Uncoiled Lies: a stunning crime thriller

by Liz Mistry

  Gus saw the older man, his face set in a grim expression nod. The younger man didn’t even acknowledge the nurse’s greeting.

  Entering the room, Sadia said to Gus in a quiet voice, ‘Did you see those tear tattoos on the younger man? They give me the creeps.’

  The nurse hesitated at the door then said, ‘I noticed them. They’re scary. His brother was stabbed earlier on tonight. The family’s distraught.’

  Gus shrugged, preoccupied with studying the fragility of the girl lying in the bed. Gus hated hospitals at the best of times but he was full of admiration for the work the doctors and nurses did. If it hadn’t been for the dedicated staff at BRI he’d have died, so he knew Charlotte was in the best possible place. He reached out and touched the girl’s hand, his fingers gentle. ‘You’re safe here, Charlotte,’ he whispered. ‘We’ll catch the bastard who did this to you. Just you get well. That’s all you need to think about right now.’

  He glanced round the spartan room with its pale blue paint and yellow blinds. His gaze drifted over the various monitors that beeped and flashed rhythmically, and came to rest once more on Charlottes face. A series of bruises were beginning to bloom over her cheeks and eyes making her barely recognisable. The raw welts around her neck were swollen and a tube ran into her mouth, presumably to help with her breathing. Gus and Sadia spent a few more minutes with Charlotte, then left, after issuing instructions that they were to be contacted as soon as there was any change in her condition.

  As they were leaving the hospital via the main entrance Sadia nudged Gus and pointed to the smoking shelter that was illuminated by the light from the wards to the rear. ‘There’s those two men again. The ones from the CCU. Can you see the tattoos now?’

  Gus rolled his eyes, ‘For God’s sake, Sadia, I’m not going to stare at the relatives of some poor kid who’s been stabbed just because you find some tatts creepy.’

  Sadia pulled her coat tighter round her body and grunted. ‘Okay, point taken. Come on, its bloody freezing, the wind’s picking up and I’m knackered. Take me back to my car so I can get home.’

  Gus opened the car and slid into the driver’s seat. ‘Not coming to mine then?’

  Sadia grimaced. ‘Not tonight, no. Don’t want to push my luck with my dad. He’s already on my case and now I have to convince him that he misheard me say I was with Shamila last night when in reality I was with Jamilla. Not sure he’ll fall for it.’

  Gus laughed. ‘With your powers of persuasion I think you’ll convince him.’

  Saturday

  8:50 The Delius

  The wind hadn’t blown itself out overnight and as Sadia pulled into The Delius car park, she shuddered. After last night’s events and having heard Gus’ account of the interview with Shahid Khan, Sadia felt compelled to check up on Imti. Whatever affected Shahid would have an effect on Imti, too, and she wanted to make sure he was okay. A driving rain hammered against her windscreen and the short drive from her house had barely allowed the car heating to kick in. Bracing herself, she struggled out of the car and pulling her hood over her head, she ran to the entrance. Hopping from foot to foot, wishing they’d hurry up and answer, she brayed on the door, glaring up at the not-so-discreet camera that was angled downwards. When, after a few seconds, the door still hadn’t opened, she raised her hand to hammer again and, her vision obscured by her furry hood, nearly hit Jai on the chest as he yanked it open. He raised one eyebrow without saying a word, which made Sadia giggle. Jai always treated her with a degree of reluctant indulgence making her want to tease him to provoke a response.

  ‘Sorry, Jai. Mistook your taut pecs for the door. Imti around?’

  With a snort, Jai, mouth pursed in what Sadia took to be disapproval, shook his head and stepped back to allow her to enter. Once inside Sadia shrugged out of her coat and shook it sending droplets of rain all over Jai’s very shiny black shoes. Glancing up, she saw his resigned expression and bit her lip to cover her smile. Knowing it would irritate the hell out of him she stood on her tiptoes, raised her hand and, with more pressure than was strictly necessary, she pinched his cheek in mock affection. ‘Lighten up Jai. It’s only a bit of rain,’ she said, before flouncing past and making her way into the main bar, where she assumed Imti was.

  Two steps in she registered the presence of another man wearing a prayer hat and sporting a full Muslim beard. She stopped and glanced at Imti who was behind the bar setting the coffee machine up for the day’s trade not, thought Sadia, that The Delius made a roaring trade in coffee. Never mind, she’d welcome one right now to heat her up. As the other man turned round Sadia’s heart sank. It was Councillor Majid who attended the Leeds Road Mosque – the one her father frequented. Clearly recognising her, Councillor Majid, took a step towards her. ‘Assalamu Alaikum, Sadia. How lovely to see you.’ He frowned, ‘Mind you, I’m not sure your father would appreciate you frequenting such premises.’

  Sadia tensed but, with great effort, she maintained a neutral expression. ‘Wa Alaikum salaam. I’m here on official business.’ She frowned and continued, her tone deadpan, ‘Bit early in the day for you to be in for a drink, isn’t it?’

  The flicker of anger that crossed the councillor’s face was so fleeting that had Sadia not been waiting for it she’d have missed it. She risked a glance at Imti who, shaking his head, was trying not to laugh at her cheek.

  The councillor clasped his hands in front of him, disapproval written all over his expression. ‘Now, now, Sadia, there’s no need for rudeness, is there?’

  Sadia, instantly bounced back to when she was a little girl at Mosque school, bowed her head. She knew she was being deliberately provocative, and also that there was no need for it. Councillor Majid had never been anything but kind to her and he deserved better from her. It wasn’t his fault she was having a crisis with her father at the minute and her doubts about the faith were hers to sort out. She had no need to take it out on him. ‘I’m sorry, you’re right, that was uncalled for.’

  Seemingly not completely mollified he continued. ‘Maybe your father is right, Sadia. Maybe you need to spend a bit more time at the mosque. You should join the unmarried girls’ group. I’m sure you’d find it very useful to receive guidance in your marriage preparations from your Muslim sisters.’

  Sadia opened her mouth to reply that she, most certainly, was not making any wedding preparations, but he directed his gaze over her shoulder and took a step forward, arm outstretched, as he said ‘Assalamu alaikum, Shahid. Imti said you were indisposed, so I’m very glad to have bumped into you. I really need to speak with you.’

  Sadia turned round and saw Shahid standing just inside the bar running his fingers through his hair. He looked dreadful. Sadia could see he still wore the previous day’s clothes. His shirt was half untucked and unfastened at the neck, but it was his eyes that affected Sadia the most. They were red and glazed and, despite her reservations about Shahid as a person, she felt sorry for him. He looked desolate. Without acknowledging the councillor, Shahid walked round and joined Imti behind the bar. He picked up a glass, went over to the optics and took two measures of whisky, which he downed in one.

  Sadia heard Councillor Majid’s disapproving intake of breath and bit her lip wondering how this scenario was going to play out. She knew from experience that both men could be stubborn irascible characters and this seemed like an explosive situation in the making. Imti took a step forward, placing himself between the two men. ‘Shahid’s had some bad news. He’s not himself. Perhaps we can leave this for a few days, till he’s feeling better?’

  Sadia could tell from his focussed expression that Councillor Majid wouldn’t be deterred and she felt for Imti. As always the two brothers did their best to protect each other, but she knew Imti hated confrontation. Councillor Majid stepped to the side and, as if Imti hadn’t spoken, addressed Shahid. ‘We’ve had complaints in the community about rowdy, drunken behaviour from some of the patrons of The Delius.’

  Shahid, in the process of refil
ling his glass, grunted, ‘So what?’

  Councillor Majid’s shoulders went back, in a gesture Sadia recognised as being the precursor to a major challenge. He ran one hand down the length of his beard as if attempting to smooth out its unruly curls and leaned on the bar. ‘It’s your responsibility, as a Muslim, to ensure the community is not disrupted. You assured us that when you opened this den of infidels that you would make sure the community was not adversely affected.’

  Sadia caught Imti’s eye and grimaced. This was not going to end well. Shahid had clearly had more to drink than the two doubles he’d just downed and the Iman was not about to be deflected from his self-righteous indignation.

  Shahid turned round, his eyes flashing, ‘Aw shut up, you sanctimonious prick. You and your fucking mosque get more than enough money from me to compensate for the inconvenience of a few kids enjoying themselves of a weekend.’

  Imti’s gasp was audible and, for a second, the tableau before them seemed frozen. Then, Jai appeared as if from nowhere and, at Imti’s nod, he wrapped his arm round Shahid’s shoulders and guided him out of the bar, leaving Imti to build bridges with the angry Imam. Minutes later, anger only partially abated, he flounced from the bar leaving the words ‘You haven’t heard the last of this’ hanging in the air behind him.

  ‘Shit!’ said Sadia, ‘I only came in to see how you were and have a quick coffee before briefing, but I could do with some of what Shahid had and it’s barely nine o’clock.’

  Imti pushed a coffee across the bar to her as she climbed onto a bar stool and watched him prepare the tills for the afternoon’s trade. ‘You’re getting sorted early today, Imti.’

  He shrugged. ‘Been away. Need to check the tills and stuff.’

  Sadia nodded and studied the boy. She had a soft spot for him. She’d known him since he was a baby. Shahid used to bring him next door to Jessica’s house and she and Jess had enjoyed having a real live doll of their own to play with. He’d been an angel and, even after Millie’s death when Jess had disappeared, she’d still bump into Imti when Shahid took him to Bradford Moor Park. She only realised later that Shahid had been the younger boy’s main carer since he was born. She’d discovered that Shahid’s dad was always too busy with his crime empire to bother with the boys and Imti’s mum was twenty years younger than her husband and ill-quipped to look after herself, never mind an unruly teenager and a baby.

  Millie Green had been the only mother either boy had ever known. Sadia couldn’t believe that Shahid would have killed Millie, even under instruction from his father. Or… maybe she just didn’t want to believe that the earnest teenager that she’d had a secret crush on all those years ago could do something so awful.

  ‘How’s Shahid?’

  Imti snorted, ‘You saw how he was, Sad. He’s broken.’ He slammed the till shut and took a deep breath. ‘He didn’t kill Trixie. I know Jessica thinks he’s a cold-blooded killer but I know him, Sad. He’s not capable of that. He loved her.’

  Sadia’s lips tightened, ‘Don’t try to romanticise your brother to me, Imti. We all know he’s a drug dealer, pimp and God knows what else.’

  Imti flushed and looked at her, his eyes full of suppressed anger, ‘…but he’s not a killer.’

  Sadia exhaled. They’d been through this so many times but his loyalty to his brother was unshakeable. He loved him and, though he didn’t condone Shahid’s career choices, he would never hear a word against him.

  Sadia bit her lip and then with a shrug said, ‘Look, Imti, I’m not on duty right now but, between you and me, we’re desperate. Rack your brains for anything you can tell me that’ll give us a clue. Anything about Camilla or Starlight? Anything you or your bouncers have heard in the club? Anything at all?’

  Imti busied himself polishing glasses for a minute. And Sadia, savouring her coffee, allowed him the time. Finally, he said, ‘Camilla and Starlight were really nice, you know? When they were working they got tarted up and put on a front but, the rest of the time they were just normal. They’d have a laugh with us, tease Jai and they wouldn’t let Shahid undercut them. They stood up for themselves.’ He smiled. ‘If I knew owt I’d tell you, Sad. Promise I would, but there’s nowt. Not a bloody thing.’

  Sadia leaned over and squeezed his arm. ‘Thanks for trying, Imti. If you do remember something will you let me know?’ She jumped from the stool and pulling her coat back on, headed for the door with a final wave in Imti’s direction. Nearly through the door, she heard Imti call her. ‘There is one thing, though.’

  Sadia turned round and stepped towards him one eyebrow raised in question.

  Imti shrugged, ‘It’s probably nowt, but the other night, Thursday it were, some bloody thug caused a bit of a scene here in the bar… punched a girl in the face. Took three of the bouncers to chuck him out.’

  ‘Really?’

  Imti nodded and pointed to the CCTV screen behind the bar, ‘Come round here and I’ll show you. We recorded it.’

  Sadia moved round the bar as Imti set up the recording. As she watched her face broke into a big smile, ‘I recognise him, Imti. Saw him yesterday at BRI.’

  ‘Hope he was in plaster’ said Imti, his voice gruff, ‘That girl will have a shiner, I reckon. She said her brothers would deal with him.’

  ‘Nah, he was visiting his brother who was stabbed not far from here last night.

  Imti frowned. ‘Jacob?’

  Sadia shrugged ‘Is that the name of the lad who was stabbed?’

  ‘Yeah, but Jacob has two brothers, Luka and a younger one, Thomas, I think, and none of them are him.’ He jerked his thumb at the now still footage on the TV that showed the tattooed man making a crude gesture towards the screen. ‘Friend of mine told me that guys with those tattoos are ex-cons from Poland. Violent ex-cons from Poland. The worst kind.’

  Sadia looked at the man on the screen. His snake tattoo and his tear drops weren’t the only scary thing about him… even from here she could see that his eyes were vacant… lacking in emotion. She shuddered.

  09:30 The Fort

  When he arrived at The Fort, Gus was surprised to find Brighton already huddled behind his computer, fingers flying over the keys, a steaming mug of coffee on the desk beside him. In light of the fact it was a Saturday and the absence of any further developments since Charlotte’s attack the previous night, he’d scheduled the briefing for ten o’clock and had expected to have the room to himself. He glanced over and saw that Brighton had also filled the coffee machine. Maybe he’s turned over a new leaf, thought Gus. He was happy to give Brighton the benefit of the doubt when fresh caffeine first thing on a Saturday morning was on offer.

  He nodded at the other man and, shaking the rain from his battered fisherman’s jacket, he hung it on the coat stand before grabbing a steaming coffee for himself and settling behind his desk. He hadn’t slept well the previous night. Worries about Sadia and her dad had jostled for prime position with his thoughts about the ongoing investigation. Alice had reported that Armani had been too hysterical to say much other than that the man who attacked Charlotte had been ‘a big fucker’. Not really enough to go on, thought Gus, smiling as he imagined the reactions of the press if they released a description like that. Didn’t bear thinking about. Mind you, if they didn’t give the press something to work with soon, there’d be an even bigger backlash against the police.

  Scrutinising a report that told him there was no evidence of any moves by other gang leaders onto Bradford’s turf, Gus felt frustrated. He sighed, pushed the paperwork to the side and leaned back in his chair, feet resting on top of his desk, mug in hand, and thought.

  Three working girls dead, one critically ill. Two were Shahid Khan’s, two were Bazza Green’s. Judging by the various forensic reports, all but one of the girls were penetrated by a broken bottle pre-mortem. Which begged the question, why the hell was Trixie different? Why was she violated post-mortem? The rest of the MO was consistent with the other victims. Even Charlotte, the survivor, had been inj
ured this way. Had Trixie died quicker than her attacker intended? Is that why she’d been violated post-mortem? It seemed that he’d throttled them to unconsciousness and revived them a few times before the fatal strangulation.

  And where the hell did Shahid Khan fit into all of this? His relationship with Trixie complicated things. It added another dimension to the attacks. Khan had lawyered up and been released late the previous night but, in truth, Gus wasn’t that bothered by that fact. He’d felt Shahid’s grief was genuine and, although he knew that didn’t necessarily signify innocence, he felt inclined to believe him. He couldn’t see any reason for Shahid to kill either his own girls or his girlfriend. His past experience with Shahid made him doubt his culpability.

  A constable came in with the day’s newspapers, and as Gus spread them out side by side on his desk he felt his stomach clench in anger at the way they dehumanised the victim’s. They emphasised their ‘professions’ and ‘vulnerable lifestyles’ rather than the fact that their life had been snuffed out violently by a monster and that they left behind family and friends who cared for them. The police, as usual, came in for a huge amount of stick with words like ‘incompetence’ being a common thread throughout the tabloids. He knew to expect a visit from DCS Hussain before the day was over. No way would he be able to resist twisting the knife. He’d clearly missed the emotional intelligence training that was, supposedly, compulsory for all police managers, regardless of rank. Not for the first time, Gus wished DCI Nancy Chalmers was back from her sabbatical. Not only was she fully supportive of Gus but, her clear thinking made her a valuable asset to any investigation. And she also provided a useful buffer between him and the DCS.

  As the room filled up, Gus began the briefing. In light of a lack of additional information, he focussed on directing Compo and Brighton to continue trying to track down Trixie’s relatives. He decided to change tack with Jessica Green, who he was sure was hiding something, and directed Alice to accompany him in a follow-up interview after which they’d re-interview Armani and, he hoped, Charlotte, if she regained consciousness. Then, of course, he had to waste precious time driving to Horsforth to consult with Dr bloody Carlton. As if he hadn’t got enough to do today. Never mind, he’d take Al with him and they could use the drive to bounce some ideas about.