by Celina Grace
Samir’s brother, Umar, agreed to meet her in a centrally located bar that evening for a drink and a chat. He wasn’t as good looking as Samir had been, but he had a nice manner, warm and just on the right side of flirtatious, which had Kate smiling. He wouldn’t drink alcohol but Kate found that twenty minutes of smiling and making small talk had the same effect as a couple of pints would. Slowly, she steered the conversation around to Samir.
“So,” she began, thinking of the conversation she’d had with Stuart. “Did you know he was working undercover?”
Umar looked incredulous. “You’re joking, right? We all thought he was an accountant.” He paused for a moment and grinned, adding, “Accountant, lawyer, doctor. The three career paths set out for us Indians.”
Kate smiled. “So, what do you do?”
“I’m a lawyer.” That made them both laugh. “Well, actually, I’m training to be one.”
“Do you like it?”
“Not really.” That made them laugh again.
“So, Samir didn’t confide in you about anything that he was doing down in the West?”
“Not a sausage.” Amir took a pull of his lemonade. “We were pretty close as teenagers, got up to some shit then, you know?” Suddenly he looked very miserable, as though it had freshly occurred to him that his brother was dead. He rubbed his eyes.
“Yes?” Kate prompted gently.
“Sorry, I—” Umar made a visible effort at composure. “Oh, you know, the kind of stuff you do when you’re rebelling a bit. Sex, drugs, rock and roll.”
Kate nodded. “But you don’t do that now.”
“No, I came to my senses. Also, mum and dad found out and went apeshit.”
“Oh dear.” Kate couldn’t help but smile.
Umar gave her a more flirtatious glance than he had previously. “Well, I don’t do the drugs and rock and roll anymore.”
Kate got his meaning. She thought she probably ought to be offended but he was so likeable, it was impossible. “I see.”
Umar leant forward a little. “Can I have your number?”
What was it with these young men? Kate had never had so many propositions in her life. “Oh, Umar. I’m old enough to be your mother.”
“That doesn’t bother me. In fact, I like it. I love older women.”
“Hmm.” Looking at his eager young face, Kate couldn’t help but laugh. “Why?”
“They’re just so sexy. I think it’s the confidence thing. And the experience.” Umar edged forward a little, his leg touching hers. “They’re much better in bed. And they don’t play games.”
Fun as this was, Kate thought she’d better nip it in the bud. “Well, I’m afraid I’m married, so that’s that.” Okay, so that was a bit of a lie, but it should sooth Umar’s ego, and she was virtually married anyway, wasn’t she? Are you? said the little gremlin who occasionally popped up to needle her. Kate mentally batted it away.
Out loud, she said, “Actually, I will give you my number, because if anything pertinent occurs to you, then you can contact me directly or at the station. But in a purely professional capacity.”
“Sweet.”
Kate got up to get them another drink. “Oh, and Umar?”
“Yeah?”
“Send me a dick pic and I’ll have you arrested.”
Chapter Twenty Three
Driving home the next morning, Kate found herself smiling at the conversation she’d had with Umar the previous evening. She thought back to her early twenties; not the happiest time in her life. Pretty much the opposite, actually. The adoption of her son was still raw, and the relationship she’d had with her mother at the time was pretty much at an all time low, although not quite as bad as when they’d become truly estranged. She’d qualified as a police constable, which had been a source of satisfaction, but she’d been poor and living in a horrible house-share with some pretty horrible people. Kate shook her head as she joined the M60 motorway, heading for the South. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She’d kept herself to herself, really, studying in the little spare time she had, working as much overtime as she had. Occasionally, she’d gone to stay with her friend Hannah, married to Dan, even at their young age. It seemed surprising that Hannah and Dan were still married, three children later, but curiously, they seemed to have a happy, secure partnership. Perhaps some people are just meant to be together.
But, Kate pondered, when she was twenty-two, would she have been lusting after men in their late thirties or forties? It seemed unlikely. Thinking of Hannah and Dan, she thought she should really give them a call. It seemed too long since she’d seen them and God knew, you needed your friends about you when life got hard. She made a resolution to call them that evening and arrange a visit.
Thoughts of marriage twitched her thoughts back to Anderton. She really needed to sit down with him and have a proper chat. They were buying an expensive house together—that was a pretty big commitment. But not as big a commitment as marriage—or children. But did she actually want that? Would having children even be possible, given their respective ages? She thought, with a qualm, that if they had a baby, Anderton would be well into his sixties by the time the hypothetical child was a teenager. Was that fair on a child? Kate knew very well that nothing was guaranteed—logic dictated that one wouldn’t expect to lose one’s mother when they were barely into their thirties—but life didn’t follow logic. Oh, hell. She turned the radio on in an effort to distract herself from her whirling thoughts. Even hearing about Parliament tearing itself apart was preferable to this introspection.
It was a long, tiring drive home, the traffic at times appallingly heavy. As she got closer to Abbeyford, the heavens opened. Huge trucks thundered past, sending up white plumes of spray. As usual, half the idiots on the road weren’t using their headlights. Do they think they get taxed on using them or something? Driving on the motorway through what felt like a solid sheet of water, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled fingers, Kate saw the turn off for Abbeyford with intense relief. She was so tired and wrung-out she decided to head for home instead of going to the office. There was nothing she’d discovered that was so earth-shattering that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow.
Anderton was out, and so was Merlin. The house was quiet and chilly. Shivering and feeling sorry for herself, Kate flicked the heating switch on and lit a fire, made a pot of tea, tidied up a bit. She sat on the sofa, mesmerised as usual by the flicker of the flames.
After a few minutes, staring ahead, she groped in her handbag for her phone. A memory occurred to her, of being in The Arms with Theo and Rav, a couple of years ago. Theo, who had been preparing to go, began to scrabble around on the sofa where they’d been sitting, demanding “Where’s my phone?” Rav and Kate had exchanged incredulous glances when they realised that Theo was actually holding it to his ear. God, they’d laughed. And not let Theo forget it for, ooh, at least six months.
That made her chuckle, but not for long. Gloom descended once more. Maybe I really am properly depressed. Kate remembered Anderton telling her to contact her therapist, Magda. Maybe I should. But it just seemed like too much effort to do it there and then. I’ll do it tomorrow. She heard the bang of the cat flap and her mood lifted slightly, knowing that Merlin was heading in the direction of her lap. Sure enough, a moment later, he slid around the door she’d left ajar for just that reason, jumped up onto her knees and curled up like a furry comma.
“Hey you,” Kate remarked. He gave her a twitch of a black ear in response. After a moment, the reassuring thrum of his purr started up.
Kate sat back carefully and reached for her phone. She paged through her WhatsApp contacts until she came to Ricky Khan’s number. Her thumb hovered over the screen. Don’t do it, Kate.
She hesitated. Then she texted Hello, it’s Kate here. Just wondering if there were any developments in the case that you can share with me? Thanks and a sm
iling emoji. She thought about adding a kiss on the end of the message, just one, before sanity prevailed. She hesitated once more. Then she pressed send.
Chapter Twenty Four
Ricky Khan hadn’t read, still less responded to her message the next morning. Cursing herself for being every type of fool, Kate showered, dressed and prepared for another day of work. Thank God it was Friday, at least. And tomorrow, she and Anderton were due at Olbeck and Jeff’s house for dinner, which would be superb, as Jeff was a wonderful cook. Kate found herself looking forward to seeing the children and made a mental note to buy them some toys to take with her.
In the office, Rav waved her over as she walked through the doorway.
“What’s up?”
“I know you haven’t had coffee yet, but I’ve been going through the CCTV that I could find. There’s not much out there, obviously, it’s well rural.”
“Right.”
Rav tapped his keyboard. “But there is a camera on the corner of the main road where the lane joins it, where the petrol station is.” His slim, brown fingers hammered the keys. “See, here. Note the date.”
Kate did. The time stamp on the film showed a date two days before Samir Minhas’ murder. The time of the video was 11.23pm.
“Right,” she said, again.
“Watch this.” Rav fast-forwarded the footage and then paused it. A figure could be seen walking from the petrol station towards the lane that led to Bucklesbury House. He zoomed in on it.
“I know him,” said Kate, a rush of adrenaline making her voice leap up an octave. “Oh God, who is he?”
Rav freeze-framed the best image of the man’s face that he could. “Let’s check the folder.”
Kate grabbed it from Theo’s desk and leafed through it. There were photographs attached to all the interview statements and she soon found what she was looking for. “That’s Nick Riley. He’s a gardener at Bucklesbury House.” She recalled something else. “He’s the only one who could identify Samir. Well, he said he thought it was him.”
They exchanged glances. At that moment, Theo and Martin came into the office.
“Guys, over here now.” Kate beckoned to them.
“What’s up?” asked Theo, divesting himself of his leather jacket.
Rav explained. Martin didn’t say anything, but he took the statement from Kate and examined it, frowning slightly.
“I mean, he does work there,” said Rav.
Theo scoffed. “He’s not bloody gardening at nearly midnight.”
“Could he be meeting someone?” asked Kate. “That’s a rhetorical question, by the way. I’m just wondering.”
Martin put the statement down on Kate’s desk. “Perhaps he was meeting Samir. Perhaps he’s part of this jihadi group.” He looked around at the three of them. “Just because he’s white doesn’t mean anything. Remember the shoe bomber?”
“Yes, I know people can convert,” Kate said, impatiently. “And anyway, as I’ve said before, this is nothing to do with Islam. These people are criminals.”
“You’re so woke,” said Theo, grinning.
Kate gave him a look. “Anyway, I’m saying there may, just may be an innocent explanation for why Nick Riley is on the grounds of Bucklesbury House at eleven thirty at night. But I want to find out what it is.”
Rav had been deep in thought. He spoke up. “Hang on a minute. If he’s meeting Samir, why did he identify him when you interviewed him, Kate? I mean, surely the best thing for him to do would be to deny all knowledge?”
They all thought about that for a minute.
“That is odd,” admitted Kate.
“Double-bluff?” suggested Theo. “I mean, he was pretty vague.”
“Bit of a risky one.” Kate examined the photograph of Nick Riley. He was probably about thirty, blonde, tall, fairly good-looking. “Well, I want him interviewed, under caution if necessary, as a matter of priority.”
“I’ll do it,” Martin offered.
“Thanks. Rav, can you continue to go through the CCTV and see if you can find anything else, any more of Nick—or anyone really?”
“Of course.”
“Great. Ok guys, carry on.” Kate was conscious of a rising excitement. They hit it in most cases: the moment where they felt that things were starting to fall into place, that everything was finally starting to make sense. Of course, in real life, it didn’t always work out like that—look at all the unsolved cases out there—but she welcomed it every time.
Sitting down at her desk, mildly wondering where Chloe was—oh yes, there she was with Olbeck in his office, someone else she’d have to update—Kate checked her mobile. It was like a bloody addiction, exacerbated by waiting for Ricky Khan to contact her—if he ever would. Her heart leapt when she saw she had a WhatsApp notification from him. Heart thudding, she opened up the message.
Hi! Good to hear from you, Kate.
At least he didn’t write in text speak. He’d added another message. No new news as yet. Sorry. He’d added a single kiss on the end.
Oh God. Kate wrestled with her conscience. Should she text back? She was keenly aware that she really wanted to but…
Be professional, she reminded herself, thinking about what she’d told Umar Minhas. Actually there was something she wanted to know… After a moment’s thought, she texted back, Would you be able to give us any more information about the other group members? She didn’t add a kiss.
Ricky’s answer came back in a matter of seconds. Only if I get to give the details to you personally and a winking emoji.
Kate swallowed. Then she texted back. That’s blackmail.
Ricky responded immediately. I know. Another winking emoji.
Help. Kate thought for a moment and then, ironically enough, texted back, Well, I’ll think about it.
Put your phone away, Kate, and get on with some work. She turned it to silent and put it back in her bag, trying not to think about thinking about it.
Chapter Twenty Five
Kate returned to work after the weekend with a renewed sense of purpose. It had helped that she and Anderton had had a lovely evening with Olbeck and Jeff on the Saturday night. Kate had read the children Green Eggs and Ham before tucking them in. It was odd, performing these parental rituals, disturbing and yet soothing at the same time. She imagined what it would be like to do it for her own child. She had kissed them both goodnight and switched on their nightlight in the shape of a friendly sheep. All was peaceful, but Kate had known that, for her, this was only a snapshot of what motherhood would be like. She remembered other occasions where Poppy had screamed and kicked and bitten and scratched, when Harry had smeared shit all over the bathroom and bolted off across a busy carpark and screamed “I hate you! I want you to die!” to a distraught Jeff. It wasn’t all Little White Company bedding, snuggly teddies and curly-haired moppets sweetly asleep in their beds.
It was another crisp sunny autumn day, good walking weather. Kate strode briskly up the high street and turned into the station entrance.
“Good to see you on Saturday,” Olbeck said as she popped her head around his office door.
“It really was.” Kate went in and sat down. “Have you got a minute?”
“I have. But just a minute, I’ve got a meeting at half past.”
Kate pulled her chair a bit closer. “Well, I’ve been thinking.”
“Always dangerous,” Olbeck said with a grin.
Kate smiled back. “Anyway, I suppose we’ve all been thinking that Samir’s death is directly related to the fact that he was undercover.”
“Right,” said Olbeck, cautiously.
“Well, what if it’s not?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I haven’t really thought this through thoroughly, but what if the motive behind the murder is something completely different?”
Olbeck pondered. “Well—it’s a theory. But, come on, Kate, he’s undercover, working with some extremely dangerous people. I’d hazard a guess that if they found out that he’s actually betraying them, working for the government, they aren’t exactly going to send him off with a handshake and a gold watch.”
“Yes, I know that.” Kate puffed out her cheeks, sitting back. “Like I said, it’s just a theory.”
“It’s not a bad one. Let’s keep it in mind.” Olbeck checked his watch. “Right, I’ve got to go. By the way, how did Martin get on with interviewing Nick Riley?”
“Not sure. I’ll find out when he gets in.”
Martin tended to come in later than the rest of them as he had the school run to do with his young son. Kate tended to her emails and paperwork and made coffee, all the while keeping an eye on the door. When Martin appeared, she let him make a cup of tea before hurrying over to his desk.
He had little to report. “Said he left his phone at work and went back to get it.”
“Do you believe him?” asked Kate.
“No, I don’t, actually.”
“Nor do I. And why would he go on foot?”
“Well, to be fair, he doesn’t live very far away. You know those houses on the edge of the estate? One of those is his.”
Kate perched on the edge of Martin’s desk. “I suppose it’s not actually a crime to go for a late night walk. But…”
Martin nodded. “Exactly. But.”
“Copper’s senses. They never let you down.” Kate jumped to her feet. “Right, I want him interviewed again. Here. Can you bring him in? If he resists the idea, arrest him. I want him a bit scared.”
“Will do.” Martin looked at her pleadingly. “Can I finish my tea first?”
Kate laughed. “Of course.” She thought of something and added, “And I’m sitting in on this, this time.”
Rav had been hard at work since Kate had arrived in the office. She went over to see him.