by Liz Mistry
Unable to speak, Nikki nodded and tried a smile. The woman offered her the water and Nikki took it, grateful for the chance to wash the bile from her mouth and hopefully steady her stomach. She took a long gulp and emptied the glass, before handing it back to her saviour.
‘More?’
Nikki glanced down the street to where the journalists had congregated and was thankful that a police car obscured their vision of her throwing up. No way she’d be able to recover from that if it got out in the press. Nikki shook her head. ‘No, thanks. You’ve been more than kind. Thank you.’
‘Are you okay now? You were sick.’ The woman’s eyes smiled. ‘Perhaps you’re pregnant like me?’
Nikki, soothed by the woman’s gentle tone, grinned. ‘No, that’s not it. It was just a bit stuffy inside. What’s your name? I accepted your hospitality and didn’t even bother to ask your name.’
The woman wafted her free hand in an “it doesn’t matter” way. ‘I’m Sabeekah.’ She hesitated, then continued. ‘I saw you earlier. You’re a police officer?’
Extracting her badge from her jean pocket, Nikki showed it to Sabeekah. ‘DS Nikita Parekh, but you can call me Nikki. I presume one of the uniformed officers asked you a few questions earlier?’
‘Yes, two very polite young women officers asked me all sorts.’ She looked straight into Nikki’s eyes. ‘I’ll tell you what I told them – I didn’t like that man. I never spoke to him, never even saw him outside the house, but he always seemed to be watching us from his window. I’m sure he had binoculars. Sure he spied on us. My husband said I was being silly. That he was just a frail, lonely old bloke, but I couldn’t shake that feeling. He gave me the creeps, so I kept the curtains and blinds at the front of the house closed.’
Nikki remembered noticing that and thinking it was odd when she’d arrived at the scene. A quick glance told her that now Sabeekah had opened the blinds and curtains. Wishing she could tell the woman her instincts had been right, Nikki restricted herself to a smile and a nod. Sabeekah would find out soon enough when the media got wind of what the police knew. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve thought of anything else that might be important? Anything unusual?’
‘Actually, that’s part of the reason I came over. There was just one thing that was unusual. Probably nothing – Hamza told me to forget it, but your two officers were very clear about that. They said anything at all different that I thought of and I’d to call them. I might not have bothered if I hadn’t seen you here just now.’
Not wanting to build her hopes that it was something important, Nikki kept her tone light. ‘You just never know with these sorts of cases. Any little thing can help.’
‘Well, I dismissed it at the time as someone who’d gone to the wrong house.’ She backtracked. ‘What I mean is, I was in the garden with the little one. Our backyard needs a complete overhaul and Hamza keeps his old Jaguar there.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Collector’s car, apparently – junk heap as far as I’m concerned. Anyway, that’s why we have to play out front and with me being so big now, I couldn’t face taking Zain to the park. Anyway, I was sitting on the step and Zain was calling out to everyone who passed by. This one person – a man, all bundled up with a baseball cap pulled down over his face, glanced at our house first and then went through number 83’s gate. He went inside. He was only there a half-hour or so. That’s all – not much, I know, but it was preying on my mind.’
‘I’m glad you told me this. Can I just ask a few more questions about it?’
Sabeekah glanced back at her house. ‘Look, if you come over I’ll make you a cup of tea – you still look like you need it. Zain is asleep and I need to get off my feet.’
Nikki hesitated. The thought of entering the house she’d spent her childhood years in made her exhale. She bit her lip, glanced up and down the street, looking for an excuse to refuse. Then, as if compelled, she nodded. Her heart hammering, she sent off a quick text to Saj telling him where she was. Walking beside Sabeekah, her fists clenched by her sides, Nikki made her way across the street into her old house. Fearing that she’d freak out, Nikki focused on chitchat with her new friend. ‘When are you due?’
‘Three weeks, but I was early with Zain, so I’m expecting to go into labour anytime from now on. Hamza’s working overtime – he’s an anaesthetist at BRI – so he can have more time with me and the baby when the time comes.’
‘Do you know the sex yet?’
Sabeekah laughed. ‘No, I said I didn’t want to know. Hamza wants a girl this time. One of each. Me? I’m not bothered as long as they’re healthy.’
As they entered the house, Nikki untied her Doc Martens and slipped them off and when she looked up, Sabeekah had removed her face covering. ‘Only wear this outside the house when I’m likely to be in mixed company.’
Nikki was aware of that and was relieved she’d asked Saj to wait for her outside. She suspected she might get more information from Sabeekah without his presence and she didn’t want her to feel the need to cover her face in her own home. Now that she was inside, Nikki’s breathing eased. The house was nothing like how she’d remembered it. This house was a home, filled with love. It was clean and well looked after. It smelled of vanilla and spices, not damp and fear.
Sabeekah led the way through to the kitchen and indicated that Nikki should sit at the table. Like Nikki’s mum did, Sabeekah boiled up milky chai in a saucepan on the hob. The main difference being that Sabeekah made tea the Pakistani way. She only added cardamoms and used a small ladle to scoop up chai and pour back into the pan. It was relaxing to watch her at work and the fragrance, although more delicate than the Gujarati chai Nikki was used to, calmed her.
With the steaming sweet tea in front of her and Sabeekah perched on the chair opposite, Nikki began. ‘Can you remember exactly when you saw this man? Which day? What time?’
‘You know, I can’t be sure but I think it was that really hot day, last week. The one that ended with that massive thunderstorm later that evening. I could be wrong though.’ She took a sip of her tea. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be more accurate. It was morning, probably around eleven or eleven-thirty because Zain hadn’t long woken up from his nap.’
The tea was delicious – sweet and just what Nikki needed to settle her stomach. ‘What did he look like? Tall, short, ethnicity, age, build, clothes?’
‘I told you about his cap. He had long-sleeved clothes on and a jacket, which I noticed because it was so warm and most people wore T-shirts and suchlike. I think he was white, or a very pale Asian – but again I can’t be sure. When he glanced over, his eyes were hidden by the cap and I could only really see his lower face.’
‘Clean-shaven or not?’
‘Stubbly. I don’t think he was that young though. He didn’t walk like a kid – you know with that strut they all have. Middle-aged maybe – maybe even older?’
‘This man could be quite important to our investigation, so I’ll get a female officer to come round with some photos to show you. See if you can identify him. Would that be okay?’ When Sabeekah nodded, Nikki stood up. ‘Thanks for the tea; I needed that.’
Struggling to get to her feet, Sabeekah moved round the table and then placed a hand on Nikki’s arm. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I watched you arrive and, although the crime scene was Mr Hudson’s house, you seemed mesmerised by my house. Did you know someone who lived here? Was there a crime committed here in the past?’ Sabeekah’s voice was shaky and a furrow pulled her delicately shaped eyebrows together. ‘You seemed reluctant to come inside – you looked pale, anxious. You kept glancing round as if you expected my home to look different.’
Nikki forced a smile to her lips. She was about to downplay one of the most traumatic times of her life because she was compelled to wipe the worry from this woman’s face, yet prepare her for the barrage of media analysis that would descend on her when the full story came out. ‘Truth is Sabeekah, I lived here as a child and today is the first time I’d set foot in Gaynor Str
eet since. It just brought back memories.’
Sabeekah nodded, her face clearing into a smile as she made the judgement that Nikki’s childhood had been happy. Most people assumed that about people who were professionals. They assumed a lot, but Nikki had learned long ago that you couldn’t see people’s inner scars – they were invisible. She grabbed Sabeekah’s arm to stop her opening the door just yet. ‘The truth is, Sabeekah, my childhood was not happy, but you’ve made this into a happy place for your family. Filled it with joy and comfort and love.’
‘But …?’ Sabeekah was clearly an intelligent woman who had read between the lines. ‘That man kept glancing over here.’
‘Yes, he did. Look, Sabeekah you need to prepare yourself for some media attention – not you – but this house as well as Mr Hudson’s.’ Nikki knew she was breaking protocol, but humanity won out. ‘I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself for now. Give us time to do our jobs.’
Nikki stared into Sabeekah’s eyes, willing her to appreciate Nikki’s confidence. With a single nod, the pregnant woman opened the door. ‘I’ll expect your officer, Nikki, and good luck with your investigation, wherever it may take you.’
Saj was waiting outside, his tie loosened and his shoulders hunched, clearly deep in thought. When he spotted Nikki descending the steps from Sabeekah’s house he took a step towards her, eyes scouring her face. Trust Saj to be concerned about me.
‘You okay, Nik? That couldn’t have been easy. Going back in there after all this time.’
Nikki glanced back at the house. For a moment she imagined two little faces peering out the upstairs window. ‘No, it wasn’t, but it was useful – made me realise that when Ani, Mum and I lived there it was just a place we slept in – bricks and mortar. The only place with any love was up in that bedroom when the three of us locked ourselves away from his poison.’ She smiled. ‘Now, it’s a home. The only monsters there are in my mind – and probably in Ani and Mum’s too. Number 86 Gaynor Street has only love and happiness and hope left. Whatever toxicity Downey wallpapered that house with has been stripped away and chucked out. There’s no trace of it left – none at all.’
Chapter 33
Nikki had expected her boss, DCI Archie Hegley, to be annoyed – possibly even angry. What she hadn’t expected was for him to be incandescent with rage. As she explained about the letters containing the article and the diary pages, his face had reddened to the hue of a strawberry, but when she came to the part about finding similar diary pages under their current murder victim’s pillow, the colour deepened to a beetroot shade and his breath came out in audible pants. Casting a quick glance at Saj, who’d accompanied her for moral support, she worried that she’d exacerbated the heart condition he’d been diagnosed with earlier in the year.
Archie stood up and, despite his recent weight loss, he seemed to fill the room as he huffed and muttered and stalked around behind his desk. His reaction was confusing. In the past, Nikki had done much worse than delay telling him about a couple of non-threatening missives sent to her place of work. She didn’t understand why he was so angry about this.
She cleared her throat and swallowed hard and, avoiding the laser glare he focused on her, as he fisted his hands and used them to brace himself against his desk, she explained about her history with Gaynor Street.
By the time she’d done, the silence in the room was palpable. A shiver trickled down her spine as she exhaled, tensing herself against the tongue-lashing she was sure was about to descend on her. Instead, Archie collapsed onto his chair, fingers rapping on his cluttered desk, and in slow damning movements he shook his head from side to side. His eyes were dull with disappointment and a combination of remorse and indignation flooded Nikki. On the one hand, she should have mentioned the letters to Archie, but on the other – there had been no overt threat and, at that point, nothing tangible to link them to her in a more insidious way. Besides, she’d only just received the second communication recently, which was the one that had potentially linked the killing of the Cambridge student with the diary excerpts, and she’d promptly sent them off to the forensic lab.
Besides, Archie had been interviewing prospective DIs for most of the day, then, by the end of the day, they’d all been blindsided by Felicity Springer’s transfer to their team. As soon as she’d seen the diary extracts at the Hudson crime scene and realised that it was more than likely personally linked to her in some way, she’d come clean – well, after interviewing the care giver and the neighbour. She opened her mouth to speak, but Archie glared at her and waved his hand. Aggrieved, Nikki clamped her lips together and straightened up in her chair.
‘You ken, Parekh, I gie you a degree of latitude because you’re a damn fine detective. However, has it escaped you that only a few months ago we very nearly lost one of oor own? …’
Again she opened her mouth to reply, but again was shut down by another angry hand wave. ‘You’re no a team player, Parekh, and that really gets on mah proverbials. Not only did we almost lose Springer, but the city went into meltdown and we’ve had tae pick up the debris. We’ve had a corrupt officer in our midst as well as trusted officials arrested, awaiting conviction for heinous crimes. The time for you tae play the vigilante sole hero has long gone. From noo on you act like part of a team. Ye keep me updated on anything … and ah mean anything that could even remotely impact oan officer safety. Got it?’
Nikki wanted to rail against the unfairness of Archie’s words. She’d been instrumental in finding Springer and in bringing down the huge trafficking operation, but deep down inside she knew those words came from a place of caring. They’d been through a lot – her, Archie and Saj – and she identified hurt in his eyes, now that some of his anger had abated, so she bit her lip and bowed her head. ‘I’m sorry, Archie. I just didn’t expect it to blow up like this. The last thing I ever expected was for this to take on a personal slant … if it has – I mean we’re not sure about that yet, are we?’ Even she knew her words were a lie.
Beside her Saj snorted. ‘Coincidences …’
With a quick nod, Nikki had the grace to acknowledge that Saj was probably right. Marcus would be so proud of me behaving like a grown-up for a change.
‘Exactly. Malik’s right, Parekh. Nae such thing as coincidences, you mark mah words. Noo, what are your thoughts about what all of this is aboot? So, you’ve told us aboot your mum’s link to Peggy Dyson, but what aboot this student, what’s his name – ach, aye, Liam Flynn?’
‘Ever since it arrived, I’ve been keeping up with the story. It’s not made a massive impact nationally, but I’ve followed the local papers. I don’t recognise him, his name or for that matter, his boyfriend.’
‘His family?’
‘By all accounts it’s the older lad who’s been doing the public appeals. The parents are estranged from Liam. I put the entire family’s names through HOLMES but got nothing and I’ve never locked up anyone from that family.’
Nikki took a deep breath. Now was the time to come clean about their trips to Cambridge and Manchester and she doubted those would be received any better than her earlier revelations. She wished that she could retrieve from the bottom of her drawer the bottle of whisky Davy Jones had sent for Archie. Maybe that would butter him up a little. He was partial to a good malt. A quick glance at his tight lips dashed that hope and Nikki decided to plunge right in. ‘We, that is, I decided to reach out to the Cambridge team investigating Flynn’s murder.’
Archie nodded. ‘Well, that goes withoot saying, Parekh. A wee phone call tae touch base is only good policing. What did that throw up?’
‘Well, that’s what I’m trying to tell you, boss. We …’
Saj cleared his throat loudly and Nikki rolled her eyes at him. Okay, Judas, I won’t throw you under the bus with me. ‘I mean, I … Saj was only acting under my direct orders. Well, we took a trip down to Cambridge on Friday.’ She smiled, and rushed on. ‘Turns out the lead detective was an old mate of yours, Davy Jones. Sent you a
bottle of Scotch. I’ll go and get it …’ Desperate for a little breathing space, she half stood, but fell back into her chair when Archie yelled.
‘WHAT?’ The single word reverberated around the room and immediate silence fell in the office space outside. She didn’t need to look to know that the entire office had stopped working and that all eyes were now directed through the blinds of Archie’s office at the three of them. Oh, how she wished those blinds were closed.
Shifting in her chair, Nikki wanted to twang her elastic band, but managed to refrain. Saj, eyes cast down towards the floor, slumped as if waiting for the sword to fall. ‘Look, boss. We … I … didn’t realise that the personal link would be so strong. How could I? All I’d got was a couple of diary extracts and photocopies of news reports concerning two seemingly unrelated murders.’
‘Well, they’re no so bloody “seemingly” unrelated noo, ur they?’ Archie’s roar had increased in decibel, his Scottish burr more pronounced, and Nikki half expected the DCS to come bounding down from upstairs in response.
All she could do was shake her head. When Archie was as mad as he was now, the only way forward was to give him the space to sort things out in his head. He pushed himself back to his feet and resumed pacing. Glancing through the window into the outer office he muttered under his breath, ‘Bloody nosy bastards,’ and strode over, flicking the blinds shut.
If only he’d done that earlier before he decided to tear a strip off me. Archie’s pacing seemed to go on forever, but was in fact only a minute or so. It was a minute during which Nikki had to bite her tongue, for all she wanted to do was argue her case … and she was woefully aware that she hadn’t touched on her and Saj’s little foray to the Flynns’ homes yet. Who knew what anger that would unleash?