Dishonour

by Helen Black

  ‘Don’t be,’ she sighed. ‘I always knew you were one of the good guys.’

  He’d been surprised to find her at Ryan’s bedside, reading something to him while the ventilator kept time. He had watched for a while, listening to her voice.

  At last she’d looked up and given a small surprised smile.

  ‘Is he any better?’ Jack asked.

  ‘The nurses say he might be able to hear.’ She didn’t answer his question.

  Jack’s eyes filled with tears.

  ‘I got the men that did it,’ he said.

  ‘I knew you would.’

  They sat next to one another in silence and watched Ryan’s lifeless face. Jack could smell Mara’s perfume. It was delicious.

  ‘I can’t believe I didn’t guess what was really happening to Ryan,’ she said.

  ‘How could you?’

  ‘The scruffy clothes, stealing things, always hungry,’ she said. ‘Classic symptoms of neglect.’

  Jack shrugged. ‘Hindsight is a wonderful thing.’

  Mara nodded but he knew she didn’t accept that. She had let the boy down and he knew exactly how much that hurt.

  She moved very close to him. Close enough to kiss.

  ‘You want to call this thing between us off, don’t you?’ she whispered.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered back.

  She left seconds later and he knew he wanted nothing more than to find Lilly.

  ‘I hear you’ve had a good result,’ said the chief.

  Jack nodded into his mobile. He hadn’t been able to find Lilly and had stepped outside to call her when the chief caught him.

  ‘I suppose you could say that,’ said Jack.

  ‘I’m not saying your decision to send in a civilian was a good one.’

  Jack thought about Taslima up on the roof, a burning building collapsing around her.

  ‘Not my finest idea,’ he said.

  ‘But a good result is what matters.’

  Jack almost laughed. At least the chief was predictable.

  ‘Better get your backside down here, now,’ said the chief.

  ‘I just want to check Lilly’s OK,’ said Jack.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Jack. Malik has to be charged in the next twenty minutes and I’m assuming you want to be the one to do it.’

  Jack checked his watch. ‘I’m on my way.’

  Lilly rummaged in her fridge and snapped off a cube of mint Aero. Her hands were shaking.

  The woman—that woman—had knocked her completely off balance.

  She swallowed the sweet coolness of the chocolate and took another cube.

  She had been so tall. So blonde. So not like Lilly.

  But wasn’t that the point?

  Jack was sick of the real version. The messy, awkward, pregnant one. Instead he’d gone for an entirely different model, with smooth fingernails, painted ice pink.

  Where Lilly liked to think she had depth, the other woman was like cinder toffee. Sweet yet brittle.

  She popped the rest of the bar into her mouth and was hunting for another, when a dark shape shot past the kitchen window.

  Lilly caught her breath. Had it just been a bird? Perhaps it was the little chaffinch that had been knocking on the glass? Not very likely this time of night. It was almost ten and, apart from their resident owl, who let out a comedy hoot as if on cue, the birds were asleep. She peered outside and berated herself.

  The PTF had not killed Yasmeen. Both Malik and Jalil were safely in custody.

  She was being silly. Dark or not, it was a bird.

  Jack let himself into the custody suite.

  He’d been sorry to miss Lilly but couldn’t wait to see the look on Malik’s face when he read out the charge.

  Result.

  ‘If it ain’t Inpector Morse,’ the custody sergeant grinned.

  Jack high-fived him. ‘Let’s get that bastard out of the cell.’ He rubbed his hands together.

  The sarge reached around for his keys. ‘I’m going to enjoy this,’ he said. He clanked open the lock to cell ten and pulled the door.

  Malik was performing squat lunges.

  ‘All right, sunshine, let’s be having you,’ said the sergeant.

  Malik looked up, his face slick with sweat, and smirked. ‘Time to let me go, is it?’

  Jack snorted. ‘Hardly.’

  Malik’s face darkened.

  ‘We’ve found Aasha and she’s told us exactly what you’ve done.’ Jack knew he was smiling. ‘You’re bang to rights on this one.’

  Malik nodded and got slowly to his feet. Jack had expected a bigger reaction. It was almost disappointing.

  The huge man stretched his arms behind his head and rolled his head as if he were limbering down in the gym. He leaned over to the bed as if he were going to use it as ballast.

  ‘Don’t mess us about,’ said Jack.

  Too late, he saw Malik’s hand graze against something silver. Too late, he saw Malik’s hand swinging towards him, crashing something hard and metal into his face.

  Jack staggered backwards, his cheek split.

  The sergeant flew past him, into the cell. He swung at Malik, trying to push him to the ground. Malik swung back, landing a sharp blow to the sergeant’s stomach.

  Blood dripping down his face, Jack threw himself back into the cell and tackled Malik by his legs. The huge man lost his balance and toppled forwards, taking the sergeant with him. Then Jack pounced on his back, forcing his knees into Malik’s spine and the heel of his left hand into his neck so that his cheek was flat against the floor.

  Malik grunted but Jack didn’t release the pressure. Instead he used his other hand to pull his right hand behind his back. He grasped for the metal object. It was a mobile phone.

  ‘What the hell?’ Jack shouted.

  He held a tissue to his cheek. Blood was pissing down his face and it stung like hell.

  ‘You’ll need a stitch in that,’ said the sarge.

  ‘Never mind a fecking stitch,’ said Jack. ‘How did your man end up with this?’ He dangled the mobile phone between his thumb and forefinger.

  ‘I searched him myself,’ said the sarge. ‘He must have had it up his arse.’

  ‘Jesus.’ Jack dropped the phone on the desk. ‘Is that even possible?’

  The sergeant chuckled. ‘You’d be surprised what they can get up there when they know they’re going inside.’

  Jack picked up a biro and poked at the phone. He knew packing drugs was common, but a phone?

  ‘He had no idea I was going to arrest him so unless he’s in the habit of keeping a spare one up his jaxy, it didn’t get in here that way.’

  Jack hooked it towards him with the nib and flipped it open. He pressed phone ID.

  ‘This is Bell’s phone,’ he said.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said the sarge. ‘He went in to speak to Malik. He must have dropped it.’

  ‘Dropped it!’

  Something about all this didn’t smell right. In fact, it stank like the station house toilets the morning after a party at the Bengali Tandoori. Coppers didn’t drop their phones around dangerous suspects, especially those for whom the clock was ticking.

  And why had Bell been in the cell with Malik?

  ‘Why did he want to speak to him?’ Jack asked.

  The sergeant shrugged. ‘He said he wanted to help you out.’

  Now Jack could not only smell the bullshit, he could taste it.

  Bell was desperate to see Raffy Khan go down and ride his coat-tails to promotion. He had been terrified that Malik would turn out to be Yasmeen’s killer and ruin his plans. But surely he wouldn’t deliberately jeopardise Jack’s investigation? Surely he wouldn’t put lives at risk?

  Jack stalked out of the custody suite and rushed up the stairs to Bell’s office. He pushed hard on the door and it hit the wall behind. The office was empty.

  Anger made Jack’s face burn and his cheek tormented him. He was so incensed he directed his fury at Bell’s desk
and upended it onto the floor. Papers, pens and coffee cups scattered across the room.

  He remembered how the signal on Taslima’s phone had suddenly gone dead, as if she’d been found out. As if someone had alerted Jalil. Being ambitious was one thing, but how could Bell have stooped so low?

  Jack kicked the papers on the floor.

  Were there any lengths the man wouldn’t sink to?

  The answer appeared to Jack on the floor, in the disarray of memos and phone notes. A note from Cheney in forensics.

  Dear DI Bell,

  R V Raffique Khan

  Further to your request of a search of the DNA data base, I confirm that we have found the identity of the father of Yasmeen’s child.

  His name is Rory Freeman, a member of the extreme left-wing organisation Socialism Today, with a string of public order offences to his name. But more interesting are the three years he served for stabbing his pregnant wife.

  Regards,

  Nathan Cheney

  It was dated two days ago. This was crucial information in the Khan case and Bell was sitting on it.

  Lilly felt sick. She had polished off another mint Aero and a family bag of M&Ms. She burped ruefully.

  ‘You OK?’

  Jack smiled from the doorway.

  ‘What happened to you?’ she gasped at the sight of his bruised and bleeding cheek.

  ‘Malik didn’t want to miss the final of Strictly Come Dancing.’

  Lilly sighed. She’d been ready to have it out with him. Tell him that she knew all about his bottle blonde. But the sheer exhaustion in his eyes, coupled with the injury, made her shy away. After a day like today he needed to rest.

  ‘You should go to bed,’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘I just wanted to give you this.’ He handed a letter to her.

  She read it. ‘Should you be doing this?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s a complete breach of police protocol,’ he said, ‘but I’m past caring.’

  She reached for her coat.

  ‘Where are you going now?’ he asked.

  ‘To ask the Khans if they’ve ever heard of Rory Freeman.’

  Anwar gasped.

  ‘Is everything OK?’

  Lilly imagined how she looked with her blistered forehead, her singed hair, her smoke-stained jacket. Saira and Mrs Khan stared at her in horror.

  ‘There was a fire,’ she said.

  Mrs Khan screamed something in Urdu. It was the first time she had shown any emotion—that in itself startled Lilly.

  ‘Raffy dead?’ Mrs Khan’s accent was strong but there was no mistaking her fear.

  Lilly realised how this must look. She had arrived unannounced, late at night, looking like shit, talking about a fire. Of course the poor woman feared the worse.

  She shook her head furiously. ‘No, Mrs Khan, Raffy’s fine.’

  Saira led her mother to the sofa, where the woman sat, shaking uncontrollably.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Saira soothed. ‘Everything’s OK.’

  Lilly bent low and took the old woman’s hand. ‘The fire was at a farm. The PTF tried to kill the girl they kidnapped.’

  ‘Not Raffy?’ Mrs Khan’s eyes were stricken.

  ‘No,’ Lilly whispered, ‘not Raffy.’

  Anwar slumped next to his mother. Lilly noticed he too was shaking.

  ‘I’m sorry to have given you all such a fright,’ said Lilly.

  Anwar nodded and gave her a weak smile.

  ‘It’s just that some very important information came my way and I needed to speak to you about it,’ she said.

  The Khans looked up at her wearily. She couldn’t blame them.

  ‘Does the name Rory Freeman mean anything to you?’

  ‘No,’ said Anwar.

  Lilly looked into his eyes. ‘Give yourself a second to think about it.’

  Anwar couldn’t return her gaze and instead stared at his hands.

  ‘Never heard of him.’

  He’s lying, Lilly thought.

  She looked at Saira, who was also playing with her fingers in discomfort. Only Mrs Khan met Lilly’s eyes.

  ‘Who is Roree?’

  Lilly gulped. ‘He is the father of Yasmeen’s unborn child.’

  A strangled noise came from Anwar’s throat. He coughed to clear it.

  ‘It’s possible that he killed Yasmeen,’ said Lilly.

  The Khans sat in complete silence.

  ‘The police have tried to suppress this evidence and I want to go to court in the morning to explain the situation to the judge.’

  ‘Raffy coming home?’ asked Mrs Khan.

  ‘I can’t promise that,’ said Lilly, ‘but I will be requesting bail whilst we find out why the police have utterly ignored an obvious suspect. That’s why it’s important you tell me anything you know about this man.’

  Anwar stood up. ‘Like I said, we’ve never heard of him.’

  It was obvious Lilly was expected to leave.

  Lilly nodded curtly and headed for the door. ‘I’m sorry to have bothered you.’

  When Lilly got back into her car she stifled the urge to scream. What was wrong with these people? Raffy was fifteen and about to go down for a crime he didn’t commit. What were they covering up for that was worth letting him rot in gaol?

  All around her were families hiding secrets. Secrets that they would keep hidden whatever the cost.

  She had pushed her key into the ignition when her phone rang. She expected it to be Jack, but it was a number she didn’t recognise.

  ‘Lilly Valentine.’

  No one spoke but Lilly could hear the caller breathing.

  ‘Who is this?’

  Again no one answered.

  Lilly’s heart began to beat hard. She looked around her. Was anyone there? Was she being watched? She stabbed central locking. The buttons clicked. No one could get in.

  Lilly forced herself to sound braver than she felt. ‘Could you tell me who you are, please.’

  More breathing.

  ‘If you don’t tell me who you are I shall hang up,’ Lilly gulped. ‘And I shall report this number to the police.’

  More breathing.

  ‘Right,’ said Lilly.

  ‘Saira,’ said the caller, as Lilly was about to snap her phone shut. ‘It’s Saira Khan.’

  Lilly’s heart quietened. ‘Saira? Why on earth didn’t you say anything?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure I should.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Now I’m just trying to consider Raffy,’ said Saira.

  Lilly paused. Saira clearly wanted to tell Lilly something but felt she shouldn’t.

  ‘You sound torn,’ said Lilly.

  A sob sounded in Saira’s throat.

  ‘It’s always hard when you feel you have to make a choice,’ said Lilly.

  ‘And how do you know what is right?’ asked Saira.

  Lilly sighed. How did you know? ‘You don’t know for sure, but there are some things that can never be right.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like letting Raffy take the rap for something he didn’t do.’

  The girl sniffed into the phone.

  Lilly knew she had to tread carefully but she needed the information. ‘So what do you want to tell me, Saira?’

  ‘I want to tell you,’ she stumbled over her words, ‘I mean, I want to say that I do know Rory Freeman.’

  Lilly closed her eyes. She’d been right.

  ‘And you knew he was Yasmeen’s boyfriend?’

  ‘I suspected—well, we all did.’

  ‘Did she say anything to you?’

  ‘No, she could never have admitted that. It would have killed Mum,’ said Saira.

  Lilly bit her lip. Yasmeen had been young and impressionable, Rory violent. If she had felt able to confide in her family perhaps this tragedy could have been averted.

  Secrets and lies. They never did anyone any good.

  Mark Cormack slammed the CD into the player. He was desperate for a fag and his h
and hovered over the packet.

  Not a moment too soon, Paul McKenna’s voice floated around the car, urging him to think positive thoughts. Cormack closed his eyes and listened.

  The trouble was, Paul bleeding McKenna hadn’t spent all day trying to get the woman on her own. He hadn’t wandered up and down the corridors of Accident and Emergency, side-stepping some stroppy matron. In the end, she’d stalked right up to him, her nostrils flaring, a bowl of what looked like piss, slopping in her hands.

  ‘Can I ask what you’re doing here?’ she’d barked.

  ‘Waiting for the missus,’ he said. ‘She knocked herself out opening the garage door. Claret everywhere.’

  The nurse raised an eyebrow.

  ‘In fact,’ said Cormack, ‘I’ll pop down to the shop and get her a box of chocolates.’

  Now he was pissed off. He hadn’t got the job done. And, God, did he want a fag.

  Tomorrow he would do this thing.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lilly pulled her robe around her. Outside the sun was shining but in the cell area of the Crown Court the air was stale and cold.

  ‘I’m going to tell the judge that Rory Freeman is the most likely person to have killed Yasmeen,’ she told Raffy, ‘and that the police have deliberately covered that up.’

  She thought he might lose his temper, start a rant about their corruption. That the whole thing was institutionalised racism. Instead he just sat in his wheelchair, his feet still encased in bandages. He looked very young.

  ‘I’m going to say that the police must investigate further and that your case should be dismissed.’

  ‘Will he agree to that?’

  Lilly smiled. ‘I don’t know for sure, but he’ll certainly want more information about Freeman and I’ll ask for bail in the meantime.’

  Raffy’s eyes widened. ‘I’m going home?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  He seemed in shock, as if he couldn’t take in what she was telling him.

  ‘Saira is going to give evidence about Freeman,’ she said.

  ‘Saira?’

  Lilly nodded. ‘Even though she can’t say he killed Yasmeen, she can say her sister was troubled, that something wasn’t right between her and Rory.’

  A shadow flashed across Raffy’s face. ‘I don’t think she should get involved.’

  ‘She wants to,’ Lilly smiled.