Unquiet Souls: a DI Gus McGuire case

by Mistry, Liz

  ‘Ok, Jamal, you mentioned earlier that you saw a man follow her round. Did you recognise him?’

  Jamal screwed up his face. ‘Not really.’

  ‘Could you describe him?’

  Jamal pursed his lips. ‘Old. Fortyish probably. Tall and bald with a long dark coat.’

  ‘Would you recognise him again, Jamal?’

  Jamal shrugged. ‘Doubt it.’

  Alice shuffled the folder on the table in front of her and said, ‘Do you have a phone, Jamal?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So why did you not phone the police or an ambulance for your mother?’

  He froze, his face expressionless for a second and then he hung his head and mumbled, ‘I was scared. I saw she were dead and I just ran off.’

  Alice’s tone dropped and became almost caressing. ‘Where did you go Jamal? You’d just found your mother dead, so where did you go?’

  He sniffed and lifted the tissue to wipe away a stray tear. ‘I went to Frankie Robb’s house in Frizinghall. He’s my mate from school.’

  ‘Just write his name and number down here, will you, Jamal?’ and she pushed a pad towards him. He took his phone out and scribbled a number and address on the paper. She ripped the sheet off the pad and handed it to the uniformed officer that stood by the door. ‘Check this out, please?’

  Returning to the table, she sat down. ‘What time did you arrive at Frankie’s?’

  ‘Probably eightish. I walked down through Heaton woods.’

  ‘Jamal, you said you were concerned about your siblings, so why did you not go back home to take care of them instead of going to your friend’s house?’

  Sobbing heavily, desperation tingeing his voice he said, ‘I was too scared. I thought I’d get in trouble. That you lot would think I’d done it.’

  Alice exchanged a glance with Gus. He nodded and Mr Asif, misinterpreting the nod, thought they could go. He stood up and turned to Jamal. ‘Come on then, Jamal, let’s go.’

  Gus stood. ‘Sorry, Mr Asif, but we’re not quite finished yet. We’ve still got a few more questions to ask Jamal, but we’re going to get in some drinks and sandwiches for you before we move on. Halal?’

  Nodding half-heartedly, Ishaq slid back onto his chair as Gus and Alice left the room.

  ‘What do you reckon?’ asked Alice.

  Walking slowly down the corridor, his shoulders hunched, Gus ran his fingers through his dreads. ‘You know what? I reckon Jamal knows more than he’s letting on and we’ll need to tease it out of him carefully.’ He took a further few steps and then added, ‘And I’m not sure that Ishaq being in the room will help Jamal share everything.’

  They were halfway along the corridor when they heard the interview room door open. Gus turned back and saw Ishaq Asif closing the door quietly behind him. He walked smartly along the corridor towards them.

  Wondering what had made the other man follow them into the corridor, Gus leaned against the wall. When Ishaq drew near he glanced from Alice, who remained expressionless, to Gus who smiled encouragingly. ‘Is there something you need to tell us, Mr Asif?’ asked Gus.

  Shuffling his feet slightly, Ishaq Asif sighed heavily. ‘I think there is something that I’m not aware of and I’m concerned that Jamal may need some sort of legal representation?’

  ‘Well, Mr Asif, it’s entirely up to you of course, but at the moment Jamal is only helping us with our enquiries and you, as his responsible adult, will be able to request legal representation at any time.’ Gus placed a reassuring hand on the other man’s shoulder. ‘I know it’s very stressful and upsetting for both of you, but why don’t you eat some tea and then we’ll continue in a bit?’

  ‘I also wondered about my cousins, Detective Inspector?’

  Gus frowned. This was the first he’d heard of any cousins. ‘Which cousins?’

  ‘Jamal’s half-siblings are also my cousins. Didn’t you know?’

  With a glance at Alice, Gus raised his eyebrow. Alice shook her head and Gus turned to Mr Asif. ‘Maybe you should explain what you mean?’ he said.

  Ishaq screwed his eyes shut for a second, as if to clear his mind. ‘Jamal and I share a father. My mother died a long time ago and our father now lives in Pakistan with his third wife.’ He glanced at Gus who nodded to show he understood.

  Ishaq continued, ‘When my father divorced Jamal’s mother, she became dependent on drugs and alcohol. Whilst he lived in Bradford my father managed to keep her partly in check, but when he moved back to Pakistan things got out of hand.’

  He snorted and glanced round the corridor. ‘She married my father’s younger brother, Khalid. Unfortunately, he was not a good man and was happy to encourage his new wife’s addictions. Khalid is the father of her younger children.’

  ‘But, he’s dead now, is he?’ asked Gus

  Ishaq nodded. ‘Yes he died two years ago.’ He laughed humourlessly. ‘Of a drug overdose. This was before Iman, her youngest, was even born. Sharon,’ he hesitated, ‘didn’t cope well. I’m afraid she became more and more addicted and erratic. My wife, Asma, and I tried our best. We sent food back with Jamal for the little ones and twice we contacted social services.’ He snorted in annoyance. ‘For all the good that did. Anyway, I am the little ones’ closest living relative and I want custody of them.’

  Gus released a long breath. ‘Well, Mr Asif, I can’t help you with that: you’re going to have to contact social services. First you need to eat and then we need to finish interviewing Jamal.’

  Chapter 32

  Monday 4pm, Bradford

  ‘You did what? Are you a complete idiot? No don’t answer that. Are you somewhere safe?’ The Matchmaker waited for the other man’s response then, tapping his fingers lightly on his desk, said, ‘Let me think.’ He tilted his head to one side. Aware of his leg bobbing up and down, he forced his body to relax. The bobbing stopped. ‘Is the car clean?’ He paused. ‘Any eye witnesses?’

  Noting the slight hesitation before The Distributor responded in the negative, The Matchmaker flicked a glance towards his office door. Last thing he needed was his PA walking in whilst he was talking to this fool. Reassured that she was firmly ensconced at her desk in the outer office, he said, ‘Are you sure? It’s your neck on the line, after all.’

  The Distributor responded in a sulky tone. ‘Well, there were a couple of kids in the street. When I drove past the girl looked into the car, but it was only for a second and I had a balaclava on. She can’t identify me.’

  Standing up and moving over to the window, The Matchmaker deliberately controlled his breathing before saying, razor sharp. ‘Liar!’ He heard the other man’s breathing quicken and was satisfied. ‘You shot at the boy, but, fortunately for you, all you hit was his shopping. What a debacle.’

  ‘How did you know?’ said The Distributor, his voice shaking.

  The Matchmaker laughed. ‘Don’t you know by now? I know everything.’

  The Distributor hesitated and then asked, ‘Will you postpone the girl tomorrow?’

  Lightly tapping his finger on his lip, The Matchmaker deliberated. ‘No, we won’t cancel our plans. This could turn out alright. It’ll stretch the police a bit further and they won’t be expecting it. After all, they don’t know anything about Cathy Clegg, do they?’ He laughed. ‘Clean up the house you’re in, move to the depot and keep a low profile till tomorrow.’

  Chapter 33

  Monday 4.35pm, Bradford

  The Distributor had made his way to the depot by public transport. He’d taken a circuitous route, jumping on and off buses and doubling back. The debacle in Great Horton had rattled him and he felt shaky but he knew The Matchmaker would expect him to be on the ball ready for the next day. He’d made a slight detour on his route along Thornton Road to make sure the car he was going to jack for the next day’s activities was still in place. Now, looking out the window, the Thornton Viaduct seemed to loom threateningly from the snow-covered fields. Each arch looked like the spaces between a gargoyle’s
huge teeth. The fields beneath were dotted with children pulling sledges and laughing. On another day The Distributor may have been tempted to go down and get closer, just in case a distracted parent left their child vulnerable. But, not today. Today he was chastened and, though a distraction would provide release, he knew he needed to focus. Pity it was so damn cold. He switched on the portable gas fire and when it ignited, flicked it to full power before making the phone call he’d been putting off since he arrived.

  ‘Everything’s in place! It’ll happen tomorrow morning!’

  ‘Good.’ The Matchmaker hung up abruptly, leaving The Distributor feeling slightly on edge.

  Monday 4.40pm, Bradford

  In another part of Bradford, The Matchmaker slipped the throw-away phone into his inner pocket and re-joined the group of smokers huddled against the cold sleet in the doorway. He didn’t smoke but he liked to get down with the trolls occasionally, after all, he often picked up juicy bits of information from the careless mouths of the minions and in this day and age knowledge was key. Subduing his inner exaltation, he turned to the man nearest him, ‘Have you heard the one about…?’

  Chapter 34

  Monday 5:30pm, Bradford

  Gus saw the apprehension in Jamal’s eyes and decided to play on that. He pulled his chair under the table, so he was sitting directly opposite the boy, and signalled for Alice to reload the tape and introduce them. When she was ready he began.

  ‘So Jamal, any idea what I’m going to be asking you about?’

  Jamal’s eyes flitted from Gus to Alice who no longer looked friendly and reassuring. Ishaq frowned but remained silent.

  The corners of Gus’s mouth turned down. ‘No?’ He leaned his upper body across the table and looked right at Jamal. ‘So, no ideas?’

  Jamal shook his head and Gus said, ‘For the purpose of the tape, Jamal Asif, in response to my question, shook his head.’ Turning back to the boy he continued conversationally. ‘So Jamal, what do you know about the twenty children in the attic of your home – two of them dead?’

  Ishaq gasped and jumped to his feet. ‘What? Are you mad?’

  Gus ignored Ishaq and looked instead at Jamal’s pale face. The boy’s hands shook so much he nearly spilled the remains of his water cup over the table.

  Monday 5:31pm, Bradford

  Nancy opened the door and quietly stepped inside the observation room. Holding her briefcase in one arm, her coat slung haphazardly over the other, she was worried. In the reflection from the one-way mirror she saw the telltale lines that snaked out from her eyes. They seemed dull, their customary sparkle dissipated by the tensions of what had seemed to Nancy, not only an interminable day, but one of the worst she’d experienced since The Matchmaker case twelve years previously.

  Even another bout of mindless sex with Charles wouldn’t be enough to make her feel better. She felt drained, every sinew of her body cried out in protest and she couldn’t begin to think about how Gus must be feeling. For the first time since she’d double-tagged with Gus’s dad to convince DCI Bowles to exert pressure on his psychiatrist she wondered if she’d made the right decision. What of it all backfired and Gus ended up wrecked? What if they’d both misunderstood his needs? What if Dr Mahmood was right and Gus wasn’t ready? She sighed and shook her head. What the hell was she thinking?

  None of them were ready, none of them would come out of this unscarred, but Gus… well, he was special. This could be his salvation. The case that pulled him back from the brink. The case that gave him back his soul after his best friend ripped it out and left him full of guilt, physically compromised and emotionally damaged. She leaned back against the wall, welcoming the soothing lavender fragrance that lingered in the air and allowed her briefcase and coat to slip to the floor. Pasting a customary smile on her face she walked over and sat beside Jankowski to watch Gus interview the Asif boy.

  Monday 5:32pm, Bradford

  ‘Well, did you know about the children in the attic?’ Gus was persistent.

  Jamal used his sleeve to wipe the tears from his face. ‘Yeah, yeah I did know about them. But I never knew any were dead.’

  Ashen-faced, Ishaq rubbed his hands over his cheeks. ‘Oh Jamal, what’s been going on? Why didn’t you tell me and Asma?’

  Watching the interaction between the two brothers, Gus’s mind drifted to his own relationship with Katie. They’d always been close, always had each other’s backs. But now? Well, that was anyone’s guess. With effort, he drew his mind back into the stuffy interview room. Jamal and his brother had been well fed. Raja’s pizzas, judging by the spicy, cheesy smell pervading the room. They needed information quick and Jamal was their best bet. The earlier attack on him indicated that he knew more than he’d told them so far.

  The way Jamal’s head swivelled between the detectives and his brother would have been comical in different circumstances. Today, it was sad. No fourteen-year-old should have a mother like Sharon Asif, or live in a house with abducted children in the attic.

  ‘He told me he’d kill my brother and sisters if I told anybody. So, I didn’t. I couldn’t.’ Picking at a ratty piece of wool on the sleeve of his jumper, he looked at Gus. ‘They’re safe now aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, Jamal, your brother and sisters are safe now. Nobody can hurt them. But you can help those other kids now. If you’re brave, that is.’

  Swallowing hard, the boy nodded.

  ‘Go on then. In your own words, Jamal, what happened?’

  Ishaq hugged Jamal briefly and then let go, moving one hand to rest on his arm. ‘Go on Jamal, tell them everything.’

  Taking a deep breath, Jamal sat up straight and began.

  ‘One night while I was asleep this man came in and dragged me from my bed. He hauled me across the landing and he stank of sweat and garlic. He didn’t put the light on, so it was dark. He started to push me down the stairs too quickly and I fell and ended up at the bottom.’

  He touched his forehead and continued. ‘I bumped my head and it was bleeding, but he just laughed. He shoved his fat arms under my armpits and yanked me into the living room. He put the hall light on, but not the living room one so I couldn’t see right well. She was sprawled on the couch, stoned as usual, and another man was in the corner. He spoke right posh. He said I’d to help the sweaty man and if I told anyone what were going on, he’d give my sisters and brother to the men who liked to do bad things to kids. I knew what he meant. He meant he’d give them to the paedos. Then, the sweaty man made me follow him out the back door. He’d parked a big van in the alley between our house and the ones in front. He opened the door right quiet and when I looked in there were two boys in the back. They were all bloody and crying. He’d put something over their mouths. He told me to take them up to the attic. The next night he came in a black car and there were another two in the boot. Every few nights he’d come. Mostly in the van, but sometimes in a car. He’d drop kids off and sometimes he’d make them have a shower and he’d put new clothes on them and take them away.’

  As Jamal continued his story, Gus felt a cold coil of anger in his stomach. These bastards had to be stopped and he was determined to do it. Jamal was on a roll now. He didn’t need prompting to continue. It was as if the dam had burst and nothing could stop the lad from spewing everything out.

  Aware of Alice’s tense body beside him and the distress on Ishaq Asif’s face, Gus kept his eyes firmly on Jamal. There was no space for anyone else’s emotions in this room. They had a job to do and they owed it to Jamal and the other children to be professional, no matter how disgusted they felt.

  Jamal hiccupped and squeezed his eyes tight shut. ‘I knew where he was taking them, but I couldn’t do owt, and when they came back they were always hurt. I hated that man, but I hated my mum more. She made me empty the buckets of piss and shit and every time that man came he’d look at Rehana and Maryham. Once I found him right in their room and he was touching Maryham’s hair. I told him if he ever went in their room again I’d yell ti
ll the whole neighbourhood woke up. He just laughed and kissed her cheek whilst she still slept, but he never went in their room again, ’cos I locked them in at night.’ Jamal’s fists clenched and unclenched at the memory. His face was a mask of anguish.

  Gus poured him a glass of water. ‘Jamal, you’ve done really well, but I need to just ask a few more questions, ok?’

  Ishaq, face rigidly angry, squeezed Jamal’s shoulders reassuringly and nodded at Gus, silently acknowledging that it was better to for Jamal to continue and get it all out now.

  ‘Did you ever see the posh man again?’

  Jamal shook his head. ‘No, never, but you know what? He scared me more than the sweaty man. Sweaty man was evil but that posh one… he was worse.’

  ‘Had you seen either of them before?’

  ‘Yeah, sweaty man. I’m sure he worked at the school for a while. Think he was a builder or something.’

  ‘Which school? Your school?’

  ‘Yeah, Carlton Wood.’

  ‘Right, Jamal, can you tell us any more about either of those men?’

  ‘No, except my mum was shagging the sweaty one and he gave her money and drugs for keeping those kids up there.’

  ‘I want you to work with a police artist to try to get a picture of those two men. Will you do that?’

  ‘I’ll be able to do that for sweaty man, but I’m not so sure about the other man.’ Jamal’s fingers worked more rapidly on the piece of wool and he looked down at the table. Gus realised that the boy was terrified and said, ‘Jamal, I promise you we’ll take care of you. We won’t let this man anywhere near you or your siblings.’ He paused to allow his words to sink in, ‘But, we really need to catch him. You want him caught, don’t you?’

  Jamal nodded, but his eyes held a glazed look. ‘I’ll try’ was all he said.

  Gus, realising that this was as much as he’d get for now decided to move on. ‘Now, you mentioned a van and a car. Can you tell us about them?’

  Frowning, Jamal thought for a second before replying. ‘The van was white with doors that rolled up at the back. It wasn’t right big, but it had sort of shelves and on some of the shelves were mattresses. New ones mind, not been used or owt.’