by Liz Mistry
‘Get a life,’ said Shahid. ‘It’s not like that now. I wanted her to have the chances she’d missed as a kid. I wanted her to train as a nurse, like she wanted. All I wanted was Trixie.’
Gus decided to push one last time. ‘Yeah, but you see where we’re going? If she kept rejecting you, saying no, refusing to get married… Well, it’s understandable that a hot-blooded lad like yourself might lose it and hurt her. Course you didn’t mean it, did you Shahid? Didn’t mean to strangle her.’
Shahid shook his head. ‘That’s not what happened. I’ve told you we made love and then I went when we heard a noise. She was fine when I left. She was supposed to phone me later, after she’d told Jessica about us.’
Gus gathered up his papers and walked to the door with Alice following.
Shahid stood up. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Giving you a chance to reconsider what you’ve told us. Oh, and here.’ Gus handed Shahid a piece of paper and a pencil. ‘Write down anything Trixie told you about herself. Where she came from, birthday, all that sort of thing, so we can locate any family she may have.’
Shahid took the paper and crumpled it and threw it on the floor. ‘No way would I give you that information. Those people aren’t fit to see her again or go to her funeral.’ And he flung himself back into his chair.
Gus looked at him and then said quietly, ‘I’d get yourself a lawyer now, Shahid, I think you’re going to need one.’
Shahid looked up with tear-filled eyes and nodded.
Back in the incident room, Alice brewed some coffee whilst Gus discussed what had happened with the rest of the team. ‘I really don’t think he murdered Trixie. I’ve interviewed him plenty of times before and he’s always cool as the proverbial cucumber. Today he was distraught. I’m not saying he didn’t have something to do with the Camilla and Starlight’s deaths but, I’m not convinced about that either. We need to re-interview Jessica, see if she knew about the relationship between Shahid and Trixie; and Bazza too. We need to find out more about the Eastern European girl and what happened to her. Who knows? That could be related.’
20:45 Killinghall Road
Anastazy sprawled on a large sofa in front of a 48-inch state-of-the-art TV set that dominated his living room. The volume was at least two notches louder than necessary but Anastazy liked the feeling of being surrounded by constant movement. It made him feel secure. Solitude, on the other hand freaked him out. He wasn’t one for enjoying his own company and much preferred to be out and about – but some things were best done in private.
His large detached house stood at the corner of the crossroads separating Leeds Old Road from Killinghall Road. He loved that his address was Killinghall, thought it was apt, bearing in mind his chosen profession. He lived rent free, having secured the house from a Polish landlord in exchange for allowing the man’s mother back in Poland to live out the rest of her years in safety. Of course, that deal was open to negotiation. As far as Anastazy was concerned, nothing was written in stone and any ‘deal’ was subject to reassessment whenever he fancied. For now, though, it served his purpose to keep his side of the bargain.
He glanced round the spacious living room and compared it to the cramped space that was Serafina’s home. As befitted his tastes the décor was sparse but clean. The landlord’s daughter came in and ‘did’ for him. He grinned: she also did the housework. Anastazy had no respect for any man who’d prostitute his daughter but, then again, he’d made it only too clear what would happen to the rest of the man’s family if he didn’t comply and, if he got fed up with little Mathilde, well, that was okay; for Mathilde had three younger sisters, each as ripe for the picking as she.
On the glass coffee table in front of him was a bag of throwaway mobile phones. He selected one that was already charged and pumped in a number. After a rapid exchange in Polish with one of his contacts, he sat back and started flicking through the TV channels. He felt happy. He’d considered ramping up the pressure on Shahid Khan, especially since his sources told him the pigs had been practically camped out at both his home and The Delius, but his ‘unfinished business’ with Khan’s brother Imti had felt more pressing… well, that was until Serafina’s brother, Jacob, had dared to challenge him. He’d consulted with The Old Man and, with his usual callousness, the boss had agreed that Jacob should be the final message to keep Serafina on-side.
Much as taking Imti Khan down a peg or two was tempting, Anastazy was a business man at heart and he agreed with The Old Man that taking care of business should be his first priority. His anger with Anastazy for stabbing the boy on Manchester Road had been scorching. Clearly, The Old Man didn’t like his people going off-piste and, in hindsight Anastazy couldn’t really blame him. It had been risky and if they hadn’t worked out a plan to get Serafina on-side, it could have been disastrous. If she’d gone to the police with her suspicions, it could have jeopardised everything. Anastazy was glad The Old Man had had his back on that one, although he was still smarting from the scathing words he’d used.
Anastazy’s instructions to his contact had, therefore, been twofold. First, deliver another blow to Bazza Green’s infrastructure then, as a reward, the man could employ his carving skills on a big Polish turkey. For this one, Anastazy was keeping his hands well and truly clean. No point in alienating Serafina any more than the blow to her mother had already done. He was convinced that after his man was done with Jacob, Serafina would be only too willing to acquiesce to his every demand. After all, she had the health of her other two brothers to consider.
21:15 The Fort
Gus sprawled in his chair with his legs stretched out in front of him and a glass of whisky in his hand, glad, for once, to be on his own with his thoughts. The interview with Shahid Khan had lent a different complexion to the investigation and, to his mind anyway, Khan could be taken off the list of suspects. His earlier lethargy was replaced by a slow burning desire to think things through so he’d sent everyone home and lowered the lights, creating a less sterile, more productive atmosphere. He knew his shoulder would suffer for his bad posture later but, right now he was too knackered to move, besides which, from where he sat he had a prime view of the crime boards, illuminated as they were by a single spotlight above. He still couldn’t decide whether the three murders were connected. The MO was the same and popular opinion in the press appeared to be that there was a serial killer, targeting prostitutes, on the loose.
Gus felt the other option of a turf war had its own merits too. But a niggle at the back of his mind made him doubt that it was a turf war between Khan and Green. They’d lived reasonably amicably in their own stables for nearly twenty years and ears on the ground reported no stressor that would have escalated their passive hostility to this type of activity. He shook his head. Bazza Green wasn’t above a bit of firebombing and Shahid Khan wouldn’t have to lower himself far to rough up some of Bazza’s girls, but this felt way too extreme for either of them.
He took another sip of whisky, rolled it round his mouth allowing the chocolatey warmth to spread down his oesophagus as he swallowed and considered the other information that had just come in from one of the special constables. Apparently, a young lad, stabbed on Manchester Road, had come round and identified his attacker as being Eastern European. His description of his attacker was circulated to the specials and one of them had got back to the officer in charge saying that she’d had a similar description from a Polish man on Leeds Old Road. This man claimed that he was being forced to ‘allow’ his daughters to work for this man. He’d been too scared to name the man, but had demanded police protection. Although the specials increased their patrols in the area, the man was found stabbed to death the following week and his family had disappeared.
What had piqued the special constable’s curiosity was the similar description of the attackers alongside the fact that both were stabbings and that both victims lived in Bradford Three. She’d also wondered why the Eastern European community in that postcode had clos
ed rank when she questioned them about the incidents. She’d thought that they seemed frightened. This, for Gus, resonated with Alice’s report from The Prossie Palace about the young Eastern European girl being attacked and then fleeing in fear from The Palace. The question was whether this was related to his murders or not.
He heard the door open behind him and, for a moment, imagined that it was his boss DCI Nancy Chalmers. Of course it wasn’t. After the Matchmaker case, Nancy had taken a sabbatical and, as far as Gus knew, was sunning herself in the South of France. He wished she was here right now. He’d gotten used to running his ideas by her over a whisky.
He shrugged and spun his chair round as Sadia approached.
‘You okay, Gus?’
As she plonked herself down in the chair opposite his desk, he held up his whisky glass to offer her a dram too.
Shuddering, she shook her head. ‘Hell no. Drain cleaner, that is.’
Gus laughed and pushed himself upright, feeling the tension in his shoulder as he did so. ‘The trouble with you is, you’ve got no bloody taste.’
Pouting she inclined her head to one side. ‘Well I admit my taste in men’s a bit dodgy, but I’ll have you know I’m a connoisseur of vodka.’
‘Sacrilege,’ said Gus, swirling the last of the amber nectar in his glass, before swallowing it and depositing his empty glass on the desk. ‘Thought I told you to go home.’
‘Yeah, well I decided to do a bit of digging about Millie Green before you gave me the direct order not to.’
Gus smiled. ‘I’ve no intention of telling you to leave that alone. Far as I’m concerned it’s part of our ongoing investigation.’ He paused. ‘Just try to keep it on the QT though. No sense in inflaming an already volatile situation with the “high heid yin”.’ The last three words were a reasonable imitation of his dad’s accent. ‘Maybe best you keep me out of the loop unless you find anything. That way, I can claim no knowledge of it if your dad happens to ask.’
Sadia grinned. ‘Thank God for that, thought you might shut it down before I’d even started.’
Gus stood and grabbed his coat from where he’d flung it over the back of his chair. ‘Nah, too scared of you,’ he said, dodging as she jumped to her feet and aimed a playful punch in his direction.
‘Drink?’ he said, heading towards the door.
Sadia grabbed her coat from the coat rack and followed him. She’d just flicked the switch to plunge the room into darkness when Gus’ mobile rang.
Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled it out. Head to one side, he listened to what the desk sergeant said and then, with a glance at Sadia, said, ‘Get DS Cooper and DC Sampson to meet us there. DS Hussain and I are on our way.’
He shoved his phone back in his pocket and said, ‘Northcliffe Park, Sadia. There’s been another attack and I’m presuming she’s one of Bazza Green’s.’
22:05 Bradford Royal Infirmary
Serafina huddled in the corner of the waiting room holding her mother in her arms. Her father sat in silence opposite them, spinning his cigarette lighter between his fingers. Her brothers Luka and Thomas sat, heads bowed, on two of the blue plastic chairs that were lined against three of the waiting room’s four walls. Thomas stared at the blood that coated his hands. Serafina would have given anything to be able to go to Thomas, but her mother had fallen apart when she’d heard how critical Jacob’s condition was and her father was useless. He’d not said a word since they’d contacted him earlier. Initially they’d been unable to contact him. Bloody Farmer’s Boy switchboard kept saying they had no Mathias Nadratowski working night shift. Fortunately, he’d eventually picked up his mobile and arrived at almost the same time as she, Luka and Thomas.
Stretching one of her legs, she kicked Luka and nodded towards Thomas. ‘Luka, help him. Get him cleaned up.’ Then, she reached into her mother’s handbag and took out her purse. ‘Get hot drinks for everybody. Put in plenty of sugar.’
Her father stopped his pacing and turned to his daughter, his face expressionless, despite the venom in his words. ‘This is your fault. You’ve brought this down on our family.’
Serafina felt the colour fade from her face and a chill settle in her belly. She lowered her head. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. I’m so sorry.’ She knew from experience that her father’s wrath was to be avoided at all costs, but for once he was right. It was her fault so she was happy to absorb his anger. She began to sob.
Her father made a tsch! sound and standing up, began pacing the room. Serafina’s mother, face tear-stained and pale, pulled away from her daughter and stood up. Walking towards her husband on unsteady legs, she gripped his arms, forcing him to stop moving and spoke in quiet Polish. ‘This is not Serafina’s fault. The only person to blame for this is that monster Anastazy Dolinski. As a community, we stood by and let him kill David the other week. I will not stand by now and let him get away with what he’s done to Jacob.’ She shook her husband, seemingly oblivious of his darkening expression, and continued in a louder voice. ‘Nor will I let him split our family up. He is to blame, not Serafina, and I will make sure he pays. Are you with me?’
Serafina watched as her father’s face hardened. He shrugged away from her mother nearly knocking her to the floor and swore. ‘Serafina is no angel, you understand?’ He glared at Serafina, making her blood freeze in her veins. ‘And as for Jacob? He would have done better to stay quiet. We all know what Dolinski’s like. He should have kept his mouth shut.’
Her mother, eyes wide shook her head, ‘No, Mathias. You can stop this. You need to speak to Dolinksi. He’ll speak to you.’
Mathias Nadratowski spun round, his eyes flashing with an anger that had Serafina’s mum backing away from him. ‘Mind your tongue, woman. You need to be quiet right now. Do you understand?’
As her mother crumpled into her chair, wringing her hands together, Serafina again put her arms round her. What the hell was going on? How could her father speak to her mum like that when she was so upset? The way he was behaving was vile. She almost wished things were like they’d been in Poland when they hardly ever saw him. At least there wasn’t this atmosphere all the time.
As if he knew what Serafina was thinking, he looked at her, his dark eyes seemingly boring into her soul. ‘We will not retaliate, is that understood?’ His gaze moved from Serafina to each of her brothers in turn.
Serafina opened her mouth to respond, but her mum shook her head her eyes pleading. Nodding, Serafina bit her lip. Her mother was right: now was not the time to contradict him – but she was at a loss to understand why he was behaving like this. Maybe he wasn’t thinking straight. After all, his eldest child was battling for his life right now. That was enough to make any parent erratic.
Serafina had no doubt that her brother was now in surgery because Anastazy Dolinski did not like the way he’d defended his sister. That in turn made her remember how little her own father had done to defend her. She sighed. Why was her family, and her dad in particular, so difficult? She turned and gently pushed Thomas and Luka to the door. ‘Get cleaned up.’
Sitting apart from her parents, who now sat stony faced and opposite each other, their faces pale, Serafina took deep breaths trying to calm the pounding in her chest. First Hasnain and now Jacob. From the moment she’d seen Anastazy leering at her she’d known he was trouble, but she’d underestimated just how dangerous he was. The man was pure evil. If he hadn’t actually stabbed her brother, she knew he had arranged it. She shuddered. If Thomas hadn’t come home early and found Jacob lying in a pool of blood in the front garden, she dreaded to think what would have happened. Thomas saved Jacob’s life. For someone so young, he’d acted responsibly, applying pressure to the wound in Jacob’s abdomen and yelling as loudly as he could for help. The paramedics had arrived in record time and, as her mum stumbled into the ambulance beside her deathly pale brother, Serafina had arranged a taxi to take them BRI.
Now, an hour and a half after they’d arrived, all they knew was that Jacob was in surgery and was
critically ill. It was likely that he’d lose his spleen, if not his life. Serafina tried to quell the last thought from surfacing but she knew that they were all thinking it. She summoned a half-smile as Thomas, wearing a borrowed hospital gown to replace his bloodied clothes, thrust a mug of tea into her hand. He settled himself beside her and blew on his drink. ‘The nurse let me make it in the staff room. Nice of them.’
Serafina nodded, grimacing as the too-sweet liquid made her teeth throb. She felt Thomas’s gaze on her face and looked up.
‘He stabbed Hasnain too, didn’t he?’ said Thomas, his voice quiet for her ears only.
Serafina glanced away with a single nod. Thomas moved closer. ‘Hasnain’s okay. I bumped into Benny earlier this evening and he told me. Missed all his vital organs. Lot of blood but a few stitches and a few week’s rest and he’ll be okay.’
Serafina heaved a relieved sigh. ‘Thank God. I’ve been so worried about him.’
Thomas nodded. ‘Yeah, I know. I saw that Anastazy watching us at the bus stop when Hasnain was pratting about. Didn’t think he’d do that, though.’
She snorted, ‘No, neither did I.’ Tears flowed unimpeded down her face. ‘After what happened to Hasnain, I should have known he’d do something to Jacob. Jacob cheeked him earlier. I should’ve known he’d do this.’
Thomas grabbed her hand in his, ‘No, you shouldn’t have known. Why would you think he’d do that? You’re normal and normal people don’t do this sort of thing. Anastazy’s a psycho. We need to sort him out.’
Serafina glanced at her dad to see if he’d heard Thomas’ words and shook her head. ‘No, we don’t need to sort him out, Thomas. We need to let the police do that. We need to get the community to unite on this. We can’t do it on our own. He’s got too many friends.’
