by Parker Bilal
‘Fair enough,’ she said. ‘Tell me what you make of Foulkes?’
‘I have to admit that my instincts when I met this man were not encouraging.’
‘Tell me about it.’ She was thinking about Drake. ‘I think that’s a male thing.’
‘I felt there was something insincere about him. I did not trust him. However, it was clear that Howeida was stuck on him.’
‘Supposing for a moment it was serious. Would that be problematic? I mean, in terms of family approval and so forth.’
‘Up to a certain point.’ The smile was gentle and persuasive. ‘We are a liberal family.’
‘So if Howeida decided to marry Foulkes, say, there wouldn’t be opposition within the family?’
‘It’s not going to happen.’
‘You sound pretty sure of that.’
‘I am.’ Almanara gave a short nod. ‘I know her. I know how she thinks. How she feels.’
That was the kind of explanation Crane had expected from him, but even though she had anticipated it, it sounded odd, slightly off beat. Something here didn’t match up.
Almanara set down his glass. ‘I would urge you not to take anything for granted and certainly not to jump to the obvious conclusions.’
‘I think I’m capable to making my own mind up about what to believe.’
‘Of course. I did not mean to imply otherwise.’ Almanara bowed his head slightly in deference. ‘Can I ask, have you ever read The Arabian Nights, what we call Alf Layla wa Layla?’
‘Of course.’
‘In English translation?’
‘Also in Arabic.’
That lifted his eyebrows. ‘My point is that most people would be surprised to learn there are no camels in The Arabian Nights. Only horses.’
‘I’m not sure I follow.’
‘I am trying to tell you that things are not always as they appear.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’ Crane had to fight her natural response to being lectured.
‘Allow me to ask one more question. Did you expect me to offer you a bribe to drop the case?’
‘I try to keep an open mind.’
‘I have the same impulse, but Marco Foulkes hired you to find what happened to Howeida. He suggested to you that I was the patriarchal uncle who was trying to spirit her back to where she belongs. How am I doing?’
Crane said nothing. Almanara smiled.
‘Very well. I have tried to hire your services and we have agreed that is problematic. Therefore, I have a suggestion. If you find her, I shall give you a bonus. Call it an incentive.’
‘It’s a generous offer, Mr Almanara, but I can’t agree to that either. I’m afraid we just have to play this out and see where it leads.’
He leaned across the table towards her. ‘The reason I agreed to meet you was twofold. Firstly, to convince you not to waste any more time considering me as the prime suspect. I would never hurt Howeida, or do anything against her will. Secondly, I came to urge you to find her, quickly. I have a feeling she is in great danger.’
‘That’s precisely what I intend to do.’
30
The Golden Scales was the name of a Chinese place on Wandsworth Road. Close enough to Drake’s old station at Raven Hill to be reached in a few minutes by car, and far enough away to be sure you weren’t going to run into a lot of other cops. It wasn’t much more than a takeaway, though they had high stools and a long bar running across the window so clients could eat on the premises if they wanted to. Decoration was pared down to a minimum. The walls were a grubby off-white, with the only addition of colour being provided by the red tassels over the counter and an out-of-date calendar celebrating the Year of the Dog. On the other wall were a couple of faded posters for films in Cantonese. Drake studied the images, trying to work out what they were about, while the woman behind the counter muttered to herself as she fussed over something out of sight before looking up to take his order. She was so tiny you couldn’t actually see her without leaning over the top of the Formica counter. Drake chose king prawn curry and fried rice for no reason other than it was what he always ordered. Why break the habits of a lifetime? She scribbled characters on a small chit of paper and asked him to pay in cash. When that was settled she slapped a packet of chopsticks, a napkin and a plastic spoon onto the counter and disappeared through a bead curtain behind her.
A bell jangled as the door opened behind him and Drake turned to see Kelly Marsh shaking the rain off her anorak. She took in the place with a loud sniff.
‘Classy,’ she said.
‘It’s an old favourite.’
‘Not sure I see why. What did you order?’
Drake told her. ‘It’s spicy,’ he warned.
‘Just what I need in my life.’
‘You want order?’ The diminutive woman was back behind the counter, watching them.
Kelly pointed. ‘I’ll have what he’s having.’
‘You trust him?’ The woman frowned at her, as if this was patently a bad idea. Marsh looked at Drake, who shrugged.
‘That’s a moot question,’ said Marsh. ‘Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt.’
The woman ducked back through the bead curtain into the kitchen, where raised voices could be heard in heated discussion.
‘So, there’s a reason we’re meeting here, right?’ Marsh asked, as they climbed onto the high stools in the window. ‘Aside from the wonderful food?’
‘Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.’
‘I always heard dubious accounts of this place.’ Marsh glanced around her. ‘What have you been up to?’
‘Mainly looking for our mystery man from the Tube. Fender.’
‘On account of the hat?’
‘We don’t have anything else to go by. I got close to him in Victoria.’
‘That’s where he left the Tube.’
‘Exactly.’ Drake recalled the figure in the cathedral. ‘The thing is, I think he saw me.’
‘How would he know who you are?’
‘Well, that’s another thing. Anyway, there’s a shelter down there run by something called the Silver Linings Charity.’
‘So, he’s homeless?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Drake mused. ‘It looks that way, but he’s hard to get a fix on. The people running the shelter are protective. They don’t like to give out information on their clients.’
‘You think it’s worth going in with a warrant?’
‘I’m not sure that will bring results.’
‘But still, you got the idea he’d been there.’
‘I spoke to someone there, a fellow traveller. I couldn’t get a name, but he seemed to recognise the picture.’
‘People like that, they don’t like questions.’
Drake heard the inflection in her voice. ‘You speak from experience?’
Marsh was turned towards the street. He studied her as she stared straight out through the window. The slightly flat profile and the upturned nose made it easy to imagine her as a precocious child.
‘My father had mental health issues. Used to go missing on a regular basis.’
‘Sorry to hear that.’
‘Water under the bridge. Used to take off all his clothes on the train. A regular showman.’
Drake wondered if it was the fact that he was no longer her superior officer that made Marsh feel she could tell him these things. Or maybe it was that, with time, she was beginning to trust him.
‘A kid was murdered last night,’ said Drake. ‘He was sleeping rough.’
‘I heard about that. He was stabbed. That’s another case nobody’s going to bust a gut trying to solve.’ She stopped herself to look over. ‘Wait a minute, you’re saying there’s a connection to this?’
‘He was inside my sleeping bag when it happened.’
Marsh was silent for a long moment. ‘Okay, you’ve got my attention. How close were you?’
Drake explained the sequence of events.
‘Did you see the killer
?’
‘I was across the way, in the park.’
Marsh frowned. ‘Don’t tell me you were sleeping rough.’
‘Seemed like a good way of finding our man.’
Marsh was staring at him in wonder. ‘You can get seriously hurt out there, you know.’
‘I know.’ Drake broke off as the woman appeared. She came round from behind the high counter and handed him a plastic bag.
‘King prawn curry, fried rice.’
‘Thanks. You have some of that chilli oil?’
The woman reared back, offended. ‘It’s already hot. You know?’ She dismissed her own objection. ‘Forget it. You all think you know hot sauce. You don’t know it.’ She slammed a bowl of dark black bean chilli oil on the counter before disappearing again.
‘Must be the way you tell ’em,’ murmured Marsh. ‘Anyway, tell me about the sleeping bag.’
‘Nothing to tell. I didn’t know him. He was just a kid.’ Even as he began to unpack his food, Drake realised this was not quite true. The kid had done nothing wrong. He felt responsible. He just didn’t know how to say it. ‘It was cold. I felt sorry for him. I gave him the bag, then I moved on. I should have thought.’ Drake lifted a prawn out of the viscous sauce and examined it before putting the chopsticks down again. ‘If I hadn’t tried to help him he would still be alive.’
‘You can’t blame yourself. You couldn’t know that they might target you.’
Drake looked at her. ‘I should have known.’
‘Why? I mean, why would you think he’d come after you?’
‘Because he’s been watching me.’ Drake told her about the DNA that Archie had found.
‘Your blood?’ Marsh stared at him in disbelief. ‘How could that have happened?’
Drake explained about the shirt and the cut on his hand. He picked up the chopsticks again and started pushing the prawns around. It was no good. He’d lost his appetite.
‘Whoever this guy is, he’s been planning this for a while.’
‘This is personal. He’s making it personal.’ Marsh shook her head. ‘We’re talking about someone with an obsession, a personal fixation. The question is why.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘We’re talking psycho here, you realise that.’
‘Maybe it’s not as cut and dried as that.’
‘You think he picked up on it when you were trying to find him?’
‘It’s possible.’ Drake nodded. ‘I was doing the rounds close to Victoria, asking a lot of questions, trying to track his movements. He may have caught wind of that.’
‘And you never spotted him that evening? Did you get a look at him?’
‘Nothing. I thought I was wasting my time. There’s a lot of people moving around, plus everyone is covered up. Hoodies, rain jackets, headgear.’
‘And you’re convinced that this man, Fender, is responsible for leaving the head on the train and murdering that kid last night.’
‘It looks that way.’
‘I have to say, Cal, this is beginning to look a lot bigger than we thought.’
They both looked round as Marsh’s food appeared.
‘You too skinny,’ the woman said to her. ‘You eat.’
‘I’m beginning to see why you like this place,’ said Marsh.
‘It grows on you.’
She began to unpack the foil dishes inside the bag and set them out in a row. There was a packet of spring rolls. Marsh held them up.
‘I didn’t order these.’
‘She’s taken a shine to you. Don’t even think about taking them back.’
‘You might have a point.’ Marsh glanced over her shoulder. The rather terrifying little woman was nowhere to be seen. ‘That’s how William Holden died, by the way.’
‘What are we talking about now?’
‘The actor, you know? Hollywood, in the old days. He fell down drunk in his living room and cut his head. Put a towel on, lay down and bled to death.’
‘Anyone ever tell you you’re a mine of useless information?’
‘Not quite as bluntly as that. You’re not worried about this guy watching your flat? He’s going to a lot of trouble on your behalf.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘He wants to frame you. He wants you to take the blame for Zelda’s death.’
‘To cover his own tracks?’
Marsh’s fork wagged at him. ‘That’s assuming he did it.’
‘What other conclusion is there?’
‘Maybe he’s not the one who killed her. What if he’s trying to get our attention?’
‘Why point the finger at me?’
‘He believes you are complicit, one way or another.’
‘It’s possible.’ Right now anything was possible.
‘Either way,’ said Marsh, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin, ‘Somebody thought this out.’
‘You don’t like?’
They both turned. The woman from behind the counter was standing there. She jabbed a finger at Drake and repeated her question.
‘I’m just not that hungry.’
‘You don’t like!’ she declared triumphantly.
‘I’ll take it with me and eat it later.’
‘Later cold. No good.’
She stalked away. Her angry voice could be heard taking her wrath out on someone in the kitchen.
‘You’ve really hurt her feelings,’ said Marsh. ‘How long were you and Archie planning to keep this DNA story to yourselves?’
‘Archie’s not happy. He can sit on it for a day or so, after that he’s obliged to inform Pryce.’
‘Pryce will be in seventh heaven when he gets wind of this. I have to say I was surprised he wanted to kick this thing into the long grass. I mean, it’s not every day something as spectacular as a severed head comes your way.’
‘Pryce doesn’t do anything without a reason,’ said Drake.
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning, maybe Pryce knows more about this than he is letting on.’
Marsh stared at him. ‘Did you ever consider the possibility that maybe you’re getting a little paranoid in your retirement?’
‘A case like this draws attention. Either he doesn’t want to wind up with egg on his face, or he just wants it to go away.’
‘Are you seriously not going to eat that?’
Drake slid the foil tray across and Marsh went to work on it. ‘Really good,’ she said between mouthfuls.
‘Maybe we’ll get out of here alive yet.’ Drake glanced over his shoulder, but there was no sign of the diminutive woman.
‘Maybe next time we could try that ramen place down the road.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s what civilised people do, isn’t it?’
‘What is?’
‘Working lunches.’
‘If you say so. I’m not that familiar with civilised people.’
‘If Pryce does come after you, you’ll need to sort this one out double quick.’
Drake stared out of the window. It felt as if Pryce had been after him for as long as he could remember. Maybe it was time to sort that out. One thing he knew for sure, if Pryce thought he could nail him for Zelda he would do so without hesitation.
‘Hang in there,’ said Marsh, as she got up to leave. ‘We’ve got your back.’
‘Good to know,’ said Drake. And he meant it. As he watched her walk away, he had a feeling he was going to need all the help he could get.
31
Kelly Marsh arrived back at Raven Hill to find Milo looking worried.
‘Wheeler’s on the war path.’
Marsh rolled her eyes. ‘Why do I get the feeling you spend your free time watching re-runs of 1970s sitcoms?’
‘I can’t deal with the present reality.’
‘Makes about as much sense as anything, I suppose.’ Marsh threw herself down in her chair only to be rewarded with an alarming groan of protest from the springs. Milo slid his chair towards her, the wheels squeaking over the
linoleum. He looked around and lowered his voice.
‘Well, what did he say?’
Marsh swung round to face him. ‘You’ll never guess where he was last night. That stabbing up in town.’
Milo reeled back. ‘What was he doing up there?’
‘He was undercover, trying to find our missing man from the Tube.’
‘Full marks for initiative.’
‘The point is he’s convinced the killer was after him.’
‘Ah, paranoia? Delusions of grandeur?’
‘You have to stop reading so many long books.’ Marsh reached for a well-chewed pencil on her desk and twirled it round her fingers deftly.
‘Everything seems to point to the fact that the appearance of this head is aimed at him.’
‘Someone’s trying to frame him?’
‘There’s the newspaper cutting and the bloody rag. Both tie him to the crime scene.’
‘Both?’ Milo did a double take. ‘How did that happen?’
Marsh filled him in.
‘So somebody broke into his place?’
‘Somebody has been watching him.’ Marsh tossed the pencil down with a sigh. ‘To be honest, I don’t know what to make of all this.’
Milo frowned. ‘You mean, you don’t believe him?’
‘Back then, when it went down, and Cal was suspended, the suspicion was that he was on the take. Why hide away the key witness without telling anyone and then she disappears?’
‘There was no conclusive proof,’ Milo pointed out. ‘That’s why he was suspended. There was an internal inquiry that turned up nothing. So they banished him to the far north.’
‘Matlock,’ murmured Marsh. ‘Hardly the Arctic.’
‘Anything north of Watford Gap …’
‘The point is that we don’t really know if he’s out there trying to find the killer, or setting up a watertight alibi for himself.’
‘Wait a second.’ Milo’s face was a picture of bewilderment. ‘You’re not saying you don’t trust him?’
‘Don’t look so shocked. We have to try to be as objective as possible because that’s the way Pryce is going to look at it.’
That made sense to Milo. ‘What about Wheeler?’
‘I don’t know, but we need to think fast.’
‘Shit!’ muttered Milo. ‘Talk of the devil.’