by Liz Mistry
I’m not certain how Peggy’d found us, but I reckon that loser Liam had more than a little to do with it. Stirring things up, causing problems that were nothing to do with him. When the scratty note arrived, written in the clumsy hand of a child, I panicked. Peggy couldn’t have reared her ugly head at a worse time and now she has to be dealt with – just like anyone else who poses a threat. It isn’t ideal, but it’s the only way. I’m not a killer – just protecting myself. No sin in that. Anybody would do the same – well anybody except him – especially with so much at stake.
Any other time, I’d be all over the skinny young girls, bundled into layers of clothes that still don’t conceal their emaciated frames. Ripe for the plucking and probably still in their teens – just the right age for my tastes. Ignoring them, I focus on the four older women who seem to be in the right age range for the woman I’m looking for. Sixties, weather-beaten skin, lined with creases that could be filth or wrinkles – I’m not sure. I’d seen them earlier in the day. Followed each of them in turn as they begged for money in City Park, one eye always out ready to dodge the occasional police officer who strolled through the park. Most people gave them a wide berth, faces scrunched up in distaste; some were openly hostile and shouted verbal abuse, which the women shrugged off; a few even punched or shoved them; while some gave them a handful of coins or a sandwich that was scoffed down in almost one gulp. It was a sorry life for them.
What I planned for the target is actually a blessing – an end to her debasement, an end to this non-life that she’d sunk to. I owe her nothing. She’s a parasite and if she gets her claws into me, she’ll end up destroying the only good thing she could claim responsibility for – and I’m not about to let that happen. No bloody way!
It’s midnight, and I still haven’t managed to identify which, if any, of the women is Peggy Dyson. My nerves are frayed, but my resolve strong. I have to do this tonight. Can’t come back another day. I’ve already taken a huge risk being here for so long. Anyone could notice me; take note of my interest in the inhabitants of the arches. No, to minimise any fallout landing on us, I have to do it tonight.
A skinny youth, backed up by a couple of equally skinny lads, arrives and struts towards the homeless and stands expectantly. His designer clothes set him apart from the inhumanity that lives rough under the arches. Even from the shadows on the periphery of the area, I can sense the change in the atmosphere. An eerie silence falls. Some of the rough sleepers, already huddled into their chosen makeshift beds for the night, hunker deeper beneath their layers, their eyes closed, their bodies still. The group of loudmouths settle down, watching with wary eyes as the skinny lout grins round at them. Then one of the women I’ve been watching drops her coat to the floor and sidles up to the lad, her non-existent hips gyrating in macabre enticement, her dress riding up her backside as she stumbles her drunken way over to the three boys. Her face is fashioned into what she presumably thinks is a sultry siren look; her greasy hair falls in rats’ tails to her shoulders. Embarrassed by her actions, I want to look away, but find my glance skewered on the scene.
‘Asif baby, looking for some fun, are you?’ Her voice, high and reedy, splinters the atmosphere. She reaches out a skinny arm with track scabs clearly visible and makes to grip the ringleader’s arm.
He steps back, watching her miscalculate her balance and stumble onto the floor. ‘Aw, fuck off, Peggy. You’re old enough to be my grandma – no my fucking great-grandma. I’ve told you before to keep your minging hands off me.’
‘Aw, Asif.’ Her voice wobbles with tears. ‘A lady’s got to make a living somehow. You know I’m cheap and give good service.’
He sniggers and aims a kick to the prone woman’s belly, eliciting a yelp. Lying there, her hair falling in front of her face, her entire body trembles. Asif looks at her, then round at the crowd who stand watching the scenario play out. He turns to one of his boys. ‘Give her a bag – not the pure stuff though.’
As the lout strides over to the group of loudmouths, his lieutenant tosses a bag at Peggy’s feet. After scrabbling for it, she jumps to her feet, scurries back to retrieve her coat, and limps away with a satisfied grin on her lips into the shadows.
Now I’ve got my target confirmed, it’s only a matter of waiting till the drug dealers finish conducting their business and leave. That’s when I’ll strike. Not for the first time, I slide my hand into my pocket and touch the tool concealed there. Through the moonlit shadows I study my target. Watching as she snorts her load. Watching her body relax. Watching her sink back into oblivion. What a life. I’m about to do her the biggest favour ever. For once, she won’t waken to continue her senseless existence.
A half-hour later, the skinny lout’s business complete, the area settles down bar the few hacking coughs and snores that break the silence. I creep through the huddled bundles of inhumanity, none of whom so much as twitch as I pass. When I reach Peggy, her coat is huddled round her, head flung back. Her open mouth reveals blackened teeth stumps and her chest, rising and falling, is the only indication she’s alive. Disgust floods me – not at what I’m about to do, but at what Peggy Dyson has become. Taking the tool from my pocket, I take a quick glance around to double-check nobody is watching.
Now the time is here, my heart speeds up, but I’m not scared. I’m excited and maybe after I’m done I will just visit one of those mangy girls. Coast clear, I allow my disgust and anger to drive the tool repeatedly into her body. I had expected her to scream – was prepared for it, but the only sound she makes is a quiet whoosh as the first hit penetrates her heart and begins to drain her life’s blood.
Job done, I retreat the way I entered, a shadow dressed in black.
Chapter 2
The drizzle made the crime scene more sordid somehow. Dingy and dark, with shadows hovering just outside the lit crime scene area, it had the appearance of an apocalyptic world – a lawless one. The very thought of that made DS Nikki Parekh shudder. Apart from that, the rain seemed to stir up a variety of eye-watering stenches, the origins of which were best left to the imagination. As Nikki looked at the blood-soaked body lying in a forlorn heap on the floor, an unexpected tear came to her eyes. She blinked it away and sniffed, heart heavy as the corpse was zipped into a body bag and transported away.
Her partner DC Sajid Malik placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘You okay, Nik?’
Nikki’s shrug was less than convincing. She knew this woman – Peggy Dyson. Dyson had been a friend of her mother’s from years ago and periodically she’d shown up at Trafalgar House, arrested for some misdemeanour or other. The woman hadn’t stood a chance in Bradford’s underworld. Getting older limited her options on how to make money, and no doubt she’d been stabbed by someone she was indebted to, or maybe even someone higher on drugs than Peggy herself had been – who knew?
Still, no matter how slim the chances were of finding the perpetrator, Nikki had to try. For all her lifestyle was dire, Dyson was always cheerful, always funny and surprisingly loyal to Nikki’s mum. Despite the fact that Lalita had escaped this world whilst Peggy had sunk deeper and deeper into it, Peggy had been pleased for her friend. It seemed to give her hope that perhaps one day she could escape too. Now, that hope had been snuffed out and Nikki didn’t know how she was going to tell her mum. No doubt she’d admonish herself for not doing enough for her one-time friend. That wasn’t true. Lalita Parekh had tried everything she could to help Peggy, but Peggy had lost too much, fallen too far and become too reliant on her various fixes to respond to Lalita’s overtures.
Nikki looked round at the huddle of people watching the proceedings. She’d set up a team of uniformed officers to get statements from them, but the feedback had been that everyone in the area had become selectively mute and deaf. CCTV might throw up something, but Nikki wasn’t optimistic. Under the arches here was a safe haven for dealers, pimps and prostitutes to ply their trades and little was recorded.
Walking back towards the car with Saj, Nikki
was aware that no matter how hard she worked this case and no matter how many of Peggy’s acquaintances she approached, she’d get no further. As for the official channels – a worn-out junkie wasn’t on anyone’s priority list.
*
‘What can you tell us, Langley?’ Nikki had thought that Peggy Dyson couldn’t look any more forlorn, but here, lying naked and skinny on Langley Campbell’s slab in the mortuary, she did just that.
Langley had finished his post-mortem and now, looking down at Peggy’s emaciated frame, he shrugged. ‘Not a lot to tell you, Nik. Malnourished, addicted, her tox screen was off the scale – but that was to be expected. The wounds speak of a frenzied attack.’ He shrugged again and met Nikki’s eye. ‘But that’s hardly unexpected – it could be drug-fuelled, it could just be frustration or anger – who knows. These sorts of attacks on the homeless and drug-addicted turn up too often for my liking.’
Sajid’s ultra-professional stance – the one he always took around his boyfriend Langley when interacting in a professional capacity – made Nikki smile. Who does he think he’s kidding?
‘Any useful forensics?’ Sajid’s tone was hopeful rather than expectant.
Langley’s snort told them all they needed to know. ‘She was a hive of forensic clues – semen on all her garments as well as traces of rat, canine and human faeces, urine, cocktails of drugs and more. The only thing I can conclusively link to the attack or the attacker is some paint scraps that were in the wound. I’ve sent them off for analysis.’ Feeling that they were getting nowhere very fast, Nikki and Sajid took their leave.
Chapter 3
Nikki waited till dark before heading back down to the Forster Square arches. She had told Saj to dress down and was now looking on in amusement at her partner’s idea of dressing down – Armani jeans and a Gucci leather jacket were not, in her humble opinion, dressing down for the occasion. Serve him right if he gets something on himself.
Trying to look unthreatening, Nikki made her way to a group of older women who crowded round a small fire they’d lit in a metal container. Indicating for Saj to hang back, Nikki extended her cold hands to the flames, without making eye contact with any of the women, whilst watching them from the corner of her eye. The woman she was hoping would talk to her glanced nervously in her direction and looked ready to run, so Nikki raised her head and, looking directly at the woman, flashed a twenty-pound note, so only she could see. The woman sniffed, her small nose scrunching up as she did so, and with a slight toss of her head, walked into a darker area under one of the columns.
Nikki gave her twenty seconds before following her. By the time she reached the woman, she was sniffing a line of coke from the back of her hand and Nikki wasn’t sure if that would knock her out or clarify her thoughts. ‘Jemmy, you know owt about Peggy’s murder, eh?’
Jemmy wiggled her nose to make sure she inhaled every last grain of the powder. ‘Murder? Humph. You call that murder, do ya? None of us do. Don’t know why you’re wasting your time – don’t know at all.’ She grinned, her few remaining teeth black, her breath putrid. She began singing tunelessly, arms out before her as if she was conducting an orchestra. ‘It’s the circle … Bradford’s circle of death.’ And when she’d finished she cackled like a witch at her own humour.
Playing along, Nikki grinned too. ‘I get you, Jem. I really do. But, you must know who had it in for Peggy. She was your friend …’
All at once, Jemmy’s smile disappeared and she drew closer to Nikki, who held her breath against the overwhelming stench that accompanied the woman. ‘Peggy didn’t owe anybody owt. You hear me? Nobody. Nobody had no reason to kill her – not Peggy.’ Jem’s hand wiped across her eyes as if scrubbing away a tear. ‘She was going to move away. Move to be with her kids. That’s what she was hoping for anyway. She was waiting for them to get back in touch.’
‘Peggy had kids? Where are they and how did she get in touch with them?’ Nikki was sceptical – she’d never heard tell of Peggy having any family at all, but Jemmy was insistent.
‘She had kids – she told me so. She saw one of them in the paper – a grandson or summat and she tracked them down.’
‘You have a name, Jemmy?’
‘Na, no name – she was secretive about it all. Said she had to keep quiet about them or they could all get in bother. Now – where’s my twenty?’
Sensing that she’d got her lot from Jemmy, Nikki handed the note to Jemmy and left, the woman stuffing it down her front, cackling to herself at her good fortune.
Tuesday 1st September
Chapter 4
‘You reckon it’s true, Nikki?’
Nikki frowned and looked up at Sajid. ‘What are you on about? Can’t you see I’m concentrating?’ She pulled her ponytail tighter and started to jab her fingers repeatedly on the computer keys. ‘Bloody thing. Why does everything have to be so damn hard in this shithole?’
Saj moved behind her and looked over her shoulder. ‘Holiday request form? God, Nik, it’s easy to fill in.’
‘Damn thing keeps bouncing around.’ She pushed her chair away from her desk, causing Sajid to jump out of the way to avoid being knocked over. She glanced up at him. ‘Don’t suppose …?’
‘If I do this, I expect breakfast at Lazy Bites tomorrow.’
Nikki gave an exaggerated eye roll. ‘Okay, you’re on. I want to book Christmas Day off.’
Grinning, Sajid stepped forward, typed for a couple of seconds and then stood back. ‘Done.’
Nikki’s mouth fell open. ‘You’re kidding, right? For literally two seconds’ work, I have to buy you breakfast?’
Grinning widely, eyes sparkling, Saj shrugged. ‘You agreed. There’ll be a confirmation email in your inbox shortly.’
She elbowed her colleague out of the way, muttering under her breath about how it used to be that colleagues helped each other out for nothing, instead of blackmailing them.
Sajid nudged her with his elbow. ‘You still didn’t reply.’
‘What?’ Nikki’s face was screwed up in confusion. ‘Reply to what?’
Elongating each word as if he was talking to a child, Sajid repeated his earlier question. ‘Do you think the gossip about the boss having a girlfriend is true?’
Nikki’s confused expression intensified. ‘What are you on about?’
Shaking his head, Saj exhaled. ‘Aw, Nik, don’t you ever listen to the chat that goes on around you?’
‘Eh, no. Should I? It’s all a load of gossip, isn’t it? Can’t be bothered with that crap.’
‘Yeah, but this is important, isn’t it?’
Studying Saj’s serious expression, Nikki considered his question. In all the years she’d worked for him, she’d never known her boss, DCI Archie Hegley, to have a love interest. Besides, who would be daft enough to take her stubborn old boss on? Whoever it was would need to be one stalwart of a woman. She smiled. That possibility seemed very unlikely. ‘Still don’t see what’s prompted that gossip.’
Sajid groaned. ‘Haven’t you listened to what I’ve been telling you, Nik?’
‘Eh …’
‘For goodness’ sake – are you listening now?’
Resigned to having to endure this particular snippet of gossip, Nikki sat back, folded her arms over her chest and said, ‘Shoot.’
Raising his hand, Sajid began counting off on his fingers ‘One … he’s been different since he came back to work – less shouty – smiling more.’
‘Yeah, a heart condition might make you reassess your life. He was a grumpy old bugger before, but his little brush with death is a reasonable catalyst.’ Nikki knew this first-hand, as a near brush with death the previous year had helped her prioritise her own family more.
‘Two … aftershave.’
Inclining her head, Nikki nodded. ‘Yeah I’ll give you that. He’s been using a bit too much of the stuff. Between your eau de toilette and his, the place smells like a brothel.’
Ignoring her dig, Saj continued raising three fingers i
n the air. ‘Three … new suits.’
‘Aw, I can’t give you that one – he’s lost weight since his scare, so he had to buy new ones.’
‘That’s my point four … He’s coming into work with a “healthy lunchbox” with salads and stuff in it – you telling me Archie’s taking the time to make himself lunch every day?’
‘Hmmm – yeah, that seems unlikely, but you never know. People change. Look at me – I’m more outgoing – more sociable now.’
As Saj’s mouth fell open, Nikki narrowed her eyes. ‘Don’t even think about bursting my bubble, Malik. I am more sociable.’
Presumably choosing to be diplomatic, Sajid moved on. ‘Five … all the mysterious phone calls that make him laugh and … the lunchtime meetings that go on for over an hour … You telling me that’s not conclusive?’
‘I’ve not noticed any of that.’ Nikki scrunched up her forehead. ‘Maybe you’ve got a point. I nominate you to ask him. Here he is now.’ She raised her voice. ‘Archie … Saj has something he’d like to ask you.’
Saj scrambled to his feet, face flushing, straightening his tie as he spun round only to see an empty office and hear Nikki laughing behind him.
‘Got ya!’
‘Cowbag!’
‘Oh yeah … now piss off home, I’ve got to go through my mail and then I’m leaving too.’
Sajid grabbed his jacket and headed out with a cheery, ‘See ya tomorrow, boss.’
Nikki still had some paperwork to do on the Peggy Dyson case. Not that they’d managed to find much in the way of evidence, and as for suspects – well that was a round zilch. It was so frustrating, but Nikki wasn’t ready to give up on the case just yet, regardless of Archie’s suggestion that she wind things down.
