Guts for Garters

by Linda Regan

  ‘Most definitely,’ she nodded.

  He pressed the phone through to speaker. ‘I don’t like leaving messages,’ the nervous cockney voice of Mrs Wilkins said. ‘Don’t know who’s listening, do ya? I’ll write it down and bring it to the station for you in the morning. We didn’t tell you, tonight. We were afraid of what they’ll do, see. It’s about that boy that was killed …’ The line then went dead.

  Banham looked at Georgia.

  ‘That’s changed all plans,’ she said picking up her bag. ‘Stephanie you go to the post-mortem and take notes for me. I’m on my way to the Wilkins’,’ she looked over at Banham, ‘if that’s all right with you, sir,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ Banham said quickly.

  ‘I’ll go, if you like,’ Alison said, ‘and we’ll pick up Wajdi after.’

  ‘No,’ Banham shook his head. ‘The Aviary is very dangerous at the moment. It’s not out of the question that someone would throw something from a high-up flat, and it could land on you, Alison. I won’t have you in any danger.’

  Georgia turned to see Alison’s cheeks mottling into a dark blush. Georgia had been to the estate more times than she could even begin to count. It was their area, and part of their job. Alison was supposed to be heading a murder investigation, what was the DCI thinking, talking to her like that? She was only, very newly, back in the serious crimes department, and she’d already started tongues wagging by fainting at a murder scene. She needed to build the respect of the team and Banham was making her look like a wimp. Judging by Alison’s reddening face, the woman was thinking the same.

  But, as usual, Banham hadn’t noticed. ‘We’ll talk to the old couple,’ he told Georgia. ‘Bring them in if they clam up. Alison, take Barry and Eric, and ask for three uniform cars for backup and bring in Wajdi Ghaziani. We’ll hold him, until we get the results of the post-mortem, and then we’ll re-interview him.’

  ‘Guv,’ Alison nodded obediently, but it wasn’t hard to see that she was furious.

  ‘OK, everyone knows what they are doing,’ Banham said. ‘Let’s get going then.’ Georgia lowered her eyes. Banham couldn’t help himself, even after twelve years in CID, and with the constant memos circulating the office about racism and sexism, the man was just blind to his own chauvinism.

  Alison caught up with Stephanie Green as she made her way to the car park. ‘I’m coming to the post-mortem,’ she told her.

  ‘But DCI Banham …’

  ‘Just click the lock before he comes out and sees me,’ Alison said pressing the passenger door handle urgently. ‘I won’t be treated with kid gloves.’

  Stephanie clicked the lock, slipped herself in the driver’s seat, and said nothing. She watched Alison click her seatbelt closed and then fired the engine.

  ‘People are saying I’m not up to the job, because I fainted over Zana Ghaziani’s burnt body,’ Alison said to her. ‘But it’s more complicated than that.’

  ‘You don’t have to justify yourself to me,’ Stephanie said in her motherly tone, as she indicated to turn right out of the car park. ‘I’ll let you know if I see him, and you can duck.’

  ‘I am up to the job,’ Alison persisted. ‘And if I go through with this post-mortem, the next one will be easier.’

  Stephanie nodded. ‘Fine by me. You’re the boss. Just don’t get me into trouble with the DCI, that’s all. The next one is unlikely to be a burnt body, though, have you thought of that?’

  ‘Exactly,’ Alison said, hardly listening.

  They drove in silence for a few minutes, and then Alison lowered the window. ‘Have you got any peppermints?’ she asked.

  ‘In the glove compartment. Are you sure you’ll be OK? I can easily drop you back if …’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she snapped. ‘I need the peppermints now.’ She looked at Stephanie, and then took a deep breath. ‘OK. I’m going to tell you something, as you are a mother, but it isn’t for common gossip. I’d rather the men in the department didn’t know.’

  Stephanie nodded, ‘OK.’

  ‘Or DI Johnson either.’

  Stephanie was about to say that Georgia was her boss and her friend, and she didn’t want split loyalties, but before she had the chance, Alison blurted out, ‘I’m pregnant.’

  Stephanie nodded, carried on driving, but made no comment. The thought then passed through her mind that the father had to be Banham, it couldn’t be anyone else, so her own chances of getting him in the sack were now well up the Swanee. She eyed the Twix in the front compartment as Alison searched for peppermints. Chocolate always helped when sex wasn’t on the cards.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’ Alison asked her.

  ‘Congratulations?’ Stephanie grinned, then shook her head. ‘And no worries, I’m not one for gossiping. Can you pass me that bar of Twix in there, I didn’t have time for breakfast.’

  Max Pettifer and the smell of disinfectant greeted them as they entered the post-mortem suite and were handed the green gowns to cover their clothes. Mr Unpopular, as Max was known to all who worked with him, had as much sensitivity as a brick. If Alison did faint again, in here, then a video of the deed would be on Max’s mobile and over to Banham’s before Alison could even breathe in smelling salts, Stephanie thought, and Stephanie would then get it in the neck for allowing Alison to join her.

  Stephanie had a stomach like an ox, and had to admit to finding it amusing when those around her crashed, or puked, or hit the stone floor with a bang, and then woke up, apologetically, while Mr Unpopular carried on dissecting regardless. Georgia always made a point of crunching peppermints throughout post-mortem proceedings, to prevent any embarrassing or queasy moments. Poor DCI Banham always puked, no one could remember a time when he hadn’t, and Max ridiculed him, mercilessly. Now Banham was a DCI he made a point of avoiding post-mortems suites.

  Stephanie prayed that today, and for everyone’s sake, Alison would get through the procedure.

  The cadavers lay side by side on metal gurneys. Both had been incised with the usual T-cuts across their upper torsos. The next procedure was the removal and weighing of the organs. Stephanie looked at young Zana’s grey and shrivelled skin and thought of Lucy, her own daughter. Stephanie was glad that she had passed her teenage phase and was away at university in Canterbury, with her mind set on a career in the force. At least she was safe from street gangs.

  Max Pettifer removed Zana’s heart and dropped it on a little metal tray to be weighed. As he began dictating verbal notes into his Dictaphone, Alison’s mobile trilled loudly. He threw his eyes to heaven and flicked an angry glare in her direction. Alison ignored him. She pulled her phone from her pocket, checked the number on the screen, and then turned to Stephanie, mouthing that she needed to take the call. She then turned and made her way outside into the hospital corridor.

  Stephanie had her own phone turned off, deciding she needed her full concentration to get the PM findings down accurately. Max Pettifer never repeated anything, no matter how many people requested it. DC Martin was also there, on exhibits. He had started photographing both the corpses, and was now doing close-ups on the wounds from the machete on Burak. Stephanie watched, knowing how vital these photos would be when it came to getting a conviction.

  After close examination, Max informed them that the deep wounds were likely made by a machete, giving them the exact size of the instrument used.

  ‘The cause of death wasn’t any of these, though. That was done very nicely by a short knife severing the pulmonary artery.’

  He stood back while DC Martin photographed the wound in question. A big surprise came when Max examined Zana’s organs. In her the womb he discovered a foetus. He looked up, his long eyebrows reminding Stephanie of a rabbit’s ears.

  ‘This girl was pregnant, but only just,’ he said, before turning back and muttering the same into his Dictaphone.

  Stephanie looked at Martin. That was something none of the team had thought of, but raised the suspicion towards her famil
y, Stephanie thought.

  ‘How long before we can get DNA from the foetus?’ she asked Max, feeling very relieved that Alison had left the room.

  Max glared at her. ‘I’ll get on with it, and when it’s done, I’ll let you know. I’m a pathologist, not a magician.’

  She was used to his rudeness. ‘How long will that take?’

  ‘How long is a piece of string?’

  Stephanie hurried out after removing her gown, overalls and gloves. She spotted Alison standing by the shop doorway next to the entrance. ‘I’ve got interesting finds,’ she told her, quickly repeating the two new pieces of information that had come to light.

  ‘Wow,’ Alison said, taking it in. ‘And that was Melek Yismaz on the phone, and in a sorry state,’ she told Stephanie. ‘She says Harisha beat and raped her yesterday, after she gave us a statement, and he is threatening her again. She wants me to meet her, see her injuries, and bring a charge against him.’

  ‘The day is just getting better and better,’ Stephanie smiled. ‘Do you want me to come with you? We can send Barry and Eric to pick up the Ghazianis.’

  Alison shook her head. ‘No, Melek may clam up if there are two of us. You go with Barry and Eric and bring in Wajdi. If Zana was pregnant that makes the family even stronger suspects, so if the parents so much as open their mouths to protest, then arrest them both.’ She took in air and looked at Stephanie. Her eyes filled with tears. ‘God, I’m glad I didn’t see him remove that foetus,’ she said quietly.

  ‘So am I,’ Stephanie said gently, placing an arm on Alison’s arm. ‘It’s OK, it’s normal to feel tearful,’ she told her. ‘I cried all the time during my first pregnancy. I had no reason, but I still did. It’s those female hormones, they get all shaken up, all over the bloody place, like a cocktail waiter’s tools.’

  Alison burst out laughing. ‘What?’

  ‘Just trying to make you smile, see it worked. By the way, I’m very sorry about your colleague who died in that fire, but you have to know it wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘I do know,’ Alison said unconvincingly. ‘Can I nick one of the bars of chocolate in your car? I’ll take the tube and meet you back at the Station. If Banham asks where I am, tell him I’ve gone to meet Melek Yismaz in McDonalds in Lambeth. I can grab a large double burger and fries for my lunch while I’m there.’

  ‘Are you sure I can’t go with you? Stephanie teased. ‘I’m always up for a big one.’

  ‘It’s nice of you to offer to come with me,’ Georgia said making polite conversation to Banham as she drove in the direction of the Aviary, ‘but there was no need, I’ve been here many, many times before, and there are a fleet of uniform cars around today should I need backup.’

  ‘I’d prefer none of my female officers went alone to this estate,’ he told her.

  Georgia said nothing. The man couldn’t help it. He obviously had no idea that sexual equality existed in the force. How had he got to the position of DCI without being constantly reminded, she wondered. He must know that women in the Met had the same training as the men, and they know how to take care of themselves. All the female officers in the station moaned privately about his chauvinism, but it hadn’t stopped him reaching DCI; perhaps because he meant well, or perhaps because the powers that be were currently men. She hoped that would change in the future. Anyway, she suspected the root of it was what had happened to his wife and baby. Irritating as he could be, she quite liked him, and believed him to be a compassionate man.

  It amused her that Stephanie fancied a night of lust with him, but she was grateful that it wouldn’t happen. Stephanie always described, in full graphic detail, the intimacies of her sexual conquests. Bedding Banham and then describing the moment to Georgia over morning coffee would have made Georgia uncomfortable around him. As it was, Stephanie had already bedded most of the men on the team, and Georgia knew more about all of them than she wanted to, but that was Sergeant Green, and Georgia accepted it. Georgia knew she too had irritating habits, although office gossip wasn’t one of them.

  She carried on driving, nodding politely every time Banham reminded her that a red light was approaching, or the road was clear to overtake. She refrained from shouting that she could see for herself. He was her boss, and she was ambitious, so she managed to keep buttoned; just.

  ‘Alison and you drive the same car,’ he said after a while.

  ‘Yes, you said before.’

  ‘She’s a terrible driver. Have you ever been in a car with her?’

  ‘No, no I haven’t.’

  ‘My advice is don’t.’

  ‘Right.’ She decided it was time to change the subject. ‘It’s Magpie block. They live on the second floor.’

  ‘Yes, Alison gave me the address.’

  They walked into the estate, and through the grounds, past the lock-ups and onto the Magpie, on the other side.

  As they turned towards the stairs, a pail of filthy liquid came hurtling down from one of the flats high up on Sparrow block. It was too far up to see which flat it had come from, or who threw it. It landed by Banham, stinking and soaking the bottom of his jeans and into his shoes.

  Then the sound of tin saucepans banging against each other followed the water, as the residents over on Wren block, again too high up to see from which floor, chanted, ‘Out, feds! Out, feds!’

  Georgia pulled her mobile from her pocket, and speedily rang for uniform presence to be seen in force on the estate grounds. She didn’t envy them their job.

  ‘The residents are nervous,’ Banham said to her. ‘Two recent murders, they’re afraid of being questioned by us. They all know the punishment for talking to the feds.’

  ‘Nervous of who?’ Georgia argued. ‘No gang runs this estate at the moment. So who are they nervous of? ’

  ‘Zana was killed only a few hundred yards away,’ he reminded her. ‘Police presence is unwanted, and the residents are very edgy.’

  ‘My snout tells me the SLR are moving into this territory. That must be true, because they are very violent and these residents are certainly afraid.’

  ‘Perhaps there’s another gang on the estate, and this is gang warfare starting?’

  ‘Either way, Harisha Celik is involved,’ she argued. ‘I only wish we could get him behind bars.’

  The saucepan banging and the chanting stopped abruptly. The culprits had obviously been tipped off that the feds were on their way up the many flights of stairs, or they felt they had done enough.

  ‘Word travels quickly,’ Georgia said. ‘It’s like even the pigeons are spies, flying from flat to flat with news of what’s happening on the other side of the estate.’

  ‘That explains why Mrs Wilkins was nervous of leaving a message.’

  ‘I doubt very much they’ll even open their door now, not with eyes everywhere,’ Georgia said. ‘Perhaps we should ask them to meet us away from here. Shall I call them?’

  Two hooded youths who were walking towards them must have noticed who – or what – they were; they both immediately ducked their heads, turned, and hurried in the opposite direction. Georgia clocked them, but then walked on and joined Banham.

  ‘We are never going to stop policing this estate,’ Banham said raising his normally calm voice. ‘No gang will undermine our power. Every gang so far that has tried, we’ve rounded them up and put them away. No one is bigger than us, they will learn that.’

  Georgia nodded her agreement and then walked ahead towards the steps. She forced herself to keep a straight face as the noise of Banham’s shoes, squelching with water, followed her.

  Predictably, Mr and Mrs Wilkins didn’t open the door, so Georgia phoned their number. The phone rang off the wall. She lifted the letter flap and peered through.

  ‘They might be out shopping,’ she said to Banham.

  ‘Or they might be at the station delivering the letter she said she was going to write us,’ Banham suggested.

  Georgia moved over to the kitchen window to peer in as far as he could see
. Breakfast crockery was laid on the table and there were two bowls awaiting filling. ‘It doesn’t look as if they’ve eaten breakfast yet,’ she said turning around as a few hooded youths of various different races, with bandanas covering their faces, walked towards them from the corner of the walkway.

  ‘Do you know the couple that live in here?’ Banham asked them, flashing his ID card.

  All stared at him. One shook his head before turning and hurrying back down the stairs. The others then followed.

  Banham noticed a handle sticking out from one of the boy’s pockets. ‘He’s carrying,’ he said to Georgia.

  Georgia called through to the uniformed sergeant covering the estate door to door and described the boy. ‘Tell him to bring the enforcer up,’ Banham said decisively.

  ‘Guv.’

  Within minutes three strong uniformed police were hurrying up the side stairs carrying the red enforcer. Banham gave the order and they slammed it into the front door of the Wilkins flat.

  ‘Mrs Wilkins?’ Georgia shouted as she walked in. The only response was of nearby front doors opening to see what was happening, and neighbours spilling onto the walkway to see what was going down.

  ‘Keep everyone away, please,’ Georgia told the uniformed police who were on the walkway with her.

  She walked further into the Wilkins’ flat. ‘Mrs Wilkins,’ she shouted again.

  She looked down and noticed money scattered all the way down the hallway, twenty-pound notes, quite a lot of them, and she was aware of an unpleasant smell. She picked up the money.

  ‘Christ, don’t say someone has broken in and tried to make away with their life savings,’ Banham said, opening a door which led to the kitchen.

  Georgia walked a further down the hallway and opened another door. It was the bathroom. She walked in. All was tidy and still. ‘They’re out,’ she shouted to Banham.

  ‘All in order here,’ Banham shouted from the kitchen.

  ‘They will be terrified when they come back. Let’s get their door fixed back on before we give them a heart attack,’ Georgia shouted coming back out of the bathroom and carrying on down the hall. She pushed open another door at the end, it was a bedroom. The bed was neatly made with a threadbare blue and white candlewick bedspread covering it. A browned wedding photo, and one of Albert in 1950s army uniform, was in pride of place on the mantelpiece, and a few bits of cheap paste jewellery lay in a glass bowl beside it. Georgia was uncomfortably aware of a smell.