The Binford Mysteries: A Collection of Gritty Urban Mystery Novels (3 - BOOK BOX SET)

by Rashad Salim

  “...Just like you never told anyone that it was really me who fucked you up.”

  “Fuck you!” he said and stormed off.

  One of Farooq’s henchmen pulled out a knife and cut through the tape binding my wrists. When my hands were freed I staggered to my feet and faced Farooq. He gestured to the others to leave us and they followed in Bilal’s direction.

  We were alone now and stood in the middle of the field while the others crowded outside their van thirty feet away.

  I rubbed my face. It hurt really badly and the left side of my face was still numb. I knew it was going to be sore later and dreaded it.

  Farooq looked around carefully. “You know why we’re letting you go?”

  I managed a shrug. “Mercy? Forgiveness?”

  He smiled. “I want you to know we had nothing to do with burning down the shop. We have nothing to hide regarding that incident.”

  I couldn’t wait for him and his crew to leave but he still lingered and it made me nervous because I wondered what else he wanted from me.

  “...We’re letting you go, knowing full well you could go straight to the police.” he said. “But giving you a second chance is a chance we’re offering. Don’t make the mistake of crossing us or the next time we take you, you won’t live to regret it.”

  He turned his back on me and walked away. I waited until his whole crew got inside the van and drove away before I ran as fast as I could out of the field and out of the shadows.

  I felt like calling the police. I knew I was meant to call the police. But I didn’t.

  There was no way I could run home to my parents’ house and tell my mum what had happened.

  I thought about calling up Sajid but then changed my mind.

  I thought about Chantelle. She lived nearby. I could’ve gone to her house and told her what had happened but instantly thought against it. Telling her about my abduction would only worry her and I was still working on getting back together with her. I didn’t want anything to get in the way of that.

  I just wanted to go home to my bed and sleep and pretend everything that had happened on this night was a nightmare – that when I woke up in the morning all of this would have been a dream – and life was back to how it had been before the arson.

  I knew all this was bullshit but I was willing to make believe that the hell I was in wasn’t actually happening. It was childish but I didn’t care. I just wanted to crawl into my bed and wish the world away.

  In the end, I fled back to my West London flat and played the night’s events all over again in my head during the train ride home. I hopelessly tried to make sense of it all.

  I had thought it was bad luck being abducted and threatened by Defenders of Islam but I felt like I had been lucky to survive.

  When I got home I saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror and was stunned at my appearance.

  I had a large bruise on my face, just under my left eye, where Bilal had kicked me and the skin near my temple was sore.

  I went to my bed and eventually drifted off to a world away from the madness of Binford.

  22

  I was late for Mark’s funeral and was half grateful for it.

  A lot of people attended the service. Most of them I had never seen before but some of them I recognised. Bob was there along with Bestco’s regional manager and someone else from the Head Office. DC Barker and DI Martin were also present. It crossed my mind there would be more than a few members of the press in attendance too.

  As I watched the undertakers lower Mark’s coffin into his grave a lump formed in my throat.

  I looked over at Mark’s mother and his sister Charlotte. Charlotte had her arm around her mother, who looked down at her feet unable to watch her son buried. It broke my heart watching their grief and I felt overwhelmed again with anger and sadness over what had happened to Mark. I knew I’d never forget the sight of his mother and sister right then for as long as I lived.

  When Charlotte’s eyes met mine something occurred to me that sent a chill down my spine: did Mark’s family know he was only at work that night because of me? Did they blame me as much as I blamed myself for sending him to his grave?

  It should have been my funeral.

  Ever since the night of the incident I had been restless with the progress of the police case. I wasn’t sure if anyone had sensed my true motives for running around sticking my nose where it didn’t belong, trying to get to the truth behind the arson.

  I was sure the police would find out who had attacked the store but felt it would take months, if not years, for the culprits to be caught and I didn’t have the patience to wait that long. But it wasn’t just impatience driving me to get justice for Mark as soon as possible. Nor was it just revenge on my mind.

  No, it was the guilt and shame of having sent someone - probably the best friend I had - to his death.

  It was shame not confidence or bravery that got me to confront hood rats and religious nutters, knowing I could be in danger by doing so.

  If I hadn’t swapped shifts with Mark and had died from the arson, would he have been running around like me, confronting anyone that might have been involved? Probably, but even if he wouldn’t have, I still had to.

  What else could I have done? Living with the guilt over Mark’s death had gotten worse as each day passed. There had to be justice for Mark. I’d pay any price for it.

  When the service ended and the attendees dispersed, there was a crowd of well wishers around Mark’s mother and Charlotte.

  When Mark died I had been so overwhelmed with guilt that I couldn’t even bare to pay my condolences to his mother and sister. I had to pass it on through Bob who gave them my regards. I knew it was pathetic. I felt like the ultimate coward for doing so but I couldn’t bring myself to look his mother in the eye ever again. I knew I had to get past all this at the funeral and take whatever his mother had to say to me or I’d never live it down.

  As I approached her she had her back to me and was listening to a middle aged couple but Charlotte saw me and gave me a subtle smile. I stopped and forced a smile back.

  It got more uncomfortable by the second. When Charlotte reached me she gave me a hug and I held her awkwardly.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered into her ear while watching her mother twenty feet away.

  “It’s okay. We all are.”

  I broke free and took a step back.

  She asked me how I was. I told her I was dealing with it and quickly changed the subject to her and her mother.

  “It’s still too much to take in but we’re getting there.”

  Behind Charlotte, I could see DC Barker and DI Martin talking to Mark’s mother.

  “I see the police have shown up,” I said.

  “They’ve been in touch with us pretty much every other day, giving us progress reports and stuff.”

  That gave me a jolt of hope. “Any good news?” I blurted out, instantly regretting my poor choice of words.

  “They’re still working on that.”

  I took a deep breath. “Listen, Charlotte. I meant to talk to you and your mum before but I couldn’t. I wanted to but I just couldn’t.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, avoiding my gaze. “I understand.”

  “That night, I was meant to be in Mark’s place. I asked him to cover me because I had to go somewhere.”

  I braced myself for whatever she said next.

  “I know.”

  Her calm demeanour stunned me. I gathered her mother knew too.

  “Bob told mum the next day.”

  I stared at the ground in shame.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “And if you had been there instead of Mark who knows what would’ve happened to you.”

  I squirmed and couldn’t wait to get away and hide.

  “I better pay my respects.” I turned and saw Mark’s mother approaching us. Before I could say anything she wrapped her arms around me and I hugged her back. “I’m so sorry for your loss,
Ms Johnson.”

  “Me too, dear,” she said and stood back. “I know it’s not been easy on his friends.” When I didn’t respond, she added “Mark always said good things about you.”

  “Yeah. He was my best friend. One of a kind. Always there for me.” And that’s why he died.

  Ms Johnson smiled weakly.

  I thought fast about what to say before I made my exit. “Do the police know who did it?”

  “They’ve had their suspicions for a while and now they have a good idea about who was responsible.”

  I decided to leave then. “I know you have a lot to do, Ms Johnson. Don’t let me keep you any longer,” I said and leaned away. “Take care,” I said with a wave.

  “You too, dear.”

  I nodded and waved to Charlotte and turned my back to them. I spotted Bob and the man from head office deep in conversation about thirty feet away.

  After a while the Head Office man left and I approached Bob.

  “Looking forward to coming back to work yet?” he asked.

  I avoided his gaze, watching the other funeral attendees instead. “When I’m ready.”

  “Well, we’re gonna need you back soon.”

  Work was the last thing on my mind. I hadn’t given it any thought in a long time.

  “Do the police know who did it yet?” I asked.

  “They have a pretty good idea now.”

  “What does that mean ..?”

  Bob said nothing.

  “They don’t know shit, do they?”

  “Steady now.”

  I stepped back and took a deep breath.

  “They’re looking for the suspects right now,” he said. “Two boys. Names are Carl and Marcus. Both members of a local gang called the Lion Crew.”

  I knew it. It was exactly what Thom and Tyrone had claimed but it wasn’t like I could mention that to Bob.

  “They finally managed to obtain CCTV images from somewhere. Footage of the suspects on the night our store was attacked.”

  “Someone must know something,” I said. “You can’t go into hiding without someone out there knowing about it. Especially, these little hood rats. They can’t keep anything to themselves. They must’ve bragged about their whereabouts to someone.”

  23

  When I left the cemetery I went straight to Sajid’s shop to tell him what I knew.

  We sat in his car parked outside his dad’s shop and I told him the suspects were two members of the Lion Crew.

  “Just like Tyrone said, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “So now we know he and Thom were telling the truth. They had nothing to do with this.”

  “And neither did Defenders of Islam, eh?”

  I still hadn’t told Sajid about being abducted and almost murdered by religious fundamentalist the night before so I told him all about it.

  “I think you better leave all this stuff behind while you still got both your nuts.”

  “What?”

  “This is getting more dangerous by the day,” he said. “Who knows who’s gonna grab your arse and kidnap you next time?”

  I winced at that.

  “...Anyway forget all this horrible shit,” he said. “What’s happening with you and Chantelle?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Seen her much? You tryin’ to get back with her?”

  I was already feeling deflated at the mention of Chantelle’s name and his questions made me feel worse.

  When I had returned to Binford after the arson Chantelle had barely crossed my mind but then she had entered my life again and I got carried away with the notion of something with her despite the odds against me.

  I hadn’t gotten any real signs from her that she was feeling anything like I was when I had been around her. I still wanted her but I felt it was too late for that now. She had other suitors now. Like Tyrone.

  After I left Sajid, I wanted to leave Binford and be back in my flat. I had had enough of the dodgy town for one day but my mum had phoned about some mail posted for me at her house so I had to go over and collect it.

  When I got there, I didn’t stay. I took the envelope from her and made up some excuse about being in a rush to avoid getting another grilling from her.

  I was walking halfway down the road when I heard a car horn. A Blue BMW pulled up and when I recognised the driver my brain froze.

  24

  It was Seema.

  She rolled the window down and smiled.

  I looked around and took a cautious step closer. I couldn’t think of her without thinking of her psychotic midget husband. I felt he was always close by wherever she went.

  “Hello, stranger,” she said, her smile beaming.

  “Seema,” I said. “Nice car. Is it your husband’s?”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s mine.” She looked me up and down. “What you doing here? On your way to a wedding?”

  “Nah,” I said. “To the station.”

  “Come on. Get in.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll give you a lift to the station. Get in,” she said, tipping her head.

  I didn’t move but looked around again. “It’s okay,” I said. “Thanks anyway.”

  I was worried that someone might see us again. I knew I couldn’t get into her car, that it would be a mistake if I did.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “It’s no trouble.” That was exactly what I thought it was. “We can catch up on the way.” She waited but I didn’t move. “What’s the matter? Your mama tell you not to accept lifts from strange girls?”

  The line made me smile despite my reservations.

  I don’t know what it was that made me do it – maybe I thought the quicker she drove away the better or that it was too late anyway, people had already seen us talking and it didn’t make a difference whether I got in or not – but I walked around to the front passenger side and got in despite my instincts telling me it was a fatal error.

  “That’s more like it,” she said, as I shut the door once inside. She had her sultry mode turned to the highest notch. “You always were the daring type.”

  She drove off fast as I wondered if anyone had seen me.

  “So where did you come from? A job interview?”

  “No.” I couldn’t hold off for any longer. “A funeral,” I said as casual as possible while looking out of my window to avoid her gaze.

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  And then I felt her hand on my knee.

  I looked at her. She looked away from the road and met my gaze. It was a solemn look.

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  Her hand was still there.

  I didn’t move or say anything. I didn’t think much of it. Maybe she didn’t realise the comforting gesture was something else. A few more minutes, I thought, and I’ll be on a train heading far away.

  “Whose funeral was it?”

  “My friend Mark’s,” I said. “We used to work together.”

  “At Bestco?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I read about that in the news.”

  I bowed my head. We drove in silence for almost a minute but seemed a lot longer.

  When I looked up I saw we had reached the station but we weren’t near the entrance. We were on a quiet back road.

  “I thought you were gonna drop me off at the front.”

  She parked the car facing a high wall.

  “Close enough,” she said and turned the ignition off.

  She turned to me but said nothing. I watched her and felt my heart racing. My breathing was heavy and I unbuckled my seat belt.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, as if none of this seemed the slightest bit odd.

  I should’ve thanked her for the ride and got out of the car as fast as possible. But I couldn’t move. Her perfume had gotten inside me and triggered memories of us from years before – memories I was failing to block out of my mind.

  She unbuckled her seat belt and turned to lean in close to me.

/>   I leaned back and closed my eyes, letting my head fall against the headrest.

  It felt like the longest day of my life would never end.

  “What’s wrong?” I felt her hand on my knee again. Only this time it was sliding up my thigh.

  I kept my eyes closed and took a few deep breaths, telling myself I was about to get out of the car any second. But I knew I wouldn’t. Not yet.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, rubbing my thigh.

  I opened my eyes and looked at her. She was doing her best to comfort me and it was working. But it shouldn’t have.

  “I’m just tired.”

  “Ali?” she said softly.

  “What?” I turned sideways to face her.

  “Do you ever think about us?”

  I looked down to avoid her gaze but couldn’t help but notice the blouse she wore and the way it fit her. Tight.

  I had thought of her over the years. I used to think how much of a mistake I had made with her.

  For years, whenever I thought about what happened with Chantelle and Seema, I often wondered what it might have been like if only one of them had come into my life. Would I have been content with just Seema if Chantelle hadn’t come along? Would it have been much easier with Chantelle if Seema hadn’t come before?

  Even back then I had known my relationship with Seema had fizzled before I had started up with Chantelle. It wasn’t as if I had cheated on Seema with Chantelle.

  Seema ended and then Chantelle began.

  The problem had been that relationships with both girls had been doomed before they had begun and I was a fool too stupid to see that back then.

  “You were great,” I said. “I was just an idiot.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “You were a great girlfriend,” I said, even though I didn’t really mean it but thought that’s what she wanted to hear. “And now I’m sure you’re a great wife.” That last bit was forced a little harder.

  She rolled her eyes at that. “Tell that to Anil, the bastard.”

  That caught me by surprise and I felt my mouth fall open.

  I tried to recover from my shock quickly. “What’s wrong? I thought you two were happy.”