by Sarah Flint
She closed the door and ran the hot tap, gently immersing Goldilocks in the steaming liquid and watching as her thin empty body yielded to the ripples on the surface. Carefully she lathered soap on to the threadbare material, the dirt and grime turning the water in the basin a murky brown. Time and time again she replaced the water until eventually it stayed clear.
When she was satisfied Goldilocks was clean, Caz lifted the sodden doll to her face, inhaling its new perfumed aroma and softness, all memories of Razor now gone, washed away forever from her life, just as he would be. She would start afresh, a new beginning, a new life, with just her precious, clean doll as a memento of her past.
Returning to her cubicle, she placed Goldilocks on the radiator to dry, climbed back up on to the trolley and pulled the blanket over her. It wouldn’t be too long before her plans would be set into motion.
Chapter 54
‘Hello, Caz. Are you up to speaking with me now?’
Caz smiled almost apologetically, as she recognised Charlie Stafford peeping around the curtain. She nodded. ‘Hi Charlie. Yeah, I’ll tell you everything that happened an’ I need to tell you some other stuff an’ all.’
Her throat was still sore and it hurt to talk, but she was determined to get started. The police officer was clearly pleased at her words. She’d be even more delighted when she’d heard her account of the evening’s events.
Charlie pulled up a chair and beckoned her colleague in. ‘I’ve just come from Razor’s flat. I was going to ask Sabira to take your statement, but I wanted to see how you were myself. So, how are you?’
‘Not so bad, seeing as that bastard tried to kill me,’ she whispered.
She watched the officer’s slight confusion as she pulled out a pen from her rucksack and opened a notebook.
‘I’ve spoken to Anna and she’s given me her account but just run through it from your point of view.’
She took a deep breath and started, telling Charlie about the previous week and how Razor’s mood had changed after the deaths of both Redz and Dutch. She explained the events leading up to her escape from Razor that night, after finding him with Ayeisha and what had happened at Anna’s office. She indicated her eye, which was still partially closed, the bruising an angry mauve. Charlie nodded and smiled as she went through it, taking the odd note but clearly pleased that her story matched with that of Anna.
‘Anna is happy to make a statement about what happened,’ Charlie confirmed. ‘In fact, another colleague should be taking it now.’
Caz smiled. ‘Yeah I guessed she would.’
‘Anyway, carry on,’ Charlie prompted.
‘Yeah, right. After he dragged me from Anna’s, he pushed me into a car and locked all the doors.’
‘Do you know whose car it was?’ interrupted Charlie.
‘How the fuck should I know?’, Caz replied quietly. ‘He had to start this one with a screwdriver, so I expect it was nicked, but I couldn’t do nothin’ about it. Anyway, we drove round a bit, then he took me to Redz’ old patch and pushed me out on to the street. I was freezin’, like, but I got picked up by that big guy pretty quick. We agreed business an’ he drove me to the garages where Redz was done. It freaked me out when I saw those dead flowers. Anyway, I asked The Punter for my cash upfront an’ he said that he would pay me, but could we just talk for a bit first. Some of them is like that if they lose their bottle, but normally I can do some persuading pretty quick, if you know what I mean?’
She grinned, painfully. ‘We was just talkin’ an’ The Punter was nearly ready when the door suddenly flew open an’ there was Razor. He pulled the guy out, sayin’ I’d had enough time an’ where was the money? I said I hadn’t got it yet an’ he went fuckin’ mad. He grabbed me round the throat and was just squeezin’ an’ squeezin’. He kept shoutin’ that I was a useless bitch an’ he’d have to teach me a lesson. I managed to scream a few times when I could, but he wouldn’t let go. I could hear The Punter in the background telling him to stop, but Razor just told him to fuck off an’ leave him to sort ’is business out. Said I deserved everything I got. The last thing I remember was seein’ The Punter tryin’ to pull him off me. Then I must have blacked out. I don’t remember anything more. All I know is I’m bleedin’ lucky to be alive.’
She stopped, watching Charlie who was scribbling furiously.
‘I really thought I was a goner. I didn’t know where I was when I woke up. It was only when Anna arrived that I gradually started to remember what ’ad ’appened. I know I’m fuckin’ lucky. It could’ve been me this time.’
Charlie looked up and their eyes met. Caz held her gaze.
‘Are you absolutely sure The Punter was trying to help you?’ the police officer frowned. ‘Only, we received information recently that a man fitting his description was responsible for Redz’ death.’
‘Probably just a rumour put out by friends of Razor.’ She smiled. ‘There was a punter a while ago that sounded a bit like this guy. We got warned about him by girls from a different patch. It’s probably where the rumour came from. It’s just a coincidence if they look similar. But this guy helped me. He didn’t attack me.’
‘And you’re sure about that? Because Razor says that you were being attacked by The punter… not him?’
‘Well he would say that, wouldn’t he? That fuckin’ bastard hunted me down, punched me, kicked me and then tried to throttle me. He’s fuckin’ mental. No, I’m lucky The Punter was there. It must have been him that saved me.’
‘Are you willing to make a statement to that effect?’ Charlie asked.
‘Too right I am an’ I also want to bleedin’ take back what I said in that other statement I gave you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know,’ Caz persisted. ‘That statement I made saying that Razor was with me on the night Redz got murdered. He weren’t with me at the flat at all. He went out earlier with Redz an’ I never saw him ’til the next day. He forced me to be ’is alibi, said I’d be fuckin’ next if I didn’t back him up. Said he’d enjoy watching me die, like he’d enjoyed watching Redz die, an’ he nearly fuckin’ did, the bastard.’
*
The Punter lay on his trolley in the hospital cubicle nearby and cursed his bad luck. None of this would now be happening if it weren’t for bloody women.
His cheek and neck throbbed painfully. Although the main bleeding had been stemmed, a sticky pink fluid still seeped out from the wounds. Nurses came and went, changing and checking his dressings, but the cuts required stitching, and he was no longer a priority. As each new casualty arrived, so the wait increased, but he didn’t mind. At least it was delaying the inevitable time when he would be taken to the police station.
Two bulky policemen stood guard outside his cubicle, watching him through the gap in the curtain, but the rigid metal handcuffs removed any notion of escape. He was under arrest for GBH on the whore, but she’d deserved it. Now he was being made to pay the price for her depravity.
Nobody as yet knew of his whereabouts; not even his wife having been informed. The longer the better though; she would likely treat him with contempt or, worse still, pity, but she’d have to understand it was her to blame. A wife could not treat her husband with disrespect as she had done earlier. It was her responsibility to cater for all his sexual needs and she had clearly failed.
Whichever way he looked at it, it wasn’t his fault. His predicament was not of his own making, but at the same time, he could fathom no way out of the situation. When news of his activities became public, he would be ruined, all his hard work building up a professional profile within his community rubbished.
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the doctor. Her cheery practicality did nothing to allay his sense of grievance towards the female gender. She peeled off the dressings, dealing first with the cuts to his neck, before concentrating on his cheek.
‘Nasty old wound you’ve got here. How’d you manage to get this?’ she asked, tilting his head over to
get a better look at it.
He mumbled an explanation. A group of drunken youths had jumped him as he left a pub. He certainly wasn’t going to tell this interfering bitch his business.
She prepared a syringe, injected a small amount of local anaesthetic around the edges of the wound. ‘Still, it’s neat.’
‘Will I be left with a scar?’ he ventured, already knowing the probable answer.
‘Well yes, there will be a scar, but hopefully, if it heals well, it won’t be too prominent. And there’s always the option of plastic surgery.’
She bent over him, her perfume filling his nostrils as she stitched the skin together. Her hands brushed against his cheek. She was teasing him like all the rest.
‘Do you realise it looks like a perfect letter “R”?’
He tensed at the question; the doctor’s face being momentarily replaced by that of his assailant. My name’s Razor. Just giving you something to remember me by.
So this was his attacker’s mark; he’d been branded for life, but he had to admit to a grudging respect for the man. The scar would be perfect for ensuring his assailant’s name was never forgotten and he’d forever be forced to explain it away.
The doctor tied off the last knot of the fine nylon suture and stepped back to admire her handiwork.
‘Can I see it?’ he asked.
‘I don’t have a mirror, but there’s one by the washbasin at the end of the corridor.’ She signed his discharge and stuck a dressing over the injury, leaving the upper edge open. Turning towards the police guards, she handed them two replacement dressings. ‘I’m all finished now. You can take him away. Get him to seal the top edge of the dressing properly over the wound when he’s seen it.’
The two police officers nodded, guiding him down the corridor and stopping at the mirror. Gingerly he peeled the pad down so it flapped open, staring in shock at his reflection. Stubble shadowed his chin and dried crimson blood showed darkly against his jacket collar. The letter ‘R’ stained his dusky skin, each stitch screaming his disgrace, the ugliness of the branding seared against his handsome features.
Pushing the dressing back in place, he stared in growing panic along the hospital corridor. Daylight was streaming in through the exit. A police van was positioned directly in his view, its rear doors open wide, giving its gloomy interior the appearance of a dark cavern, waiting to swallow him up into its depths.
As he stepped up into its unforgiving jaws and the engine growled into life, he knew there was no escape. He was finally beaten. Now he had to accept his fate.
Chapter 55
‘Your other suspect is on his way back from the hospital. He’ll be arriving in about half an hour.’
Charlie thanked the custody officer and shouted the information out across the office. It was the news they had been expecting and it focussed their minds on the job in hand. The whole team were still in, now working into their thirtieth hour, with red-rimmed, gritty eyes and mouths that tasted of caffeine. Apart from adrenalin, it was the only thing keeping them awake.
She picked up the office phone and crossed her fingers, as Hunter looked over.
‘Wish me luck,’ she said, dialling the number for the Crown Prosecution Service.
The same senior CPS representative with whom she’d previously disagreed came on the line. She closed her eyes with a sigh and started to explain the previous night’s events, along with the new evidence in Redz’ murder case. At least he knew the details of that investigation inside out. Hopefully this time it would go their way.
‘I’ll phone you back when I’ve made my decisions.’ His voice gave nothing away.
‘Well?’ the whole team were looking towards her when she put the phone down.
‘I don’t know yet. He’s thinking about it.’
‘We have Caz’s statements and the new exhibits that you found at Razor’s.’ Hunter pulled his handkerchief out and dabbed at his forehead. ‘What is there to think about?’
Charlie glanced down at her précis of all the new evidence, completed on her return from the hospital and sent on to the CPS just prior to the phone conversation. Hunter had recommended which charges should be considered and which allegations should be dropped.
No charges were to be levelled at Caz for being in a stolen car. She was perhaps the most obvious victim in the whole course of events and was being kept in hospital for observation, leastways until the swelling to her throat was reduced. On discharge she would be taken to a new address arranged by Anna Christophe, who had been remarkable in Charlie’s opinion, not only putting her neck on the line for her client, but being prepared to also tell her story in court.
Charlie walked across to the window, staring down at the busy streets below as her thoughts returned to Caz. Her assault in the alleyway was the only part of the previous night’s incident that remained unverified. Apart from Maria Simpson, no other resident had phoned police, all no doubt choosing to close their ears to the screams on this occasion. There was nobody therefore to confirm which man was her attacker.
Razor claimed it was The Punter, but Caz was adamant it was Razor, somehow finding the inner strength to agree to having her words transcribed into writing from her hospital bed, whilst fully understanding the statement would be scrutinised by her violent pimp and his defence team.
It would be Caz’s testimony against Razor’s. She was playing a dangerous game if she was lying.
Charlie’s mind switched to the man, soon to be returning. Bet had provided the information for the CPS but, with fatigue setting in, she hadn’t really digested all the facts.
‘Bet, can you run through what we know about the punter again before he gets here?’
‘There’s nothing much of any note,’ Bet replied. ‘His name is Rashid Kanthan. I’ve checked the PNC and he has no previous convictions and the voter’s register shows him and his wife living at the address given. He appears to be a regular law-abiding bloke. We’ve got no photo, no intelligence, nothing.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘From what I can gather from his guards at the hospital, he’s hardly said a word. Still in shock probably and wondering what on earth possessed him to get involved with prostitutes in the first place.’
‘We’ve seized his vehicle, haven’t we? Anything on it?’
‘No, nothing. Though it appears he’s only recently bought it. It’s not registered to him yet.’
‘But,’ Paul flicked to some notes, ‘I found another car registered to his address.’ He read out the registration number. ‘It comes back to a black Vauxhall Corsa. Interestingly, it was reported as stolen on the afternoon of Thursday 14th December, the same day as Redz was murdered. It turned up on Battersea Common the next evening totally burnt out. I’ve checked the report. The whole car was gutted by fire. Nothing left but a shell, and that’s now been removed by the local council and crushed.’
Charlie frowned. The niggle that had been in the back of her mind came to the forefront. ‘What did Kanthan have to say about it, Paul?’
‘Nothing much. He parked near a client’s house and, when he left, the car had been stolen. It’s a basic theft report. He was informed in person at his home address after the vehicle was found burnt out, albeit a few hours later, and was in bed, so no raised suspicions then either.’
‘So, we have a large Asian male involved in a serious assault on a prostitute.’ Charlie rubbed her lips anxiously, thinking of the previous intel’ from King’s Cross. ‘And it turns out he used to drive a small dark car which was reported stolen the same day as Redz was killed, and then found burnt out the next day…’
Bet chipped back in. ‘But I’ve run that registration plate through our list of vehicles seen in the vicinity of the crime scene on the night of Redz’ murder and it didn’t show up, although the vehicle was out and about that night. It does ping up on an ANPR camera further into Central London.’
‘I know what you’re getting at, Charlie.’ Paul tilted his head to one side. ‘So, let’s say that uncorroborated report
from King’s Cross was accurate, it’s still possible his car was spotted uptown and a warning relayed to our local girls, who have put two and two together?’
‘And come up with five.’ Hunter shook his head. ‘And that’s leaving aside the possibility that his description was leaked specifically to assist Razor.’
Charlie remembered Caz making exactly the same suggestion. ‘But it’s still a bit of a coincidence, and the CPS may well think the same.’
She stopped abruptly as the phone on her desk started to ring. Paul motioned towards it and they all watched as Charlie strode over and picked up the receiver. Any second now they’d know.
Chapter 56
Charlie looked into the rear cage of the police van as the doors opened. Slumped on the seat she saw the bulky figure of the punter. The man was looking down at his feet and only raised his head slightly to glance at her. Plastered across his cheek was a large dressing, the top edge peeling away slightly. There was another taped to his neck. Charlie took in his large frame, closely cropped hair and leather jacket, still with dried blood caked across the surface of the collar. It wasn’t a long coat, but it was leather.
For a moment she wondered again whether there was any credence in Razor’s assertions or the intel’ reports of the violent punter, but then, they had the new evidence and Caz had made it quite clear she regarded this man as her saviour.
There was no point delaying further. Charlie had her instructions. She knew what she had to do.
‘Rashid Kanthan?’
The man looked towards her as she said his name.
‘Yes.’
‘Rashid, you’re free to go. The woman that was assaulted has made a statement, stating that it wasn’t you that attacked her. In fact, she says that you probably saved her life.’