‘If you’re asking did I think he was the right man for the job, then absolutely. It wasn’t quite as… devious as you’re suggesting, but I think the two of us are very well matched, yes.’
‘Dream team.’
‘If you like.’ Tanner stared at him, the knowing grin that was spreading across his face. She said, ‘Are you sure you’re all right to drive?’
Hendricks took a few steps towards his car, then stopped and turned round. ‘Yes, he is all those things you were counting on, or at least more often than not. Tom can be a right pain in the arse, tell you the truth. There’s one other thing you should know about him, though.’
Tanner waited.
‘He doesn’t like being used.’
TWENTY-ONE
As she carried her basket to the checkout, Tanner was thinking about what she’d told Helen Weeks the night before. Living on cheese on toast. It hadn’t been too far from the truth, and it was time to start making an effort. She hadn’t been lying about the division of cooking duties between herself and Susan, but she wasn’t hopeless, so she’d bought the ingredients she’d need to knock up a chilli and a spag bol. She’d bought some fruit and low-fat yoghurt. She’d thrown a few cheap ready-meals in there too, because there was no point trying to run before she could walk and often it was simply a question of getting something on a plate fast. Refuelling. To be honest, it didn’t make much difference what she ate anyway, because she could barely taste anything. It was the same with most things; watching TV or reading a book.
Everything just washed over her.
Almost everything. There were always those stupid songs or TV shows that Susan had liked and once or twice Tanner had been ambushed; channel-surfing or listening to the car radio. A slap, a punch, before they were turned off as quickly as possible.
She accepted the pain, but she refused to wallow.
A sly glance from Haroon Shah told her that he knew she was there, that he recognised her from when she and Thorne had been in to talk to his parents ten days before. There was no obvious reaction. He went back to serving the customers ahead of Tanner in the queue, swiping and bagging, his demeanour every bit as truculent as it had been when Tanner had first walked in and spotted him at the till.
He was a good-looking boy though, Tanner thought, if you liked that sort of thing. Somewhere in his early twenties; well built, with a diamond in one ear and gelled hair that he clearly took more time over than she did over hers. She watched him snatch a twenty-pound note from an elderly man who’d bought cigarettes and a couple of scratch cards. He handed over change without a word and grunted when the customer thanked him.
His father might have owned the place, but Tanner doubted very much that Haroon would be winning employee of the month any time soon.
Another glance in her direction as the queue moved forward.
She might be misjudging him, of course. He might normally be a little ray of sunshine, with a winning smile and a cheery word or two for each of his customers. Perhaps Amaya Shah’s brother was just having an off day.
A lot on his mind, Tanner guessed.
She checked the contents of her basket one more time as she stepped up to the till. Confident that she hadn’t forgotten anything, she set it down then stepped back as Haroon Shah began removing the items one by one. He tore off a plastic bag and held it up.
‘Bags are five pence,’ he said.
‘It’s extortionate.’ Tanner shook her head. ‘Considering the ones in Waitrose are exactly the same price and are infinitely better. Much thicker plastic, you know? Those stupid striped ones tear the minute you walk out of the shop.’
He waited.
Tanner smiled. ‘It’s fine, though.’
Shah carried on bagging. He said, ‘My dad’s not here.’
‘That’s OK.’
‘You local, then? Just popped in to do some shopping?’ He held up a microwaveable lasagne, looked at it as though it were a box of rat poison, then tossed it into the bag.
‘Thought I might as well pick up a few bits and pieces while I was here.’
‘I told you, my dad’s out.’
‘Actually, it was you I wanted a word with,’ Tanner said.
‘About Amaya?’
‘Won’t take long.’
He shrugged and finished putting Tanner’s shopping in the bag. He told her how much it came to and she handed the cash across, getting no more in the way of customer service than the man before her.
‘Thank you,’ she said, taking her bags.
Shah looked at her, ignoring the sarcasm, or unaware of it. ‘So?’
‘Not here,’ Tanner said.
‘Why not?’
‘Really? You want to talk about what happened to your sister while you’re bagging up baked beans?’
‘Course not, but it’s difficult, isn’t it?’ He pointed out the three people who were already queuing to be served.
Tanner turned and flashed a conciliatory smile to the woman directly behind her. ‘Can’t you get someone to take over for five minutes?’
He sighed, as though Tanner were asking the impossible, then shouted across to a boy of no more than fourteen who was stocking the shelves. When the boy came over, Shah told him to watch the till. Said he’d be keeping an eye on him.
The boy nodded, already smiling happily at the next customer in line.
By the time Shah had come around the till Tanner was already moving away, and he followed her to a quieter part of the shop. He stood against the wall and Tanner leaned back against a freezer piled high with ice creams and desserts.
‘So, you caught him yet?’
‘Caught who?’ Tanner asked.
‘Amaya’s boyfriend. I mean, it was obviously him, wasn’t it? I saw the thing on the news. The appeal for information or whatever.’
‘There haven’t been any further developments, I’m afraid.’
‘He killed her though, right?’
‘It looks that way. I probably shouldn’t be telling you that, but —’
‘Bastard.’ Shah lowered his head then banged it back hard against the wall. ‘Dirty little bastard.’
A woman with a basket hooked over the handles of a pushchair looked at them as she walked past. Tanner smiled at her, turned back to Shah who was shaking his head and sucking his teeth noisily.
‘Well, I hope for his sake you get hold of him before we do.’ Shah nodded, eyes narrowed. ‘All I’m saying.’
Clearly keen that she didn’t miss anything, the woman with the pushchair was taking cans from the shelves one by one and studying them. Tanner stared at her until she moved away.
‘How’s everyone holding up?’
‘How d’you think?’
‘I know. It can’t be easy.’
‘Might be easier if you let us have her back,’ Shah said. ‘We believe the dead should be buried quickly.’
‘I know,’ Tanner said. ‘And while I respect that, I’m afraid it’s not possible at the moment. When we do catch whoever killed her, there might need to be a second post-mortem.’
Shah shook his head. ‘It’s a desecration. All that stuff.’
‘Look, I’m sorry if some of these things go against your beliefs,’ Tanner said. ‘But there’s things I believe in too, like doing my job properly.’
‘It’s OK, I get that.’
‘Good.’ She smiled at him. ‘So part of me doing that means I need to ask you a couple of quick questions.’
‘OK.’ He was looking past her, towards the till, but Tanner didn’t think it was because he was watching the boy at the checkout.
‘We spoke to a friend of Amaya’s, from college?’
‘Who was that?’
‘She told us that Amaya was absent a lot more than normal.’
‘So?’
‘Like she was unwell or something.’
He shrugged. ‘Yeah, she probably was. Always coming down with something, since she was a kid.’
‘Yes, that’s what her friend t
hought it was. She also told us that you used to come to the college. Like you were spying on her or something.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.’
‘Yeah, I think I went up there a couple of times. I was supposed to pick her up, I think, or help her carry something. I can’t remember.’
‘Her friend thought you were just there to keep an eye on her.’
‘Who told you all this?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘I bet it was the bitch who lied about where she was that night.’
‘It was a friend of your sister’s.’
‘The night she went off with him. The kid that killed her.’
‘She told us that Amaya was scared of you.’
‘I’m right, aren’t I?’
‘Why would your sister be scared of you, Haroon?’
He shook his head, as though the question were ridiculous.
‘Really scared.’
‘I’m her big brother, aren’t I?’ He blinked. ‘I was her big brother.’ The head was lowered again for a second or two. ‘We had arguments, course we did. Just normal, stupid stuff and yeah, I’ve got a temper. I shouted at her a few times when she didn’t behave herself.’
‘Behave herself?’
He blinked again. Once, twice. ‘Stuff around the house she was supposed to do, you know? Not doing her fair share, helping out, whatever.’
‘Just everyday stuff, you mean? Chores.’
‘Right, like that.’ He nodded. ‘Sometimes she had college work and I might lose it a bit because it was her turn to wash up or something. I mean how do you think I feel about that now?’
‘Guilty, I should imagine.’
‘Right.’ He looked over towards the till again. ‘Scared, though? For real? That’s what that… what she told you?’
Tanner looked at him for a few seconds; the diamond in his ear catching the glare from the strip light. The pained expression and the muscles bulging in his jaw.
She said, ‘OK, we’re about done.’
His face relaxed. ‘Good.’ He nodded towards the till. ‘Cos you know, I’ve got a job to do as well.’
As Tanner bent to pick up her shopping, her eye caught something in the freezer behind her. She lifted the lid and took out a frozen cheesecake. ‘God, this looks good… hugely bad for me, obviously.’ She held it up to show him.
‘It’s one ninety-nine.’
Tanner glanced over at the checkout. The queue was bigger than ever.
‘Just take it,’ Shah said. ‘No sweat.’
‘Absolutely not,’ Tanner said. ‘If I want those gazillion calories badly enough, I’ll just have to queue again.’ She half turned back towards the freezer as though debating whether or not to put it back. ‘What d’you think?’
‘Up to you,’ Shah said.
‘Oh what the hell.’ She clutched the package to her chest and smiled. ‘Life’s too bloody short.’
On the way to her car, Tanner called Dipak Chall.
‘Look, I know you’ve done enough already and I don’t want to put you on the spot.’
‘What do you need?’ Chall asked. He spoke quietly and Tanner could hear the hubbub of a busy incident room in the background. It was a noise she recognised, a buzz she missed.
‘Anything else you might be able to dig up on Haroon Shah.’
‘OK.’ He didn’t sound hopeful.
‘Look, we know there’s a chain, from the families to whoever hires the killers, and I reckon Haroon might just be the weak link.’
‘I’ll see what I can find,’ Chall said. ‘But there were no red flags first time round.’
‘I know.’ Chall had sent her the background information on both families immediately after Amaya and Kamal had gone missing. ‘I just think it’s worth a second look.’
‘Is everything OK?’
Tanner looked down at the bag she was carrying. The sharp edge of the cheesecake box had already ripped through the plastic. A few steps further on, she stopped at a litter bin and dropped the bag into it.
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘All good.’
TWENTY-TWO
The late great Merle Haggard provided the accompaniment on the drive to a retail park in Wembley and Thorne sang along to ‘Silver Wings’ with rather more gusto than he had managed in that school hall the day before. In an electrical chain store the size of a football pitch, he spent a few minutes browsing the stereo equipment and staring at 54-inch TVs like a kid in a sweet shop. He asked for the manager, then got back in his car and drove to a pub a few streets away to find him.
Govinder Athwal sat alone at a corner table, looking up at a rather more modestly sized television above the bar. The remains of his lunch were still on a plate in front of him; an empty glass on the table and a bigger one, still half full, in his hand.
Thorne ordered a Coke, then walked across to join him and waited for the penny to drop.
It had been four years, so when it eventually came it wasn’t the crispest of double takes, but Thorne enjoyed it nonetheless. ‘I’ve probably put on a bit of weight,’ he said.
‘You look exactly the same,’ Athwal said. ‘I’m glad one of us does.’ He held up his glass. ‘Am I going to need another one of these?’
‘Up to you,’ Thorne said.
Athwal took a drink. ‘Well, I don’t suppose too much could shock me any more. Even if you’ve come to tell me you’ve found out who killed my daughter, I’m afraid you’ve left it a bit late.’
He held out his arms, inviting scrutiny. Look at the state of me.
Thorne could see what the man was getting at. Though still heavily accented, Athwal’s English was as immaculate as Thorne remembered, but in most other respects the changes were obvious enough. The grubby edges of a grey turban, the lines on his face and the veins cracked-red in the yellowish whites of his eyes.
The drink in his hand.
It was clear that Athwal knew Thorne had seen it. ‘As a Sikh, I was a man of faith,’ he said. ‘And then I wasn’t.’ He clicked his fingers, continued to speak as if he were talking to himself. ‘I did not consume intoxicants, and then I did.’ He smiled. ‘All very well believing in the cycle of birth, life, death and rebirth until you see your flesh and blood laid out on a slab. Believing that God is inside every person until someone rapes and strangles your daughter and you learn that some people are empty, save for lust and wickedness. All very well believing that your three principal duties are to pray, to work and to give, and that by doing these things you are honouring God.’ He studied his drink for a few seconds. ‘All very well.’ He brought the glass to his lips. ‘Now, I just work.’
‘I went to the shop,’ Thorne said.
Athwal nodded, having clearly worked that much out for himself. ‘I hope my staff were helpful.’
‘Well, most of them look as though they haven’t started shaving yet, but they told me where I could find you.’
‘I like to take my lunch hour early.’ Athwal smiled, looked at what was left in his glass. ‘And the food is nice in here.’
Thorne smiled back, allowing the man his moment of self-delusion.
‘I presume you didn’t come because you are looking for a good price on a DVD player. Not that I wouldn’t give you one, because I would.’
Thorne nodded and leaned towards him. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t come to tell you we’ve found out who killed Meena, but I wanted to let you know that we’ve reopened the case.’
Athwal looked at him. ‘You have some new information?’
‘We’re chasing up some fresh leads, yes. It’s looking hopeful. I just wanted to tell you personally, that’s all.’
‘That’s good of you.’
‘Didn’t want you and your wife seeing something in the papers and wondering what was going on.’
Athwal nodded. ‘Now, there was a woman who prayed, worked and gave until the very end.’
‘Oh,’ Thorne said. ‘I’m sorry to h
ear that.’
‘Nearly two years ago now.’ He raised his glass and it wasn’t clear if he were drinking in remembrance of his wife’s death or indicating that it was another reason the glass was there in the first place.
Thorne lifted his own glass. Touched it to Athwal’s.
‘They talk about people dying of a broken heart, don’t they? You believe that’s possible?’
‘People can… fade,’ Thorne said. ‘They can give up.’
‘It burst,’ Athwal said. ‘That’s the simple truth, just walking up the stairs one afternoon, but that would be splitting hairs. Burst… broken, doesn’t really matter what they call it. My wife was dying from the moment we got that first phone call. When they found Meena.’
Four years on, there was no question that, if Meena Athwal’s father was giving a performance, it was faultless. The crack in the voice and the tremor in the cheek. He’d had a lot of time to perfect the show of grief, Thorne thought. To really inhabit his loss. ‘I know it doesn’t get any easier,’ he said. ‘But like I say, we’re making progress and hopefully finding out what really happened might make things less painful.’
Athwal licked his lips, rubbed hands across his face. ‘What kind?’
‘Sorry?’
‘What kind of progress are you making?’
On the way to Wembley, Thorne had thought about this moment, or something close to it, and imagined how angry he would be; the fight to stop himself pulling Govinder Athwal out of his chair, driving his face into the table. Instead, he felt himself warming to the game he was being drawn into. Happy to let the man sitting opposite him believe he was getting away with it.
He said, ‘Let’s just say we’re not sure it was a random attack.’
‘What?’
‘There’s new evidence that suggests otherwise.’
‘So… not a stranger?’
‘It isn’t quite that straightforward.’
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