by M A Comley
“I’ll do it for you tonight without fail, ma’am.”
Sally rose from her chair, and Jack and Patrick joined her as she made her way over to the door. She entered the hallway to find a tall, redheaded female constable standing with her back against the wall.
The woman glanced at Sally with a concerned expression.
“Constable? May I help you?”
Her cheeks coloured up. “Sorry, ma’am, I was waiting for Constable Thomas. I’m his partner.”
“Ah, I see. He’s free to join you now.”
The woman smiled and looked over Sally’s shoulder at Patrick. “We’ve had a call we need to attend urgently.”
Sally stepped aside to allow Patrick to pass then watched Patrick and the woman rush up the hallway together and out of the station.
“What’s your gut telling you on this one, boss?” Jack asked on their walk back to the incident room.
“That he’s a sad, lonely man who has never got over the death of his wife. Whether that’s related to his guilt in killing her...” She shook her head. “It’s hard to say at this point. He seemed genuine enough to me. I didn’t spot any chinks in his emotional story, did you?”
“Nope, it all seems hunky-dory to me. So, where do we go from here?”
“I’m not willing to move on just yet. Tomorrow, I want to hear what his partner has to say. Let’s check how long they’ve been partners first. There’s no point questioning her if she’s only just teamed up with him. If they’ve been together for a long time, there’s a chance he might have shared some strange secret with her—loose lips and all that.”
“I’m with you. I have to add a word of caution to that idea: that’s only likely if the partners get on, boss. If they hate working with each other, then they’re hardly going to share deep, dark secrets,” Jack said.
They reached the top of the stairs and entered the incident room.
Sally clapped her hands to gain the team’s attention. “We’ve just interviewed the husband. It went okay, nothing spectacular to report. He’s going to furnish us with a list of friends and relatives that we should speak to. Until we have that, we’ll just have to work with what we’ve already got at our disposal. Anyone have anything else they wish to add?”
“We were talking amongst ourselves when you left, boss, and Joanna came up with an idea that maybe we should look into,” Jordan stated, turning to look at Joanna.
Sally raised an expectant eyebrow at Joanna. “I’m listening and open to anything at this stage. What did you have in mind?”
“It might be totally off the wall, boss, but it is something that is becoming more prevalent within Muslim culture.”
Sally perched on the edge of the desk behind her and folded her arms, the way she always did when something intrigued her. “Don’t stop there, Joanna. Come on, speak freely.”
“I need to do more research into the subject, boss, but I think we should consider maybe this being some form of honour killing.”
Sally’s eyes widened, and Jack, who was sitting back at his desk, almost choked on his cup of coffee. “Seriously? What has led you to think along those lines, Joanna?” Sally asked.
“I apologise if I’ve spoken out of turn, but something resonated with me regarding a case I read about in the paper last month. This happened up north, Bradford way; it might be different up there, boss.”
“Can you fill us all in on the story?”
“I can give you the gist of it, boss. I can’t tell you the ins and outs of it, however.”
Sally nodded and motioned for Joanna to continue.
“From what I can remember, a young Muslim woman married a white British man against her parents’ wishes. They refused to go to her wedding, even refused to acknowledge the marriage had taken place. Apparently, her father had made arrangements for his daughter to marry a wealthy businessman back in Pakistan, but the girl fell in love with the man whom she had married. Her parents were shocked, didn’t even know the couple were seeing one another. The announcement they’d secretly eloped had almost killed the girl’s mother; she ended up in hospital needing a heart operation.”
“That’s not good. So, what happened next?”
“The husband of the young woman—I’ve forgotten her name, sorry—he reported her as a missing person one day. He suspected her family had something to do with her disappearance all along, but the police had trouble finding evidence to back up his theory.”
“Okay, so how did the truth emerge?” Sally asked, shaking her head in confusion.
Joanna looked her in the eye. “The family insisted that the daughter had made a mistake, that she didn’t love her husband anymore and pleaded for their forgiveness. They said they had sent their daughter back to Pakistan to stay with relatives. But the leading investigator had a hard time believing the father, especially as he couldn’t find the girl’s name listed on any flights that had left the UK since her disappearance.”
“How naïve do these people think we are? Go on.”
“The policeman followed the girl’s mother one day to a site in the woods and watched the woman leave a single white rose on the forest floor underneath a large oak tree. She sat on the ground and sobbed. Once the mother left the area, he called a forensic team to the site, and that’s when the young woman’s body was discovered. Both her parents were arrested and charged with her murder, along with the father’s brother, who actually admitted he was the one who killed his niece.”
“My God, how barbaric. It seems bizarre that this type of thing can happen in this country. How stupid of the family not to think that the British police would trace the body of the victim eventually.”
“Apparently, there are numerous honour killings that take place on British soil, boss. I can’t think of the statistics right now, but I was shocked when I read what it was. I can do some checking for you.”
“Yes, do that, Joanna. This is something that we truly shouldn’t dismiss, especially as I’ve just heard Patrick and her parents had a strained relationship. I don’t remember seeing any mention of the original investigation going down that route ten years ago. Maybe the investigator didn’t have any reason to suspect the family, or perhaps it wasn’t something he was willing to consider back then. Let’s delve into this further. I think we should go and see the parents, Jack, if only to put this theory to bed. But if we go in there forearmed about this bizarre ceremonious act this culture is willing to bring to our shores, it might just catch the parents off guard.”
“Just a thought, boss... is the investigating officer still around?” Jack asked.
Sally shrugged. “I’m not sure. Can you look into that for me? See what sort of record he had for solving cases? Let’s hit this case from all angles, shake the tree a little, and see what falls out, eh?”
She walked into her office, her stomach all of a sudden tied into large knots. Sally sat behind her desk and picked up the phone. “It’s me. Is it all right if I pop round this evening?”
“I’d love that. As it happens, I’m pretty clear this afternoon. Do you want to come straight from work?”
“Would you mind? I’ll give Mum a ring, tell her not to expect me home tonight.”
“That’s a little presumptuous of you. Not that I’m complaining.”
“Didn’t think you would. See you around six.”
She ended the call with a huge smile on her face and thousands of butterflies in her stomach chasing the knots away.
CHAPTER THREE
Sally was smiling inwardly as she opened the gate to the large detached house in Attleborough and rang the doorbell. She leaned against the wall until the door opened. A hand shot out, latched on to her arm, and pulled her into the hallway. Simon’s mouth quickly covered hers, and she melted into his arms. She groaned as his kiss deepened and his hands began to wander. Sally turned her head away and pushed at his chest.
“Slow down, lover boy.”
“Why? There’s no fun in that.”
Sally
ducked under Simon’s arm and ran up the long hallway into the kitchen, where she began inspecting the pots sitting on the stove. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
“So was I, but as that’s off the menu, I suppose pork chops and dauphinoise potatoes will have to do instead.”
Sashaying towards him, she pouted. “Aww... don’t be like that. I have some business I need to discuss with you before we... well, you know.”
He placed a hand over his chest. “What? You mean to tell me that you haven’t come over here to use and abuse my body? I’m mortified.”
She laughed. “Anyone ever tell you that you’ve missed your vocation? You should be plying your trade in a different theatre, on the stage, instead of cutting up bodies for a living.”
“Ha, I’d probably get paid more being a comedian than a pathologist. I wouldn’t get as many perks, though.”
“What bloody perks?”
“I get to see you during the day, sometimes.”
“Ah, there is that. Plus, I come over a few nights a week for bed and breakfast.”
“Nice to know I have my uses. Dinner will be ready in five minutes.”
“Hmm... so you really had no intention of whisking me upstairs to bed the minute I arrived anyway, did you?”
He held his hands up. “I’ve been rumbled. I’m starving, too. We should eat first and then see where the evening takes us.”
Sally stepped closer and kissed his cheek. “Want to talk business now, or do you need to concentrate? I know how much you men hate multi-tasking.”
He glared at her for an instant, but his scowl diminished quickly. “I’m neither confirming nor denying that statement, but I would like some peace and quiet while I serve up. You can help by laying the table if you would.”
“I think I can manage that.”
Five minutes later, with the table laid and the food sitting on the white plates in front of them, they chinked their glasses together. “To us,” Simon announced.
“To us. It might have taken us a few years to get together, but I’m thankful we finally came to our senses. My mate Lorne would be proud of us.”
“She knew something was going to happen between us before we did. Is she always that intuitive?”
“Yep, she goes a lot by gut feelings, that one, and I have to say she’s not often wrong. I love her to bits. It’s a shame she and Tony don’t live closer. Maybe they’ll be tempted to retire this way in the future. Hark at me, talking about retirement. Mind you, I suppose she’s getting on a bit.”
Simon shook his head. “I’m going to let that comment slip past because I remember you telling me that Lorne and I are of a similar age.”
“That’s right, unlike me. I’m still in the prime of my life at thirty-one.”
“I’m hardly ancient at forty-four. I bet I could outrun you over a short distance.”
“Not doubting that, but I bet your stamina to go the extra mile is questionable.”
“You’re just full of bloody compliments tonight, aren’t you? Right, let’s talk about business before I make up the spare room for you.”
Sally winked at him. “It’ll be your loss, honey. Not mine.”
“I don’t believe that for a second. Come on, let me have it—the case, I mean.”
Sally ate the last mouthful of dinner from her plate, washed it down with a swig of wine then sat back in her chair. “I’ve been given a cold case to work on. I was going to ring you to ask your opinion during the day but thought I’d wait until this evening.”
“That’s no problem. Do I know about this case?”
“I’m not sure. In a roundabout way, you might. I was given the file this morning by DCI Green—oh damn, I’m going around in circles here. I think you’ve been working on the remains of two men, suspected burglars who vanished ten years ago.”
He nodded. “I am. Is that the cold case you’re referring to?”
“Yes and no. The two men were the suspects in the murder of Aisha Thomas. She was married to one of the constables at the station.”
“I can vaguely remember the case. It was before my time, though. I can dig out the file tomorrow if you like.”
“That’d be great. I questioned the husband today, and the jury is still out on that one for me. He talked the talk. Not sure if that was his professional mode guiding him, however.”
Simon took a sip from his glass as she spoke and then asked, “How can I help?”
“I’m not sure, really. I suppose I would like to bounce some ideas around with you, if you’re up for that?”
“Of course, fire away.”
“Well, I’ve yet to talk to the inspector who originally dealt with the case, but it seems he was keen to point the finger at these two burglars who had robbed several homes in the nearby neighbourhood. However, after the murder of Aisha Thomas, those burglaries dried up, and the two men vanished. To me, that sounds a little too convenient. How about you?”
“So, you think these men were scapegoats? I carried out the PMs yesterday and today, and I can tell you that these men were both killed around ten years ago.”
“Which fits exactly. Any idea how they were killed? I haven’t a clue how the men were discovered. Were they buried in the same grave?”
“Yes, it was a somewhat crude burial. The men were buried on top of each other. The thing is that they were only buried a few feet down, as if the person who dug the grave couldn’t be bothered to dig any deeper—or dig a second grave for the other man. Perhaps if they had, the burglars’ bodies would have remained undiscovered.”
“Crap, okay, so that tells me that we’re not looking at a professional killer at least. They’d never be that sloppy, for a start.”
“I’m with you on that one, Sally. How they were killed is going to take a little more time to sort out, as you can imagine. I’m dealing with two sets of bones as opposed to intact bodies with visible wounds to guide me. I’ll hopefully have something for you in the next day or two.”
“That’s okay. We’ve got enough to be going on with at the moment anyway, looking back over friends’ and family’s statements. Let me run this past you, if I may?”
He tilted his head. “Shoot.”
“The victim was Pakistani and married to a British white male... see where I’m going with this?”
“I think so. Go on.”
“A member of my team—Joanna—said that she’d read about a case recently in which a girl marrying outside her religion was killed by her relatives, an honour killing. Have you dealt with any such cases over the years?”
“One or two that were suspected but never proven. The family tend to close ranks on that type of thing. I read about the case you’re referring to. I think the mother finally led the investigator to the girl’s grave. Am I right?”
Sally nodded.
“It’s usually the mothers who suffer from the pangs of guilt the most, in my experience. In their culture, the women have to do what the men say, as though they have no voice. My take on it is that the mother could no longer live with the burden of guilt hanging around her shoulders, and she led the police to the grave.”
“I can understand why she would do that. Wouldn’t she feel the wrath of the family, though?”
“Yes, but by that time, everyone hopefully would have been arrested and put behind bars.”
“But then these families tend to be large. Wouldn’t the mother be looking over her shoulder the rest of her life?”
“If I remember rightly, I think the mother must have thought something similar, because she actually ended her own life in the remand centre.”
“How dreadful. I wasn’t aware of that,” Sally replied, astonished.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be led down that route, given that the two burglars lost their lives around the same time Aisha died.”
“I’ll bear that in mind. I still need to question the family, see what comes to light there. Any pudding?”
He laughed at her swift change of subject. “
Why are you always thinking of your stomach, and how is it that you manage to stay so slim?”
“My age obviously works in my favour there.”
“Cheeky! What are you saying—that middle-age spread is rearing its head in my case?” He rubbed his protruding belly.
“Not at all. Hey, if the cap fits.”
“We could always take some ice cream upstairs with us.”
Sally found it hard to prevent the shiver travelling down her spine. “I’m up for it, if you are.”
“I’ll just load the dishwasher.”
Sally smiled, forgetting what a cleaning freak he was. Her ex had been the same, however, he had expected her to be the one to do the cleaning up. Simon was a different man entirely. Over the past few months, since their relationship had begun, he’d always put her needs before his, at every turn, in and out of the bedroom. He was a caring man, sometimes misunderstood by others. But Sally had no trouble sussing out when he was being serious or pulling her leg. She had to admit, however, that when his accent slipped back into broad Scottish, she had trouble understanding him and resorted to nodding her head, even when she didn’t have a clue what he’d said. He had caught her out many a time but laughed it off. He’d never ridiculed her for being lazy—or worse, for being thick, when she didn’t understand what he was on about.
Sally had spent her life with Darryl teetering on eggshells most of the time. She was so grateful those days were behind her and that she was now able to enjoy her life. It had taken her a few months to learn to trust Simon, but he understood completely and had waited patiently for her to surrender herself completely to him. Not many men out there would have been prepared to do that, even if they said they were.
Sally watched him prepare a large bowl of ice cream and withdraw two spoons from the kitchen drawer, excitement building inside her.
“Can you make sure the back door is locked, Sal?”
She loved it when he called her that. After checking the back door, they ran upstairs, acting like a pair of teenagers. She couldn’t help but feel like a teenager knowing what was about to happen between them.