‘So the clothing the killer was wearing—?’ Mariner began.
‘—would be pretty well covered in blood.’
‘According to Lily it was some kind of brown suit.’
‘Yeah, I’ve spoken to her. Her eyesight seems pretty sharp and what she’s told us seems accurate so I think we can go on that. So the brown suit would have needed to go to the cleaner’s or even more likely would have been destroyed. Hard to explain to the dry cleaner why your suit is covered in someone else’s blood.’
‘Have we got a time of death?’ Mariner asked.
‘Thanks to the weather the body was pretty ripe, as you saw,’ said Glover. ‘But they’re saying sometime late on Tuesday afternoon.’ Lining it up nicely with the last time that Yasmin was seen alive. Mariner tried not to deliberate too long on that equation.
‘Anything else?’
‘Only what Lily’s already told you; she’s pretty certain that the man she saw had dark hair.’ Like Mohammed Akram, thought Mariner. Did he own a brown suit? ‘It could, of course, depend on the angle of the sun at that time,’ Glover went on. ‘If the sun was behind or overhead it could be one detail that she’s mistaken on.’
‘It’s possible,’ agreed Mariner. ‘What about Colleen’s boyfriend, Marsh?’
‘We’re checking him out, but so far his alibi looks sound. He was still at work.’
‘That’s a pity,’ said Knox.
‘Yeah, isn’t it?’
‘Any thoughts on how it played out?’ Mariner asked.
‘Well, we have blood on the grass by the wooden bridge, but around that, nothing. And no sign of disturbance. However, working back from where the body was found is a kind of tunnel through the grass leading almost back to the bridge and also smeared with blood. Indications are that Ricky was killed at the bridge, then his killer carried him into the long grass and dumped him, coming back to the path to cover his tracks. It looks as if Ricky could have dragged himself further through the grass creating a kind of tunnel, to the point where we found him.’
‘Oh God, so he wasn’t dead,’ said Millie.
‘And crawling even further from the path did his killer a favour by delaying the discovery of his body. We’re continuing the search in the direction he was going to see if he was making for anything in particular. But he may just have been trying to get away. And you were right about the reason for Ricky being there,’ Glover added. ‘I asked Colleen. His dad used to take him fishing on the reservoir, but they hadn’t been for years. We still haven’t found his bike, but did they tell you about the Anderson?’
‘I didn’t get time to check in yesterday.’
‘Further round still from where Ricky’s body was found we came across an old Anderson shelter. From all the empty cans and crisp packets it looked as if Ricky had hidden out there before.’
‘He used to go off for the day at weekends,’ Mariner said, recalling the conversation with Colleen. ‘Is this all going to the press?’
‘It might have to. Fiske is desperate to get them off his back. How does a berk like him get to be in charge?’
‘One of life’s mysteries,’ said Mariner. ‘Did you ask Colleen about Yasmin?’
‘Yeah, and nearly got a black eye for it.’ Glover recounted the conversation, conducted under the beady gaze of Steven Marsh. ‘He didn’t seem to appreciate the timing.’
Mariner grimaced.
‘And Colleen just took it as further proof that we were more concerned with Yasmin than with Ricky, but basically the answer was no. She couldn’t see how Ricky would have known that “posh little Asian kid” even when I told her about the phone.’ Glover paused. ‘Question is though: would Colleen have even known?’
* * *
Sometime later Mariner and Knox drove over to Allah T’ala. For once Knox was quite chirpy, the rest of the time his jaw working hard on a gobbet of chewing gum, which he’d lately taken to chewing almost constantly. They were shown up to the same office where Mariner and Millie had first gone, and where Mohammed Akram, in shirtsleeves, his tie hanging loose, was studying some architect’s drawings. He jumped up as they went in, his face a turmoil of emotions. ‘You’ve found something?’
‘Nothing more. I’m sorry,’ said Mariner. ‘PC Khatoon has kept you up to date?’
‘She told us about the boy and that you found Yasmin’s phone. Do you think—?’
‘We’re trying to establish the facts,’ said Mariner, ‘which is why we need to clarify a couple of things with you.’
‘My wife is teaching a class.’
‘That’s fine,’ Mariner said. ‘I think you should be able to help us. The printer’s you were at in Kingsmead on Tuesday afternoon,’ said Mariner. ‘It’s some distance from your school. Why there?’
‘My last supplier closed about a year ago,’ said Akram. ‘I happened to mention this to one of Yasmin’s teachers at parents’ evening. Yasmin had been awarded a certificate and I asked where they had been printed. She recommended the place. I decided to try them.’
‘And tell me again, what time were you there on that Tuesday afternoon?’
‘Around four o’clock,’ said Akram. ‘I left about twenty or thirty minutes later. The meeting didn’t take long. I just needed to look at some proofs. But you know all this — I already told you.’
‘Will the printer be able to confirm that timing?’
‘I’m sure that he will.’
‘And from there you drove up to Bradford?’ Mariner confirmed.
‘—as I’ve already told you,’ said Akram irritably.
‘Did you go anywhere near Kingsmead station?’
‘No.’ He frowned. ‘I had no reason to do that.’
‘Yasmin would have just been leaving school at that time.’
‘I suppose she was. I didn’t really think about it.’
‘You weren’t tempted to meet her to discuss your recent disagreement?’
‘As I said before, that matter had been resolved.’
‘Mr Akram, do you own a brown suit?’
A slight pause. Surprised at the question or considering his answer? ‘Yes I do. As a matter of fact I have it here. It’s due to be dry cleaned.’
That was a piece of luck. ‘Could we see it?’
‘Er, yes.’ Akram left the room and several minutes later returned with the suit, protected in a plastic cover. It was a shade of mid-brown. For a suit that was going to the cleaner’s it also seemed spotlessly clean.
‘Mr Akram, I’m going to ask you again. Do you have any idea about the whereabouts of your daughter?’
Akram looked Mariner straight in the eye. ‘And I will tell you again, Inspector. No, I do not.’
* * *
‘That suit looked okay to me,’ said Knox, back in the baking heat of the car.
‘We didn’t ask him if he owns more than one.’
Knox gave him a sidelong look. ‘Just because all your suits are exactly the same colour—’
‘Two colours actually,’ Mariner corrected him.
‘All I’m saying is, most of us are a bit more adventurous.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Any time.’
* * *
‘Akram is consistent about the timing though,’ conceded Mariner. ‘Did the printer verify it?’
‘Over the phone, yes.’
Mariner sighed. ‘Even with the techies’ enhancements on the CCTV footage, I’m not sure that we’ll be able to determine the licence plate or the driver of that car.’
‘And if he’s telling the truth he’d have left the city before that was filmed.’
‘Did you believe him, that he didn’t realise Yasmin would be at the station at that time?’
‘Yeah,’ Knox nodded. ‘You’re not thinking about your kids all day long, especially when they get to that age. You’re starting to lead separate lives.’
‘Some more than others,’ said Mariner. ‘It just would be nice to know for sure.’
As it turned out, they
soon did. The appeal the night before had brought forward a young woman.
‘A Miss Devreaux called in just after you left,’ Millie told them, on their return to Granville Lane. ‘Her fiancée met her from the station yesterday in his midnight blue Mercedes. He parked exactly where the camera is pointed. They even had a row because she was late.’
‘Shit.’
‘Does it rule Akram out?’ Millie asked.
‘It confirms that he wasn’t at the station then.’ Mariner sighed. ‘But Yasmin’s phone was found between the station and the printer’s. ‘I want to go and talk to the printer.’
‘Nothing like going over old ground,’ muttered Knox.
‘It’s called being thorough,’ said Mariner.
‘Yes, boss.’
* * *
Printer Tim Randall was pretty certain about the timing of Akram’s visit. He told them so in his design office, while a couple of his graphic artists were laying out proofs. ‘We were in the middle of a big print run and as he left I remember looking at the clock to see how much time we’d got left to finish up. We were cutting it a bit fine.’
‘And what time was it?’ asked Mariner.
‘A couple of minutes off half past four, give or take. That clock probably isn’t a hundred percent accurate.’
So that was that.
‘He didn’t drive off straight away.’ The young man who spoke up was leaning over the drawings, cornrows sprouting from his head.
‘Are you sure?’ asked Mariner.
‘Yeah, I went out for a fag about quarter to five and he was still there, his flashy Mercedes parked down at the end of the loop, by the bins.’
The lad wasn’t wearing a watch, Mariner noticed. ‘How can you be so sure of the timing?’
He grinned. ‘I’m trying to quit, so I’m spacing them out. This week I’m out there at five o’clock, last week it was quarter to.’
‘Did you see him drive off?’
‘No. He was still out there when I came back in. Doesn’t take long to smoke a fag and I’m only allowed the one.’
‘Was Mr Akram definitely in his car? Was there anyone with him?’ Mariner asked.
He tilted his head doubtfully. ‘All I noticed was the car.’
* * *
Outside they looked down towards ‘the loop,’ the neck of the cul-de-sac, where a row of industrial-sized steel bins backed up against a wooden fence — on the other side of which was the reservoir.
‘The kid saw Akram’s car parked outside at quarter to five. It doesn’t mean that he was in it. He could have easily been down there with Yasmin,’ said Knox.
Mariner wasn’t so sure. ‘When we were on the bridge I remember looking up to this industrial estate,’ he said. ‘If there was a way through to the reservoir from here, don’t you think we’d have noticed it?’
‘Not if we weren’t looking for it,’ said Knox. ‘And it may only have been used once or twice. If Akram did have unfinished business with Yasmin, it would have been a much more private place to meet her.’
That was true enough and they found what they were looking for in minutes. Behind the giant bins a panel of fencing had split, creating an opening easily large enough for someone to squeeze through. Standing on the concrete plinth Mariner could look down towards the bridge and the sludge beyond. Running through the long grass was the unmistakable pale line caused by a single passage through it.
‘So what now? Back to Mr Akram?’ Knox asked.
But Mariner shook his head. ‘We need to keep onto everything else, too. I’d like to have a closer look at what you found on Shaun Pryce first.’
* * *
But the database had turned up little of interest. ‘Only one minor offence in the past, boss: possession of cannabis.’ Knox closed the record sheet. ‘I thought this was more interesting.’
He’d bookmarked a site and when he double-clicked it, a whole webpage appeared devoted to Shaun Pryce: actor and model. On it Pryce was described as a ‘talented and versatile’ character actor who’d played a range of diverse and challenging roles, most notably that of romantic lead, and who was also available for modelling and voice-over work. ‘I bet he wrote that himself,’ said Knox. ‘Shame we can’t bring him in for blatant self-promotion.’
‘I want to talk to him again though,’ said Mariner. ‘He frequents the reservoir area and I’d like to know what he really does there. SOCO have found spliffs and condoms. I want to see if there’s anything else we can shake out of him. I wonder if Charlie Glover would like to come.’
‘Sounds like fun,’ was Glover’s reaction.
* * *
The daytime contact Shaun Pryce had given them belonged to a property about three quarters of a mile from the reservoir, one of a collection of houses in what estate agents would refer to as a ‘much sought-after area.’ Consequently most places had been extended in one way or another. The addition that Pryce was working on would practically double the size of the property — plenty of electrical work here to keep him busy. There was no sign of his VW Golf alongside the assorted vehicles parked outside, but when they asked Mrs Paleczcki, the owner of the house she took them through to where Pryce was working alone, in what looked like a newly created ground-floor room. ‘Shaun, there’s someone to see you,’ she said.
Pryce turned from where he was kneeling on the floor fixing a double socket to a freshly plastered wall. Their footsteps echoed on the bare floorboards and the air glistened with dust. Raw wires sprouted from walls elsewhere around the room awaiting his attention. A tinny radio blared some kind of phone-in programme that ricocheted around the emptiness. Elsewhere in the house was the tap-tap, bang-bang-bang of other work progressing.
‘Would you like a cup of tea, love?’ Today Pryce was in T-shirt and shorts, his tattoos standing out vividly against his bronzed skin and there was no mistaking the look on Mrs Paleczcki’s face as she spoke to him. Knox had been close to the mark: it was Confessions of an Electrician all over again.
Pryce grinned. ‘You know just what to say to a man.’
The hospitality wasn’t extended as far as Mariner or Glover. Mrs Paleczcki not encouraging them to hang around any longer than was necessary.
‘How can I help?’ Pryce asked, his demeanour casual, but the voice guarded. He seemed to have lost some of the confidence he’d had a couple of days ago. But a lot had happened since then and he must know that they’d found Ricky.
‘You can stop pissing us around and tell us what you really get up to at the reservoir,’ said Mariner, without ceremony.
‘Is that where they found that kid?’
‘You know that very well. We’ve found your little retreat, too.’
‘Oh.’
‘So? What is it you do there?’ Mariner repeated.
‘I go there to top up my tan,’ said Pryce.
Mariner wasn’t sure whether to believe that. ‘Most people sunbathe in their own gardens or in the park,’ he said.
‘I live in a first-floor flat,’ said Pryce. ‘And anyway, some of the modelling work I do, my tan needs to be . . . comprehensive.’
‘You sunbathe nude,’ said Glover.
‘I’m not harming anyone.’
Mrs Paleczcki came back in with the tea. Mariner wondered if she knew about Pryce’s all-over tan and decided that she probably did. ‘When was the last time you were there?’ he asked Pryce, when she had gone. ‘And this time we’d like the truth.’
Pryce hesitated, no doubt deciding what to say to avoid incriminating himself. ‘The day I met you lot,’ he said, eventually.
‘Don’t be a smart arse, I mean before that.’ Mariner’s impatience was beginning to show.
‘The week before, I suppose.’
‘Day and time?’
Pryce considered for a moment. ‘Tuesday, about one o’clock.’
‘Till when?’
‘I don’t know. Half one, two.’
‘Is there anyone who can verify that?’
‘The rest of
the crew here can vouch for me.’
Mariner looked around him pointedly. ‘And they are?’
‘Upstairs right now. We started on the loft conversion this week.’
Mariner could only guess at the motley bunch that comprised Pryce’s co-workers. He’d have laid bets that, like Pryce, they’d be mainly casual labourers with more than a couple of criminal records between them, and therefore didn’t have much confidence in any of them as a firm alibi. Nonetheless he signalled Glover to go and check it out.
‘So what were you doing for nearly an hour? And don’t give me any bird-watching bullshit. We all know you wouldn’t know a redshank from a shag.’
‘I was chilling out,’ said Pryce sulkily. ‘It may not look like it to you but this is bloody hard work, especially in the heat. Sometimes I have to help with the labouring too.’
‘My heart bleeds. Take Mrs Paleczcki with you?’
‘She’s a married woman,’ Pryce said, avoiding the question.
‘But you’ve taken women there before. Either that or you’re the only man I know who practises safe sex with himself.’
‘You sure they’re mine? I’m a good Catholic boy, me.’
‘When’s the last time you took a woman there?’ repeated Mariner.
‘Not for a while.’
‘Oh? What about your insatiable sexual appetite? Losing your touch?’
‘The last one I took there didn’t like the long grass. Said it scratched her. Got into all those uncomfortable little places. So I haven’t bothered since.’
‘When was that?’
‘Ages ago. Probably sometime back in May. It’s hard to remember.’
‘See a lot of women, do you?’ said Mariner.
‘I can’t help it if they find me irresistible.’
‘Anything else? How about a smoke?’
Pryce could tell that they’d found the cannabis. No point in denying it. ‘I might have smoked a couple of joints.’
‘Does your employer know about your habit? It must improve your wiring skills no end.’
‘I know what I’m doing. I’m careful.’
Innocent Lies (Reissue) Page 17
