by Liz Mistry
‘In secret?’
‘Well, in secret from his dad … well, Graeme Weston. Christine and my dad knew.’
‘Wow,’ said Gus, thinking this put Christine and Razaul’s affair in a very different light and opened up another possible motive for Graeme Weston to kill Razaul Ul Haq. It still didn’t make it feasible Weston was the Tattoo Killer, though, and Ul Haq carried the same tattoo as the other victims. Perhaps Weston wasn’t the killer, but he was certainly linked to this in some way. ‘You did right to bring these in, Sham.’
She shook her head. ‘There’s more.’ Tipping the envelope over the table, she allowed the last of the contents to spill out. It was photos of Razaul Ul Haq and Christine Weston having sex. Gus recognised one from Jez Hopkins article in the newspaper. There were many, and all of them appeared to have been taken without Christine and Razaul’s knowledge.
‘Did Jacob give those to Neha, too?’
Sham grimaced, ‘Yeah. He told Neha someone sent them to his dad, well, Weston, and that Weston hit his mum because of it. Jacob found them and sneaked them out of the house. After he found out our dad was killed, he didn’t want Weston destroying them.’
Gus knew Weston had hit his wife. He’d seen the evidence on Christine’s cheek. ‘Did you or Neha leak them to the Bradford Chronicle then, Sham?’
Sham gasped. ‘No, I reckon that must have been Jacob. Neha says Jacob hates Weston. Don’t know how he’d feel after finding out his real dad was dead.’
God only knew what Jacob Weston was feeling right now. Why would he publicly humiliate his mum like that though? Gus was sure the boy loved his mum, even if he behaved like a teenager at times … he was entitled to; after all, that’s exactly what he was.
He raised an eyebrow at Alice. ‘Looks like I’ll have plenty to talk to Weston about after all. Even if he lawyers up, he’ll be hearing all about this. Get Sampson and Taffy to bring Christine in for questioning, too, please. I think the shit’s really going to hit the fan for them when this goes public, and I don’t want them at their home address when it does. Oh, and tell Sampson we may not need that CCTV from the Chronicle after all. I suspect young Jacob Weston will admit to delivering those photos.’
‘Reckon the media will camp out there?’
Gus snorted. ‘No, I’m more concerned about a possible backlash against Christine Weston from her husband’s loyal supporters. Book them a hotel, and get a uniform to stay with them.’
Alice nodded, and Gus turned to Sham. ‘I’m going to have to speak to Neha, you know? We’ll do that tomorrow, and we’ll be gentle with her.’ He reached out a hand and placed it on the girl’s arm. ‘How are you?’
Sham shrugged, and despite her lopsided grin, her eyes were filled with tears. ‘Well, I’ve gained a half-brother. I didn’t know my dad. Didn’t give him a chance. Guess my mum’s poison worked on me. I’ve got Neha, so I’ll be alright. We’ll be alright. I’ll make sure of that. Right now, though, I feel I only know half the story. Can you tell Christine Weston that when she’s up for it, Neha and I would like to speak with her? Try to understand why she and our dad didn’t stay together, when they clearly had feelings for each other.’
Chapter 74
21:20 The Fort
‘Who the fuck leaked it then?’ Gus was incensed.
The nine o’clock news had just revealed Lewis Gore had been found alive and was in hospital at BRI. However, not content with that, they’d also leaked every detail they’d kept hidden about the tattoos … and all Professor Carlton’s theories about the tattoo site possibly being symbolic of impotence or sexual confusion.
He slammed his palm onto the desk top, ignoring the smarting pain and yelled again, ‘Well?’
Sampson, Taffy and Alice stood in silence. Gus knew they were waiting for his anger to abate before they said anything to him. He needed to calm down. It wasn’t their fault the news he had so carefully omitted in his earlier press conference had found its way to the ears of journalists. They were insidious, deceptive and full of wiles. It could have been anyone from the paramedics to the hospital staff to a uniformed officer who’d let it slip … or, as Gus suspected, a combination of all of the above.
Running fingers through his dreads, he took a deep breath and focussed his mind on what he needed to do. ‘Make sure Gore’s room is policed at all times. I want an officer at the family home too. I won’t have any of his family at risk. Carlton thinks the knowledge Gore isn’t dead might make the Tattoo Killer escalate. We need to be prepared.’ Time could be running out for the next unknown victim.
‘Sampson, get the word out to uniforms to be doubly vigilant. Anything suspicious, and they act … got it? We’ve got no time for double-checking things. Get uniforms at known dogging sites, near the gay bars, on Thornton Road and Lumb Lane. Anywhere our killer might think of as being an area of deviant behaviour.’
He turned to Compo. ‘Why don’t we have a lead on how these victims interact with our killer? There’s got to be an intersection … a meeting point. Something in common between them that links them to the killer. We need to find it.
‘Anything come through on the helpline? Come on. We need to go over and over what we know already. The answer must be in there somewhere.’
Compo shook his head. ‘I’ve been running all sorts of permutations through my system, and I keep coming up blank. It’s as if he’s selecting them completely at random.’
‘Just keep at it. Something will pop.’
‘Gus, Graeme Weston’s solicitor is asking when we’re interviewing his client,’ said Alice.
Gus snorted. ‘He can wait. I don’t think he can give us anything right now. My priority is either identifying the next victim or identifying the killer. Let’s get cracking.’
Chapter 75
21:45 The Kill Site
‘It’s all going to hell, Tara, and it’s all that stupid journalist’s fault. I had everything so well planned, and now, he’s gone and spoiled everything. Can you believe the things they were saying? It was disgusting. Making out I was a pervert. That I get some sort of thrill from what I do. Said I was a poof. Do you hear that, Tara … me, a poof? Well, that made me laugh! Idiots!
‘I know who’s behind it all. It’s that Detective Inspector McGuire. He’s got an agenda. He’s the one who leaked all that filth to the press. Acting all innocent at his press conference, hiding that Gore was still alive, and then, behind the scenes, he leaks everything.
‘He wanted to humiliate me, I reckon. That’s why he released details of the tattoo. Revealed the tattoo site.
‘AAAgh!
‘It makes me so cross they’ve missed the whole point of them. Felt like shouting out loud ‘IT’S A WARNING TO THEM NOT TO PROCREATE!’
‘Sexual? Makes me want to vomit. As if anyone could get anything sexual from touching their wrinkled, brown slithery penises.
‘Gus McGuire will have to pay … sooner rather than later. That’s something that is on my agenda.
‘Have an apple, Tara. There, there, you like that don’t you?
‘What shall I do? What shall I do? First, that ghastly photo in the newspaper, and now, it seems that the nigger’s still alive. I was sure he was dead. He didn’t come ‘round like the others did. He was like a big lump of burnt meat … a barbecued carcass, black and disgusting. Real waste of time, he was. Nonetheless, I had to stamp my mark on him, just the same. The whole point of the tattoos is they’re a symbol of purity. What better place to put them than right there. Right on their sex. Right where it hurts. Anybody seeing that will remember and be warned against procreating impure genes.
‘It wasn’t the same tattooing a dead man, or as I’ve since discovered, an unconscious one. No screaming, no writhing against the ties. Made it a bit … shall we say … pedestrian. You won’t understand, Tara. All you’re interested in is sugar lumps, apples and hay and warm rugs, and someone to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. If only life could be so easy. If only humans were like you.
&nbs
p; ‘He must be tough, though, that Lewis Gore. Mind you, those wogs are, aren’t they? Big and beefy with no brains … just brawn. That’ll be what saved him, I should think … his leather skin. Tattooing him was more difficult than usual. Darkie skin’s tougher than Paki skin … of course, I had to shave him. And that was quite vile. Coarse, filthy hair all curly and vile. You know, Tara? I couldn’t even see the ink, because he was so dark. Makes my skin crawl touching them. Unclean animals.
‘Doubt anybody would’ve missed him, either. That wife of his would’ve been glad to see the back of him. Wonder how many STIs he brought home from his ‘business’ with the whores.
‘Wonder what state he’s in. Doubt he can tell them anything. It was dark when I grabbed him, and I had my hoodie on. Anyway, I was careful. I always am, and he was out of it.
‘Did I tell you he wasn’t really dead, Tara? Yes, of course I did. I’m forgetting. I thought he was dead, whereas he was really just unconscious. Must have misjudged the Propofol. Haven’t been able to store it properly either … maybe that’s affected it. Next time, I’ll increase the dose a tad – make sure. I’ll have to get more. My stock’s running low, and I don’t know how I can get more from the vet. I’ll think on that. Don’t worry, sweetie, that Gore person will never be able to tell them anything.
‘My job is even more important now, though, Tara. I’ve got to take the heat off Graeme so he can rise to the forefront again. Need to minimise the impact of his wife’s actions. Won’t go after her, though. Not this time. Got to play a long game. I’ll get her in the end, though, but for now, I know who I’ll go after.
‘Impotent! How dare they? Maybe I’ll leave an extra message next time … just to make it clear.
‘Yes, and that will give me the greatest amount of pleasure.
‘Time to go now. I’ll be back, Tara. Don’t worry. I’ll be back later on tonight.’
Chapter 76
22:15 The Fort
Graeme Weston had been brought up from the cells ten minutes previously. Gus, with Alice, watched him through the mirror. He was dishevelled, and judging by the bags under his eyes and the way he guzzled the bottle of water he’d been given, he also had a hell of a hangover.
Good! Gus didn’t want the smarmy little prick firing on all cylinders. Weston sprawled in his chair, scratching his stomach and grimacing every time he moved his head. He was a real sight, and Gus was glad. They were nearing something momentous, and he was keen to prise whatever gem of information Weston had been keeping to himself. Perhaps the pressure of keeping all those secrets about his son’s real parentage and his wife’s continued affair had proved too much for him. Everyone had a breaking point, after all. He couldn’t rule out the possibility the first two victims had been a practise for the main event – Razaul Ul Haq – and maybe Lewis Gore was just to keep them guessing.
He grinned at Alice. ‘Come on.’
When they walked in, Weston barely moved. Gus tossed another bottle of water at him and was pleased when the man’s reactions made him move his upper body upwards to catch it. His face creased, and he released an ‘Ow.’
‘Hungover, are we?’ Gus’ tone voice was solicitous.
‘We?’ said Weston. ‘You’ll never be one of us. So, there’s no point in pretending. Folk like you know deep down inside that they’re inferior. That they’re not capable of the things we are.’ He waved his hand in a nonchalant way. ‘Doesn’t matter how PC the goody-two-shoes try to be; you lot will never get there.’
Gus smiled and, placing the folder he carried on the table, pulled a chair out and sat down. He turned to Alice, who joined him at the table. ‘There speaks the racist with blood down his shirt, stinking of vomit and sweat, with a wife who screws Asian men.’ He flipped open the folder and spread the photos in front of Weston.
Weston averted his eyes. ‘I want my solicitor. I also demand to be released. You’re no doubt aware by now no harm has befallen my wife, so let me go.’
Alice smiled. ‘Aw, that’s a shame. If that was all we’d arrested you on, then we could, of course, let you go. Unfortunately, there’s that small matter of assaulting a police officer. That doesn’t go away as easily.’
‘However,’ Gus gathered up the photos and put them back in his folder, ‘if you were to co-operate, perhaps that could be forgotten too. How about it?’
The door opened, and a suited man with white hair and a stoop walked in.
‘Ah, here’s your solicitor now, Mr Weston. Let’s crack on, Alice.’ He gestured towards the recorder, which Alice set up, leaving Weston’s solicitor no option other than to sit down.
Introductions over, Gus began, ‘We’ve received some information which gives a whole new perspective on things. It seems there is some question over your son’s parentage.’
Weston jolted upright and glowered at Gus. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’
Pleased to have gained a reaction so easily, Gus smiled. ‘Is there no question over the parentage of your son?’
‘None of your business.’
Weston’s solicitor leaned over and whispered in his ear. Weston glowered and shook his head.
‘So,’ said Gus, bringing Jacob’s medical records from the folder. ‘It says here your son suffers from the blood disease beta thalassemia. He has the thalassemia major strain, which means unequivocally that both parents must carry the thalassemia gene. Do you carry that gene?’
The solicitor made to intervene, but Weston growled, ‘Shut up, I’ll deal with this. How did you get my son’s medical records? Do you have a warrant? You can’t use this sort of thing against me when it’s been obtained illegally.’
‘Actually, it hasn’t been obtained illegally. It was given to us by a relative of your son, and I wonder if you could answer my question. Are you a carrier of the thalassemia gene?’
Weston shot a glance at his solicitor, who then whispered in his ear. He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. ‘No comment.’
Although Gus had hoped Weston would break straight away, he hadn’t counted on it. So, not betraying his disappointment, he continued, ‘Are you the biological father of Jacob Weston?’
‘No comment!’
‘Do you know who the biological father of Jacob Weston is?’
‘No comment.’
‘Is Razaul Ul Haq, Jacob Weston’s biological father?’
Despite the inevitable, ‘No comment,’ the twitch at the corner of his eye betrayed Graeme Weston’s increased anxiety.
‘Did you kill Razaul Ul Haq because you were jealous of his continued relationship with your wife?’
As Weston spat, ‘No comment!’ his fists clenched round the plastic bottle, bending it out of shape.
Gus smiled. ‘Did you kill Asim Farooq and Manish Parmar, and abduct and seriously injure Lewis Gore to misdirect the police enquiry away from Mr Ul Haq’s murder?’
The solicitor laid a hand on his client’s sleeve, but Weston jerked his arm away. ‘This is a fucking set-up. This is you lot being lazy. That’s what this is. No fucking comment.’
Gus noted Weston’s increased use of swearing with satisfaction. This was a sure sign he was getting to the man, and he fully intended to keep the pressure up. ‘Did you kill Razaul Ul Haq because he threatened to expose your son’s true parentage to your Albion First cronies, thus affecting your subsequent selection chances?’
‘No comment.’
The odour of sweat from Weston wafted across the table, making Gus want to gip. Nevertheless, he continued throwing questions at the other man. ‘Do you know which of your party members ordered the City Park bomb?’
Head bowed, voice tight, Weston said, ‘No fucking comment.’
Gus turned to Weston’s solicitor. ‘We will be applying for an extension to further keep your client in custody. In the meantime, he will be returned to the cells. If you need time to consult with your client, you can use this interview room for now.’
Looking at the clock on the wall, he stood up.
‘Where do you go on Wednesday afternoons every six weeks, Graeme?’
Weston’s eyes narrowed, and a slow sneer spread across his face. ‘No comment, brown boy.’
Gus held the other man’s gaze for a long moment, then he turned and nodded to the solicitor before terminating the interview and leaving the room. Glad to be away from Weston’s stench, Gus, with Alice, walked along the corridor only to be met by Taffy running towards them. ‘Have you heard, sir? Christine Weston’s house has been fire-bombed. The fire brigade is there, and Christine Weston and her son are en-route here.’
‘Shit,’ said Gus. ‘I should have got her in protective custody earlier. Are they okay?’
Taffy shrugged. ‘As far as I know, they smashed the living room window and tossed in a Molotov cocktail, yelling ‘Paki lover,’ before running off. Christine was in the kitchen, and Jacob was upstairs. She grabbed him, and they ran into the back garden where she phoned 999. No injuries reported, though they’ll be in shock. The fire brigade doused the fire, which was contained in the front room.’
Gus’ stomach gurgled, reminding him, yet again, he still hadn’t managed to grab anything to eat. ‘Right, Alice, we need to talk to Christine Weston as soon as she comes in. I need something to eat first. Give me ten minutes, will you?’
Chapter 77
22:55 The Fort
Feeling marginally better after a warm coffee and a Kit Kat that Alice had hidden from Compo at the bottom of her desk, Gus was all set to speak with Christine Weston and her son. He had no intention of going in guns blazing as he had with her husband. He suspected by now, after grieving for her lover and being frightened of her husband and his party, Christine Weston would be eager to work with him. After all, she still had Jacob to think about.
Christine and Jacob waited in the room where Alice and Gus had spoken to Shamshad Ul Haq in earlier. They had fish and chips brought in for Christine and her son, and smelling the tangy vinegar in the air, Gus wished he’d had the foresight to order some for himself. The tuna sandwich had barely hit the sides. His stomach growled, and smiling, Christine pushed her half-eaten packet towards him. ‘I’m done, Inspector. You have them.’