by Paul Gitsham
‘But why turn it off before he even arrived at the hotel?’ asked Ruskin.
‘Rachel, check his phone’s logs against his confirmed stays when you get them,’ said Warren. ‘See if that’s normal behaviour for him.’
‘Well the obvious reason for his visits to the hotel is for sex with people he’s met online,’ said Sutton. ‘Maybe he turns everything off before he gets there, so he can’t be tracked?’
‘But why?’ asked Richardson. ‘He’s a single bloke, who doesn’t live with anyone. If he was a married man, hiding it from his wife, I’d get that. But who’s going to be checking his phone for evidence of an affair? Surely this Latika woman won’t care?’
Warren turned to Hutchinson again. ‘How has the questioning of the hotel staff been going?’
‘Most that we’ve spoken to so far didn’t recognise Anish’s picture, but then the majority of them have little interaction with the guests.’
‘What about the other photos,’ asked Sutton.
‘None of them recognised the profile pictures from Rainbow Hookups.’
‘Mags?’ Warren turned to Richardson.
‘I’ve given the pictures to the Video Analysis Unit. They’re collecting images of everyone who walked past the reception camera on the days he stayed to see if they can spot anyone of interest. Then they’ll do all the other cameras. We’ve also got a list of the guests that stayed there over that time period, for all the good that’ll do us – if Anish was able to check in under a false name, who knows how many other guests also did so?’
‘There is another mystery we have to solve,’ said Richardson. ‘I’ve got the ANPR records from the fixed cameras on the A506 near the Easy Break Motel, but there’s no sign of Anish’s Mercedes on the day that he checked in, or the following morning.’
‘Wait, we still haven’t tracked down his car?’ asked Sutton.
Richardson shook her head. ‘It was last picked up twice on an ANPR camera the weekend before. Looking at the location of the camera, and the time between triggers, he was probably doing his grocery shop at Tesco.’
‘The one we think he pays cash for,’ interjected Pymm. ‘It might be worth getting CCTV footage from Tesco at that time to see if he’s alone when he does the shop, or if he is using a card we somehow don’t know about.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Warren. ‘Now, back to the cameras near the hotel.’
Richardson grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. ‘The cameras are at a set of traffic lights about three-hundred metres south of the turn-off for the hotel. If he was travelling to the hotel from the direction of town, he’d have gone through these traffic lights, then turned left into the side road that the hotel car park entrance is on. The next morning, he would have come out of the hotel, turned right onto the A506, then passed through the traffic lights on the way back towards town.’
She sketched the junction. ‘That would make sense, since his flat is in town, and if he came direct from work, he would have also travelled that way.’
‘So, what would happen if he came from the other direction?’ asked Warren.
‘Well, that’s where it gets weird,’ said Richardson. ‘There isn’t a lot out that way. It’s pretty much a straight road to Cambridge.’
‘But there is a turning onto the country lane where his body was found,’ pointed out Sutton.
‘There is. And he could have continued down there to get to the main road that runs parallel to the A506, which would have led back into town. But that’s a bloody strange route to take, it would add the better part of ten miles onto his journey. I looked at the ANPR cameras on that road and again I can’t find his Merc.’
Warren closed his eyes, picturing the layout of the roads. ‘Then was he coming to or from the direction of Cambridge? The family home is in that direction.’
If Anish had driven that way, perhaps he had visited his family or friends? In which case, why had nobody said? Aside from his sister, his family claimed not to have had any contact with him recently, and she hadn’t mentioned meeting him that day.
‘I spoke to Cambridgeshire, and they have no record of his car being spotted that Thursday either. Nor for that matter were any of the cars belonging to his close family, although we already know that according to their mobile phone location data, they were at home that night.’
Warren pinched his lip thoughtfully. ‘So, all we know so far, is that he was still alive Friday morning when he checked out of the hotel. But it still leaves two questions. First, how did he get to the hotel if he didn’t drive? And second, where the hell is his car?’
‘There is a bus that stops near the hotel. The X262 runs between Middlesbury and Cambridge,’ said Richardson, ‘but it’s an hourly service. Unless it was running very late, there’s a forty-minute gap between him getting off and entering the hotel. It’s less than a five-minute walk between the stop and the hotel. Plus, the weather was pretty crap that night, I can’t imagine why he would have stayed outside any longer than necessary, especially given that he was just wearing a hoodie.’
‘Well, we can’t dismiss it out of hand,’ said Warren. ‘Get onto the company and secure their CCTV footage from the vehicle and, if possible, the bus stop. Also, ask them if the journey was delayed. We know what time he finished work, could he have jumped straight on the bus after finishing?’
‘I’ll also ring around local cab firms and see if they dropped him off,’ said Richardson.
‘We should also do the same for Friday morning, when he left,’ said Sutton. ‘Even if he was feeling ill and went straight home to bed, he still had to get there somehow.’
‘Which still leaves the question, where is his car?’ said Warren. ‘Regardless of whether he drove to the hotel or used public transport, his vehicle is still unaccounted for.’
‘Could it have been stolen?’ asked Ruskin. ‘Maybe he was carjacked as he was leaving that morning? And if he didn’t give up his keys immediately, maybe that’s why he was killed? He left pretty early and it would have been dark at that time.’
‘If it was stolen from the hotel, then we’d have picked it up on the ANPR cameras if it was driven back to Middlesbury,’ said Richardson.
‘Not if they took his body directly to where it was dumped,’ replied Ruskin. ‘They’d have turned left out of the hotel, away from Middlesbury and missed the ANPR camera at that junction.’
‘But it still wasn’t picked up on any of the other ANPR cameras out towards Cambridge,’ said Sutton. ‘Surely they’d have passed at least one camera after dumping his body?’
‘They could have switched the licence plates,’ countered Ruskin. ‘In fact, if they were professionals, they almost certainly would have.’
‘But we didn’t pick up his car on Thursday night either,’ said Sutton. ‘They can’t have switched the plates before he checked into the hotel.’
Ruskin reluctantly conceded the point. ‘So, either he used public transport, or someone dropped him off.’
‘Could his killer have dropped him off and picked him up?’ asked Hardwick. ‘If they didn’t come in, that would explain why they don’t appear on the reception CCTV.’
‘Damn, we could really use some CCTV footage of that car park,’ said Warren.
The last confirmed sighting of Anish Patel was the morning he checked out of his hotel. Since then, aside from some text messages, they had no idea of his movements between then and his body turning up naked in a ditch two days later.
Patel’s trip to the hotel might have been a coincidence, unrelated to the murder. But his body had been wrapped in a sheet from there. Whoever Anish Patel’s killer was, they had to have some link with the hotel, either as a guest, a visitor or a worker.
But why had they killed Anish?
Saturday 3rd December
Chapter 16
Warren met Latika Luthra in a small coffee shop on the outskirts of St Albans. Despite her over-sized dark glasses, he recognised her from her profile picture on Bespoke Pairings as so
on as she entered. She had clearly chosen their meeting place deliberately; this early on a Saturday morning it was almost empty, and Warren had snagged a table in the back corner where they could speak without being overheard.
Standing up as she entered, Warren waved her over. She declined his offer of a coffee, looking around nervously, as if expecting to be seen by someone. She didn’t remove her coat, or her glasses.
‘I knew what it was, the moment you called,’ she said, after Warren had expressed his condolences. ‘I saw it on the news, and I suppose I was expecting to hear from you eventually.’
Warren didn’t ask why she hadn’t contacted the police in response to their appeal; it was clear that it was a delicate situation.
‘How did you get my number?’ she asked.
Behind the dark glass, he could see that her eyes were wary. He knew that unless he mentioned how she and Anish originally hooked up, she was unlikely to be forthcoming about something so personal.
‘I appreciate that this is a sensitive subject, but we identified you through the Bespoke Pairings app. We then used Anish’s email account and telephone record to get your number.’
Her breath caught in her throat, and for a brief moment, Warren thought she was going to get up and leave. He quickly continued. ‘You’ve heard what happened to Anish. We’re trying to contact all his friends and acquaintances to find out more about him, and perhaps discover a motive for his death. I will do everything I can to ensure that anything you say will be kept discreet.’
She nodded, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
‘Why don’t you start by telling me a little about Anish?’ said Warren gently.
She sighed, and for the first time since they met, her nervousness was replaced by a look of sadness.
‘He was such a nice man. We met for coffee and dinner a few times, and he was funny and kind. I studied English Literature at university; Anish never went to uni, but he could talk endlessly about books and poetry. He’d even read some of the textbooks that I used during my course.’ She looked down at the table. ‘I suppose if you found me through the app, you can guess at the situation we were both in?’
Warren nodded, but said nothing, letting her do the speaking.
‘I come from a very traditional background. Anish did too. There are expectations, especially for a young woman. I managed to delay things by going to university, but recently my mother has become more and more insistent. She says that she can’t understand why a pretty girl like me can’t find a suitable husband and settle down. Last year, she started trying to match me. Ever since my dad died, she and her sister have made it their mission to get me married.’
She stopped speaking for a moment and composed herself.
‘I’ve always known that I was a bit different. When I was younger, I just thought it was a phase I was going through. That eventually, I’d get over it and then everything would be normal.’ Her voice took on a bitter edge. ‘But when I went to uni, I realised that wouldn’t happen. I know that I’m not some freak, that there are many others just like me. I felt so free when I was away at university, but then as soon as I graduated I returned home and I had to start hiding who I was again. I love my family very much, and I know they only want me to be happy. My mum and her sister are simply trying to help, but they don’t understand. I cringe whenever anything comes on the TV about lesbians or gays, because my mum just sits there shaking her head. She’s convinced that they are mentally ill or looking for attention. I don’t think she’s figured out why I haven’t found a husband yet.
‘I came across the Bespoke Pairings app by accident, and suddenly I realised that I’m not alone. I read some of the testimonies on the website and figured that if I could find someone who my mother approves of, she’d back off. I could move away and then I’d be free again. As long as I had a man at home, and perhaps a couple of kids, then it’d never occur to her that any woman I spend lots of time with is anything more than a close friend.’ She wiped her eyes behind her glasses. ‘We were even talking about getting a puppy; Anish always wanted one. I suppose he was perfect in a way.’
Her lip curled. ‘There are some real weirdos on that site. Men who claim to be gay, but aren’t really; they just want to see if they can “convert” you or “cure” you.’ She gave a sniff. ‘I was thinking about cancelling my membership when I finally met Anish.’
She gave a bitter laugh. ‘You have no idea how hard it is. It’s like looking for a roommate, but one that you are going to live with for the rest of your life. I’m not after a romantic or sexual partner, but if I am going to live with this man, marry him and have children with him, I still have to love him. For the first time since I joined that site, I thought I might have found that person.’
Behind her glasses, Warren could see her eyes shining.
Warren felt a wave of sympathy for her. He couldn’t imagine how difficult her situation was. If there was one thing he’d learned over the years, it was that love took many different forms. Latika Luthra and Anish Patel might not have been boyfriend and girlfriend in the traditional sense, but it was obvious that the two had formed a bond, and that she was grieving.
‘I think I’ll have that coffee, now,’ she said, suddenly getting up. ‘Would you like another?’ She gestured at Warren’s empty mug.
‘Just a glass of tap water, if you don’t mind,’ he said. Despite the early hour, he’d already had two coffees, but he wanted to make sure she returned.
As she queued, Warren mentally reviewed their conversation. She’d started off understandably wary, but he’d noticed a softening of her attitude. He realised that this might be one of the few times she’d been able to openly discuss her situation. Did she keep in contact with any of her friends from university? Did she have anyone special? Warren decided that it didn’t really matter and was none of his business. He was here to gain information on the life of Anish Patel. But if talking to a stranger comforted her … well, Warren didn’t mind.
‘What can you tell me about Anish’s situation?’ he asked when she returned.
She gave a sigh. ‘Very similar to myself. He was gay and had known it since he was very young, but his family had the same expectations as mine.’
She took a sip of her coffee, wincing at the heat.
‘His father was in denial, and his brothers were … ashamed, I suppose you could say. I think they thought that they could bully it out of him. Or at the very least, force him to hide it, so that it didn’t “tarnish the reputation” of the family.’ She mimed quotation marks with her fingers. Warren noted her use of the same phrase that Reva Vasava had used.
‘And what about his sister?’
‘She was different. So was his mother, when she was alive.’ A slight smile softened Luthra’s lips. ‘I wish I could have met her; Anish spoke so highly of her. She taught him how to cook; I was really looking forward to that, I’m hopeless in the kitchen. I was going to finally meet Reva when we formally announced our engagement. We were planning on doing it at Christmas and Anish wanted us to choose a ring next week.’ Her voice caught and she masked it with another sip of coffee.
Warren waited until she returned her cup to its saucer.
‘Do you know if he had told any other members of his family about your plans?’
Luthra shook her head. ‘I don’t think so; if he had, he didn’t say.’
Warren thought about the unexplained phone call that his brother, Jaidev, had denied. Could Anish have brought it up then? Perhaps as part of an argument? If the response hadn’t been what he wanted, then maybe he hadn’t told Luthra about it.
‘You said that they tried to bully it out of him,’ said Warren. ‘How?’
‘When they were growing up his brothers were generally unpleasant to him: teasing him, calling him names, cutting pictures out of pornographic magazines and sticking them in his school exercise books to get him into trouble. His father was mostly cold. I’m sure that you are aware that Anish is the only one of his fami
ly who doesn’t have a role in the business? When his mother was alive, she used to shield him, but after she died … well, that ended.’
Warren thought back to the scars that Anish had inflicted upon himself; he could only imagine how he must have felt, growing up in a family that struggled to accept him for what he was.
The next question Warren needed to ask was likely to be the most delicate. He chose his words carefully.
‘You and Anish were not going to have a romantic partnership. Can I ask if you were planning on an “open” relationship?’
Luthra flushed pink. She cleared her throat, took a mouthful of coffee, then cleared her throat again.
‘Yes. I suppose you could say that. We were planning on having separate rooms, and continuing relationships outside of our marriage.’
‘Do you know if Anish was seeing anyone before he died?’
She paused again. ‘I believe that he was … active. He used to go clubbing sometimes and I think he used an app for hooking up with other men.’ She looked down at the table, her face still slightly pink. ‘I regarded that part of our lives as private, and I never asked him about it. I trusted that he wouldn’t bring it into our marriage. That neither of us would.’
‘And he didn’t mention anyone in particular?’
‘No, he never spoke about it. And I didn’t ask.’
Warren decided to move the interview onto less awkward territory.
‘What about other friends?’
‘He never really spoke about anyone, except for a couple of workmates. I think he was a bit lonely and shy.’
‘What about any worries?’
‘Aside from his family situation, I can’t think of anything.’
‘Nobody that he had had an argument with?’
‘Not that he said. I always found him to be very laid back and polite, I find it hard to imagine him getting into an argument with anyone.’
Warren took that statement with a pinch of salt. Luthra and Anish had only been dating for a short time; he imagined that both of them were still showing each other their best faces. Nevertheless, it was worthy of note.