Unseen Evil Page 9

  ‘Hey, Jess.’ Razor ignores my question and bends down to make eye contact with my sister. ‘Did you forget to tell Jo Jo I called last night?’

  He called last night? My stomach clenches. Please say… but before I get the chance to formulate the thought, he’s speaking again.

  ‘D’int you tell him you read your reading book to me? Watched a bit of telly together last night?’

  Jessie’s smiling as if Razor’s her best friend in the whole world and right then, I want to sink a fist in his stomach. Although I’m about a foot and a half taller than the shit, I can’t do it. Not with his thugs there. Who am I kidding? Not at all. As if he can read my mind, the larger of his two mates pushes himself away from the wall and bulks out his arms, like he’s the Hulk or summat.

  Although he’s looking at me, Razor’s hand extends to Jess, five, one-pound coins in the palm. It’s her he speaks to. ‘Treat yourself to some chocolate on your way to school, Jess… or an ice cream. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

  I can almost feel the excitement rolling off her. When’s the last time she had a treat? She looks up at me, her tear-swollen eyes pleading, and I can’t resist. I give a taut smile and nod. Her face breaks into a smile and my heart breaks a little more as Razor, holding my gaze, drops the coins into her small hands. I swallow the thought that I could buy milk and tea bags and bread with that. I don’t grudge Jess her treat, I just know that nowt comes free in this world.

  ‘Thanks, Razor.’ Jess’s voice is all sweet and innocent and something curdles in my gut.

  Razor glances towards the ceiling and the smirk on his face widens. My heart’s doing that pounding thing again… did it ever stop? He was in the house last night with only Jess, and for the life of me, I can’t remember if I left my bedroom door unlocked after I came home last night or before I went out. Either way, Razor thinks he’s got summat on me.

  ‘You not thanking me, Jo Jo?’

  His tone’s all smooth and friendly, but I know that in a second it can turn and he’ll slice off my hand if it suits him. I’ve heard the stories and that’s why I’ve always steered clear of Razor McCarthy… until now.

  The voice that leaves my mouth doesn’t belong to me. ‘Thanks, Razor. Jess likes ice cream.’

  He turns sideways and beckons to his mates. For a long moment, as they approach, blocking the sunlight flooding through the door with their bulk, I wonder if this is it… if I’m going to die here in this room… if I won’t get to sit my first exam… and worse… I can’t decide if I’m bothered or not. As they squeeze past their boss, I notice they’re both carrying Aldi bags.

  ‘Unpack the stuff onto the table, let them see what we’ve got for them. Treats for you, Jess, eh?’ Razor reaches out and ruffles Jess’ hair and she all but dances towards the table where Razor’s boys are unpacking Frosties and Cheerios and milk and stuff.

  ‘Put the frozen and fridge stuff away, lads. Jo Jo can unpack everything else when he gets back from school.’ He reaches over and punches me none too gently on the arm. ‘Manners, lad?’

  My gaze moves from Jessie to the ever-increasing pile of goodies on the table to Razor and, as I say ‘Thanks,’ I wonder just what the real cost of a few groceries will be.

  CHAPTER 18

  Leo

  I ’m leaning out my bedroom window smoking. Wishing I could be outside. Instead, I’ve got to keep an ear open for any of them coming near. I don’t usually do this when there’s anyone at home, but I deserve it, don’t I? A ciggie to calm my nerves. I exhale, blowing a half-hearted smoke ring. Wish I had some bud, but even I can’t risk that.

  Shit! What did we do last night?

  It was all planned. I brought the drugs; Zodiac brought the booze… Pisces brought fucking attitude… Moaning on, being a right bell end. We’d already decided… that was the rules… so there was no need for Pisces to be such an arsehole about everything. Spoiling it for us, that’s what Zodiac told me, and I agree. Maybe it’s the nicotine, I don’t know, but my heart’s clopping in my chest and it won’t stop. I hadn’t thought it’d be like that. Now it’s sinking in and I’m scared shitless. What if they find out what we did? What will my parents say?

  When we were hammered last night, it was like we were gods… nothing mattered… nothing except paying him back for all the shit. Just because he’s dead doesn’t stop him being a bell end, does it? Being dead doesn’t make all the other shit go away, that’s what Zodiac says.

  Soon as I sneaked back in, I had to rush upstairs and throw my load. I barfed all over the floor and had to clean it up quick, before the parents started asking awkward questions. The barf stank of alcohol and they’re not daft… mind you, they had other things on their minds, didn’t even notice the disinfectant smell. Think I overdid it a little with the bleach.

  I can’t stay here much longer. They’ll be on my case, dragging me downstairs to get ready, so I stub my cig out on the brick below my window and fold the stub into a tissue before tossing it in my bin. I get a body spray and skoosh it round the room… there, sorted.

  I can’t face them yet. I can’t face anybody. Zodiac said not to phone, to keep a low profile, to make sure the phones are hidden, but I can’t help myself. I pick it up and shoot off a text.

  Me: You all right? Think Pisces will keep schtum?

  It’s ages before I feel it vibrate in my pocket and all the while, they’re yelling upstairs for me to come down. Just fuck right off!

  Zodiac: Pisces will keep quiet. Don’t worry I’ll sort it. You do what you need to do. We did the right thing. You know that, right?

  Me: Laters!

  Zodiac: Yeah, see ya!

  They’re yelling up the stairs again. I slip the phone under my mattress and walk over to study my face in the mirror. All good. Bit pale, eyes a bit red behind my specs… but otherwise, okay. Give me a break, yeah!

  ‘I’m coming.’

  Ignoring the niggle of doubt that makes me feel like puking again, I open the door and head downstairs. Life has to go on.

  CHAPTER 19

  T he lad’s eyes flitted round the room, yet Gus thought he probably wasn’t really taking in the décor. His mum kept trying to comfort him – putting her arms round him, but he kept pulling away from her. Gus got it. He had an over-effusive mother himself and he’d been the same at that age… hell, he still was! He’d lost count of the times his mother had embarrassed him. Now, though, he tended to give in gracefully to her hugs… you never knew when they could be taken away from you.

  He’d no sooner left Nancy, when the duty officer grabbed him, telling him he had a witness who might have some bearing on Pratab Patel’s death. When Gus had heard the officer’s report, he agreed, particularly, when that witness was the lad who Pratab was supposed to have been with the previous evening.

  Now, gesturing towards the sofa that Pratab Patel’s parents had sat on a couple of hours earlier and failing to shift the image of Mrs Patel’s measured stoicism or Mr Patel’s complete breakdown from his mind, Gus swallowed hard. ‘Sit down, Haider, Dr and Mrs Ayyub.’

  Haider glared at the sofa and with an exaggerated sigh, side-stepped his mother and flung himself onto one of the two comfy chairs that sat opposite. Gus couldn’t blame him. Mrs Ayyub’s concern was understandable, yet even Gus was beginning to think it was too cloying. Mr Ayyub, on the other hand, looked stern and a little distant from the proceedings.

  Taking the time to assess the family group as the parents settled themselves down, Gus saw a concerned mother and father, out of their depth and each trying to cope with an alien situation in the best way they could. The duty officer had taken an initial statement when they had turned up at The Fort and so Gus knew that Dr Ayyub was an anaesthetist at BRI, while Mrs Ayyub was in the process of setting up her own bespoke halal cakes business.

  Dr Ayyub was the first to break the silence. ‘We need to do this very quickly, Inspector. Haider has an exam soon and he can’t afford to miss it. It’s a GCSE.’

&nbs
p; A quick glance at Haider told him the lad would be more than happy to miss the exam and he couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t every day you realised the ‘hoax’ Snapchat message you’d got, showing your best mate lying in a pool of blood with a knife sticking out of his jugular, was actually real.

  ‘Look, Haider, I’m not going to keep you hanging around here. You gave a statement this morning to DC Singh and it covers most things. I just need to ask a couple of questions.’

  He waited until Haider nodded before continuing. ‘Who was Pratab meeting last night? He told his parents he was studying with you, but that wasn’t true, was it?’

  Haider’s shrug was one Gus had seen a thousand times. The ‘I’m buying myself time here’ sort of shrug, the ‘I don’t know what to share with you’ sort of shrug. He leaned towards Haider. ‘Pratab’s gone, Haider. Any secret you and Pratab shared might be the clue we need. If you have any idea at all who he was meeting or where he was going last night, you need to tell me. You know that, don’t you?’

  Looking away, Haider repeated the shrug and then took a moment before replying, ‘I don’t know who he was meeting. He was meeting someone – don’t know who, though.’ After a quick glance at his parents, whose hands were linked, the whiteness of their knuckles the only outward indication of how difficult this was for them, Haider lowered his voice as if he thought they might not hear his words. ‘He said I was too pussy to know.’

  Gus let the words hang there for a moment until Haider continued.

  ‘We’d fallen out recently. He were being a dick.’ Again, a glance at his parents, ‘Sorry, Mum…’ then back to Gus. ‘He was hanging out with another group.’ He held up his hand as though to ward off Gus’ next question, ‘And before you ask, I’ve no idea who. None of his regular mates knew. We were all pissed off with him. Truth is, that Snapchat was the first I’d had from him in weeks.’ It’ll be the last, remained unsaid.

  Compo had Pratab’s phone now, so hopefully they’d be able to work out from there who exactly the lad had been hanging out with recently. Strange though that their killer had chosen to send a Snapchat message to Haider. Did that mean the killer didn’t realise the friends were estranged? Or was it that they wanted to punish Haider? The whole idea of sending a photograph message of the person you’d just killed left Gus cold. This, he was becoming more and more convinced, was not your average killer.

  Picking at an imaginary piece of fluff on his fingers, the lad continued, ‘Reckon he was taking drugs too.’ He glanced at Gus. ‘Don’t mean just bud either… coke… MDMA – who knows? But he were different, skiving school… cheeking the teachers… getting pissed, blazed, you name it, Pratab seemed to be doing it.’

  Gus made a mental note to talk to Patti to see if she or her staff could shed any light on this new friendship group Pratab was a part of. He’d have to broach the subject with the lad’s parents and siblings too. See if they’d noticed anything amiss. The trouble was, in situations like these, family sometimes tried to keep these sorts of things quiet, which was a real shame as it was very often the things they kept hidden that could move an investigation onwards. He’d speak to their Family Liaison Officer and see what she reckoned. The FLO usually managed to get a handle on the family dynamics pretty quickly. He’d see if she’d managed to build up enough of a relationship with any of them to ask.

  ‘You remember the actual Snapchat… the one that came from Pratab’s phone?’

  Haider nodded, his lips tightening.

  ‘Well, I want you to do something for me. I want you to close your eyes and really focus on it for a minute. I don’t want you to talk – just try to remember it. I know this is hard for you and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary… we really need to find who did this to your friend. The more you can tell us the more it’ll help.’

  Mrs Ayyub opened her mouth, but her husband shook his head and she bit her lip. All she wanted to do was protect her son, and Gus could sympathise, but this was important. He nodded his appreciation to Dr Ayyub who returned the gesture with a tight smile.

  ‘You up for this, Haider?’

  Haider looked anything but up for it. His foot was still jangling and now his fingers were clenched against his thighs.

  ‘It’s hard, I know it’s hard, but please… for Pratab’s sake.’

  With an abrupt nod that was the carbon copy of his dad’s earlier one, Haider inhaled, leaned back in the chair, and closed his eyes. Now that no one was talking, the clock ticking in the room seemed overly loud and ominous. The sound of traffic drifted up, muted but insistent in the near silence and, all the while, Haider’s parents’ gazes scoured their son’s face. Frown lines furrowed Haider’s brow, his eyes, although loosely shut, moved under his lids, his mouth was a thin line and his cheeks were flushed, whether because of the heat or anxiety Gus couldn’t tell.

  ‘Okay, Haider. Just think about the Snapchat image and tell me what you see. If you need to stop you can, it’s your call.’

  When he spoke, Haider’s voice was steadier than Gus had expected. ‘Pratab’s lying on the ground – grass, I think. There’s a knife sticking out of the side of his neck and blood all around his head. I thought it were fake. I thought he were winding me up.’

  ‘You’re doing good, Haider. Can you tell me how his head is positioned?’

  Haider opened his eyes and blinked a few times. ‘Look, I’ll answer owt you want, but I’m not keeping my eyes shut.’

  ‘That’s fine, this is all your call – we stop whenever you’ve had enough, okay?’

  Haider picked up a bottle of water from the table, unscrewed the lid and gulped half of it in one go. ‘His head was to the side – that’s why I could see the knife so clear. Blood were trickling down his neck.’

  ‘What about his hands, can you remember anything about them?’

  Haider drank some more water before replying, ‘They were tied together in front of him… looked like plastic ties or something. It wasn’t rope.’

  So, the Snapchat had been taken before the killer had fully positioned the body and before the cable ties or the knife had been removed.

  ‘What about the knife, Haider? What does it look like?’

  The lad scowled in a ‘what the fuck’ sort of way. ‘A knife’s a knife, innit?’

  Gus smothered his smile. It was good that Haider was showing a bit of attitude. It might be just what he needed to get himself through this traumatic experience. ‘Just wondered about the handle, Haider. What did it look like?’

  He scraped his fingers along his jawline, his slight stubble making a scratching sound as he did so. ‘It were just a kitchen knife. A bit like that long thin one you use for cutting the chicken, Dad.’

  Dr Ayyub nodded. ‘A carving knife.’

  ‘Yeah, a carving knife. I think the handle was black – not sure though.’ Haider made to stand up. ‘I’ve had enough now. I don’t want to think about this anymore.’

  Gus wasn’t surprised, Haider had done better than he’d expected, and Gus was pleased. ‘Only one more thing. I need to ask you for your phone, so we can try to retrieve the Snapchat image.’

  Haider’s eyes widened and his foot began tapping the floor. ‘You can’t take my phone. I need it. It’s mine. Anyway, the Chat’s gone… long gone. It deletes after you’ve seen it.’

  Earlier, Compo had given Gus a crash course on how Snapchat operated and although he wasn’t one hundred per cent up to speed, Gus was aware that the Chat had ‘disappeared’ after a few seconds from Haider’s phone. However, Compo had also gone on about how things were never fully gone. ‘We’ve got experts who can analyse your phone – digital forensic experts. You never know, the image you saw might provide additional information… crucial information… information that might help us find out who did this to Pratab.’

  Haider swiped a hand over his face and sniffed, his tapping foot increased its tempo, but it wasn’t until the lad cast a sideways glance at his parents that Gus realised the real reason behind his
reluctance. The lad probably had pornography or some dodgy messages on his phone that he wanted to keep from his parents. The question was, how, without his parents realising, did Gus make it clear to the lad, that unless they found evidence of criminal activity on the phone, they were only interested in his communications with Pratab. Feeling like a piece of shit yet knowing that the lad had to hand over his phone and head straight to school if he was going to make his exam in time, Gus sharpened his tone. ‘Hand over your phone right now, Haider.’

  Haider, in a last-ditch attempt to buy some time, glanced at his parents and then, head down, mumbled, ‘I’ll drop it off later. In all the rush this morning, I left it at home.’

  Not a bad deflection, Gus conceded, but it wasn’t going to wash. Almost before the words were out of his mouth both parents turned to him. ‘Haider!’

  Mrs Ayyub muttered something in Urdu under her breath and tapped his knee while Dr Ayyub extended his hand. ‘Don’t lie, Haider. You were using the phone on the way over here. You’ve always got that phone in your hand. Hand it over. Like the inspector said, this is crucial evidence. Pratab was murdered.’

  As if saying the words out loud had loosened something in his wife, Mrs Ayyub began to sob. ‘Hand the phone over. I won’t feel safe with you or your brother out of my sight until this monster is caught.’

  While his dad’s stern words had resulted only in a tightening of the boy’s lips, his mother’s tears had him sliding the phone from his pocket. He handed it to Gus before jumping to his feet and slinging his backpack over one shoulder. ‘Right, gotta go, come on.’