I smiled. ‘Well, thanks for your help,’ I said, ‘goodnight then.’
‘Will you get this door open,’ complained Jules. ‘I need a fag, innit.’
Once they’d gone in I looked back at Gary Crowther’s house.
Gotcha! Name, address and number plate. I turned on my heel and walked briskly to my car.
I drove carefully home, aware of how tired I was and how easy it would be to make one fatal mistake. I was pleased I could now get things rolling on Gary Crowther, but the pleasure was muted by my overriding need to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I’d had maybe two and a half hours when Maddie woke me, complaining of earache. I stumbled about sorting her out with Calpol and let her into my bed. She fretted and whined and wriggled about for ages before falling asleep. I hoped she’d be better by morning. I couldn’t take time off to nurse her. I dozed for another hour and woke at half six and gave up on sleep.
Maddie was still in pain when she woke up at seven. It was too early to ring the GP. I had to be in town to meet Dermott Pitt at eight. I knew Ray would be leaving for work at eight so I had to find someone to take Tom into school and someone to mind Maddie till I’d had my meeting. I rang Nana Tello, Ray’s mother, who sounded decidedly grumpy though she always claimed she couldn’t sleep in the mornings. She agreed to look after Maddie for me. I called over the road to Denise, apologised for the short notice and asked if she could take Tom in with her daughter Jade. No problem. Ray would bring Tom across at eight.
There was no sign of the white van when Maddie and I set out. Nana Tello made a fuss of Maddie in a mixture of Italian and baby talk. Maddie was too wiped out to react to it. We settled her on the sofa. The telly was tuned to a sports channel. Nana Tello would be studying the form for the day’s races. I promised to be back by ten.
‘It’s a shame,’ Nana Tello said as she saw me out, ‘when you gotta go rushing off to big meetings and your little girl so poorly.’ It was. But what could I do? I didn’t draw support from the comment either. I’d heard enough of her views on motherhood and work to know that she wasn’t sympathising with my predicament. Thank God she didn’t follow through on her beliefs and refuse to help out when the crunch came. I thanked her again and joined the rush-hour traffic into Manchester.
Queuing to get into the multi-storey car park made me five minutes late. Enough to have me running to the solicitor’s offices and leave me out of breath on my arrival.
You’d never have guessed that Dermott Pitt had worked late last night and risen early in the morning. He looked fresh and neatly turned out when his secretary led me through.
‘Coffee?’ she asked him.
‘Excellent. Ms Kilkenny?’
‘Please.’ Oh yes, please. The smell of it had made me dizzy when I’d walked in.
She must have had it waiting. She returned immediately with an exquisite pair of hand-painted coffee cups on a tray along with a cafetière, a jug of milk, a bowl of multi-coloured granulated sugar and plate of thin, dark chocolate biscuits. I was ravenous. I wanted a fluffy cheese and tomato omelette with wholemeal bread and butter, pancakes dripping with golden syrup and sprinkled with fresh lemon juice. Or a full English breakfast without the sausage and bacon. I don’t eat meat but the rest would do very nicely. Eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes, fried bread, toast and marmalade. There were five biscuits. Who’d get the last one?
‘I have until eight forty-five,’ Dermott announced pompously, ‘I am all ears.’
‘I brought the tape. I think you ought to listen to that first.’
I handed him the cassette and he moved to open one of the antique wooden cabinets to his side. It concealed a state-of-the art midi system. He put the tape in. I knew I’d successfully recorded Joey – I’d checked the end of the recording on my return from Prestatyn. In the past I’d once proudly played someone a cassette which proved their foreman was filching goods, only to find the tape was completely blank. Never again.
Dermott sat back and steepled his fingers. The tape began, birdsong and traffic sounds louder than I remembered. For a moment or two I was embarrassed at the sound of my own voice but it didn’t take long to be drawn back into Joey’s story of the killing.
Pitt indicated that I should help myself to coffee and I did. I inhaled the steam until it was cool enough to sip. Pitt poured his own and took a biscuit. I took a biscuit. Then another. Joey talked about Ahktar smiling, about calling out to him. The story unwound.
‘That’s it,’ I said when the sound stopped. ‘And the man he describes, the big bloke, I think that’s Rashid Siddiq.’
‘But he won’t formally identify him,’ he sighed.
‘There’s more,’ I said, ‘if I can…’
‘Yes.’ He made notes as I talked.
‘There are doubts about whether Sonia Siddiq was even there that night. I had an anonymous phone call telling me she was making it all up. She became very uncooperative when I asked her to recall any details about the event or the venue. I’m sure she’s lying. Someone, probably Rashid, has rehearsed her. It would also fit with the delay in them coming forward as witnesses; they couldn’t do it immediately. I think they’ve discussed it all with Rangzeb Khan as well. He came to threaten me.’
Mr Pitt stopped writing and raised his eyebrows at me.
‘It was the day after I’d challenged Sonia Siddiq. And Zeb has got this story about seeing the two lads arguing, which no one else saw, and everybody else I’ve spoken to thinks is laughable.’
‘He threatened you?’
‘Told me I was making a big mistake, that I was trying to whitewash it all. Mouthed off, got quite abusive. And since then I think I’ve been followed. This white van, they trailed me to Prestatyn – they might be after Joey D. And they followed me again last night.’
‘Did they follow you here?’
‘No – at least I didn’t see anything.’ Maybe they’d made their point and that would be the end of it. ‘Will this get Luke out?’
‘I can’t promise anything but I’ll be making an application for bail on the basis of what I’ve just heard. If the CPS have any sense they will look again at the case and discontinue; they may even refer it back to the police as it implicates someone else. Of course, they can hold on and fight it out at trial but I’d be surprised if Luke
Wallace isn’t bailed until then. I must admit I am concerned that Joey Deason is not prepared to make a formal identification. It would make our case significantly stronger, but…’
‘There’s no way,’ I said, ‘you heard him, he was adamant. But even if you can’t prove that Siddiq was the one who stabbed Ahktar, you can show that it’s very unlikely that Luke did. He had hypnotherapy, you know, and the therapist says there was nothing to suggest he was present at the scene; everything indicates that he was still in the club and out of his box when Ahktar was attacked.’
‘Tricky area, hypnosis.’ He leant forward and took his second biscuit. There was one left on the plate.
‘Yes, but it fits with everything else.’
‘And you think Luke was deliberately placed at the scene of the crime? Why? Why not just quit the scene?’ He spoke irritably, as if it was my fault that all the pieces didn’t fit. ‘If he was incapacitated, what propelled him to that side alley – round the back of the building, out of sight? He wouldn’t have known Ahktar Khan was there.’
He echoed my own queries.
‘I don’t know. Chance? If he stumbled upon them, it may have just seemed like a good idea at the time, to confuse the issue.’ I couldn’t bear it any longer. I grabbed the biscuit. ‘Unless he was told. Or they found Luke practically comatose and put him there, hoping the police would jump to conclusions. Which they did. It worked. They find Luke covered in blood, his prints on the knife, unable to remember anything. Once Zeb comes forward with his report of the quarrel and the Siddiqs give a complete eye-witness account, then it’s a cinch. Look no further.’
‘It’s possible. But Siddiq and the
other assailant, they didn’t know Luke Wallace, did they?’
‘No, I don’t think so. But Zeb did; he knew him as his cousin’s best friend.’
‘There’s nothing on the tape to suggest Zeb Khan was present.’
‘I don’t think he was, not during the murder. But maybe after…’ I was speculating. ‘You’re right,’ I conceded. ‘I don’t know how Luke came to be there, or why. I bet they were panicking at the time. The murder was a mistake. For some reason they left Luke at the scene, or put him there, or he found his way there, but it was later they worked out that providing eye witnesses would stitch it up. Rashid Siddiq had been present so his account would fit all the forensic evidence perfectly. He just put Luke in his own shoes. They were safe.’
‘And the warning?’
‘I think Jay, Janghir, must have been behind it; after all, he employs Siddiq. The other possibility is Zeb. He was in a foul mood that night, he was desperate to get hold of some money, he knew Luke. When it all went wrong and Ahktar was stabbed he decided to set Luke up. And report the supposed argument to the police.’
Pitt seemed to be considering what I’d suggested. He nodded a couple of times.
‘The other way of looking at it,’ I said, ‘is to think about what would have happened if Zeb and Jay were both innocent. The security guy from the family firm kills their cousin. How would they react? Not like this, surely.’
‘Unless they actually believe Luke Wallace did it.’
‘No,’ I was clear, ‘Zeb has invented evidence, I’m sure. They got together after it had happened and worked it out. The Siddiqs picked Luke out of a line-up. They didn’t know him, so how did they identify him? They’d been briefed.’
‘Not easy to describe someone…’
‘But with a photo…’ I thought of the postcard picture of the band. They’d had hundreds done – all Ahktar’s family and friends would have had them. Zeb or Jay could have shown the Siddiqs.
‘As for the warning, both Zeb and Jay were involved in some serious criminal activity, you know. It could be connected to that. Maybe Ahktar stumbled onto something or was threatening to inform on them.’ I told Dermott Pitt all I’d learnt about the suspected drug trade that the Khans were mixed up with.
‘Zeb seems to be the feckless one. He has a drug habit himself and he’s a gambler. Jay’s in charge. I’ve not met him yet.’
‘I wouldn’t advise it at present,’ Pitt observed dryly. ‘And the accomplice, the man who was with Mr Siddiq?’
‘Don’t know anything about him.’
He checked his watch and drew our meeting to its conclusion. ‘I will do what I can with this today,’ he said. ‘My first step will be to make an application for bail. That’ll put the wind up the prosecution, and I am very hopeful that Luke will be released some time in the next few days. Whether they discontinue or press for trial is a matter for the other side. Now,’ he rose, obliging me to do the same. Held out his hand. Smooth and cool.
I was deflated. I should have felt pleased. In all likelihood Luke would soon be out of Golborne. All down to my efforts but there was no elation. I tried to work out why as I returned to my car in the multi-storey. Had I expected praise perhaps? A ‘Well done’ or a ‘Bloody brilliant!’ from somebody? Was it the remaining uncertainty that undermined my sense of satisfaction? There was no definite outcome yet. And the thought that they would still take Luke to court and try him for Ahktar’s murder rankled with me. Hadn’t he been through enough?
When I got back to Nana Tello’s, I found Maddie asleep. Proof, if it were needed, of her sorry state. If she’d had a cough or a cold or even sickness I wouldn’t have bothered taking her to the doctor, knowing that she’d get well by herself. But earache was another matter.
Our doctor Moira, who is also an old friend, has no appointment system. It leads to long waits but at least you get seen the day you need to, rather than some time the following week. We were sixth in line. Not bad really. Maddie wanted to sit on my knee. I found a dog-eared Beano comic which we looked at together. She was subdued. Half an hour crawled by. I was hot and tired and Maddie was whining about her ear again. My stomach growled and gurgled. It had started eating itself.
‘Sal, Maddie, come in. Sit down,’ barked Moira. ‘What’s up?’
I explained and Moira told Maddie she was going to look into her ear with a special torch.
‘No,’ Maddie began to panic, ‘no, Mummy.’
‘It’s only a light,’ I struggled to keep the irritation from my voice.
‘You look into your mum’s ear,’ said Moira to Maddie.
‘Can I?’ Her face brightened.
‘Thanks,’ I muttered, and played patient until my daughter was relaxed enough to be examined.
‘Yes, there’s quite a lot of inflammation. I’ll give her a short course of antibiotics, in suspension; give her five ml three times a day after meals. You can carry on with the Calpol today. Should kick in pretty quickly after that. Make sure she finishes the course.’
‘Would it clear up if she didn’t have them?’ I asked, thinking of all I’d read about super bugs and immune systems.
‘Probably. Take longer, though and I’d want to see her every couple of days to make sure it was no worse.’
‘Mummy, I need the medicine,’ Maddie became tearful.
‘Yes, you do. We’ll take it.’ The prospect of trailing back and forth to Moira’s all week and having Maddie off school for twice as long helped me make the decision. And she didn’t have antibiotics very often, I reassured myself.
Maddie clutched the bag containing her bottle of syrup as we drove back. I accepted that this would be a short working day. I had to call Mrs Deason, tell her to warn Joey. I had better ring Victor Wallace, too. I’d pass on the information on the stalker, now Gary Crowther, to Rebecca Henderson and let Debbie know that things were moving. But after that it would be bliss to curl up with Maddie and try to catch up on some sleep.
There was a white van parked opposite my house. I felt giddy and sick. I drew up into the drive and sat in the car wondering what I should do. Before I could make a decision, I saw Rashid Siddiq get out of the van and make as if to cross the road. I told Maddie to stay put. I got out and locked the car behind me. I intercepted him at the gateway, my prime concern to keep him away from my child.
‘What do you want?’ I demanded.
Close up he smelt of Imperial Leather and I could see a nick on his chin where he’d cut himself shaving. He was a big man, large-boned, with very broad shoulders.
‘You wanted to see me, didn’t you?’ he said softly.
‘Not now I don’t.’
‘No? You’ve been to see little Joey. Now he may have told you stories. No truth in them. His head’s totally fucked.’ The language was more shocking because of his gentle tone. ‘Too many drugs. He can’t tell night from day. He’s a junkie. He sees things. Things that aren’t there. Sad bastard. You should forget everything he said.’
And if I don’t? I didn’t speak. There was plenty I wanted to say but I thought it wise to keep quiet. Silence as a form of self-defence. All I wanted to do was for him to leave.
‘Little girl not at school?’
A wave of rage. For a moment my eyes blurred red and I couldn’t see him. I forced myself to remain still and silent, refusing to meet his eyes, knowing that I’d see in them the hot glint of the bully underscoring his threat.
‘Forget it.’ He turned and walked away.
I rushed to the car and got myself and Maddie inside the house, anger searing my belly like burns from an iron. I locked the doors and settled her with some bread and soup, doses of medicine, drink and a video. All the while the impotent fury bucketing around inside me. How dare he, the bastard, how dare he!
Chapter Twenty-Six
I wouldn’t sleep but at least I should eat. I felt nauseous but it would help to have some food. There wasn’t much in and for a moment I felt a tantrum of disappointment start. Wasn’t it about time
Ray did his share of the shopping? Why didn’t he notice we were getting low on supplies, why did I always have to tell him? Oh, get on with it, I chided myself. I made fried egg and mushrooms and cut thick slices of bread. I gobbled it up, drank two mugs of tea and had a banana.
Fortified by this mega-snack, I dialled Mrs Deason’s number. Let it ring fifteen times. No answer. I rang Detective Sergeant Hatton at Bootle Street, the man I’d talked to previously about the case. I told him that I wanted to report that I was being intimidated by a witness. I had their name and the registration number of their van.
He heard me out and said he would make a note of it.
‘Will that be a formal complaint?’
‘Not as such. You’d have to come in and make a statement in person.’
I felt exasperated. ‘I can’t do that today,’ I said, ‘but I’d like to make it official as soon as I can.’
He assured me he would keep my call on record.
Rebecca Henderson was delighted that I’d got the low down on Debbie’s stalker. I gave her all Gary Crowther’s details.
‘Well done, Sal,’ she said. ‘It’s taken a bit longer than we hoped but I can move on this straight away now. Send me your bill.’
‘I will, and I’ve the letters here – I’ll forward those as well and the photos I’ve done.’
‘Good. I’ll be in touch. We’re snowed under – should be plenty more work coming your way.’
‘Great.’ I needed more work. After all, both my cases were over now, bar the paperwork. I was relieved at her promise of more jobs, though I hoped I wouldn’t have to deal with too many Debbie Gosforths. I checked the number for the house where Debbie was staying. Her friend answered the phone and I gave my name and asked to speak to Debbie.
‘Debbie, I’ve got some good news. We’ve got the name and address of the man who has been harassing you. I’ve passed it on to Rebecca Henderson and she’ll be able to get the court to issue an injunction to stop him bothering you.’ I didn’t get into what might happen if Crowther ignored the injunction and went his own sweet way. It was common for stalkers to persist; there were calls for a change to the law to protect people from vicious and persistent harassment.
Dead Wrong Page 17
