by Liz Mistry
Eyes narrowed, she allowed her gaze to rake over the man, not bothering to hide her distrust. ‘What’s going on here, Isaac? Who’s your friend?’
Before Isaac could reply, Gold Man held out a card to her, which she took and studied for a moment – Gold Man appeared to be a lawyer.
‘Cliff McIvor. I’ve got business with young Isaac here. Now if you don’t mind …’ He began to guide Isaac round the side of the swanky car, the false smile still on his chubby face.
Nikki moved to block their way. ‘Ah, but you see, Mr McIvor, I do mind.’
McIvor’s smile was still in place. How did he do that? He attempted to wave her away with his hand. ‘This is nothing to do with you, miss … Isaac and I have business to conduct in private.’
The rage that Nikki had suppressed all day threatened to engulf her as she looked at Isaac, red-faced and uncertain, and McIvor sleazy and pushy. With great deliberation she stepped closer, eye to eye with the small man, her eyes flashing. ‘Well, that’s where I disagree. Taking advantage of a vulnerable adult is very much my business.’
She took out her warrant card and thrust it under McIvor’s nose. His many chins began to wobble, his pupils dilated and his breath hitched a little as he splayed his hands out. ‘I’m not taking advantage of Isaac. He needed a conveyancing lawyer to facilitate his house sale and I was recommended to him. That right, lad?’
Isaac glanced at Nikki, tears in his eyes. ‘I got to sell the house, Nik, Nik. I pinkie promised. I don’t want my mum going to hell. She can’t go to hell, Nik. Let me sign.’
Trying to make sense of everything, Nikki directed her next question to McIvor who was now edging back towards the driver’s door. ‘What was Isaac going to sign?’
‘Nothing, nothing. The lad’s confused.’
But Isaac, who hated being told he didn’t understand, stepped forward. ‘You told me I had to go into your car to sign the documents in your briefcase. You did, Mr McIvor, I’m not confused.’
Nikki quirked an eyebrow at McIvor. ‘I suggest you show me these documents.’
When McIvor hesitated, Nikki again stepped forward. ‘NOW!’
McIvor opened the door and leaned in. ‘My other clients had me make up the documents – it’s all perfectly legal.’
Nikki flicked through the pages. She was by no means into all the legalese, but even she could tell that the document, when signed by Isaac, would pass the deeds of his old house over to McIvor.
Before she could reconsider, Nikki grabbed McIvor by his lapels. And drew him right up to her face. ‘This might not be illegal, but it sure as hell is immoral, you sleazy little scumbag. Where the hell do you get off trying to exploit a young lad? You’re despicable.’
Isaac pulled at her arm, and Nikki, loosening her grip on the lawyer, glanced at him. Tears poured down his cheeks, his chest heaved. ‘Nikki, Nikki, leave him alone. I gotta sign. I gotta sign or my mum will go to hell.’
Coming to her senses, Nikki thrust the lawyer so he landed against the door of his posh car. ‘You get the hell out of here, now. And be sure I’ll have some of my colleagues from fraud check out your outfit in minute detail.’
Then she turned to Isaac and pulled him close to her, smoothing down his hair, whispering in his ear. ‘Oh, Isaac. There’s no way your mum could ever go to hell. She was far too good a mum and friend to end up down there. I promise you.’
She held Isaac at arm’s length and looked right into his eyes and repeated her words. ‘I promise you, Isaac, and you know I keep my promises, nothing you could do would ever send your mum to hell.’
Isaac sniffed and Nikki wished for a moment she had one of Saj’s posh hankies to offer him. Instead all she could find was a dubiously crumpled tissue from her back pocket. When Isaac had sniffed and scrubbed his face, Nikki linked her arm through his. ‘Come on, let’s sit in my car for a bit and you can tell me everything. Last thing you want is for Lally Mum to see you in this state.’
They sat in the front seat of Nikki’s car, Isaac insisting on putting on his seatbelt although Nikki reassured him that if they were stationary there was no need. ‘You going to tell me what’s gone on?’
Isaac looked down. ‘I missed being here. Missed seeing Lally Mum and Sunni and everybody.’ He hesitated a moment and added, ‘Even Ani – I even missed her.’
Nikki’s lips twitched. Ani didn’t bother spending time with Isaac. Too impatient and too wrapped up in her own world to bother giving him the time of day. ‘We missed you too, Isaac. We’re all glad you’re back and you know you can stay at Lally Mum’s as long as you want to. I want to help, so why don’t you tell me what’s gone on.’
‘I had to pinkie promise. Calum made me. He said if I didn’t pinkie promise to give him all the money from the house, he’d make sure my mum went to hell. He said if I broke the promise, she’d go to hell.’
It all made sense to Nikki now – all Isaac’s questions about hell and pinkie promises were because of this. Choosing her words carefully, Nikki said, ‘I meant it when I said your mum would never go to hell. This Calum was lying to you. God would never send someone to hell for breaking that sort of promise. This Calum was being unkind. He was bullying you. You understand?’
And after Isaac nodded she continued. ‘Where does he live, this Calum?’
Tears rolling down his cheek once more, Isaac shrugged. ‘Dunno. Him and his mates find me.’
Nikki nodded. ‘They sent you to meet this McIvor man?’
‘Yes.’
‘From now on, till I find them, me or Lally Mum will drop you right outside your work and … no more arranging to meet folk you don’t know, okay?’
‘Yes.’
Nikki smiled and held out her hand. ‘Pinkie promise.’
This raised the first slight smile she’d got from Isaac since she confronted him. But she wasn’t off the hook yet. She still had some bad news and who knew how Isaac would take it? How she wished this day was over. ‘Just one more thing, Isaac. You and your mum lived next door to Lally Mum for a long time, but …’ She paused, unsure just how much to reveal to Isaac, then decided to take the coward’s way out for now. ‘Well, your mum didn’t own the house. Someone lent it to her to live in.’
‘Okay.’ He smiled. ‘So I can’t sell it anyway?’
Pleased that he’d understood so easily, Nikki grinned. ‘That’s right. It’s not yours to sell.’ She dreaded him asking who owned it. The last thing she wanted to tell this lovely boy was that his own dad wanted nothing to do with him, but Isaac just nodded and undid the seatbelt. ‘Better get home now. Lally Mum’s waiting for me.’
Nikki watched him cross the road to Lalita’s house, pleased to note that the curtains were open again. It was good that her mum had Isaac to focus on.
Chapter 40
Well, well, well something was definitely afoot around the Parekh residences in Listerhills. All that coming and going was enough to make a man dizzy. After his curry at the Kashmir, Freddie Downey had borrowed a car from his mate Jimmy, and although nobody had noticed him so far he’d have to be a bit more careful because things were hotting up. Last thing he wanted was to get spotted before he was good and ready to make his presence known. Freddie, seat inclined and cap on, was parked a good six houses away from the Parekhs’; still, he had a good view. Layla’s curtains were being closed and opened at intervals all afternoon. Did the stupid bitch really think shutting her curtains would protect her from him? If he wanted in, he’d manage it no problem.
First, the skinny bint with the long hair had gone into the house. Layla had opened the door, barely enough to let her younger daughter squeeze through, then she’d poked her head out peering up and down the street before shutting it again. Slapping his palm on the steering wheel, he laughed aloud. The bitch was running scared. Well, he’d warned her, hadn’t he? Told her, he’d be back. Told her, he’d get his revenge and boy, was he looking forward to it. If she was scared now, then when she finally realised what he had planned fo
r her, she’d be bloody petrified.
When he’d been in the nick, he’d spent months brooding on all the things he’d do to her … and to that Nikita. He’d made big plans, but he was smart enough to know that if he took his revenge too early, they’d trace it back to him and he’d end up right back there, dodging the faggots and the gangs. He was too smart for that though. Once he’d got into the routine of prison life, he’d fine-tuned his plans. He was prepared to wait. Build up his network, get a bit of money behind him and then, when the time was right, he’d exact his revenge. The diaries were just a bit of fun to him. So were the letters to Layla. Fun Fun Fun – he was such a fun-loving guy. It was the rest of it that was serious. There were so many of them he needed to get his revenge on but slowly but surely he was making progress.
Soon after the younger whore arrived, the other one pulled up in her battered old Zafira. What a mess she was. He hated her with a vengeance. She’d always had an insolent look in her eye, that one. Even when he gave her a hiding and tears poured down her face, she never made a sound – just stared right at him, a sneer on her face. He’d enjoyed marking her. Enjoyed the feeling of power when he’d put that rope around her little neck and pulled. She’d coughed and spluttered, her entire body jerking around, her skinny little fingers trying to pull the metal away. For a second – just one second, he’d been tempted to finish her. Then he saw the blood seeping through the rope. Her eyes bulged, her lips were turning blue, and all around him they were yelling at him, hammering their stupid women’s fists on his back – Peggy and Layla. Stupid whores, as if they’d be able to stop him.
Then that hammering on the door. Fucking Moretti. It was always fucking Moretti. He’d let the girl go. Went down the pub whilst they took her to Bradford Royal Infirmary. He wasn’t worried that they’d snitch him out – why would they? For years they’d made excuses for all their injuries, why would this time be different?
But it had been.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he watched her cross the road and enter her mum’s house. That fucking ponytail bobbing up and down like she hadn’t a care in the world – taunting him. Oh, she’d pay – he’d make sure of that. Nikki Parekh would pay big time – they all would.
He waited till she left Layla’s house and was just about to drive off, when he saw the BMW drive past, followed moments later by the retard walking up from the bus stop. Why the fuck did they bother with the likes of him? Freddie enjoyed the contretemps that followed. Nikita hadn’t lost any of her feistiness – not yet. But soon, very soon, that bitch would get what had been coming to her for a long, long time.
Chapter 41
Once Sunni was in bed and Ruby and Charlie were doing their own thing in their rooms, Nikki opened a bottle of wine and sat on the sofa with her legs sprawled over Marcus. It had been hard telling them that they had to be careful for the moment. She hadn’t wanted to be too explicit, about the possible threat from Downey, but she did want them aware that they had to be careful for now. They accepted it as par for the course and Nikki, with a momentary pang for misleading them, consoled herself that it wouldn’t be for long. That as soon as she had a handle on things, she’d talk them through everything.
As she gave Marcus the run-down of everything that had gone on that day, he gave her a foot rub. One of the things she loved most about him was that he was unflappable – solid. He had her back no matter what and he could listen and really hear what she was saying. He already knew most of Nikki’s history and so none of it came as a shock to him. When she’d finished, he refilled their glasses before speaking.
‘So, do you think this has something to do with Freddie Downey?’
Nikki could have kissed him. Earlier her mum had referred to him as her father and it made Nikki want to lash out. She let it go – that time – because of the circumstances, but she was relieved that Marcus just got it. She’d never had to tell him that she didn’t consider Freddie Downey as anything other than a sperm donor. He’d just got it and he never referred to him by anything other than his name. ‘Dunno.’
‘He still up in Scotland?’
Nikki sighed. ‘Again, dunno. My PI is checking it out. He only goes by Downey’s flat once a month nowadays and it’s been three weeks since he last checked him out. I’ll know tomorrow where he is.’
‘But you think there’s a link, don’t you?’
‘S’pose so. Too many coincidences for there not to be. Though I just don’t see what’s happened to spark things off now. So far we’ve found no link between Peggy Dyson, Liam Flynn, the Cambridge student, and Gerry Hudson. Or me, for that matter – other than Gaynor Street. The team are still looking though. Hudson himself doesn’t seem to have travelled in the last twenty-five years, so it’s all a mystery. Those diary extracts are a bit chilling though. Difficult to work out exactly what’s gone on – but I have a horrid feeling about them.’
‘You told Saj everything yet?’
At that point the doorbell rang and Nikki swung her feet from Marcus’s lap. ‘Hope you don’t mind, but I invited Saj and Langley over so that we four could maybe go over things – you know, fresh eyes and all that.’
Marcus leaned over and kissed her on the lips. ‘Of course, this is nothing to do with you not trusting Springer to get things done?’
‘You know me too damn well, babes.’
Looking into Marcus’s eyes gave her strength, but she would be glad when this day was over. When she had to delve into her past, who else would she want by her side than these three? ‘I think we may need more wine.’
Marcus grinned. ‘You get the glasses; I’ll get the door.’ As she jumped to her feet he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him in a bear hug. ‘I’m here for you, Nik. Always.’
A half-hour later, when everyone’s glasses had been filled and the kitchen table was covered in documents, Nikki looked at Langley. ‘I know we’ll get the PM report on Gerry Hudson tomorrow, but is there anything you can tell us at all?’
Langley had been studying the post-mortem report on Liam Flynn that Davy Jones had copied for Nikki. He pushed his reading glasses up his nose and nodded. ‘Hmm, well yes, there are bits I can share. Firstly, I confirmed earlier today that the weapon used to kill Peggy Dyson and the one used on Gerry Hudson could conceivably be the same one – a large heavy-duty flat-head screwdriver with a two-centimetre blade and a long – perhaps a six-inch – shaft, would be my best guess.’ He sipped his wine and leaned back. ‘Of course, this is all speculation, you understand. It could equally be an ice pick, but in my experience a screwdriver seems more reasonable. Anyway, the weapon, unless you find the specific one, won’t in itself drive the case forward much. However, something interesting has just come to my attention from the Flynn murder – it looks very much as if the same or a similar weapon was used on that victim too.’
‘So, a possible direct link between all three murders?’ This was the sort of confirmation Nikki needed. Although in her own mind, she was sure all three cases were linked, until now, she had only an anonymously sent news clipping pointing that way. The strong possibility that the same or at the very least a similar weapon had been used was a step in the right direction. But Langley wasn’t finished.
‘Ah, but that’s not all. As we pathologists do, we measured the depth of each wound and counted them. So, considering the number of penetrating wounds first – ten for Peggy Dyson, fifteen for Liam Flynn and a whopping twenty-five for Hudson – it’s fair to say that the perpetrator is either accelerating, getting more angry or that Hudson was more personal than the others – or, maybe even a combination of all three. Believe it or not it takes a lot of strength to deliver multiple stab wounds – especially to a living victim. Of course, we already know that Peggy was off her skull on benzo, so maybe she didn’t put up much of a fight. Liam Flynn, from the angle of some of the wounds penetrating his body, did try to protect himself, whereas Hudson, perhaps because he was so frail, barely moved.’
Well into his sw
ing now, Langley leaned forward. ‘The depths of impact varied, although the one identified as being the “kill” wound on each victim was straight to the heart and around the same depth of four to five inches. It’s this that tells me the shaft of the weapon must measure around six inches. Our killer had clearly done their homework. It seems that was followed up by stabs to the carotid, groin area and repeated hits to the bodies. So, impassioned – perhaps – but also clear-headed enough to know where to strike for maximum effect.’
‘What about spatter? Surely there’d be a whole load of blood flying about?’ Saj enjoyed the science of blood spatter and was always keen to hear more about it. ‘There was definitely spatter in Hudson’s case.’
Langley laid out a series of images on the kitchen table. ‘This first one is from Peggy Dyson’s murder – of course we can’t do any further forensic examination of her body as she’s been cremated, but the CSIs did their job. Unfortunately, because of all the debris and the disturbance of the crime scene by the other rough sleepers, it’s difficult to detect a pattern, but, in my opinion, the spatter would have been quite extensive and certainly our perp would have had a sizable amount of spatter on him.’
Langley tapped an image of Liam Flynn’s body at the dump site. ‘Now we can’t see any spatter here because this was not the kill site, but from the wounds, I’m certain the perpetrator would again have spatter on his person.’
Pointing to the images taken at the crime scene that morning, Langley reiterated that here too, the killer would have been unable to avoid spatter when inflicting the injuries to Hudson. He gave them a moment to digest the information before continuing. ‘Your genius pathologist – that’s me – also discovered something else today. In a couple of the wounds – notably the ones that I suspect were cause of death, I found some debris.’
‘You got it analysed?’
Langley’s look was enough to quell any further questions from Nikki. ‘Of course I sent it for analysis. You just stick to the day job, Parekh, and leave the tricky business of extracting evidence from dead bodies to me, eh?’ His wink softened his words and Nikki shrugged apologetically and then sent a withering glance to her partner when Saj snorted.
