by Mistry, Liz
‘Do you know where she lived?’
He delved into his pocket and brought out his mobile. ‘Yes, Jane’s just texted me her house number. She asked the neighbours, you know?’
Alice bit back the sharp retort that came to mind and tried not to imagine the crowds that would turn up in the next hour, not only at the crime scene, but also at the dead woman’s house now that the news was out.
‘Yes here it is, 9 Inkerman Street. That’s just opposite the bottom end of the graveyard, near the Catholic boy’s school.’
Alice thanked him for his time and was just about to open the door when someone knocked on the window. She pushed the door open and saw a massive PC holding something in his hands.
‘What’s that, Ken?’ she said, recognising him immediately. ‘Something for us?’
The huge PC grinned and held out his arms. ‘Not exactly, boss, more of a surprise for Mr Bates. We’ve found his rabbit!’
Chapter 5
2003
Friday 5:30pm, Cambridge
Sergeant Hedges scratched his belly and yawned. Only an hour till his shift ended, then a couple of pints and a pie down the White Horse before home and bed. For now, the waiting room was empty. From the holding cells, he could hear the distant yells of Jacko, a harmless drunk, who was being processed for urinating against an ornamental tree by the entrance to Marks and Spencer.
Just as he thought he was going to have a quiet changeover, the station door opened and a skinny woman with a sleeping baby balanced against her shoulder walked in. The first thing Hedges noticed was her eyes. They bulged from puffy, red cheeks: two dull discs floating in misery. She looked barely old enough to have a child. Hedges, with twenty years’ experience under his rather extensive belt, instinctively knew she’d come to report an abusive husband. He smiled encouragingly, hoping that she’d have the courage to go through with her complaint; so many of them lost heart, gave up and went back to their abusive spouses.
‘Can I help you, dear?’ Just watching her discomfort made his eyes crinkle. At first her voice cracked, so Hedges quickly poured her a plastic cup of water and pushed it across the partition towards her. She took a sip and tried again. ‘It’s my…’ her eyes flitted around the room, double checking they were alone. ‘It’s my husband.’ Her face hardened and she raised her hand protectively to her baby’s back, before spitting her next words out as if they were toxic.
‘He’s a paedophile.’
Before Hedges could respond, she continued hurriedly, ‘I have proof.’
Expertly balancing the baby in one arm, she fumbled in her jacket pocket and pulled out a CD. Immediately, she thrust it towards Hedges as if it was a live flame. ‘It’s all on there. I downloaded it from his PC.’
Hedges took the item from her trembling fingers and studied her face for a moment. Satisfied that she was genuine and knowing that this was well above his pay grade, he rang the bell for another officer to staff the front desk and buzzed her through the side door. Gently, he guided her and her baby into the lift.
Cambridge CID was housed in a huge room on the top floor with glaring fluorescent lights and startlingly bright walls. It was divided into cubicles, by a series of shoulder-high dividers, set at strategic angles that, supposedly, created an illusion of privacy. Hedges hated it, but there was nowhere else for Cathy Clegg and her daughter to wait. Embarrassed by the noise and activity in the room, Hedges watched as, using her bundled up coat and a cushion, she barricaded her sleeping child safely against the back of a soft chair. Mrs Clegg looked barely the same age as his niece, Shannon, who was doing her GCSEs this year. Like Shannon, Cathy favoured baggy hoodies and skinny jeans that made her frame look emaciated and fragile. As she sat down on the uncomfortable plastic chair near the desk, tugging her cuffs over her fingers, he deposited a mug of sweet tea in her shaking hands.
Whilst the experts analysed the USB stick, Hedges listened to her story.
‘I was only using his damn computer to get a recipe ’cos my laptop crashed. I got impatient and kept clicking to try and hurry it up. Suddenly this completely new window opened with a whole load of weird labels. It asked for a password.’ She took a sip of her tea.
‘He never lets me near his techie stuff when he’s at home… but he’s away on business at the minute.’ She grimaced and her face paled. ‘Oh my God! What if he’s not on business? What if he’s hurting some poor boy? Oh my God.’ And she picked up her phone and frantically flicked through it.
Sergeant Hedges grabbed her hands ‘What are you doing, Cathy?’
She glared at him wide-eyed. ‘What do you think I’m doing? I’m phoning James so he’ll stop. I’ve got to stop him hurting any more kids.’
Hedges gently prised the phone from her unresisting fingers and she collapsed against him sobbing.
Hedges mumbled meaningless words of comfort and patted her back until his soothing words calmed her. Red-eyed and spent, she hiccupped to a shuddering stop and took another sip of her tea before continuing the story.
‘I saw him typing his password one day. I didn’t intend to ever use it, you know? It was just sort of good, knowing that I had it and he didn’t know about it. He could be a bit of a control freak.’ She clenched her fist tightly and spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I wish to hell I hadn’t gone near his fucking computer. I wish to hell I’d never met the bastard.’
Sergeant Hedges reached over and gently squeezed her arm. ‘Look Cathy, when CID has finished with the data one of them will come and speak to you. You’ll be here for a while so, if there’s anything you need, just let me know.’
Friday 7:30pm
A development like this necessitated speed and Detective Inspector David Wentworth was nothing if not fast. He stalked across the room, a vision of colour co-ordinated perfection, from the tips of his expensive leather shoes right up to the diagonally pin-striped tie, which echoed the exact hue of his cashmere socks. To Detective Sergeant Nancy Chalmers, this sort of affectation was unnecessarily showy and she seriously questioned the sanity of any man who dedicated that amount of time to his wardrobe. She had noticed with amusement, how he surreptitiously appraised other officers for their dress sense, often following up with a barely concealed smirk and a preening puffed out chest that made him look like a fat canary.
To Nancy, Wentworth’s almost colourless eyes made him appear cold and distant, which, in fact, he was. At present they were intently focussed on Cathy Clegg. Behind him, Nancy made no attempt to match his speed as she glided across the room with a smile and a friendly wave to fellow officers. Nancy was well aware that her blouse was slightly crumpled around the shoulders and the hem of her Marks and Spencer skirt was beginning to unravel. Despite her inability to iron, she’d never been one of those masculine, trouser and jacket-type women officers who hid their femininity behind a patina of angular cuts and dark colours. Instead, she’d held her ground in the male dominated environment and been herself; slightly scatty, very feminine and as honest and straightforward as she could be. It worked because she was well liked and, more importantly, well respected
By the time Chalmers reached the cubicle, Wentworth was already mid-flow. His staccato voice reminded her of a persistent woodpecker, chipping unsympathetically at Cathy. Nancy could almost see the younger woman shrink into herself. Inwardly she cursed Wentworth. She’d been working with him on the child abuse unit for six months now and couldn’t get used to his inability to empathise with fellow humans. She sat down and listened with a sinking heart.
‘Tonight, our surveillance equipment will be installed throughout the suspect’s house and you will be moved back before your husband returns from his business trip.’ Wentworth rocked back on the heels of his Italian suede shoes and rubbed his hands together, like a gleeful banker foreclosing on a loan. ‘Then, we settle in for the floorshow. You just carry on as usual. We’ll do all the hard work and sooner or later the bastards will slip up and we’ll catch the lot of them.’
Turning to Cathy
, Nancy noticed globules of sweat dotted her forehead, despite the shivers that wracked her small frame. Suddenly, Cathy lunged forward, grabbed a bin and vomited into it. The acrid stench enveloped the quartet and a few stray flecks of vomit landed on Wentworth’s shoes. His face contorted and he jumped back with an annoyed squeak.
Nancy rubbed Cathy’s back, murmuring soothingly until she finally leaned back, clutching a handful of tissues to her face.
Nancy glared at Wentworth and said, ‘Perhaps I should take over here for the time being, DI Wentworth? Mrs Clegg is obviously distressed and needs time to understand what we’d like her to do.’
Wentworth, preoccupied by the sick marks on his shoes, was suddenly all too eager to pass the responsibility of Cathy Clegg over to his sergeant. He nodded and without another word to Cathy turned on his heel and strutted away, no doubt heading to the toilets to attempt a rescue operation on his shoes.
Nancy sat down opposite Cathy, her legs wide open, her floral skirt scrunched inelegantly between them. ‘He’s a bloody arse, isn’t he?’
Cathy’s head jolted up and her eyes met the sergeant’s uncertainly. Then, raising her eyebrows, she conceded. ‘Yeah, that’s one way to describe him.’
Nancy smiled. ‘Right, now we’ve got that out of the way, I’ll explain what’s going on.’ She leaned forward and held Cathy’s gaze. ‘Basically, the information we are currently collating from the data you copied indicates that James is a key member of a child trafficking ring we’ve been trying to track down for months. Now, this is where it gets tricky. We’ve enough evidence to ensure your husband goes away for a long time…’ she paused ‘…but we don’t have enough evidence to identify the other key members and the clients they’ve supplied… not yet anyway.’
Cathy’s eyes narrowed and Chalmers nodded. ‘This brings me on to what DI Wentworth blurted out earlier. Basically we’ve got three options: One, you refuse to co-operate with us and we’re forced to arrest James now. This would give the other traffickers the heads-up. They would disband and regroup later on, resulting in hundreds of children and their families suffering.’ She paused to allow the implications of her words to sink in.
Cathy bit her lip and Chalmers continued
‘Option two, you leave Cambridge with your daughter without seeing or contacting your husband and we continue to investigate, hoping he doesn’t suspect you know anything and then, when we’ve got our evidence on the rest of the group, you can return and testify at trial. The risks of that are that any sudden, unexpected changes in your behaviour will make them jittery. Maybe they’ll panic and disband before we have a chance to nab them. But, and this is the crux of it Cathy, they won’t stay disbanded. They’ll re-form and start doing it all again.’
Nancy sighed. ‘This brings us round to option three, which is the one we’d really, really like you to take.’ She hesitated and then took Cathy’s hands in hers ‘I’m not going to deceive you Cathy, this option will not be easy, but I promise you we will put things in place to protect you and your daughter.’
Cathy held Nancy’s gaze then nodded for her to continue.
‘What we want is for you to return home and try to live normally until we get our evidence. As DI Wentworth already explained we’re already setting up all sorts of surveillance and monitoring equipment in your home. We just need you to keep things ‘normal’ for as long as it takes us to compile more info on the other traffickers. Then, after the trial, you can leave this all behind you and start again.’ Chalmers raised her hand as Cathy opened her mouth to interrupt
‘I know, I know. You’re wondering how you could possibly go back home as if you don’t know about your husband’s seedy perverse hobby. I’ll be honest with you Cathy – that’s the hard part and I’d completely understand if you said no.’ She sighed and lifted her hands palm up. ‘But, and I’m being honest with you – these bastards kidnap children from Eastern Europe and sell them to the highest bidder. They steal kids to order for paedophiles throughout Europe. They have been responsible for hundreds of abductions and many of these kids end up dead and thrown into a canal after suffering unspeakable indignities. You’ve seen for yourself what they do!’
Cathy bit her lip, leaned away from Chalmers and folded her arms defensively over her chest. Tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks.
Chalmers pushed home her advantage. ‘We don’t just want the ring. We want access to their clients so we can close the whole thing down once and for all. And put every single one of these perverted bastards away.’
Cathy shook her head ‘I can’t do it. I can’t. I never want to see him again. There’s no way I can go back there and live like normal and I won’t put Ali at risk. My baby’s going nowhere near that pervert ever again.’
Chapter 6
2015
Sunday 12:30pm
Despite the layers of snow and ice, it was clear that Inkerman Street was well cared for. The two facing rows of large terraces, many with loft extensions, were in good repair. Most paths were shovelled clear of snow and gritted. Alice allowed herself a smile at the jaunty snowman that stood guard in one of the gardens. Even before they reached number 9, she knew which house they needed. It was the only house in the street that looked dirty and unkempt. The windows were mucky with closed curtains hanging half off their rails. The windows in the loft extension were boarded over with plywood and nobody had bothered to clear a pathway to the door.
Even with the snow covering, it was clear that the little patch of grass was overgrown. The paint on the rotten front door was flaking off. The gate was ajar and judging by the yellowing snow near the gate post, something had left its mark. Alice and Sampson trudged through the ankle-deep snow and climbed the steps. Alice pressed the doorbell, but not trusting it to work, also rattled the knocker a few times and added a couple of bangs with her fist for good measure. She didn’t know whether to expect an answer or not. She knew that the victim, Sharon Asif, had two young girls at primary school, an older boy who was at high school and a toddler. Alice, concerned the children were home alone, was desperate for access to the house.
A voice came from behind them. ‘Why don’t you try the back door? That’s the one the kids use to go in and out, poor little buggers. It won’t be locked.’
Alice turned round and held out her warrant card, ‘And you are?’
The woman tugged gently on the dog lead she was holding, ‘Wait a minute, Shaggy.’ Then turning back to Alice she frowned, ‘Oh! She’s not got summat to do wi’ you lot being in the graveyard has she? I’m Lola Jones by the way.’
Alice ignored the question. ‘Do you live nearby?’
Lola Jones nodded. ‘Yeah, next door to her, for my sins. She’s a foul-mouthed bitch and she shouldn’t be allowed those kids. Poor Jamal does his best but he’s only a kid himself, you know?’
‘Jamal?’
‘Yeah, her eldest. He’s fourteen but he tries his best to look after the kids when she’s drunk or stoned or high. Bloody disgrace, it is.’
‘When was the last time you saw Mrs Asif then, Mrs–’
‘Ms Jones. Last time I saw her? Now, let me think? Yeah, it was last night.’ She nodded and folded her arms under her substantial boobs. ‘I was just taking Shaggy,’ she gestured to the highland terrier that shivered morosely by the kerb, ‘for his last walk and it had just started to snow again. The stupid bitch came flying out the front door wearing nowt but her bloody nightie and a dressing gown.’ She snorted and pointed a stubby finger in Sampson’s direction, ‘and she wouldn’t be running to get some food for them kids, you know?’
Ms Jones turned to smile at an elderly woman in a heavy coat with a black and white PLO scarf covering most of her grey hair. She was pulling a sledge along the snowy pavement, much to the glee of the toddler, who was so well wrapped up the only part of his body visible were huge mischievous eyes and the tip of a red nose. ‘Hello there, Mrs Khalifa. Damn cold today isn’t it?’
Mrs Khalifa smiled.
�
��Looks like all the bother over on the hill is to do with her,’ and she jerked her head towards Sharon Asif’s house and snorted.
The older lady stopped pulling the sledge and spoke in Urdu to the toddler on the sledge. The child responded with an exaggerated sigh and then directed his attention to Ms Jones’s dog, who was now licking his nose enthusiastically. His Nan smiled at the two police officers and, in good but accented English said, ‘Are the children alright? My worry is always for them. I often hear them crying as if their little hearts will break.’ She shook her head ‘Poor things. She shouldn’t have them but social services do nothing. Nothing! I have called them and my daughter-in-law Nusrat has called them. Sometimes they send people out, but she refuses to let them in and they just go away again. It’s not right.’
Alice smiled sympathetically and leaned over to pat the elderly lady’s arm.
‘Don’t worry now, I’m sure you’ve done all you can and we’ll make sure the children are taken care of now. A police constable will be over later to take a statement, if that’s ok?’
Gesturing for Sampson to follow her, Alice headed to the ginnel at the end of the row of houses, while the two neighbours watched.
Alice counted the back gates as she passed until they arrived at number nine.
When Sampson pushed the gate there was an ominous screech. The gate listed to the side and hung, half off its rotten hinges. A furrow of snow had gathered behind it holding it at a lop-sided angle and frozen it tight. Alice poked her head through the gap and groaned when she saw what lay in the yard. ‘What a fucking state.’
Inches of snow covered discarded bin bags that clogged up the cramped space. Ripped open by the foxes that prowled Heaton at night, their guts spewed out rotten food, filthy nappies and empty vodka bottles. Alice noted that no human prints were visible in the snow as they picked their way around the detritus. She hammered on the door.