, ‘I’m not sure. Maybe I am. It’s just I saw it, Gus. I saw Millie Green burn to death that night. I was just a kid myself but I know Shahid loved Millie. She was like a mother to him. I can’t see that he’d do it. Not really. His dad maybe, but not Shahid… but someone did, didn’t they? And, whoever it was, they’ve got off scot free.’ She brushed away and tear and sniffed. ‘I just want Jess to have some closure. If I can prove that Shahid didn’t do it, maybe Shahid and Imti and her could be a family together.’
‘And if he did?’
‘Well then he deserves to rot in hell then, doesn’t he?’
As Alice walked over to join them, Gus saw Sadia tense and he wanted to bang their heads together. Why the hell couldn’t they just get on? He had enough to think about without their damn nonsense. He hoped Alice wasn’t going to stir things up.
‘Look, Sad,’ said Alice, ‘what if you do prove Shahid didn’t kill Jess’ mum, but then we find out he killed her best friend. What then?’
Sadia’s eyes narrowed and, still looking at Gus, she said, her tone abrupt, ‘At least Jessica would know Shahid hadn’t killed her mother and she’d see him put away for Trixie’s murder.’
Lowering her tone as if to exclude Alice she continued, ‘I don’t want to cover owt up, Gus. I just want to help Jess out. She’s had a shit life to date and this is hanging over her. Just let me have a look at the files. I’ll do it in my own time.’
Gus looked from Sadia to Alice. Alice grinned at him and nodded moving slightly closer to Sadia. ‘Can’t do any harm can it, Gus? She says she’ll do it in her own time, so where’s the harm?’
Never in a million years would he understand women. First they’re at loggerheads now they’re acting like co-conspirators. He threw his arms up in the air. ‘Fine. In your own time only though, okay?’
Shaking his head, he watched, incredulous as Sadia turned and hugged Alice. He saw Alice’s blush as she extricated herself from Sadia’s hold and judged she was happy. He was just about to say something about a group hug when the door clattered open and DCS Hussain walked in. He looked briefly round the room, acknowledging the officers and then looked at Gus, his face stern. ‘Update, please, McGuire.’
Hiding his annoyance at being spoken to so abruptly in front of his team, Gus moved round to the boards and began to explain where they were with the case and that they were waiting on Shahid Khan’s imminent return to Bradford to interview him. He noticed that, on her father’s entrance, Sadia had moved to sit next to Alice at her desk, where she now sat, hands clasped in front of her and her head bowed. From the corner of his eye, he saw Alice flash her a supportive smile and was pleased that the tension between his two detective sergeants appeared to be easing, at least for the time being.
Whilst Gus summarised, DCS Hussain, pulled out a chair and sat next to Sampson. Gus inwardly groaned when he saw Sampson’s face flush. Sampson and the DCS had had a run-in on their previous case and he knew Sampson was nervous in his vicinity. He wished the lad wouldn’t exhibit any weakness because, in his experience, the likes of Hussain fed on their victim’s insecurities.
DCS Hussain frowned at Sampson and said ‘Don’t slouch boy, you’re a police officer, for goodness sake. Look like one!’ After ascertaining that the long cold pizza was halal, he helped himself to a slice. Gus hoped he choked on it, supercilious bastard that he was, and catching Sampson’s tightened lips he realised he too shared the sentiment.
With the DCS nodding periodically, Gus, hoping that the creases in his shirt had fallen out or that Hussain wouldn’t notice them and see fit to humiliate him any more in front of everyone, mentioned Jessica’s assertion that Shahid Khan had murdered her mother and was surprised when DCS Hussain got abruptly to his feet, and interrupted him.
‘Solving these current murders seems to be stretching your limited capabilities quite enough without you bothering about a case that’s well and truly in the past. I’m very disappointed in your performance thus far, McGuire. I’d have expected results by now, not a hotchpotch of loose ends. For goodness sake, you haven’t even interviewed your main suspect in this case and yet, you’re thinking about a red herring from twenty years ago. Not satisfactory, McGuire, not satisfactory at all.’
Gus felt his heart accelerate in response to the other man’s antagonistic voice. There was no need for him to adopt that tone and especially not in front of his team. Never in his police career had Gus come across anyone as abrasive as DCS Hussain. His previous boss, DCI Chalmers, had an emotional intelligence in dealing with the team, that brought the best from them. Hussain, on the other hand, seemed to believe that humiliating, criticising and badgering was the way to get results. He felt a compulsion to slam his fist into his boss’s face, yet, when he spoke, he somehow managed to kept his tone neutral. ‘A crime’s a crime, sir. If I can rattle Hussain by using Millie Green’s murder, then I will.’
DCS Hussain’s expression darkened, ‘I don’t want you wasting time and resources on the word of a prostitute, McGuire… and that’s an order!’
Gus heard Sadia’s sharp intake of breath, but he kept his gaze on her father who was too busy smirking at Gus to notice that she’d stood up, until she spoke.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ she said.
Gus winced, hearing the insi
ncerity dripping from each word and hoping that her father would be so far up his own arse that he’d be oblivious to her tone. What exactly was she playing at? This was not the time for her to put herself in the firing line. He was perfectly capable of withstanding whatever acerbic slights Hussain could throw at him.
DCS Hussain turned towards his daughter, frowning, as if surprised to see here there. With an abrupt hand movement, he gestured for her to sit down. ‘Yes, Sadia, what is it? You don’t need to stand on ceremony; I’m your father after all.’
Sadia, hands clenched into fists by her side, did not move. ‘I’ll stand if you don’t mind, sir.’
Hussain sighed and waved his hand in a dismissive manner that again made Gus want to clock him one. ‘Have it your own way, child.’
Gus thrust his hands into his pockets, his face like thunder, wondering if the other man chose his words deliberately to patronise, or if he was just an arse. He suspected a combination of the two.
Sadia, her cheeks flushed, thrust her chin out and continued. ‘Jessica Green is a prostitute but, she wasn’t one when her mother burned to death before her eyes. She was a child, younger than me. No one ever listened to her or helped her. She believed Shahid Khan killed her mother on his father’s instructions and I think she’s got a point. Surely we can at least investigate it, sir?’
Noting the pointed hesitation before she said ‘sir’, Gus sighed, willing her to take the challenging look off her face, as she glared at her father. Why did she always have to be so bloody confrontational? Didn’t she realise that this was a battle she wasn’t going to win and that drawing attention to it would just make it more difficult for her to look into the Millie Green case without her father finding out. Whilst finding her honest bravery commendable, Gus thought she had a lot to earn about diplomacy.
