Uncoiled Lies: a stunning crime thriller Page 24

  ‘However, none of these girls have been displayed with any precision. No ritual, no specific placing of the body or manoeuvring of the limbs… and more importantly, no apparent trophy taking.’ He looked over the top of his glasses. ‘That’s not to say the “perp” isn’t a sociopath; he probably is. He certainly gets off on pain: why else violate them when they’re conscious? But, each of these three is dissimilar in looks and stature. There’s no sign that he’s unravelling, yet the attacks have no clear time frame. He doesn’t appear to be evolving either. He’s not “fine-tuned” his approach, he’s left no calling card, other than the bottle which, your forensic report states, contain trace evidence indicating they’ve been left discarded in the vicinity. Thus, he’s not brought the bottle with him, but relied on finding one nearby. If he was an organised killer, he’d wouldn’t rely on that chance. So, what would he do if he couldn’t find a bottle? Would his MO vary? I suspect he’d use anything that came to hand to make his point.’

  So, thought Gus, although we’re looking for a sociopath of some description, we are looking for a sadist. It would be worth finding out more about the Eastern European girl Charlotte had found being beaten and brought to the Prossie Palace. Maybe when Charlotte came round she’d be able to say if it had been the same man who attacked her.

  Carlton continued, ‘He enjoys dominating his victims, there’s no doubt of that. He’s clearly a misogynist and yes, he has committed a series of killings, but he seems to employ a quite arbitrary victim selection procedure… unless his motive reaches beyond just killing and maiming prostitutes.’

  He turned his computer screen showing photographs of the bodies of Camilla and Starlight in situ. ‘The way Camilla is lying face down whilst Starlight is rolled partly onto her side, seems like the attacker finished his “job” and just left them however they landed. Why go to the bother of doing his thing with the bottle if he wasn’t going to display his work? That makes me think it’s more of an execution type of kill. He strangles them repeatedly because he enjoys watching them suffer. He waits until they’re unable to struggle any more before using the bottle and then he strangles them one last time and just leaves their bodies as they are. This smacks to me of murder to order… gang related? Turf war? And, if it is territorial, there will be other similar crimes, stabbings, strangulations going on locally too. They will be linked but they probably haven’t crossed your radar yet. Follow the patterns of low-level crime and it’ll lead you to the organisers… this perpetrator will, more than likely, be a sadist employed by bigger fish.’

  Without warning, he jumped to his feet and headed for the door leaving them still sitting, ‘Got to go, got a lecture to prospective students to deliver… lucky little fuckers! You need owt else, email me.’ And he was off, leaving Gus and Alice looking at each other, speechless.

  On the drive back to Bradford, Alice said, ‘Well, if what he says is right, and I think it sounds reasonable, that doesn’t rule out Shahid Khan for Trixie’s murder does it?’

  Gus had been thinking along those very lines himself, but he still couldn’t work out why Shahid would kill Trixie. He seemed serious about wanting to settle down with her and raise the baby. His grief seemed real and, although he’d seen murderers display seemingly real grief for their victims in the past, Gus felt disinclined to think that Shahid’s masked culpability. He’d been wrong before though, so he wouldn’t rule it out. ‘No, it doesn’t, and it makes me think we need to look a bit more closely at those stabbings that nurse told us about. See if we can find a link. I’ll get Compo on it when we get back.’

  ‘Maybe Charlotte will come round soon and give us a positive ID on her attacker.’

  ‘That would be great but, she’s been through a lot and we don’t know what her prognosis is yet. We’ll keep digging and we will eventually come up with something, Al.’

  Chapter 58

  17:45 The Delius

  Shahid sat slumped over his desk, his eyes fixed on the bank of TVs that looked over The Delius. He felt numb. He knew he was stewing in his own sweat but he’d no energy or inclination to do anything about it. What was the point? He’d lost Trixie, he’d lost his baby. He had nothing left. Nothing to look forward to, no future. He opened his desk drawer and rummaged about until he found what he was looking for… three packets of an antidepressant that had been prescribed to his step-mum years earlier. Probably out of date by now but they’d do the job. He peered into the depths and, lurking in the corner, found two packets of Paracetamol. That should do the trick. He slammed the drawer shut and opening the lower one, he took out the bottle of whisky he kept there for emergencies.

  He rubbed his hand over his stubbly chin and then rubbed his sore eyes, savouring the gritty sensation beneath his lids. Sniffing, he began to pop each pill from its blister pack until they lay in a sizeable pile on his desktop. Strangely calm now, he poured whisky into a pint glass and lifting it to his lips he took a preparatory sip. Ready now, he raised his eyes to the TV monitors to take a last look round the most important part of his empire. As he watched, Imti opened the back door and, swinging a black bin bag in one hand, he walked across the concrete paving to the huge industrial bins that stood against the back wall. Without warning, a figure emerged from between two of the bins. Shahid saw the figure look straight at the camera and then, smirking, he raised his hand and pulled it back. Before Shahid had time to register what was in the man’s hand, he heard a crash through the speakers and then the monitor covering that area flickered and died. Fuck! thought Shahid, his heart thudding as he jumped to his feet. ‘Imti!’

  In his haste he scattered the pills and upturned his glass over the desk, where it soaked into a pile of paperwork before dripping onto the wooden floor splashing whisky onto his jeans. Storming out of his office, he took the stairs two at a time, yelling for Jai to ‘Get to the fucking back door. Pronto.’ What the fuck had he just seen? He’d recognised that bloke but, for the moment, couldn’t think where from. All he knew was that his brother was in danger and he had to get to him quickly.

  Reaching the door, seconds before, Jai appeared from the lounge area, he barrelled into the metal fire escape bar and when it bounced open, he fell out into the back yard. All of his earlier lethargy dissipated now; Shahid regained his balance and whirling round he ran towards the bins. He was praying frantically to a God he’d never depended on before and his breath came in short gasps. Please let Imti be all right. I couldn’t bear to lose him too.

  Aware of Jai pounding at his heels, he reached the spot where he’d last seen Imti. He stopped momentarily when he saw the dark oozing liquid seep across the concrete from the side of the bin and with a primal yell, he rounded the corner and there, sprawled in an unmoving heap like a discarded pile of rubbish was Imti, the contents of the black bin bag he’d carried scattered all around him.

  Shahid fell to his knees, heedless of the blood soaking into his jeans and seeing Imti’s eyes flutter, he pulled his T-shirt up to check out the wound. Sensing Jai beside him, he yelled, ‘Get an ambulance here, now.’ And, as Jai got out his phone, Shahid pressed his hands onto the oozing wound in Imti’s stomach, barely aware of Jai’s urgent mutterings on the phone.

  When Jai knelt beside him, Shahid, ignoring the tears that streamed down his face and diluted the blood on his hands, said, ‘It was that bastard from the other night. Saw him on the monitors. See if you can find him. He can’t have got far. Get him.’

  Chapter 59

  18:00 The Hare and Hounds, Toller Lane

  Sampson had left the Dhosang’s house with his head reeling and had gravitated to The Hare and Hounds on Toller Lane, craving the homely comforts of wood fires, friendly faces and a good pint. He also knew that the chances of bumping into someone from work were miniscule. Most of his colleagues frequented The Kings Arms right next door to The Fort and, until he got his head round all he’d discovered earlier, he needed some space. His mind was full of too many questions and no bloody answers.

  W
hat was he supposed to tell Sadia? How could he tell her that her dad was having an affair with Millie Green? Was it even relevant? He’d fleetingly thought that, maybe, he could avoid sharing that information with Sadia, but he knew deep down that that would be impossible. He’d have to bite the bullet and tell her.

  Fuck, this was a car crash. He wished he hadn’t been so keen to work with Sadia on this when Gus had suggested it. Not only that, but Gus had made it plain that he wanted nothing to do with it. Deniability or some such thing. Now, he was in the firing line and he’d no idea what to do. Nodding to Adam, the bartender, for a refill, Sampson settled in for a long night of worry.

  Chapter 60

  18:55 Bradford Royal Infirmary

  Having reprimanded three teenagers in clown masks who been running around the grounds frightening hospital visitors when she’d parked up, Sadia wasn’t in the mood for visiting. She’d spent the afternoon avoiding her dad when she’d have liked nothing better than to go home, run a warm bath and have a long soak. She guessed that by now, Councillor Majid would have reported her earlier visit to The Delius and was certain that this would prompt yet another lecture from her dad about who she mixed with, the unsuitability of her job and, of course, the old chestnut about going to Pakistan to get married. She just didn’t have the energy for it.

  She felt physically and mentally exhausted. It had been a long day following on from a longer night and all this emotional stuff combined with the pressures of the current investigation just added to her anxiety. Gus was at the end of his tether and she wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to keep a lid on their relationship without confronting her dad. A confrontation between Gus and her dad was the last thing she wanted. It could only end badly.

  It infuriated her that her father, who’d had the freedom to choose his own wife, albeit it within the Islamic community, could employ such double standards where she was concerned. Apart from the fact that things were getting serious between her and Gus, did her dad really think that she’d find a better life partner by trolling for a spouse in Pakistan than in scouring the streets of Bradford? It’s not like there was a dearth of Muslims to choose from in the district. But the problem for Sadia was that she didn’t want that. No, she wasn’t prepared to forsake her independence and that was one of the reasons that Gus was so appealing. He put no constraints on her independence. In fact, he expected her to be her own woman, make her own decisions. It was sexy as hell to know her opinions were valued… and of course he’d a great body, too. She smiled. Thinking of Gus always made her smile.

  Realising that she’d attracted the attention of the security guard at the main entrance by grinning like an idiot, she waved at him, before heading up to the intensive care wards to check out Charlotte. If there had been any significant change in her condition, they would have been informed but Gus wanted to make sure that whichever officer on duty was aware that Charlotte’s mother was definitely not allowed near her.

  Buzzing through the entrance, she was pleased to see that the nursing staff had provided the uniformed officer with a chair, a cup of tea and some toast. Sadia grinned and threw the officer the bag of crisps and chocolate bar she’d brought. ‘Any change?’

  Ripping the wrapper from the chocolate, the officer shook her head. ‘Not really. The consultant’s been in and they’ve reduced her meds but, she’s still not stirring. They’re not worried though. Say it’s a matter of time.’

  Remembering from her own experience, how mind-numbingly boring guard duty could be, Sadia sent the officer off for a fifteen-minute break. Taking her coat off, she flung it over the chair and prepared to watch the ward activity. It was busy, but quiet. The nurses moved around the ward with a purposefulness that Sadia envied. She wished she felt as purposeful. Instead, she felt that the Millie Green investigation was a dead end. They seemed to be treading water on the murders and her home life was tense. The only thing giving her any satisfaction, at the minute, was Gus.

  Standing up, she looked through the square window into Charlotte’s room. She was hooked up to a range of monitors that stood around the top of her bed. Flashing numbers, zig zag lines accompanied by the occasional beep accentuated the desperation of her condition. Her already fragile frame seemed dwarfed under the tightly secured sheets that covered her body. From the back of her skinny hand sprouted a cannula which led to a drip that hung like a towering triffid beside the bed. From where she stood, Sadia could see that Charlotte looked ashen, the healthy coffee complexion she remembered replaced by a deathly pallor. Beneath her bruised eyelids, her eyes flickered but as far as Sadia could see, she was otherwise motionless. Sadia bit her lip as angry tears sprang in her eyes. What sort of bastard did that to a young girl? As the intensive care nurse took Charlotte’s pulse, Sadia turned away with a sigh. It looked like it could be a long wait before they could speak to Charlotte.

  Down the corridor, a young girl walked out of the relative’s room and approached one of the side rooms. Sadia frowned. The girl looked vaguely familiar. She shook her head… no, probably mistaken. As she watched, the girl hesitated and then waved to a figure who was walking up the corridor from the ward entrance. It was a boy, maybe a couple of years younger than the girl. As he approached the girl, Sadia heard them speaking in Polish and the girl turned and walked back up the ward with the boy. Clearly siblings, she thought. Then, as they got nearer the girl flicked a glance in Sadia’s direction and Sadia froze. She did recognise this girl. She’d seen her on the CCTV Imti had shown her from The Delius. According to Imti the tear tattooed man was not her brother, so what had he been doing at the hospital the previous night? From the footage she’d seen, there was no love lost between the two of them.

  The girl had her hand ready to push open the door of a side when Sadia spoke. ‘Excuse me, I just wanted to have a quick word with you.’

  The boy turned, angling himself slightly in front of his sister as if to protect her. Sadia smiled and held out her warrant card. ‘I’m DS Sadia Hussain. I wanted to speak with you about an incident at The Delius club in Thornbury on Thursday night.’

  The boy raised an eyebrow and looked at his sister as she took a step forward. Darting what Sadia took to be nervous glances back down the corridor towards the ward entrance, she spoke in a quiet but rushed tone. ‘I can’t speak to you here. Please wait. I’ll come when I can.’

  Not wanting to cause the girl any discomfort, Sadia nodded and backed away, allowing the girl to push open the door and, with a grateful smile, disappear inside. Moments later the main ward door buzzed open admitting the man Sadia assumed was the girl’s father. Looks like the girl wasn’t too keen on letting her dad know she was willing to talk to the police. Wonder why?

  Trusting the girl to make an appearance and knowing she couldn’t leave without passing her, Sadia chatted with the uniformed officer, who’d returned from her break. Sadia had recognised the flicker of fear in the Polish girl’s eyes when she’d flashed her warrant card, but, if she was right, that fear had quickly been replaced by a look of determination. She felt sure this girl had something important to share.

  Chapter 61

  19:20 Duckworth Lane

  Since dropping the bombshell on DCS Hussain earlier, Brighton had busied himself trying to trace Trixie’s relatives. If they were anything like that Charlotte’s mum, the whore would probably have been better off without them anyway. He grimaced. No matter how bad her parents had been though, it didn’t mean she’d got to go whoring herself for the likes of Bazza Green. Plenty of help out there for young girls without them slutting around like that. Half of them probably deserved what they got anyway, flaunting themselves on the streets, playing hard to get and then backing out last minute. Yes, he’d had a few girlfriends like that. Gagging for it to begin with and then all of a sudden crying ‘no’. He’d soon set them straight, though. He shrugged. Since his last divorce he was happy on his own. A bit of porn and a gin and tonic of an evening were a lot less hassle than a woman any day.
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  He’d not managed to get a line on Trixie by the time Sadia got back from whatever little rendezvous she’d had with Sampson. Stupid bitch thought he hadn’t noticed her sodding off with the lad. Probably letting him get his leg over as well. So when she got up to leave a while since, he’d decided to follow. Hussain hadn’t told him to keep following her, but, then again, he hadn’t instructed him to stop either. Besides which, the way the bitch, McGuire and Sampson had cosied up earlier, made Brighton sure he was being kept out of the loop on something important… and that would never do.

  So far she’d not done anything very exciting. He’d heard Gus tell her to check on the whore that was in intensive care and that seemed to be what she was doing. Brighton was too smart to park in the BRI car park so he’d parked near Bradford Girls’ Grammar School and walked up to Duckworth Lane. He could see her car from where he stood on the opposite side of the road, but he doubted she’d notice him from the car park. When she came back, he’d have time to run back to his car and be ready to follow her.

  Standing under a tree, which protected him from the light drizzle that had started, he wondered what Sadia’s dad would do. He’d seen the man’s Paki face lose colour when he’d looked at the photos and recognised his daughter. The way his hands had bunched into fists on top of the desk had made Brighton wonder for a second if he was going to punch him. Then he’d relaxed and his expression had loosened. Brighton had breathed a silent sigh of relief. He didn’t want to take a punch from the DCS but he knew that he’d be quids in if Hussain had lost control and lashed out. He’d mentally prepared himself not to retaliate should that happen, but the other man had managed to keep control. He wondered what Hussain was thinking about him. The last thing he wanted was to be in his bad books. He suspected he’d got off lightly, so far.