‘I hadn’t thought about it like that,’ Amrit replied. ‘Of course you’re right. So what are you going to do?’
‘I’ll forward all the information to my boss Dan Carter and let him decide but I’d be amazed if he takes any action other than categorising the case as closed and leaving it at that. He’ll be happy anyway, a case closed is a case off his books and a win as far as he’s concerned.’
‘But I’m still a bit puzzled. Why couldn’t he have just left his wife and told her the truth?’ Amrit asked.
‘That’s a good question. Why do people do anything? Perhaps he honestly loved his wife in his own way and would sooner have her think him dead than know that he’d abandoned her for another lover and a man at that. As a gay man he’d probably been living a lie for most of his married life and it can be hard to admit that to someone you love.’
‘Okay I can see that but what about the clues? How could they be so sure that the wallet and the shoe would be found?’ she asked.
‘Well the wallet’s a bit of a no brainer. Most publicans I know who’ve run pubs in dodgy areas regularly check the cisterns. They’re usually more worried that people might have drugs or weapons stashed in there. However we’re dealing with a couple of very intelligent men here and I’d bet that there might have been a few more clues scattered around, perhaps quite subtle ones. These were just the ones the investigators found.’
Amrit sighed and looked at the photo again on the computer. She smiled.
‘Actually I’m glad that no action will be taken, they look very happy don’t they?’
‘Yes they do. Okay on to the next one.’
A short while later Mac was so engrossed that he didn’t hear the front door open. Amrit popped her head around the door.
‘Bridget’s back now so I’ll be off.’
‘Thanks Amrit. I’ll see you tomorrow then.’
‘I’m looking forward to it, part two of the series as it were. See you Mr…sorry, see you Mac.’
He could hear voices in the hallway but couldn’t make out what was being said. A minute later Bridget opened the door.
‘Hi dad, I believe you’ve had a busy day then?’
‘I have, I almost enjoyed it to be honest.’
‘So after all the books I bought you’ve still managed to cadge some cold cases from Dan Carter,’ she said with a mock serious expression.
‘Well, I’ll still have plenty of time to read I suppose but these are really interesting. You don’t mind do you?’
‘Mind? No, I’m very grateful to Dan and, if I’m honest, I wish I’d thought of that myself. I know you like reading but, even when I bought them, I had doubts as to whether they’d keep your mind off things. So how’s it going?’
‘Already solved one,’ Mac said with a smile.
‘Really?’
‘Yes really. Well Martin Selby did in actual fact but all the same we’ve closed a case.’
‘You know there’s something I’ve always wondered about you.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Ever since I was young I’ve been puzzled at how my quiet, gentle dad could not only work full time solving the most violent crimes while rubbing shoulders with murderers but enjoy doing it too.’
Mac took off his glasses and gave it some thought.
‘It’s the puzzle I think. I used to do a lot of crosswords when I was younger, you know the hard ones from the broadsheet papers, but I found real life a much harder puzzle to crack. There’s something about people and the incredibly weird things they do that’s endlessly fascinating if I’m honest. As for all the gore and the bad stuff I’m grateful that I’ve always been able to keep that at arm’s length, you know in my head.’
‘I’m just glad to see you’re doing okay. Anyway I better get us some tea. I’ve got the makings for a pasta dish unless you’d like to celebrate your first day at home with some fish and chips?’
Mac’s eyes lit up.
‘Oh, fish and chips please!’
‘Okay and after that we can have a few games of backgammon if you want,’ Bridget suggested.
‘That sounds great. Tim said he’d drop around later but we should have plenty of time for a game. Prepare yourself for a thorough thrashing though.’
‘In your dreams,’ Bridget said with a smile as she left.
Chapter Four
Mac was glad when a crack of light appeared around the edges of the curtains. He’d had a bad night and had dozed more than he’d slept. Every time he felt himself slipping into a deep sleep the pain jumped up and reminded him that it was still there. The night is always the worst for pain, the only resource you have to fight it is what’s between your ears. Mac had tried thinking about the cold cases and, while it did take his mind off the pain for a while, it didn’t exactly help him sleep either.
He lay looking at the light slowly grow and thinking until the door opened a crack.
‘Are you awake, dad?’ a little voice whispered.
‘Yes, you can come in Bridget, I’m awake,’ he replied with some relief as he turned his bedside light on.
He was quite glad to have his thoughts interrupted. Lying there he’d started ruminating about the weeks that lay ahead and how he’d cope. It hadn’t exactly cheered him up.
‘Did you get any sleep?’ Bridget asked with some concern.
‘Well, a little perhaps,’ he said keeping his reply intentionally vague.
His daughter gave him a sad look and then kissed his forehead.
‘It’ll pass, dad.’
‘I know, I’ll be okay, don’t you worry,’ he said managing a faint smile.
She looked at her watch and said, ‘I’m sorry but I’ll have to go in a few minutes. Amrit will be here in half an hour or so. Is there anything you need?’
‘The loo unfortunately and some orange juice would be nice.’
‘I’ll get the wheelchair.’
Bridget had tried to persuade him to use a urine bottle and a bedpan but Mac had drawn a line. She knew better than to argue when he was like that and so she had to watch her father wince with pain as he sat up and slid himself into the wheelchair. Luckily the bathroom was a good size so it was easy to manoeuvre the wheelchair into place. She’d also ordered a high toilet seat so her father wouldn’t have to sit so far down. It had metal handles on each side so he could use his arms to pull himself on and off. When she’d first set it up she saw him scowl at it but he said nothing and used it anyway.
She closed the door and went into the kitchen and poured some orange juice into a spill proof beaker. As she came back she could hear him grunting with pain as he got himself back into the wheelchair. She wished he wouldn’t be so obstinate and would do as he was told. She wished to God that she could take some of his pain on herself, she wished…a tear ran down her cheek.
‘I’m ready,’ he shouted.
She quickly wiped her cheek and smiled as she wheeled him back to his bedroom. After much huffing and puffing and grunting she got him comfortable and handed him his orange juice.
‘Do you want me to set up your laptop?’ she asked, glancing at her watch again.
‘No, you’d better get going or you’ll miss your train. Amrit can do it when she gets here. Have a good day, love.’
‘You too dad.’
He heard the door close and listened to the silence for a while. He started thinking about the last case he’d read and how sad human beings can be. Lost in his thoughts he was surprised when he heard the front door open. A few seconds later his bedroom door opened and revealed a smiling Amrit in a purple sari.
‘Ah, there you are Mac.’
‘And where else would I be?’ he said with a scowl.
‘Oh feeling a bit down today are we? Well, perhaps some breakfast might help. What would you like?’
‘A fry up might be nice but I daresay it’ll be muesli or whatever healthy birdseed Bridget’s got in.’
‘Well, while you’re inactive it would be good if you watched your
weight.’
‘Okay, birdseed it is I suppose,’ he said grumpily.
‘Well that’s a real pity when I’ve just bought these,’ she replied producing a plastic pack of bacon and a carton of eggs from a carrier bag.
‘Thanks Amrit, you’re a godsend,’ he said giving her a broad smile.
‘Now that’s more like it. Shall I set up your laptop while I cook your breakfast?’
Mac read the case again while the seductive smell of bacon frying gently wafted in from the kitchen. It concerned the murder of a seventeen year old girl, a so-called honour killing the investigators concluded, although Mac could never see the slightest shred of honour in the senseless slaying of young girls.
Twelve years ago the body of seventeen year old Asma Rafiq was found on a walkway in Stevenage by a cyclist on his way to work. She’d been stabbed eight times. A student on his way to school arrived on the scene a shortly afterwards and tried to perform CPR on the girl while the cyclist phoned for an ambulance. They arrived less than five minutes later but, despite the young man’s and the paramedics’ best efforts, she was declared dead fifteen minutes after she’d been found.
The cyclist, a Mr. Harry Jeavis, was on his way to work at one of the high-tech factories on Gunnels Wood when he came across the body. He stated that he’d glimpsed a young man in a hoodie run past him just a few seconds before, indeed he almost ran into his bike. He had a dark track suit on and yellow trainers that were stained with blotches of some dark red substance. He realised after he found Asma that the stains must have been blood. Unfortunately he couldn’t give a more detailed description beyond that.
The seventeen year old student, Lawrence Taylor, had come from the other direction on his way to school. He hadn’t seen the hoodie. He’d been taught how to do CPR at school where he was sixth former studying for his A levels. He knew Asma by sight, as they both went to the same school, but he said he didn’t know much about her beyond that.
The investigators seemed to have concentrated on Asma’s family as an honour killing seemed the most likely motive. The family consisted of her father, Mr. Mohammed Rafiq, her mother Fatima, her elder brother Youssef and a younger sister Farzana.
The family were all very close-lipped and said that they’d been together all day. They searched the house but found no blood stained clothing or yellow trainers, nonetheless they still considered Youssef to be the most likely suspect. He was the same height and build as the hoodie and there might have had a motive if he’d found out that Asma was seeing a boy. However they spoke to all her friends and found no evidence of any attachment. The investigators noted that one of Asma’s aunts mentioned that a marriage had been arranged to a friend of her uncle’s in Pakistan. They were never able to establish how Asma felt about it. Perhaps she’d refused which would be motive enough for murder in some families.
They were fairly certain that the murderer was Youssef when his family reported him missing a day or so later. They said that some of his clothes, his wallet and his passport had also disappeared. From what he could glean from reading between the lines the investigators felt at first that it most likely that he’d done a runner back to Pakistan and probably with the help of his family. However some of his friends had reported that he had been talking about travelling to Afghanistan to join Bin Laden and fight for the Islamic cause. His family confirmed that this might be a possibility.
They were absolutely certain it was Youssef after they searched the Rafiq house again and found a large steel sling knife hidden under a loose floor board. It had Youssef’s fingerprints all over it and traces of his sister’s blood too. They also found some computer print-offs in his sock drawer containing detailed information about a terrorist group in Afghanistan.
The last entry in the case file was a note dated just over a year later. It stated that a suicide bomber, who had blown himself and several members of the Afghan security forces up, had been identified as Youssef Rafiq, a young Pakistani man from Britain.
Mac’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of his breakfast which he polished off in a few minutes.
‘Hungry were we?’ Amrit asked as she took his plate and cutlery away.
‘I’ll say. That really hit the spot. Would you be ready for a chat now?’
‘Is this about the latest case?’ she asked excitedly. ‘I’ll only be two ticks.’
She came back with a cup of tea and a large travel mug that had a handle on one side.
‘I know you like your coffee,’ she said. ‘I hope I’ve not made it too strong.’
Mac took a sip, it was perfect.
‘Did you buy this?’ Mac said holding up the travel mug.
‘Well I could see you didn’t like that plastic beaker, made you feel like a little child, didn’t it?’
Mac looked at his nurse with renewed respect.
‘Perhaps you should have been the detective.’
‘Anyway a travel mug’s a bit more grown up, isn’t it?’
‘It is,’ Mac agreed with a smile as he took another sip.
Amrit smiled, seated herself and waited the next instalment in anticipation.
As Mac related the details of the case he could see Amrit becoming more and more uneasy.
‘Is this bothering you?’ he eventually asked.
‘No, it’s making me angry. These men who kill women always talk about honour but they have none. It’s all about control really, they’re scared that their women will realise that they’re stronger than they know and where would the men be then?’
‘They’ve had these killings in the Sikh community too, haven’t they?’ Mac asked.
Amrit nodded sadly.
‘Unfortunately we’ve had our share of stupid men too.’
‘Do you have a daughter?’
Amrit smiled, ‘Oh yes, she’s twenty now and away at university. We’re very proud of her. But personally I’ll never understand some of the mothers in these cases, they cover up and sometimes even help the men to kill their daughters. If any man said that they’d harm a hair on my daughter’s head I’d tear his heart out.’
Amrit’s fierce expression convinced Mac totally.
‘What about your husband? How does he feel about your daughter being at university?’
‘Who Prem? Oh, he was so made up when she got her offer,’ Amrit said with a smile. ‘He misses her though, he bought her a car so that she could come back home more often.’
‘I know how he feels,’ Mac said remembering how desolate he’d felt when he’d had to leave Bridget and her luggage behind at the student accommodation block. ‘What’s he do?’
‘He’s a doctor, no I should say he’s a consultant,’ she replied with eyebrows raised. ‘It’s strange you know, he was so proud when he stopped being Mr. Prem Singh and became Dr. Prem Singh. Now he’s become a consultant he’s even prouder that he’s no longer called ‘doctor’ and has gone back to being called ‘mister’ again.’
‘I take it that he’s a specialist then?’
‘Yes, he’s an orthopaedic surgeon at Addenbrooke’s in Cambridge. He does backs too you know,’ she said meaningfully.
Mac let that one slide. He’d had so many medical people poke him about only for it to end up with them telling him the numerous reasons why they couldn’t help him. He’d given up any hope of things getting better.
‘Anyway I might as well get on to the next one. This one’s a bit of a dead end.’ Mac suddenly thought of what he’d said. ‘Sorry I could have phrased that better.’
‘I know what you mean though. If it was the brother then he’s dead too. Sad though, isn’t it? Family killing each other like that.’
Mac glanced up at Amrit and slowly nodded.
‘Anyway why wasn’t the case closed out if they knew who did it?’ Amrit asked.
‘Well, no-one’s been convicted in a court of law yet but I’d guess it’s mostly down to the fact that we can’t be certain that the Youssef Rafiq who died in Afghanistan is the same man as the sus
pect. If he wasn’t then he might try to come back one day. Okay on to the next one,’ Mac said.
‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ Amrit said. ‘Oh, is it okay if I clean your kitchen cupboards? They’re a bit dirty and there’s a lot of out of date food in there too.’
‘Well, I’m not sure if I’m honest,’ Mac said, feeling slightly ashamed. It had never occurred to him that the cupboards might need cleaning. ‘I mean you’re employed as a nurse not as a cleaner.’
‘Oh, forget about that, I’m not a nurse anymore and I really don’t mind. I’m like you, I’m happiest when I’m being kept busy.’
‘Well, if you’re sure…’ Mac said, still uncertain.
‘I’ll get on with it then,’ she said with a smile. ‘Shout if you need anything.’
Mac made a mental note to talk to Bridget about it.
Chapter Five
Case number four didn’t look any more promising than the previous one had. However he’d managed to read it all before Amrit’s head poked around the door.
‘Are you ready for some lunch?’ she asked.
‘Is it that time already?’ he asked with some surprise.
‘It is. I’ve got some Chicken Tikka, rotis and salad. How does that sound?’
‘Heavenly,’ Mac replied with total sincerity. ‘Why don’t you eat in here with me? There’s a tray in the kitchen and we could talk about the case while we eat.’
‘Okay,’ Amrit said with a smile.
While he waited for his lunch he thought over the case he’d just read. Mac was roused from his thoughts by a divine smell coming in his direction. He started salivating. Amrit helped him sit up a bit and then handed him the tray. She came back with her lunch a few minutes later.
‘Oh this is wonderful!’ Mac said as he let the spices roll around his mouth. ‘I love tikka.’
23 Cold Cases (The Mac Maguire detective mysteries Book 5) Page 3
