by Liz Mistry
While the brother, Kiran, shook his head, Gus thought he detected a slight hesitation from Pratab’s sister, before she too shook her head. Another note for Amanjeet – get the sister on her own and see what secrets she was keeping. Surprisingly, it was Mr Patel who spoke, his voice shaky and raw as if he hadn’t spoken for months. ‘Pratab was being secretive recently. Not telling us where he was going, on occasion he’d be home late… he even shouted at us if we questioned him… he was being a typical teenager, rebelling against his parents… you know?’ And then just as suddenly, he switched off again, as if the effort of answering that one question was too much for him.
Gus waited, but none of the other three added anything. ‘What about his friends?’
Mrs Patel smiled. ‘He was popular, lots of friends, but his best friend was Haider. The lad he was supposed to be studying with last night. He’ll be devastated. He and Pratab were almost inseparable since they started secondary school.’
‘Mrs Patel, we spoke to Haider this morning. He told us he and Pratab hadn’t been friends for a few months now. He said Pratab seemed to have a new group of friends, do you perhaps know who?’ Gus turned his gaze on Mita and Kiran. ‘Do either of you two know who your brother was hanging out with these days?’
The siblings exchanged glances and then Mita sighed. ‘He was being a dick recently.’
‘Mita!’ But Mrs Patel’s tone was resigned, as if her daughter’s language was way down her list of priorities right now, but that she felt she should make the effort. She caught Gus’ eye and waved an apologetic hand as if to say, ‘what can you do?’
‘He was, Mum… wasn’t he, Kiran? Pratab was being more of a di… idiot than usual.’
Kiran fidgeted in his chair, his cheeks flushing. He looked down but nodded.
‘Kiran and I thought he might have a girlfriend… but if he did, he didn’t tell us and I hope if he did, he treated her better than he treated us.’
‘Mita!’ This time it was Mr Patel. ‘Your brother’s dead. Show some respect.’ His tone was like a bullet through the air and Mita flinched. Her eyes welled up and she jumped up and ran around the table to her father, hugging him tight. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. So sorry. I’m just so angry with him. If he’d just stayed in and studied like he was supposed to, he’d be sitting his maths exam right now… with Haider and everyone.’
Mr Patel patted her hand, ‘I know, beti, I know. It’s hard, sssh, sssh.’
Gus gave them a moment before continuing. ‘Just one last thing. Can we have a look at Pratab’s room? Crime scene officers will come and take his computer and stuff, but I’d like to have a look right now. I want to get a sense of Pratab. Then we’ll leave you to your prayers.’
Mrs Patel sighed and nodded. ‘Whatever you need, Inspector. Kiran, take them upstairs.’
Kiran had been reluctant to leave them alone in his brother’s room which was one of two attic rooms, but Gus gently insisted that he go down and look after his parents. A sign on the opposite door told them that it belonged to Kiran. Despite the tasteful pastel blue paint on the walls, the room was like most teenage boys’ rooms… if you ignored the fact that it had an en suite and was as big as the master bedroom in Gus’ house. A double bed with a Bradford City duvet set combined with the burgundy and yellow scarf that was slung over the end of the bed declared Pratab’s football allegiances. The duvet looked crumpled like someone had lain there but not got under the covers. A Bradford City T-shirt was scrunched up next to the pillow and a faint floral perfume in the air suggested that it had probably been Mrs Patel who, in her grief, had wanted to get as close to her dead son as she could.
Gus put on gloves and stood for a minute just inside the door. A huge pinboard, covered in revision notes with a study schedule pinned in the middle, hung above a computer desk with a state-of-the-art computer system that immediately attracted Compo’s attention. Gus left Compo to ooh and aah like a nerd and focussed instead on the study schedule. Until Easter each study target had been marked off in fluorescent highlighter. From Easter onwards the list of study aims remained unhighlighted. What had made Pratab neglect his study schedule from Easter onwards? Gus took a photo of it.
‘Can’t wait to get this back to The Fort. If there’s owt on there to help us, I’ll find it.’
Gus prowled round the room, looking in Pratab’s drawers and wardrobe. Apart from his school polo shirts, Pratab favoured brand names like Nike and Adidas. Two posters were on his walls; one of Wiz Khalifa and one of Eminem. His clothes hung neatly, ironed and new, each one in its place. There was a clothes’ basket in the corner, but it was empty.
Gus moved over to the bed and, lifting the mattress slightly, inserted his hands and felt round the bed. The first thing he found was three pornographic magazines. He replaced them and continued his search. Within seconds he pulled a plastic bag out.
‘Look, Compo. More than enough bud for home consumption… but not too much.’
Compo approached with an evidence bag and Gus put it in.
‘Haider told me he thought Pratab was on coke and MDMA, do you think the weed under the mattress is just a distraction?’
Compo shrugged. ‘Well, we know where most drugs are stored, don’t we…?’
Gus moved to the bathroom and lifted the cistern at the back of the toilet. ‘Right here for easy disposal if you get raided.’
And, sure enough, wrapped in three plastic bags and sealed with parcel tape were two packets. He wiped the bags dry on the pristine hand towel that hung near the sink and he and Compo took them into the bedroom.
Just about to drop the first bag into an evidence bag, Gus saw movement by the door.
Mita leaned against the frame, hands shoved into her jeans. ‘You found his stash then?’
Gus finished bagging up the drugs before replying. ‘You knew they were here?’
Taking a step into the room, the girl shrugged. ‘Didn’t know… suspected… I suppose.’ She glanced towards the bathroom door that Gus had left a little ajar and plopped herself onto her brother’s bed. ‘Can you maybe just keep this from them… just for today… just until the first lot of prayers are over with at least?’
Gus knew that by ‘them’ she meant her parents and now it was his turn to shrug. He needed to ask them about it… thing was, would a twenty-four-hour delay matter? He suspected not. How many parents had he come across that had no idea that their kid was dealing or even taking drugs? He was saved from responding by his phone ringing that familiar tune again… Bloody Gaby. She chose her moments, didn’t she?
CHAPTER 25
I write my name at the top of the paper, Zarqa Siddique. The air con hums away in the background sending an occasional waft of cool air round the room. It’s sort of familiar and reassuring… what isn’t familiar and reassuring is the awareness that the empty seat just down from me belonged to a dead boy. I’d never liked him. He’d been a knob. Don’t know why Haider hung out with him. Pratab Patel thought he was all that, but he wasn’t. He was just a big-headed rich kid who was so spoilt he thought everybody owed him summat. Dick! Still, that empty chair is a bit distracting.
Before I’d even got off the bus, I’d heard them talking. News travels fast and Karim was giving it all that at the back of the bus, bigging himself up, like he was some sort of hero because he’d found Pratab. At the back of my mind, I knew a lot of his swag was because of me. Karim made no secret of the fact that he liked me… and I made no secret of the fact that I wasn’t into him. Still, it didn’t seem to deter him, and he could be a laugh when he wanted to.
‘Hey, Zarqa. You know I found that dead kid last night, don’t you? Pratab Patel, he’s in your year, in’t he?’
Karim is a year older than me but, like most lads, acts like he’s about twelve and he’s one of the Young Jihadis too. I kept my head pointed toward the window and ignored him. I didn’t want to be reminded of the friends I’d left behind in the Young Jihadis. It was still a bit raw. It wasn’t that I didn’t get what they
were trying to do. I thought they were right to try to work out how Muslim kids could live in today’s society. Shit, I got how hard it was to be Muslim and British. Sometimes it was like walking a tightrope between two cultures. I’d always thought I was lucky because my parents, well Mo and Mum, had always been quite liberal. Pushing me to make friends from all walks of life, no emphasis on arranged marriages. I’d always thought they were cool. I get it now, though. It was all because of the things they were keeping from me… the secrets… the lies. The problem was me. I was the one rebelling… couldn’t stomach the self-righteous shit and the hypocrisy any longer. I was fed up with all the rubbish they spouted about challenging the cultural stuff that wasn’t part of the religion. Didn’t seem to me like it made any difference… they still looked down on anybody who wasn’t what they called a ‘true Muslim’.
‘Hey, Zarqa? You ignoring me?’
Well, duh? You think so? I look round and see Claire Stevens in the seat behind. I roll my eyes at her, but she looks straight through me. Probably scared I’m going to pick on her. Always feel a bit sorry for her. She always seems to be the butt of someone’s jokes. Was relieved to grab my backpack and hop off the bus before Karim and his loud-mouthed mates could catch-up. I looked around for Jo Jo wondering if he was thinking about what we’d done. I’d heard it on the morning news, so the shit had already started to hit the fan.
I shake my head and realise that I’ve been staring into space for the last fifteen minutes and glance round the room. Mehmoona’s scribbling away like nobody’s business. She’s a smart-ass. She’ll pass no sweat. Claire’s three chairs down from me and she looks like she’s struggling. Keeps fidgeting. Know how she feels. It’s too damn hot to think. Jo Jo’s sitting three rows along from me and two seats down. Doesn’t look like he’s doing much writing either. As I watch, I see him steal a look at Pratab’s empty chair. I look round and notice that everyone’s doing that… sneaking glances at Pratab’s empty chair. Wonder how the dick would feel about being the elephant in the room. Seems like karma to me. He always was a bit of a bully.
The tip tap of the invigilator’s heels on the floor behind me as she walks up and down the lines of students, makes me look at the paper on the desk in front of me. Well, I’ve managed my name and I think that’s right. She slows as she nears Pratab’s place and I wonder if she’s thinking about him too. But she speeds up again, clip clopping down the aisle. Fuck, it’s hard enough to focus without that racket. Why is she not forced to wear soft soles like the rest of us? Then she’s off tap, tap, tapping up the next row. You’d think in this heat she’d plonk her chair right in front of a fan and watch us from there, but no, Mrs Husseini takes her job very seriously.
I put Pratab and Mrs Husseini to the back of my mind and try to focus, but my mind keeps going back to last night. At first it was all exciting, a big adventure. Yeah, my heart was pounding, but in a good way… not like it is now. Not like it’s been doing off and on since then. I pull my ponytail over my shoulder and study the ends. Some are split. It’ll be the bleach. She told me not to dye it, but no way was I listening to her.
Back to last night. At one point, the adrenalin kicked in so much, I thought my veins would burst, thought I’d explode. My head was light, and my legs shook, but no way was I going to let Jo Jo back out then.
Now, though. That’s a different thing. On the one hand it’s kind of cool to hear everyone talking about what we’ve done. Asking me my opinion and not knowing it was me… not suspecting that good little Zarqa Siddique could do something so shameful… so awful. Now that’s a bit of a turn on. For the first time in ages I feel like I matter, like I can make a difference, that I’m important.
I glance at the clock on the wall; twenty minutes to go. I smile and open my paper…
I hate maths.
CHAPTER 26
G etting back into the car was like inflicting torture on himself. The leather seat was boiling against Gus’ back and the steering wheel almost too hot to touch. He left the door open and switched on the engine, activating the faulty air conditioning immediately. When he felt the warmth from it on his face, he quickly turned it back off again.
‘Windows down, Compo.’
As he drove off, he wondered about Pratab’s sister. She’d known about the drugs in her brother’s room, or at the very least wasn’t surprised that they’d found them. However, what intrigued him more was the heated discussion he’d witnessed between Mita and Kiran round the side of the house as they were leaving. He’d not been able to hear anything, but Mita’s anger was evident in the way she prodded her brother hard in the shoulder, before storming off, her, ‘I’ll speak to you laters, yeah?’ ringing in the air. The look on Kiran’s face had been a combination of anger… anger and fear? Gus wasn’t sure but as soon as the lad had seen Gus, he strode off down the side of the house towards the back garden after his sister. He’d taken the time to text the FLO asking her to keep an eye on the two kids. If Gus wasn’t mistaken, those two were keeping something secret. The big question was, had it anything to do with their investigation?
‘What’s your thoughts on it all, Comps?’
Wiping a trickle of sweat from his brow, Compo leaned his head closer to the open window. The draught, causing his wavy brown hair to waft about his round face, made Gus realise he’d never seen Compo without a beanie or a bobble hat on before. Presumably the heat was proving too much even for him.
‘It’s so sad… How will they get through it? I kept thinking how your mum would be if it were you, Gus… and your dad and Katie?’
His friend’s words hit Gus in the solar plexus, not because they tugged his heart strings on his own behalf, but because they betrayed Compo’s lack of family… his inability to believe that he himself would be missed.
‘Shit, Comps. Do you think if you went, we’d miss you any less than we did Sampson? Don’t be daft. My mum and dad and the whole team would be devastated. We’re your family.’
Compo turned his head and looked out the window. Gus sensed he needed a moment, so he switched on the radio.
…in a Bradford village are keeping checks on the elderly and, with temperatures showing no sign of dropping, urge communities to drop in to ensure their neighbours are keeping hydrated. While in other news a dog owner has been charged with animal cruelty after leaving their Japanese Akita locked in an unventilated car. The dog is expected…
‘The kids are hiding summat, Gus. The girl, despite all her attitude, is definitely covering up.’ He paused for a moment and then added, ‘I’d get the CSIs to focus on printing the inside of that cistern… I reckon the outside will be wiped clean, but they might have forgotten the ridge at the top.’
Gus was pleased. He’d been thinking along those lines himself and the fact that Compo had picked up on the way the girl kept glancing at her brother’s en suite, reinforced it. He’d make an all-round detective out of his computer nerd yet. ‘Contact Hissing Sid, Compo, and be sure to tell him to check the underside of the cistern lid… hopefully the Patel kids aren’t fans of CSI.’
As Compo made the call, Gus considered his suspicion that either Mita knew only too well where her brother had kept his drug stash or she’d nosed around on her own when he was out and found it… either way, the biggest question was why she hadn’t told her parents? Perhaps she’d told her other brother? Had her brother shared his secret? Confided in his younger sister?
When his phone rang again, Gus was relieved to see that it was Taffy rather than Gaby. He answered the hands-free with a, ‘Whassup, Taff?’’
‘PM toxicity came back with a right cocktail of shit… MDMA, coke… even a bit of Rohypnol and that’s before we consider the alcohol levels. The doc says the lad would have been well out of it. He reckons it would have barely been necessary to use the cable ties.’
So, if it was unnecessary, why then did the killers use them… and then remove them only to discard them so carelessly only feet away from the body? Clearly, they didn’t ne
ed to use them. Maybe they just enjoyed cuffing the lad… but why not leave them on? Gus suspected it was to do with the posing afterwards… maybe the cable ties offended the killer’s sense of how the crime scene should look when Pratab was discovered. ‘I take it the blood on the cable ties belongs to our victim?’
‘Yup. Cause of death was the knife wound to the jugular, but your da…, I mean the doc, reckons it would have been touch and go for the lad anyway, what with the drugs and alcohol combo. One other interesting thing about the ties though… the doc sees no evidence of a struggle. He says the ties didn’t appear to have tightened around Pratab’s wrist as he struggled… he says the wounds would have been wider if the lad had struggled. He reckons the killer pulled them that tight and Pratab was either unconscious or too drugged to fight back. He also says that that and the bruising along the head were done just pre-mortem and he suspects that unnecessary force was used then too. Pratab wouldn’t have been able to struggle. Time of death was around ten o’clock. Dr McGuire will send the report over asap.’
‘Has he had any luck lifting prints from the hand marks on his head?’
Gus could hear Taffy flicking over pages on his notebook. ‘Oops, forgot that bit – yep. Doc says it looks like they wore gloves. We’re still waiting for all the trace forensic analyses to come back.’
‘Okay, Taff, thanks for that. Head up to City Academy. We’ll meet you there.’
‘Oh, wait a minute, Gus, your dad wants a word before you go.’
As his dad’s booming voice filled the car, Gus scowled, ignoring Compo’s, ‘Hi, doc,’ followed by his dad’s ‘Hi, Compo, Angus got you out and about today? Corrine always says he should make sure you get a bit more sunshine, you often look a bit peaky. It’s good to keep your vitamin D topped up.’
The Dr lowered his tone conspiratorially before continuing, ‘She’s just dropped off some brownies here and I do believe she’s heading up to The Fort to leave you some too.’