by Rashad Salim
Billy stuck his hand out and waited for Tom to take it.
Tom studied him for a moment before shaking hands.
“Alright then,” Tom said. “I better put the kettle on.” He nodded towards his flat and gestured for Billy to join him.
So despite all that DS Barker and everyone else had told him – to leave the investigation alone and in the hands of the police – Tom had decided to go against all of that and against all his natural instincts by inviting his murdered neighbour’s vengeful brother into his own home to discuss how they were going to find the murderers.
Tom told Billy everything about Chris Jones’ murder over a cup of tea.
He told him all about Mobeen Uddin, the student he had expelled who was now a born again Muslim with a solid alibi for the time of Jones’ murder.
He told Billy all about Marcus Wright, another student he had expelled, one whose whereabouts were still unknown but was rumoured to be heavily involved with gangs now. Tom mentioned how he had confronted the boy’s vicious uncle Curly and questioned him.
He told Billy about Shazad Latif, the elder brother of his star student Heena Latif, and how he had suspected Shazad had been behind the attack, since Heena’s boyfriend Atif had also been targeted by the attackers. He also mentioned how Shazad wasn’t anywhere near London at the time of the attack and that he might not even have been a suspect at all, considering he may still be oblivious of his sister’s forbidden relationship with Atif.
He told Billy about Zafar Khan, yet again a student Tom had expelled, and one who possibly held a grudge against both Atif and Tom but had an alibi for his whereabouts at the time of the attack outside the school.
Tom told Billy about Gilbert ‘Gilby’ Waters and how he had been convinced Waters had been responsible for Billy’s brother’s murder until the police had informed him that Waters was far away in Essex at the time of John Thompson’s murder next door.
Tom was surprised to learn that Gilby was an acquaintance of Billy’s. He didn’t say much – just enough to let Tom know they moved in the same circles but hadn’t been in touch in recent years.
Billy had listened intently and patiently while Tom had talked for well over half an hour. Tom was impressed with the way he had asked intelligent questions throughout the discussion. The man had an ability for deep concentration that was missing from some of Tom’s best students.
Tom had recommended Billy take notes, since there was so much to cover and noticed Billy had come prepared when he pulled out a pocket notebook at the start of the discussion. Now at the end of the discussion he was shocked at the number of pages of notes Billy scribbled down.
Something occurred to Tom in that moment and he felt the discussion wasn’t complete unless he had come completely clean with Billy.
“Of course, during all of this madness, I almost suspected John too.”
Billy looked up at him and frowned. He put his pen down and leaned back in his seat.
Tom thought Billy was about to lose his temper until he smiled at Tom.
“Why’s that then?” Billy asked.
Tom smiled and laughed to break the tension.
“Was my little brother a handful?”
Tom thought about the best way to phrase the answer. The way Billy asked about John, you’d think he was referring to a mischievous young child.
“We had a few run-ins. Nothing serious though.”
“So what made you group him with this bunch of scumbags?” Billy pointed at the notebook papers in front of him.
Tom felt apologetic about Billy’s brother and wanted to clear the air.
“I dunno. I was just getting really paranoid. I had to consider all possibilities, didn’t I?”
Billy said nothing.
“...I had complained about him and his late night heavy metal sessions. The police talked to him. Ever since then we never got on. We had never got on anyway, mind you. But after that he was extra arsey with me. I suppose that’s all silly shit now...”
There was an awkward silence between them now, Tom could feel it and knew so could Billy.
Billy had listened quietly and as patiently as before. He picked up the pen and pocketed it. “Anyway,” he said, breaking the silence, “This has been helpful.” He gathered his small notebook and stuffed it into his inside coat pocket. “I can’t say just how much, since you’ve pretty much eliminated most of these suspects – and I can’t disagree with you there – but it’s definitely a start.”
Billy stood up. Tom rose too.
There was a strange familiarity to this entire meeting with Billy that made Tom think of his meetings with DS Barker. Both men had compelled him into telling them everything he knew regarding the crimes and then promised to do everything they could to catch the killers but neither man seemed likely to do so.
The only hope DS Barker and the rest of the investigating officers had was hoping the killers slipped up and were caught.
As for Billy, Tom was still unsure about his investigative ability since he had no official authority. He was just the deceased John Thompson’s next of kin seeking answers.
“What now?” Tom asked.
“Now we do what we can to tie up that last loose thread, Marcus Wright.”
Tom thought of the boy and the gangs he was associated with and his fearsome uncle Curly.
“You think he’s involved?” Tom asked.
“Running with gangs? He’s definitely showed the most promise.”
“How are we gonna find him?”
“I’m working on it. I’ll be in touch.” Billy handed him a page torn from his notebook with his mobile phone number scribbled on it.
Billy thanked him again.
“Just remember our agreement,” Tom said.
Billy nodded and then to Tom’s surprise, he reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out a black steel baton.
The sight of the baton alarmed Tom. He staggered back in shock.
Billy smiled. “Relax.” He flipped the baton and it extended its metal rod. “It’s a present. For you.” Billy pressed down on the tip of the baton and collapsed it back into it the rubber handle. He offered the baton to Tom.
Tom stood there frozen at the sight of the baton. “I don’t want that.”
“No, you don’t,” Billy said. “But you might need it, seeing how there’s someone out there trying to kill you.” He waved the baton for Tom to take.
Tom remained in his position.
Billy gently laid the baton down on the kitchen table. “Better pray you won’t need it,” he said and walked out of the kitchen and down the hall towards the front door.
Tom followed from behind; glad to see Billy finally leaving.
Billy opened the door and let himself out.
Tom stood on the doorstep and watched Billy leave.
Billy had taken a few steps before halting. He turned to face his brother’s flat and stared at it for what seemed like much longer than the few seconds he’d taken to do so.
Tom followed his gaze and had wondered what was going through Billy’s mind. Was Billy reliving memories of being at his younger brother’s home? Or was he imagining how his brother died at the hands of a gunman?
The police tape had given the vacant property an eerie feeling to it. Tom wondered how he was going to sleep at night after what had happened next door the night before.
“Think they’ll come back tonight?” Billy said with his eyes fixed on John’s front door.
Before Tom could say anything Billy resumed walking across the path to the street. Tom watched him get into his car before shutting the door and locking it.
He walked back to the kitchen and saw the baton on the table. He picked it up and felt the weight of the weapon in his hand.
Think they’ll come back tonight?
His heart raced just thinking about the possibility and wondering if he had what it took to use the weapon.
34
Later that evening, Tom was on the phone to Kate.
She had called him after DS Barker had contacted her.
“You weren’t gonna tell me, were you?” she asked him.
“Come on, Kate. You know I was.” He laid back on the living room sofa and spread out.
“Bullshit! After everything we went through last night!”
“Babe, I was going to tell you. I just had to get my head right.”
“Why are you even still there? You should just stay around mine.”
He laughed. “What? Move in with you?”
“If you have to, yeah,” she had lowered her tone.
“Don’t worry. The police reckon the culprits are running scared now and bound to be caught any minute.”
“Yeah, right.”
“John Thompson’s elder brother came by today.”
“Really? How was he?” she asked eagerly.
“As bad as you’d think he’d be.”
“Was he anything like John?” Tom had told her all about the troubles he’d had with John in the past.
“A little. Intense but well behaved.” He thought about how Billy had carried concealed weapons with him and wondered what else he might’ve been carrying in that long coat.
“What did he say?”
“He blamed me for his brother’s death.”
“Oh my god. Really?”
“Yeah but he got over that eventually.” This was both a truth and a lie, Tom thought.
Billy probably still blamed him for what happened to John but now that the two of them were looking for answers together it had softened Billy’s demeanour towards him.
“...I still don’t think you should be home alone right now. I can’t believe you’re not in protective custody or anything.”
“Come on, Kate.” He laughed. “What did you want them to do? Post armed guards outside my door?”
“Yes!”
The doorbell rang. Tom gasped.
He looked at the clock on the wall. It was around half past nine in the evening. He hadn’t been expecting anyone.
“Tom, you really ought to start looking for a new place now.”
He stood up from the sofa and tried to control his breathing. Holding the phone to his ear with one hand, he reached for the baton with the other.
“If this isn’t a wake-up call I don’t know what is!” Kate said.
“Yeah, I know,” he said half heartedly as he walked to the front door. He hadn’t wanted to alarm her by telling her someone was at the door and he couldn’t think of a way to hang up without being abrupt, not until he knew who was there.
“...Just look at the property prices in my area...”
Tom squeezed the baton, grateful that he had it.
He peered through the peep hole and saw no one there. Upon a closer look he saw there was someone there but whoever it was he was standing at the edge of the garden path now.
“Hang on, babe, there’s someone at the door,” he said, tucking the baton into the back of his jeans.
“What? Are you serious? Don’t answer the fucking door! Jesus, Tom!”
He winced at how alarmed she had become. Her shrill voice only made him more nervous. “Calm down, I’m still here. It’s probably one of my neighbours. Probably kicked the ball into my yard again.”
“Be careful, Tom. I mean it!”
He unlatched the door lock and opened the door.
“Relax, I told you...”
When he saw who was standing at the edge of his property he was speechless.
“Tom? Are you there...?”
He was stunned and took a deep breath. “I’ll call you back.”
Tom hung up and pulled the baton out of the back of his jeans and swung it until the rod extended to its full length.
He clenched his jaw and looked around in case there were others hiding and waiting to pounce on him. There was no sign of anyone else.
Tom narrowed his eyes at the teenager and started walking towards him, gripping the baton tighter and ready to attack if he had to.
35
“You won’t need that,” said Marcus.
“Come to finish what you started?”
Marcus snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Tom scanned his surroundings again. He doubted the boy had come alone. Marcus’ fellow gang members were probably close by. For all he knew, they were in any one of the parked cars near his home and just waiting for the right time to spring into action.
“My uncle spoke to me.”
“Yeah?” Tom thought it was odd he hadn’t first got a courtesy call from Curly to let him know in advance that Marcus would be visiting him at home.
“Yeah, he don’t know I’m here but it was the only way.”
“The only way for what?”
“The only way you’d get off my case. You needed to see me with your own eyes.”
“And why’s that?”
“So I could tell you to your face I had nothin’ to do with Mr Jones’ death.”
Tom clenched his jaw at the mention of Chris’ name. “How do I know that? For all I know, you were the one who stabbed him.”
Marcus shook his head. “If you believe that then you’re dumber than I thought.”
“What do you expect?” Tom asked. “The word on the street is you’re a big time gangster now.”
Marcus gave him a disgusted smile. “And comin’ after you is what big time gangsters do? Fuck off, man. I said I had nothin’ to do with that, didn’t I? Shit, I didn’t even know about it ‘til the other day.”
“Am I supposed to believe that?”
Marcus shrugged. “I don’t give a shit what you believe. That’s your problem. All I’m sayin’ is it wasn’t me.”
“And you’re just gonna forget all about me?” Tom asked. “How I had you expelled?”
Marcus laughed. “You gimme bare jokes, sir. Stop flatterin’ yourself, okay? You ain’t that special. I ain’t even thought of you in ages. Not ‘til my uncle had a word with me.”
“The police are looking for you,” Tom said. “Why haven’t you been in touch with them?”
“Duh, use your head. Why would I wanna put myself at risk? Talk to them for someone else’s problem? Shit that ain’t got nothin’ to do with me?”
Tom could see the logic working here. One of indifference.
He was willing to believe Marcus had no involvement in Chris’ murder but the boy had a lot more to do to prove his innocence before Tom was satisfied.
“Where were you at the time I was attacked with Mr Jones?”
“That was the first question my uncle asked me, ya know? I was with some friends in the park.”
“Can you prove that?”
“If I have to, yeah.”
Tom thought it over. “You’re going to have to talk to the police and tell them that.”
Marcus swore under his breath and shook his head.
“Satisfy them and I’ll get off your case, okay?”
The boy nodded. “Yeah, I will,” he said, getting angry now. “As long as you get off my tail and stop botherin’ my uncle, okay? I don’t want any more shit about this.”
“Get in touch with the police tomorrow,” Tom said, pointing the tip of the steel rod at the boy. “I’m going to check that you have by six o’ clock, okay? If you haven’t co-operated with them by then I’m paying your uncle another visit.”
Marcus shook his head. “Fuck’s sake! Okay!”
“Thanks for coming tonight,” Tom said, backing away a safe distance before turning to go back inside.
“Wait!”
Tom looked at him over his shoulder. “What is it?”
“There was somethin’ else I’d been meaning to tell you too.”
“What?”
“I think I know who shot your neighbour.”
36
Tom couldn’t help but gasp and felt his entire body go rigid. He stormed down the steps towards Marcus with the baton still extended and stopped when he was face to face with Marcus. The boy took a step back.
&n
bsp; “How would you know something like that?”
“Might be a long shot but I don’t think it is. In fact, I’m pretty sure.”
“Who did it?”
“Do you know Qasim Rafiq?”
“...Doesn’t ring a bell. Should it?”
“He’s mates with Zafar. I think you taught them both. Actually, I know you taught Zafar ‘cause you expelled him, remember?”
“How’d you know that?”
Marcus scowled. “Man, you think it ain’t common knowledge now? Everyone knows that shit! And I know Zafar and Qasim and them boys been makin’ a lot of noise about how 5-0 been interrogatin’ them and shit, thinkin’ they might’ve been the ones who jumped you and Mr Jones.”
Tom nodded. “The police did question them.”
“Well, someone – shall we say, a friend of a friend of a friend – sold Qasim a shooter a couple of days ago.”
Tom perked up at the mention of a handgun. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, and then two days later that happened,” Marcus pointed at John Thompson’s front door. “Coincidence? You be the judge.”
“Who’s your friend?” Tom asked.
“That ain’t important. All I’m sayin’ is if you wanna be stickin’ your nose around you might be wise to look at Qasim.”
Tom tried to recall Qasim Rafiq’s face but nothing came to him.
“This isn’t just a rumour, is it?” Tom asked. “You’re sure this was Qasim?”
Marcus leaned forward. “One hundred percent, sir.”
“Thanks again,” Tom said and turned to go back inside. “Don’t forget about tomorrow. You got a six o’ clock deadline.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Marcus said and backed away. “Just get off my back once and for all.” Marcus walked away into the night.
Tom entered his home and locked the doors.
Qasim Rafiq. He had repeated the name over and over again, until he had it memorised.
He sat down at the kitchen table and wrote the name down on a piece of paper. Then reached for his phone to call Atif Hussain.
Atif answered. “Sir?”
“Atif, I need some help.” He told Atif all about Marcus Wright’s visit and his claims about Qasim Rafiq. Atif said he was familiar with Qasim.