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

by Rashad Salim

  “Who’s the student?”

  “Mobeen Uddin.” Tom kept his eyes on the man, watching for a reaction to the name.

  The man looked away and nodded.

  “You know him?” Tom asked.

  “He’s my cousin.”

  “Ah,” Tom nodded. “So you own this place?”

  “Yep.” The man moved away from Tom and started reaching for something under the counter. Even though Tom knew it was an irrational thought, he couldn’t stop himself from imagining the man was reaching for a baseball bat or something else to scare Tom off.

  “You say you’re Mobeen’s teacher?” the man asked. He was still scrambling under the counter out of Tom’s view.

  Tom began to grow nervous, half imagining himself running for his life in the next second. “I was his teacher. Before he was expelled.” He felt his whole body tense.

  “I thought so,” the man said. “Mobeen doesn’t go to Binford anymore. He was kicked out.”

  “That’s right,” Tom said. “He hasn’t been around here, has he?” Tom hoped the change in his line of questioning was as smooth as possible.

  The man stood up and placed both hands on the counter. “Why?” He had a blank expression.

  “Well, I was just wondering if he was. I hope he’s been staying out of trouble lately.” Tom tried to make it sound as casual as possible but felt like he had just done the worst acting ever.

  “Mobeen’s a good boy.”

  Tom nodded a little too much. “I’m sure he is.” He could feel himself sweating now.

  The man gave Tom another wary look.

  Tom realised the man had grown deeply suspicious of him. He took a long sip from his orange juice, just to buy some time to think of what to say next.

  “What was your name again?” the man asked.

  “Mr Smith.”

  “I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

  “That would be great.” Tom felt his time was up and in a final attempt to learn something he said, “by the way, what is he up to these days? He’s not doing an apprenticeship, is he?”

  It was a step too far.

  In the corner of his eye Tom saw two figures approach him from behind. He looked over his shoulder and saw two bearded Asian men in their late twenties standing there.

  One of them, a tall man, remained there while the other, a muscular man in a black T shirt, sat on the stool beside Tom.

  The man on the stool exchanged greetings with the barman before surveying Tom up and down.

  “Who’s this?” the man beside Tom asked the barman, as if Tom wasn’t even there.

  “He’s a teacher from Binford,” the barman said.

  “Hmm,” the muscular man said and looked at Tom.

  Tom smiled at him. The man didn’t smile back.

  “Says his name’s Smith,” the barman said.

  The muscular man nodded in acknowledgement without taking his eyes off Tom.

  The way the man watched Tom made him feel uneasy, like he was being studied. He could feel all three men staring at him now.

  “I used to go to Binford. I don’t remember you,” the man finally said.

  Tom found the comment amusing even though there was a hint of menace behind it. The man appeared to be the same age as Tom if not older.

  Tom smiled. “I’m sure that was before my time.”

  A Middle Eastern looking man in a white robe approached the bar and stood beside the muscular man and listened in to the conversation too.

  Tom turned to face the tall man behind him, who stared at him, and then he looked at the man in the robe. He felt like the four men were surrounding him and began to feel threatened.

  “How long you been at Binford?” the muscular man asked.

  Tom was still distracted by the presence of all the men focused on him.

  “Ejaz, go easy on him. You’re making him nervous,” the man behind Tom said and slapped a hand down on Tom’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

  The barman and the man in the robe laughed at the tall man’s comment.

  Ejaz remained on his stool and fixated on Tom.

  “Not long,” Tom said. “Just started in September.”

  “Right...” Ejaz pondered about that. “Smith, you say?”

  “Yes.”

  There was an awkward silence for a moment. Tom wondered what to do. He thought about making an excuse and leaving right then.

  The tall man still had his hand on Tom’s shoulder, a deeply peculiar gesture between strangers, which Tom thought must’ve been obvious to the man too. But the tall man didn’t seem to care.

  Clearly they’re trying to intimidate me, Tom thought, but I’ve gotta pretend it doesn’t faze me.

  The barman stared at Tom. “Wouldn’t be the same Smith that kicked Mobeen out, would it?”

  Tom kept his eyes on Ejaz but noticed the barman’s open palms now balled into fists.

  The barman didn’t need a baseball bat. He could give Tom a pounding with his bare hands while the others gave him a good kicking.

  Tom leaned away from the tall man’s reach and the man’s hand fell away.

  “Yeah, that was me.”

  Tom wondered who Ejaz was to Mobeen. They were a different shade in skin and didn’t resemble each other. This man, Ejaz, was clearly a Pakistani whereas Mobeen was Bengali. He still hadn’t said anything and Tom was practically bracing himself for a punch to the face he was sure was coming.

  “Then you’ve got some nerve showing up here, don’t you?” Ejaz asked.

  “I suppose I do,” Tom said, not bothering to maintain the friendly facade he’d started out with. “Did Mobeen tell you about me expelling him?”

  Ejaz nodded.

  “And did he tell you why he was expelled?”

  Ejaz said nothing.

  “Mobeen was expelled for dealing drugs to his fellow students,” Tom said and looked at the four men around him, finally lingering on the barman who claimed to be Mobeen’s cousin. “What else did he expect was gonna happen?” He turned to Ejaz. “What would you have done?”

  Ejaz stood up and looked down at Tom.

  “I think you better leave now,” the barman said.

  “And don’t come back,” the tall man said.

  Tom looked at him and stood up. He then faced Ejaz.

  “Don’t let us catch you around here again,” Ejaz said.

  “Or what?”

  “Or we’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget,” Ejaz said.

  Tom held his gaze for a moment before heading for the exit. When he got outside he took a deep breath and exhaled.

  He was disappointed in himself for not finding out anything about Mobeen’s whereabouts. It had started raining while he had been inside, which made him feel worse.

  So much for the direct approach, he thought. The visit had been a failure.

  Then again, he had managed to walk out himself instead of being beaten senseless and thrown out into the street.

  21

  Tom was prepared to go straight home once he had left the shisha bar. He had consoled himself over his failure to locate Mobeen by reminding himself about the discovery of Cool Pool from stumbling into Dwayne earlier. That was until he walked further up the street in the hope of buying some fast food and upon passing the shop next to the shisha bar, he spotted a back alley for all the shops.

  He stopped in his tracks and studied the alley entrance. There were dumpsters arranged next to each other and an empty path that Tom knew would lead all the way down past the rear of the shisha bar he had just left. He walked to the alley entrance to get a better look and saw he had been right.

  When he entered the alley and passed the initial dumpsters he could see the rear end of the shisha bar at a better angle and realised the mosque had a rear entrance too. Now it made sense why he hadn’t seen anyone at the front side entering or exiting the mosque.

  This was the route the patrons used.

  He crept up as silently and quickly as possi
ble. It was dark and the alley had been isolated but he still had to be as cautious as he could. The warning from Ejaz and the other men was still fresh in his mind.

  He reached the rear of the mosque and saw a steel staircase that led up to the entrance.

  His heart was pounding now and he was conflicted about what to do next. He knew he never should’ve come here in the first place.

  The rain pelted him as he looked up at the steel staircase and thought about his options.

  All he had to do was get away from here as soon as he could and go straight to DS Barker with what he knew. Something he should’ve done the moment he learnt about this secret mosque.

  But instead if that he had chosen to come digging around here himself with absolutely no authority of his own. He realised he had been stupid but as he stood at the bottom of the staircase, breathing heavily and staring up at the rear entrance, he knew it was too late for him to leave it at that.

  There was no way he could go home without checking up there for Mobeen.

  His curiosity had gotten the better of him and he didn’t care.

  He crept up the steps as lightly as possible and decided he’d claim ignorance if anyone got in his way – that he just remembered hearing about this mosque and only wanted a look. It didn’t matter it was an implausible pretext. He’d deal with it if and when he had to.

  When he reached the top of the staircase he stepped closer to the mosque entrance. He turned the doorknob and prepared himself to come face-to-face with Mobeen.

  The door was locked. He turned it again a few times just to be sure.

  He felt stupid. His imagination had gotten the better of him.

  This wasn’t the chosen route of entry for the patrons. It was just a backdoor.

  He was about to turn away when he noticed the window next to the door. There were curtains inside that obscured the view but there was also a gap. Tom leaned in close and bent down a little so he could peep inside.

  The light was switched on in the room inside and the obscured view only allowed Tom to see no higher than four to five feet high inside. It didn’t appear to be the room where patrons prayed. The carpet was not one of prayer mat designs nor was there a massive cloth spread out on top of the carpet. There was also no sign of anyone in side.

  He was about to walk away when someone came into view. He could only see legs. He knew it was a man. The person was wearing traditional Asian clothes. The man stood still for a while before bowing. Tom got lower and struggled to make out the man’s upper body. Then the man knelt down on the carpet and Tom gasped.

  It was Mobeen. He was praying and clearly unaware of the spy at the window.

  Tom had to think what to do now. He had to call DS Barker immediately.

  He turned away from the window and moved towards the staircase. He was at the top of the steel stairs when he heard the sound of movement from behind. Before he could turn to see who was there or run down the steps, he was shoved hard from behind and lost his balance.

  Terror overwhelmed him in an instant as he fell forward. He opened his mouth to cry out in sheer panic but no sound escaped. He stuck his arms out, flailing in the blind hope of stopping what was happening but it was no use.

  He only managed to cry out in pain once he crashed down the stairs.

  22

  Tom tumbled down the stairs, hitting the edge of every step in places all over his body. His head spun and everything was in a loop to his eye as he fell. He reached out hopelessly as he fell and somehow, towards the bottom of the staircase, he managed to slow his fall by sticking his arm into the steel railings of the staircase. He came to a stop on the last two steps and lay on his side facing the steel steps.

  Pain shot through his whole body. He couldn’t move or feel his legs. He groaned in agony and lay there in confusion. He heard footsteps descending from above, getting louder as they approached him. He was so disoriented, he had forgotten what had caused his fall in the first place and the realisation that his attacker was coming down towards him filled him with terror all over again.

  He felt hands on his arm pull him and roll him down off the staircase until he lay on his back. He looked up into the night with the raindrops falling on his face, too dazed to gauge his surroundings and too numb to move.

  He saw Ejaz and the barman, Mobeen’s cousin, standing over him.

  “Get up!” the barman said and the two men pulled Tom up to his feet.

  Tom groaned as they held him up. He felt someone else’s arm around his chest.

  He looked at them and saw absolute hatred in their eyes.

  “I think my leg’s broken,” he managed to say.

  Ejaz grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and pulled him close. “It better be,” he said. “Or we’ll make sure.”

  Ejaz punched him in the stomach, winding him. Tom doubled over but was held up by the other men.

  Tom choked and struggled to breath. Ejaz grabbed him by his hair and pulled him back up. Ejaz held on and waited for Tom to catch his breath.

  Tom saw him clench his teeth and reel his fist back for another punch. This time aimed at his face.

  “You tryin’ to break into the bar?” Ejaz spat the words.

  “You can’t do this,” Tom said.

  “We can do what we want,” Ejaz said. “Call the police,” he said, to the barman. “Tell them we caught a burglar.”

  “I’m not a burglar. I wasn’t trying to break in.” Breathing out made Tom’s lungs hurt.

  He felt the arm around his chest slip away but someone, the barman perhaps, still held him up from behind.

  “Tell that to the cops,” Ejaz said and punched Tom in the face.

  It was a hook that connected against Tom’s cheek and rocked him back. The hands that held him came loose and he stumbled backwards before falling into a pile of bin liners behind him.

  He lay on his back and closed his eyes. He prayed they would just call the police and let them deal with him instead of continue beating him. At this rate, he was sure they were going to kill him and blame his injuries on the fall down the steel steps.

  He felt the pile of rubbish bags digging into his back. He couldn’t move at all.

  “I’m not a fucking burglar!” He didn’t think anything he said would matter to them but he had to deny the accusations. He was innocent but even he knew how this looked and cursed himself for getting into this situation.

  He lay there, with what was now torrential rain crashing down on his face, and wondered which one of his attackers had pushed him down the stairs. It was probably Ejaz and the thug had probably intended for the fall to kill him. Now that Tom had survived the fall, Ejaz was going to finish the job.

  The tall man, who had rested his hand on Tom’s shoulder inside the bar, seized his left arm, while the barman seized his right arm. Together they pulled him back up to his feet.

  Tom felt pain in his lower back but somehow he had regained the strength of movement in his legs. He was sure he didn’t need the men to hold him up anymore, not that the men were intent to let go of him. Ejaz stood in front of him.

  “Someone killed a teacher in front of me!” Tom said to him.

  “So fucking what?” Ejaz said.

  “You think that was my cousin?” the barman asked Tom. “Is that what you think?” he shook Tom hard by the arm. “I told you he was a good boy!”

  “A good boy that deals drugs?” Tom asked the barman. “He blames me for expelling him so he tried to get his revenge on me and ended up killing another teacher instead!”

  “That’s a lie!” the barman said.

  “It’s the truth! That man was my friend,” Tom said. “The police have been looking for Mobeen and you’ve been hiding him here – harbouring a suspected killer!”

  The barman slapped Tom across the face. “He never killed anyone!”

  The slap stung Tom but he focused past the pain. “...Then why hasn’t he said so himself?” Tom asked. “Why is he in hiding?”

  “
That’s it,” Ejaz said and darted towards Tom.

  Tom braced himself for another blow. He was convinced now there was no chance of him surviving this attack, especially now that he had revealed his suspicions about Mobeen.

  He knew too much for them to let him get away now.

  Ejaz grabbed Tom’s lapels with one hand and reared the other back, gearing for a punch.

  “Stop!”

  Ejaz froze and looked to his side.

  Tom followed his gaze and saw Mobeen standing at the bottom of the staircase. He was drenched in rain too and Tom realised he had been watching all along. It came to him then that it was Mobeen who shoved him down the staircase.

  “...Let him go,” Mobeen said.

  The men didn’t loosen their grip on Tom.

  “It’s okay,” Mobeen said. “Let him go.” He said it softer this time.

  The men let go of Tom and he slumped forward. He shifted his weight onto his right leg and faced Mobeen.

  “I had nothing to do with Mr Jones’ murder,” Mobeen said.

  “Then why the hell didn’t you just say so before?”

  “Why would I? I didn’t even know I was a suspect.”

  “Bullshit! The police came looking around for you. They spoke to your mum.”

  “Is that right?” Mobeen asked calmly.

  “Yes! ...What? Are you saying she didn’t tell you about that?”

  “Mr Smith, I haven’t spoken to my mum in a long time. I don’t live with her anymore.”

  “No, you hide out here in that fake mosque,” Tom said.

  “It’s not a fake mosque.”

  “It’s a hideout!”

  “I have nothing to hide,” Mobeen said.

  Tom thought carefully. “Alright,” he said. “Where were you on Monday at the time of the attack, around 5:15pm?”

  “I was here, obviously. Praying to the almighty.”

  Tom sneered. “Right. And I’m sure these are all your witnesses? Defenders of Islam, is it?”

  Mobeen smiled. “They are, actually. I was up there,” he pointed towards the back room where Tom had seen him. “And there were other brothers around too. I’m sure they can provide a statement to the police if it’s needed.”