Uncoiled Lies: a stunning crime thriller

by Liz Mistry

  Gus noted with satisfaction how embarrassed both Katie and Gabriella looked, but also how Gabriella kept sending curious glances in Sadia’s direction. Taking the opportunity to deposit some of his meat under the table where the dogs sat, waiting in anticipation, he refocussed on his mother’s continuing toast.

  ‘This year, I’ve looked for another outlet for my creativity and am pleased to announce that, thanks to Tommy here, my painting classes have paid off. It is with great pleasure that I want to reveal a project I’ve been working on for a number of months now.’ She nodded to her husband, who Gus thought looked less than delighted, to remove the drape.

  For long moments when the drape came off, there was a stunned silence. Corrine, hands clasped in front of her, looked round the table, a satisfied smile on her face. Gus realised that she’d mistaken everyone’s stunned reaction for awe and admiration. He caught sight of his father’s thunderous expression and, swallowing the laughter that threatened to bubble from his mouth, he risked a glance at Katie. She met his eye and shook her head slightly, her face a combination of shock and amusement. Feeling Alice’s shoulders jiggling against his, he knew she was in danger of laughing aloud as, he noted, were Compo and Sampson. Sadia too, was having difficulty keeping her face straight.

  Biting the bullet, Gus stood and raising his glass saluted his mum. ‘Well, you certainly hid your light under a bushel, Mum.’

  He ignored his father’s mumbled, ‘Might’ve been better if Tommy Gilchrist had kept his hidden under a damn bushel.’

  Gus continued. ‘We’d no idea you were doing life drawing, but, I have to say, you’ve captured the subject perfectly. It’s a very good likeness of Tommy.’ He turned and raised his glass in Tommy’s direction. ‘Well, of course, I can only vouch for the bits I can see at the moment.’ He added causing a series of coughing fits to erupt around the table.

  Tommy Gilchrist, in his crisp shirt and spotty bow tie with a perfect crease running down the centre of each trouser leg, was the least likely candidate for life modelling that Gus had ever come across. Risking a glance at his dad, who looked very glum, Gus said ‘What do you think, Dad?’

  Before he had a chance to reply, Gus’ mother snorted. ‘Silly bloody galoot’s got all jealous over it. Your father, Gus, is a philistine, a complete philistine, who can’t appreciate the finer points of art.’

  His dad snorted. ‘Och, I’m not bloody jealous, Corrine. I just don’t want to have to see Tommy’s bloody gonads when I’m eating my damn tea. Gives black pudding a whole new meaning.’

  ‘Hmmph,’ Corrinne folded her arms over her chest as Katie got to her feet and wrapped her arms round her mother’s shoulders. ‘Look, Mum, why don’t we put it at the top of the landing instead. Then, we’ll get the full benefit of it as we come up the stairs. It’s a bit too close to get its full impact here, isn’t it?’

  Dr McGuire spluttered, muttering under his breath, for Gus’s ears only, ‘Benefit? Bloody impact? More like revulsion and despair. In fact, that’s what I’m going to call it. Either that or ‘Gone to bloody seed’.’ But, he got to his feet and walked over to his wife and deposited a big kiss on her cheek before hugging her close. ‘You’re beautiful when you’re angry, you know that?’

  ‘Och, away wi’ you, ye bloody old goat,’ she said, smiling. ‘Come on everyone, tuck in. I think I’ve surpassed myself today,’ and, seemingly oblivious to her guests’ dubious glances, she sat down and lifted her cutlery to dig in.

  Chapter 75

  15:30 Astor Avenue, Idle

  Sampson had struggled during lunch at the McGuires’ home. Truth be told, he’d been struggling since his meeting with the Dhosangs the previous afternoon. He hated being so undecided but, seeing Sadia so happy with Gus and knowing how determined she was to find out the truth about Millie Green for Jessica, he’d finally come to a decision. It wasn’t one he relished implementing but, it was the right thing to do. So, he’d made his excuses and left the warmth and friendliness of the McGuires’ home and made his way here.

  He had no idea how this would play out. He knew it could all go horribly wrong and he could find himself out of a job… as for Sadia, he knew he was exposing her, and Gus too, to her father’s wrath. He shook his head taking a deep breath. That couldn’t be helped. At least this way, if the Dhosang’s suspicions amounted to nowt, he’d have saved Sadia that trauma. He knew he could have approached Gus for help and he knew Gus would have taken the responsibility on himself, but that wasn’t Sampson’s way. It was his problem, so he’d sort it out. At one point he’d considered snagging Sadia’s hair and getting a sibling DNA comparison done on the DNA from Millie Green’s foetus, but that didn’t sit right with him. It smacked of dishonesty and, if there was one thing Sampson hated, it was deceit.

  So, here he was outside Hannibal Hussain’s house, crapping himself. The mere thought of confronting DCS Hussain made him feel like throwing up. He’d suffered humiliation at the DCS’s hands before, so he knew exactly what the man could dish out. On the other hand, though, Sampson didn’t very much care what Hussain thought. He didn’t respect him whatsoever, so Hussain’s opinion of him mattered not one jot. Keeping that thought to the forefront of his mind, Sampson grabbed the door handle and got out of his car.

  The air was crisp and the faint smell of burning out bonfires hung in the air. Yesterday would have been twenty years since Millie Green’s tragic death so it seemed a fitting way to mark the anniversary by trying to work out what had happened on that fateful night. Wiping his sweating hands down his trouser legs, Sampson flung his shoulders back and walked through the ornate archway onto the crazy paved path that led to the Hussain’s front door. The doormat had, what Sampson assumed, was an Arabic welcome painted on it in red. Through the double-glazed porch windows he could see shoes, some female, probably Sadia’s, and some male stacked in neat rows on an Ikea shelving unit. He reached out and rung the bell. A silhouette appeared behind the inner door and seconds later, when the door opened, Sampson saw it was DCS Hussain. Contrary to his normal working attire of a black or navy suit, shirt and tie, today the DCS wore traditional Pakistani shalwar kameez and had a pristine white prayer hat on his head.

  Hussain frowned when he saw Sampson. He opened the porch door and uttered a single word, ‘Yes?’ His contempt was clear in the abruptness of his tone.

  Sampson thought the other man looked tired. His face had the unhealthy pallor of an exhausted man, but Sampson knew that wouldn’t make him any weaker a combatant. Arms folded behind his back, Sampson gripped his hands together, gaining courage from the way his nails bit into his palms. ‘I need to talk to you, sir, and I thought it would be better if I approached you away from the office.’

  Hussain frowned, then turned to re-enter the house, pointing to the shoe rack, issuing a monosyllabic order, ‘Shoes.’

  Sampson, in his haste to take his boots off and follow the older man inside, hopped about on one foot trying to pull his boots off without unlacing them fully. Defeated, he bent over and fully aware of Hussain’s disapproving glance on his back, he loosened them and finally kicked them off, before, mindful of the stern look on Hussain’s face when he’d pointed at the shelves, he picked them up and placed them beside a pair of Sadia’s stilettos.

  Seeing Hussain looking at his feet, Sampson followed his gaze downwards and flushed when he realised that, not only did he have on one blue and one red sock, but that the red one had a hole in it from which his big toe protruded. He felt heat fill his face as Hussain snorted before leading the way along a carpeted hallway to a room at the end.

  Sampson followed, his heart thumping harder with each step further into the lion’s den and, when inside the office, he took the seat across from Hussain at the desk. He was immediately aware that his seat was much smaller than the other man’s and knew that Hussain had chosen a smaller chair for his guests to keep them at a height disadvantage. Unwilling to let Hussain have it all his own way, Sampson straightened his upper body to minimise t
he disparity.

  Hussain, as if realising Sampson’s ploy, snorted, ‘Right, this better be good, Sanders.’

  Sampson somehow kept his face straight and, despite his blush, he maintained eye contact with Hussain. ‘Sampson, my name’s Sampson.’

  Hussain’s lips curled and he wafted one hand as if to say ‘I don’t care what you’re called’.

  Sampson cleared his throat, ‘I visited Mr and Mrs Dhosang yesterday. Do you remember them? They were your neighbours when you lived next door to Millie Green.’

  Hussain, leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. One hand drifted up to his beard and his fingers ran down it from his chin to the pointed end. His eyes narrowed. ‘And why, may I ask, would you do that, Sanders?’

  Sampson knew that using the wrong name was strategy to maintain the upper hand, so he ignored it. Taking a deep breath, he said, ‘I wanted to find out what they knew about Millie Green’s death.’

  Hussain’s already thin lips tightened until they disappeared completely beneath his beard. ‘I gave very specific instructions that time was not to be wasted on the Millie Green case. If my memory serves me well, you, Sanders were there when I issued those instructions.’

  Sampson nodded, ‘I only looked at the Millie Green case in my own time, sir.’ And before Hussain could respond he added, ‘Did you know Millie Green was pregnant at the time of her death?’

  If Sampson hadn’t been watching closely, he might have missed the flicker in Hussain’s eyes. Not wanting to lose his advantage, he continued. ‘The Dhosangs knew who the father was.’

  Hussain jumped to his feet, a muscle twitching in his cheek. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. They are an old couple with nothing better to do than make up stories to discredit respectable people.’

  Sampson frowned. ‘They seemed respectable enough to me. One of their sons is a criminal lawyer and the other a businessman.’ Sampson hoped the implied threat of the Dhosangs’ lawyer son would push Hussain into being indiscreet but, instead, he moved round the desk and moved to yank the door open. ‘Leave.’

  Sampson glared at him as he stood and walked out of the room. Hussain followed and watched as he put his boots back on. As Sampson opened the outer door, Hussain said, ‘Have you shared this nonsense with Sadia?’

  Sampson looked him straight in the eye. ‘Not yet, but I will.’ He stepped onto the path, then turned back, ‘I’ll tell her after work tomorrow.’

  Hussain nodded and as Sampson watched he closed the door and then, shoulders hunched, he turned and walked back into his home. Sampson exhaled and, as his body relaxed, he felt muscles he didn’t even know he had, begin to throb. He hadn’t enjoyed doing what he’d done but he wanted to make it clear to Hussain that this wasn’t going to go away. He’d given the man ample time to speak to his daughter about it before he passed the information on.

  Chapter 76

  16:55 Killinghall Road

  Jai didn’t enjoy working with Bazza’s thug, but he’d had no choice. Shahid was up at BRI with Imti and, because of the temporary truce between Shahid and Bazza, they had to work in pairs, one from Bazza’s crew and one from Shahid’s. They’d been sent out, like a swarm of bees, to find the honey pot. Not that Anastazy was sweet by anyone’s standards. From Serafina, Shahid had ascertained that Anastazy seemed to operate from the Thornbury area, so Jai had opted to target that area. After all, when the Polish bastard had attacked first Imti and then The Delius he’d made it personal. Jai didn’t forget personal insults easily.

  Bazza’s thug, a white guy called Jerome, was high on weed, but Jai reckoned that the guy would be equally idiotic without the enhancement of weed. He’d come across potheads like him in the past and knew not to rely on him. Jai was keeping in close contact with the rest of his men and the favours Shahid had pulled in meant that, should they need it, they could pull in the heavies from Manchester and Sheffield too. Together, they’d decided to pull their girls off the streets. Their dealers and distributers were under strict instructions to keep a low profile.

  Jai knew that a coup d’état would be the most effective away to end this. Get to Anastazy and the rest of his crew would fold. Shahid seemed to think that Anastazy wasn’t at the top of the tree, but Jai was unsure. He was prepared to hedge his bets, if Shahid said so, but he was determined to deal with Anastazy himself.

  The streets were empty and a residual firework bonfire smell hung in the air from the previous night. Jai pounded on a door just down from Habib’s restaurant near the Killinghall Road roundabout. From inside he heard shuffling and knew that the door was about to be opened. He stood to the side and as soon as it opened, he inserted his foot between the door and the jamb. Pushing his body against the door, he thrust his arm round, grabbing the man by the throat and bulldozed his way into the hallway. ‘How you doing, Dwayne? All right?’

  Dwayne, unable to reply due to the pressure of Jai’s fingers against his larynx, tried to nod. Jai backed him up against the wall and smiled when he heard Jerome slam the door closed behind them. ‘Check out the rest of this pigsty, Jerome.’

  Grinning, Jerome bounced along the corridor, checking each downstairs room before progressing to the upstairs ones. When he heard Jerome’s ‘Clear’, Jai released Dwayne who fell to the floor rubbing his throat and coughing. ‘What you do that for, Jai? Thought you and me was mates.’

  Jai’s mouth turned up. ‘“Mates” is pushing it, don’t you think, Dwayne? To me you’re the equivalent of vermin in a mousetrap, you get my drift?’

  Dwayne risked a smile. ‘Funny, Jai, really funny.’

  Walking through to the living room, Jai’s nose crinkled at the acrid smell. ‘You know what soap is, Dwayne?’

  Trailing behind, Dwayne shrugged. Jai rolled his eyes. ‘Never mind. What I need from you is information, okay?’

  Still rubbing his throat, Dwayne nodded.

  ‘Good.’ He slapped Dwayne’s cheeks in a friendly warning. ‘I need you to think very hard, because if you lie to me right now, Shahid will see that your dismembered body is disposed of in a pig farm near Holmfirth, okay?’

  Seeing Dwayne’s face pale, he knew his message had hit the mark. ‘We’re looking for a Polish guy. Bit of a psycho. Name of Anastazy. You can’t miss him. He’s got teardrop tatts under his eyes and a snake going up his neck. Recognise that description, Dwayney boy?’

  Dwayne swallowed and glanced at Jerome, who leaned against the living room door, cleaning under his nails with the tip of a very sharp stiletto blade. Flicking a nervous glance at Jai, he held out his arms out in a pleading gesture. ‘Shit Jai, that dude’s into some really bad stuff, you get my drift? I tell you owt and I’m dead meat.’

  Taking a step forward, Jai reconnected his fingers with Dwayne’s neck. ‘Looks like you’ve got a bit of a dilemma to resolve then, Dwayne.’ He tightened his grip, ‘See. You’re dead if you don’t tell us. But the thing is, you know and I know that Shahid’s kind to his friends, so, when all’s said and done, there really is no competition is there? You tell us about the Polish bastard and we’ll protect you.’

  Chapter 77

  18:15 Astor Avenue, Idle

  It had taken Gus ages to get away from his parent’s house. His mum had insisted he help his dad re-hang the portrait at the top of the stairs. Of course, with all his dad’s moaning and groaning, which in all fairness Gus did sympathise with, it took rather a long time. Despite his dexterity in the mortuary, his father, as far as DIY was concerned, appeared to possess two left hands. The result was three separate stoppages caused by injury involving a hammer a screwdriver and a drill. By the end of the process, Gus was more than ready to throttle his dad and only his mother’s smiling gratitude prevented him from making her a widow.

  Sadia, who was exhausted, had bummed a lift back to his house from Compo and Sampson and Gabriella and Katie had sneaked out soon after dessert, which his mum insisted on calling ‘Heaton Mess’, because, as far as she was concerned, Shay Lane was as much part of Heat
on as it was a part of Cottingley. Gus personally thought ‘Bloody Inedible Mess’ would’ve been more apt. How could his mother manage to balls up the crumbling of meringue, the whipping of cream and the addition of fruit? But somehow or other, she had. The cream appeared to have clotted, the meringues were chewy and the juice from the fruit made the whole thing into a scummy liquid. Compo scoffed three bowls of it, which made everyone else’s half-hearted attempts go unnoticed.

  As promised, Alice had hung on until the bitter end and now they were making their way to Sadia’s house to confront her dad. Gus still wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to say to Hussain, but at least the passage of time had taken the edge of his anger. He hadn’t told Sadia of his intentions either, mainly because he knew she’d insist that she could fight her own battles. The thing was, this was his battle, too, and he wasn’t about to let anyone get away with hitting Sadia… far less her bastard father.

  He felt more in control of his emotions now and knew he wouldn’t lose it completely with the other man, much as he’d like nothing better than to give him a taste of his own medicine.

  As he drew up outside the house, his heart pounded in his chest. A sympathetic look from Alice told him she knew how he felt. Well, at least one of us knows, thought Gus, not sure if he was nervous about confronting his boss or mad as hell with Sadia’s dad. It was as if he had two different men to confront and the reality and complexity of it made him uneasy. He glanced at the front room windows, looking for signs that his superior officer was at home. Despite the dark, the curtains were open and no tell-tale shadows of life passed across the windows. Hussain was probably at the back in his office.