Uncoiled Lies: a stunning crime thriller Page 5

  Sadia shook her head. ‘He can’t make trouble for me.’

  ‘Well, watch your back, anyway. His sort are nasty’

  Sadia guided Jessica over to a waiting police car. ‘Tell me what you can about Trixie and how you found her. Then I’ll get you home.’

  Jessica slipped into the back seat of the car and scootled over to allow Sadia to climb in beside her before speaking. ‘We shared a flat. She was one of Bazza’s, like me, and at the minute she is his pet, which meant free rent for us.’

  ‘What do you mean, his “pet”?’

  ‘Well, you know? His pet, his girl, his screw – whatever. She only had to work weekends; the rest of the time she was Bazza’s – well, mainly Tuesdays and Thursdays – and, in return, we got free rent.’

  ‘Uggh, Jess, that’s horrid.’

  Jess grinned. ‘Better the devil you know, Sadia. It’s much safer doing Bazza than a stranger. At least with Bazza, it’s always over quick.’

  Sadia shook her head and grinned at the girl. ‘You’re terrible, Jess.’ Then, as the import of Jessica’s words sunk in her face fell. ‘You mean…? He’s your uncle, Jess!’

  Jessica shook her head. ‘Don’t get your knickers in a flap, Sadia. Just winding you up. Not me. He wouldn’t fucking dare. Nah, just telling you what the other girls say.’

  Sadia frowned, concerned that comparatively, it seemed almost acceptable for Bazza to hold one of his working girls to ransom for free rent rather than screw his niece. What the hell was she thinking? Bazza Green wasn’t acceptable in anybody’s world. Mind you, she didn’t have to survive in Bazza’s world – thank God! ‘Where did Trixie come from?’

  Jessica frowned, ‘I’m not sure, you know. She was sort of secretive. But she did talk about Brid a lot.’

  ‘You don’t know much about her, yet you say she’s your best friend?’

  Jessica looked at the ground. ‘She was my best friend and I’m going to miss her like hell. But you don’t know what it’s like in this world, Sadia. Your parents were always there for you… I lost mine.’

  ‘I know, Jess. I was there. I saw it.’

  Jessica lifted her head and met Sadia’s eyes. ‘You were there that night?’

  ‘Yeah, I saw it from our living room window.’

  Jessica sniffed and straightened her back in a gesture Sadia remembered from their childhood. ‘Hmm, well that’s done now. Fact is Trixie and I trusted each other, but we didn’t confide about the past. We both wanted to move on and so we lived for now.’

  ‘How old was she?’

  ‘Younger than me – ’bout eighteen, I suppose.’

  ‘How long had you known her?’

  ‘Two years, give or take.’

  ‘Jessica, I want you to think really hard about this one, okay?’

  Jessica nodded.

  ‘Do you have any idea who might have done this to Trixie?’

  Jessica thought for a minute and then shook her head.

  ‘No dodgy punters, or a dealer she’d pissed off?’

  ‘Don’t know why you’re asking that, Sadia. Surely it’s the same sicko that did them other two last week?’

  Sadia laid a gentle hand on Jess’ arm. ‘We don’t know that for sure. We need to make sure we cover every possibility. We wouldn’t be doing our job, otherwise.’

  Pursing her lips, Jessica hesitated then nodded. ‘Yeah, okay, Sad. I see what you mean, but I just can’t think of anybody who’d want to hurt her. She was popular, you know? The punters and the other girls liked her.’

  Sadia tapped the tip of her pencil on her notebook and frowning said, ‘Why was she here tonight though, Jess. You said she was always with Bazza on a Thursday, so she wasn’t turning tricks tonight, was she?’

  Jessica shrugged, ‘No, she should’ve been with Baz. He phoned, said she wasn’t picking up her phone, so I came looking for her. Thought she might’ve been,’ Jess’ eyes flitted round the car, ‘you know? Like, looking for a hit. She’d been clean for a couple of months, but round here it’s easy to slip off the wagon.’

  As tears rolled down Jessica’s cheeks, she used the corner of the blanket to wipe them away.

  Sadia shut her notebook with a sigh. ‘Come on, Jess, I’ll get someone to drive you home. We’ll call round tomorrow. You left your address with someone?’

  23:30 Lilycroft Allotments

  Gus watched Sadia bundle the girl into the car with a gentleness she didn’t often show; well, at least not in the incident room anyway. ‘Anything useful?’ he asked, watching as the car carrying Jessica drove off.

  ‘Not a lot.’ Sadia tossed their empty coffee cups into the black bin bag that had been hooked on the fence. ‘She’s about eighteen. Trixie. No surname. Like Alice said she may have come from Bridlington – may not. Been here two years or so. Worked for Bazza Green and,’ her mouth screwed up, ‘at present she was his “pet” or regular screw. According to Jessica there were no dodgy punters or crazed dealers after payment. No reason for anyone to kill her. What about you?’

  Gus hunched into his coat and shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Apart from catching Alice taking a fiver off an unsuspecting plod after winning a bet about what my dad wore under his damn kilt, not a fucking lot. The MO looks almost exactly like the other two girls. We’ll have to wait for the PM tomorrow.’

  Sadia frowned and stepped closer to him. Her tone sounded accusing when she spoke, ‘Do you think your dad knows something?’

  Gus turned and studied her face. Judging by the sparks in her eyes, she was in a mood. What had he done now? He cleared his throat. ‘About what?’

  Before Sadia could reply, Alice bounced towards them balancing three Styrofoam containers in her outstretched hands. ‘Does who know something about what?’

  Sadia maintained eye contact with Gus, who frowned thinking, looks like I’ll be in for it later on. With a sigh, he rearranged his face into a smile and turned to Alice. ‘Nobody, Al. That’s the problem. Nobody seems to know anything.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Alice handed a fresh coffee to each of them. Sadia accepted hers with an abrupt ‘Thanks’ and marched away from them towards her car.

  Seeing Alice’s lips tighten as her eyes followed Sadia, Gus stifled a groan. What the hell was it with those two? Ever since The Matchmaker case there had been an uneasy truce between them and he always seemed to be the one that got it in the neck from one or other of them. Bracing himself, he waited for the onslaught, which wasn’t long coming.

  Planting her small frame in front of him and pinning him with her dark eyes Alice said, ‘What’s going on with you and Sadia?’

  Gus ran his fingers through his dreads and, feeling like a naughty schoolboy, puffed out a huge waft of air. He hated deceiving Alice. She’d been great earlier in the year and he hated cutting her out of the loop. ‘Aw, Al, come on give me a break. I’m not holding anything back. You know we share everything on this team. It’s how we work. How I work. Now, come on, let’s see if the door-to-doors have got owt for us, and then we can call it a night. Briefing at 7am prompt, okay?’

  Alice shrugged and allowed him to point her in the direction of the waiting officers

  23:40 Lilycroft Allotments

  As the heater blasted away the last of her shivers and the wipers cleared away the odd specks of rain and wet leaves, Alice sat in her Mini Cooper thinking about Gus and Sadia. She’d known they were keeping something from her earlier and now she’d seen them huddled together between their cars before they drove off separately.

  They’d looked furtive and she couldn’t rid herself of the uneasy feeling that their furtiveness was connected to her. She wasn’t altogether convinced by Gus’ denial earlier. She’d felt excluded for a few weeks now. Nothing too damning, too specific, just the feeling of conversations cut short when she entered the room. Then, there was that one time she’d asked them for a drink after work and they’d both made up an excuse, but later on she’d seen them heading off together in Gus’ car. Didn’t they trust her? D
id they think that because of what happened down in Brent last year she was a detriment to the team? A weak link? Hadn’t she proven herself in the child trafficking case? She’d always thought so, and Gus had told her she’d done a good job. After all, she’d headed up the investigation at the start before he was fit to come back to work.

  Alice heaved a great sigh and banged her hand on the steering wheel. Of course! God, how could she have been such a fool? Sadia’s dad, DCS Hussain, was keeping tabs on her via Sadia and Gus. And now DCI Nancy Chalmers wasn’t here to watch her back. She should have expected repercussions after everything in Brent, but she’d been lulled into a false sense of security since then. Like the stupid, gullible thing she was, she’d put it behind her and assumed everyone else had too. Well, she’d just have to show them wouldn’t she? She’d prove to them she was up to the job – even if it killed her.

  23:45 Lilycroft Allotments

  Standing in the shadows, he flicked the cigarette butt into the air with his index finger, sending a cascade of orange sparks into the petrol-marbled puddle, where they hissed briefly before being extinguished. He pushed himself upright and watched, with a grin, as Alice’s brake lights flickered at the end of the road before she turned left. He’d seen her huddled in her car watching the mighty Gus McGuire flirt with that sanctimonious Hussain cow. The light from the passing police cars as they headed back to The Fort had been enough to tell him she was not a happy bunny.

  Maybe she fancied a bit of brown cock for herself or maybe she just didn’t like her hero showing interest in another bit of skirt. Made no odds to him what her reasons were. He was just pleased to have a bit of inside info. After all, info was currency at The Fort and by the way the Hussain bitch and McGuire were cosying up together it looked like he’d just hit the jackpot. Wonder what DCS Hussain would say to his little Paki bint screwing her boss.

  Friday

  07:00 Birmingham

  Shahid woke to a dim light breaking through a chink in the floral curtains. An orchestra of snoring assaulted his ears. Uncle Majid’s low rumble provided the bass; Imti’s sporadic snorts were the flutes; and cousin Aftab’s high pitched yelps, the strings section.

  Shahid groaned and rolled onto his back, making the precarious bunk bed wobble alarmingly. The attic room was large enough to house two bunk beds and the massive Ikea wardrobes that lined one wall. On the floor were Shahid’s and Imti’s roller cases. The lids were thrown back and their clothes hung out from when they’d rummaged through them the previous night for something suitable to wear when sharing a room with your uncle.

  Shahid’s eyes felt gritty and a glance at his phone told him he’d only been asleep for a couple of hours. It’d been late when he and Imti had arrived the previous night. Traffic on the M1 had been appalling and flash flooding compounded it. Then, of course, when they’d arrived, tired and longing for bed, Uncle Majid had wanted to catch up on things in Bradford and Shahid had felt duty-bound to sit with the men, talking about nothing very important, whilst the women served them samosas, bhajia and soft drinks. The atmosphere was festive with wedding garlands strung up inside the house and Shaadi Mubarak lights blinking on and off through the darkness in red and gold. His huge extended family were all staying over and for Shahid it was all a bit too much. Imti loved all this stuff, but he hated it. He hated the old aunties teasing him about getting married and threatening to get him a nice girl from Pakistan. His Mirpuri Punjabi was poor and he was well out of practice so he ended up with a headache from trying to concentrate on the various conversations in the crowded room. If Imti hadn’t insisted, Shahid knew he would have missed the wedding altogether. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his cousin. On the contrary, Aftab was a good bloke, but Shahid hated the air of superiority some of his uncles carried. The way they judged him and Imti because of the things his father had done. Imti seemed oblivious, but he heard every sneering word and saw every hateful smirk. Shahid could’ve done with a beer but, even though his uncle was Western in many ways, he still didn’t countenance alcohol and Shahid was sensitive enough to respect that.

  He had kept slipping out of the room to check his phone, but there was still nothing from Trixie. From the surreptitious glances Imti kept sending his way, Shahid could sense that he was getting annoyed with him. He probably thought he was checking his phone for some dodgy deal or other. On the journey to Birmingham Imti had done nothing but natter on about cleaning up the business, making it legitimate… on and fucking on. In the end Shahid had turned on the radio and suffered the pounding Bollywood station Imti loved so much in order to get him off his back. As Imti sang along in tuneless Hindi, he’d pretended to doze and instead spent his time worrying about Trixie.

  Their cousin Aftab was due to be married later on today. They’d done the civil ceremony last month; today was the Islamic one with the Imam. Shahid was pleased Aftab had broken the mould and married a Gujarati Muslim called Jasmine instead of one of his cousins from the village in Pakistan. Shahid had seen some of his friends marry their cousins only to end up having kids with congenital heart conditions and the like. It was about time things changed. You only had to look at the royal family’s history to see how fucked up that had been in the past. He, for one, had no intention of marrying his cousin. Well, he had Trixie now anyway. And he was happy with her. As soon as they could they’d get married and then maybe he would consider what Imti said about cleaning up the business.

  Thinking of Trixie, he picked up his phone again and looked at it. Still nothing from the bloody girl. Where the hell was she. Then he smiled. Bet she’d lost her phone again. She was always losing the bloody thing. He scratched his groin and waited for his morning glory to go down, before throwing aside the girly pink duvet and swinging his legs over the edge of the bunk. The faint aroma of Comfort fabric conditioner with faint undertones of male sweat, made him happy. It’d been a long time since he’d shared a room with his cousin, uncle and brother; not since they were kids. Aunt Nusrat had been insistent that they share as the house was full up with wedding guests and though he’d initially balked at the idea, he had to admit it had been fun. They’d reminisced for hours until finally, Aunt Nusrat had banged on their door telling them that Aftab needed his sleep in preparation for his big day

  His uncle and cousin, in each of the bottom two bunks, didn’t so much as falter in their music-making as Shahid jumped onto the thick carpet. Standing at eye level to Imti who lay with one leg hanging over the side of his bunk, his mouth wide open, made him smile. He leaned over and pushed the stray leg back onto the bunk. Imti mumbled something in his sleep and rolled over.

  Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Shahid pulled on a shirt and left the room. Leaning against the door he quickly punched in Trixie’s number, but again it rung out. At this rate he’d have to risk phoning Jessica. Not that he expected any joy from her. If she could make things difficult for him, then she would – and she didn’t even know about him and Trixie yet. It’d be damn awkward to try to explain to her why he wanted to know where her flatmate was. He grunted, deciding to hold on till later and was just about to go back into the room when he heard his aunt’s voice calling his name.

  Popping his head over the bannister he looked down. She was still fully dressed, so Shahid assumed she hadn’t been to bed yet. Too busy looking after them last night and then, knowing her, she’d have tidied up after they’d gone to bed. ‘What is it, Auntie?’

  She looked up at him, her lips tight, a frown furrowing her forehead. When she spoke her voice was clipped. ‘I don’t want you involving your uncle in all this trouble in Bradford, Shahid. We’re out of that sort of life now and I don’t want to go back.’ She folded her arms under her small breasts, her elbows jutting out as sharply as her cheek bones. ‘If you’ve got trouble with gangs in Manchester or Sheffield, you are on your own. We will not be involved.’

  Shahid bit back the angry words that rushed to his mouth and merely nodded before turning back into the room. Clearly she’d been
listening to their conversation last night. He knew exactly where she was coming from and, in some ways, he couldn’t blame her; but she was a hypocrite. She was happy to take money from him to cover the cost of her precious son’s wedding as long as it wasn’t her husband or son putting their necks on the line. Where the fuck did she think the money he’d given for the deposit on this house had come from?

  Shahid closed the door quietly behind him, climbed back onto his bunk, and tried to get comfortable. It was true that he had spoken with his uncle about the possibility of Johnny The Gerbil from Oldham or The Cockroach from Sheffield being responsible for Camilla and Starlight’s deaths. Somehow, he didn’t really think Bazza had it in him to instigate a turf war and there were no reports of dodgy punters, so it was reasonable to assume that at some point gang bosses from other cities would want to make inroads in Bradford to extend their empires. Hell, he’d thought more than once about extending to Manchester and Sheffield himself, but he’d always considered their fragile truce more beneficial than a turf war.

  He punched his pillow and rolled over. Fuck, but he hated family dos. Always full of strife. He wished he was back in Bradford with Trixie. Things were always simple when he was with her.

  07:00 The Fort

  Two huge whiteboards crammed with details, written in a variety of colours, stood against the back wall of The Fort’s biggest incident room. Each board had a photo of the previous two victims stuck to the top. Next to them was a third board, which, in vivid contrast to the others, was virgin white. The only addition was a stark crime scene photo of Trixie, taped to the top. In addition to Gus’ major incident team a variety of uniformed officers assigned to these murders sat round the huge table in the middle of the room. Others leaned against the back walls and a few had snagged the unoccupied chairs from behind the various computers around the periphery. Replacing the traditional police station odour of stale sweat and cigs was the aroma of bacon sandwiches and fresh coffee – a perk supplied by Gus who couldn’t abide instant and didn’t see why his team should have to put up with it either.