The Girl in the Rug (3 page)

She broke off as there was a commotion near the doorway of
the shop. Two uniformed policemen suddenly ran out of the door and down the
street shouting for someone to ‘GET BACK ‘ERE YOU LITTLE DEVIL.’

Carla went over to investigate only to be met by Frank who
was shaking his head.

‘They bloody gave us the slip…little toe rags. One minute
they were there and the next they’re hightailing it down the street.’

‘Bloody hell Frank,’ said Carla in frustration, ‘they were
our star witnesses…well you had better hope that we get them back.’

But no sooner had she said that than the two uniforms were
back gasping for breath and sweating like pigs. ‘Bloody little sods,’ the first
one gasped, ‘slipped down some side alley didn’t they…knew the estate like the
back of their hands…little brats.’

‘Oh well that’s just bloody marvellous,’ said Carla angrily,
‘perhaps one of you would like to tell me how I’m going to explain this one to
the new fucking DCI.’

Andy and Lucy ran until they could run no more. Lucy was
crying that her feet were hurting, but Andy couldn’t afford to stop until he
was sure they had outrun the policemen. They hid behind the big bins round the
corner from their home and stayed there for what seemed like ages. At last Andy
felt safe enough to venture out and try and make it home. It was really late,
there was hardly a light shining from the flats…everyone was in bed, their
footsteps sounded loud on the concrete stairs that led up to their front door
and each step seemed to echo round the whole estate. They had almost made it
home when they both jumped back in fright. A huge dark figure stepped out in
front of them blocking their path.

‘Well Andy…what are you doing out so late fella…you been
down near the shops?’ Andy recognised that voice…he would know it anywhere, he
started to shake.

‘Nno…um wwwe…wwe just went out for a while…not near the
shops…somewhere else…’ he stammered.

The man laughed, ‘Well that’s alright then init…as long as
you remember that fella…you understand?’

Andy nodded nervously, but then a large hand flashed out and
grabbed him by the throat pushing him up against the wall, Lucy screamed but
she was pushed roughly to one side. Andy fought for breath as the man pushed
his face up close to his.

‘You say anything…and I mean anything fella and I’m going to
come back…you understand what I’m saying?’

‘Yyyess,’ Andy managed to splutter, he was dropped
unceremoniously to the floor.

‘Well that’s ok then,’ the man said and then he was gone.

Andy tried to get his breath back, Lucy was crying in a heap
on the floor next to him, he reached over and helped to pull her to her feet.

‘Come on Luce,’ he said putting an arm round her, and on
shaky legs the two children walked the short distance back to their flat. Lucy
had stopped crying now but every now and then a shudder ran through her little
body. Once safe inside Andy’s own tears fell…Amish, that kind old man was dead.
He dashed the tears away angrily, he couldn’t think about that now, with any
luck the police wouldn’t know where to find him, but if they did he had to make
sure that Lucy didn’t tell them anything, one wrong word and they would have
‘Nellie’ to deal with and he was far scarier that the police.

‘Nellie’, real name Elliot Dentch, wasn’t a man that you
crossed lightly. Andy had known it was him as soon as he had started speaking
to Amish, he had a very distinctive drawling accent…just the thought of it was
making Andy’s skin crawl. The other man known as ‘Turk’ was Nellie’s sidekick,
his creature really; following him everywhere…exacting awful vengeance on
anyone that Nellie felt deserved it.

Nellie had at one time been a customer of Andy’s mum; Andy
had hated it whenever he had come to the flat. He seemed to enjoy humiliating
his mum, especially in front of Andy and Lucy. He remembered one time when he
had demanded that Kathy wash his feet.

Mum had just laughed at him, ‘I don’t think so love…you’ve
got a wife to do that for you. Now if you wanted me to polish up your knob…’
she had got no further before Nellie had smashed his fist into the side of her
head.

‘Wash my fucking feet you fucking whore,’ he had hissed at
her, pulling out a wicked looking knife which he held to her throat, forcing
her down towards the floor.

‘Lick ’em clean you dirty bint…that’s all you’re good for.’
Terrified, Mum had silently knelt on the floor in front of him, removing his
shoes and socks with trembling fingers and proceeded to lick his feet.

Nellie had sat back in the chair and looked over at the two
horrified children.

‘That’s your mum that is,’ he’d said with a sneer, ‘dirty
rotten whore.’

Other times he had just been in the living room with mum and
they hadn’t seen him until he was leaving, but Andy had hated the way he looked
at Lucy if ever he caught sight of her.

‘Give you fifty for ‘er,’ he’d said to Mum one day stroking
Lucy’s hair.

Mum had laughed nervously and told Lucy to get to her room,
but the incident had scared Andy to death.

All of this was going through his head as they huddled in
the kitchen, trying to keep warm and stop shaking. Thank goodness Mum was
asleep in the living room, they both needed some time to get over this without
having to deal with her as well. Then Andy remembered something and his face
broke into a smile.

He pulled out two very squashed meat samosas from inside his
coat. ‘Good thing I hid these though,’ he said handing one to Lucy.

‘Oh blast,’ said Helen, as a very gaudy Mini nipped into the
space that she had been edging towards for the last few minutes. She had been
driving round and round the streets outside Riddlestone junior school for the
last fifteen minutes. Maya had been forced to stay late for a staff meeting and
Helen had volunteered to pick her up. Unfortunately it seemed there was some
sort of football match going on at the school as well, and she had got caught
up amongst the dedicated footy mums, all either dropping off or picking up
their future David Beckhams or Stephen Gerrards. Helen spotted a blue hatchback
pulling out of a space up ahead.

‘Right…you’re mine,’ she said under her breath speeding
forward purposefully and nipping into the space seconds before a harassed
looking woman in a huge people carrier, who threw her hands up in disgust and mouthed
something extremely rude at Helen. Helen ignored her, locked up her car and
wandered over to the school entrance. She glanced at her watch it was 5.35, and
Maya should be out any minute…in fact she could see her, talking to a rather
animated woman in a multicoloured poncho on the steps of the school. They
seemed pretty deep in some sort of discussion so she kept her distance but
after a few more minutes Maya looked over to where she was standing and waved.
She rounded up her conversation and came running over her face glowing, and her
eyes full of love.

‘I so sorry,’ she gasped, ‘I am talking to Brenda…you know
from social services, and I forget the time.’

‘Hey don’t worry,’ said Helen with a smile, ‘I’m enjoying
being out of the house, Lena’s been on a cleaning marathon today, I don’t think
there’s a single thing that hasn’t been wiped down and had a Hoover run over
it. Even Benji’s goldfish was looking extra shiny by the time she’d finished
and she’s put little bows round the spare toilet rolls in the loos. I blame
Kirsty Allsopp; she’s never been the same since watching “Kirsty’s homemade
home”.’ Helen finished with a laugh, Maya smiled but Helen could see that she
was a bit preoccupied.

‘What’s up love?’ she said putting a hand on her arm.

‘Oh…is probably nothing,’ said Maya with a shrug. ‘Just work
stuff, Brenda says I am too much worrying, and yes she is right I guess…so how
was your day?’ she asked Helen with a determined smile.

‘Oh the usual…I finished that piece for the town hall, at
last!’ she said with an exaggerated sigh. She had recently taken on a piece of
work that had forced her out of her comfort zone, a portrait of the newly
appointed Mayor of Redbank, the Right Honourable David Wesley. Helen very
rarely did portrait work, she felt much more comfortable with her landscapes,
but the honour of being asked to paint the mayor had been a temptation too
great for her to resist. It had been a right bugger to do though, and she was
glad that it was nearing completion, not least because she wouldn’t have to
endure any more sessions in the company of said mayor, who was the most
pompous, self righteous idiot that she had encountered for a long time!

‘Oh I can’t wait to see,’ said Maya squeezing Helen’s hand,
she was really proud of her new wife’s talent and was always telling people how
amazing she was. Helen and Maya had married a couple of months earlier, very
soon after the law had changed enabling Gay and Lesbian couples to marry. They
were both still in the gazing into each other’s eyes, honeymoon stage of their
relationship, despite having two toddlers and a teenage daughter between them.

‘Well I shall be glad not to have to endure the awful Right
Honourable’s dubious company anymore that’s for sure,’ said Helen, getting into
the car. ‘He spent the best part of an hour this afternoon pontificating about
his latest piece in the ‘Gazette’ and his upcoming dinner at Downing Street.
The man’s a nightmare; so far up his own backside that he has completely lost
sight of the reason he was elected as mayor in the first place…pompous twat.’

‘Hmm,’ replied Maya who still seemed miles away, she was
used to Helen’s ranting about the Mayor and had only been listening with half
an ear. She was still worrying about what she had been discussing with Brenda,
who was a social worker attached to the school. One of the boys in Maya’s class
was causing her some concern. Social services were aware that there was a
problem with the boy and he was on the at risk register, along with his sister,
but as far as Maya could see nothing was being done to safeguard the two
children.

They were both painfully thin, and usually inadequately or
inappropriately dressed for the weather conditions. Despite being a bright lad,
Andy Hunt had trouble concentrating and had even fallen asleep at his desk a
couple of times. He was constantly in trouble, fighting in the
playground…usually in defence of his sister, of whom he was fiercely
protective, but he had shied away from any help that Maya had tried to offer,
becoming even less communicative if that was possible. He reminded Maya of
herself as a young girl in Poland…before Nonna had rescued her, and if those
children were going through anything like she had…then they needed help.

‘So I said to him why not wear the pink wig and the sequined
jacket…’ Helen was saying loudly to her.

‘What?’ said Maya confused, ‘sorry Helen I must have been
miles away.’

‘Obviously,’ Helen laughed, ‘you were looking really serious
love…what’s up?’

‘Oh, just a boy in my class…he worries me that’s all,’ said
Maya, brushing her thought aside. ‘I will speak again to social services, see
if they can keep an eye on him…I am probably just being over cautious…now what
was that about a pink wig?’

Carla watched the CCTV footage from the camera located just
inside the door of Mr Patel’s shop. She saw the two children come into the
shop, the boy…um Andy, holding out some change to Amish Patel and being
directed by him round to where the baked goods were stored, she just caught
their happy little faces as they ran eagerly round to pick out their treats
before the two masked men wandered into the shop.

There had been no urgency about them, as with the earlier
robberies these two had been as calm as you like, threatening with the gun and
waiting as the bags are filled. The shorter of the two…who Carla was convinced
was a nasty piece of work known locally as ‘Turk’, always got a few kicks in no
matter how obedient the poor shopkeeper was and the other one, who was
obviously the brains behind the raids, seemed to let him have his way for a few
moments before stopping him and getting on with the job in hand. This robbery
was no different apart from the fact that this was the first time a man had
died. From her camera’s eye view Carla couldn’t see why Amish Patel had been
shot…she could only assume that his murderer had spotted that he had raised the
alarm. She had, however, been able to see the children when they had finally
emerged from behind the bread baskets and was now staring hard at a stilled
image of them, trying to wrack her brains to see if she recognised them.

Mandy (DC Hopkins) was doing the same, ‘Actually the boy
definitely looks familiar, I think I might have seen him at the school.’
Mandy’s daughter was at Riddlestone Juniors. ‘Poor little mites they look
scared out of their wits.’

‘Ha!’ retorted Carla, ‘not so scared that they didn’t know
how to outwit my sergeant and half of uniform. Bloody hell I don’t have time
for this, who else has got kids at Riddlestone?’

‘Um…can’t think…oh I know Martin Wier, Constable Wier, his
son might be in the same class, he’s about 8 or 9 I think,’ said Mandy.

‘Well get him up here can you Mandy and get him to take a
look, that’ll save me having to take this picture to the school if he
recognises them.’

Just then WPC Irene Watkins popped her head round the door.
‘We’ve got Mrs Patel waiting downstairs for you Ma’am,’ she said. Carla was
taking Mrs Patel to the mortuary to formally identify her husband, the elderly
lady had been distraught last night when she had arrived back to discover her
husband dead and her shop ransacked.

‘Ok Constable…be with you in a minute,’ said Carla still
looking at the image on the screen.

Constable Watkins came into the room and stared over her
shoulder, ‘Aren’t those the Hunt children?’ she said squinting at the screen.
‘Poor little things, who let them go out like that, I mean it was freezing last
night wasn’t it…doesn’t look like Lucy’s got anything on her legs, that bloody
woman should be shot.’

Carla turned round quickly, ‘Are you saying you know these
kids?’ she asked in surprise.

‘God yes…they go to the same school as my kids, I’m on the
board of governors there. Their names are always cropping up believe me, but…’

‘So do you know where they live?’ interrupted Carla.

‘Well no, not personally but I can easily find out for you.’

‘Thank you Irene…as soon as you can please,’ said Carla,
‘I’ll be at the mortuary with Mrs Patel, let me know as soon as you have it
ok?’

Carla took Frank with her to the mortuary, which was really
just a formality. The body had to be identified by a family member as it had
already been taken away by the coroner by the time that Mrs Patel and her
nephew had arrived back from the cash and carry last night.

It was a part of the job that Carla particularly hated, and
today was as bad as ever. Mrs Patel collapsed at the sight of her husband so
great was her grief, and then she had clung on to his hand refusing to be
parted from him. Carla had had to prise her fingers open and pull her out of
the room, before gently talking her down. She had called the nephew to come and
take her home hoping that he would have more success at soothing the poor
woman. He arrived but far from being a soothing influence he was a seething
mass of rage, desperate for vengeance for the death of his uncle.

‘You know who bloody did this,’ he shouted at Carla,
‘everybody on that god forsaken estate knows who did this. What are you waiting
for, go and arrest them. Nellie and Turk that’s who did it…you know as well as
I…’

‘Mr Patel I know you are hurt and angry but we have to work
within the law. Of course we will be interviewing Mr Dentch and his associates,
but so far we don’t have any evidence to do more than that…’

Raza Patel turned on her angrily, ‘Well if you won’t fucking
do anything about it, then I will…I’m not going to fucking let them get away
with this…’

‘That would be a really stupid move Mr Patel…like I said we
are doing everything that we can and we will be questioning everybody that we
think may be involved today…’ Carla put her hand on his arm sympathetically,
‘for now you need to take care of you Aunt, she is the one that needs your
help…please…and let us do our job.’

Raza was anything but pacified, but he recognised that his
Aunt was struggling and so he led her away muttering his threats of retribution
as he did so.

Irene Watkins had sent through an address for Andy and Lucy
Hunt so that was where Carla and Frank went next.

The so called ‘Buttercup’ estate stood a few miles to the
south of Redbank. Built in the 70’s the blocks of flats and houses that made up
the sprawling estate, had been made almost entirely out of yellowish coloured
bricks hence the nickname. It had at one time been held up as a piece of
architectural genius, now its buildings were in a sad state of repair, and the
elderly and the vulnerable lived cheek by jowl with the drug dealers and the
pimps.

The incongruously named ‘Mayfair House’ was situated in the
centre of the estate, only a stone’s throw away from Amish Patel’s supermarket.
Andy and Lucy Hunt lived at number 14, with their mother Kathy. Kathy Hunt was
well known to the local police as a prostitute and drunk with a nasty temper.
Carla and Frank climbed stairs littered with old condoms and needles, there was
a strong smell of urine and stale alcohol in the air near the stairwells, and
piles of rubbish in every corner.

No one answered their knock on the door, but when Carla
looked through the letter box she could clearly see a woman lying on the sofa
in the living room. They knocked again louder and again until the woman got up
groaning and moaning and finally pulled the door open.

Kathy Hunt was barely conscious, and from the foul smell of
alcohol on her breath it didn’t take a genius to see why. A small woman with
frazzled blond hair, she looked a lot older than her thirty one years. Deep
lines marked her face around her eyes and mouth giving her an almost permanent
frown and her skin had an unhealthy yellow tinge to it. She peered through
heavy lids at Carla and Frank barely able to see straight.

‘Whatcha doing banging on my fucking door…’ she slurred,
‘you got no right waking me up like that…just trying to have a little sleep I
was…fucking banging, who the hell do you think you are?’ she shouted at them
hanging onto the front door for support.

‘Mrs Hunt?’ asked Carla ignoring her tirade, ‘I’m DI Carla
Right and this is DS Frank Hill, we’d like to talk to you about Andy and
Lucy…can we come in?’

‘What…what the fuck do you want wiv ‘em? They’re not here
anyhow…at school ain’t they. We don’t need you…fucking coming up here waking
me…what do you want ‘em for?’ Kathy was almost sliding down the door so Carla
took advantage and gently squeezed passed her.

‘Oy…where the fuck are you going…they’re not here I told
you,’ shouted Kathy following Carla into the living room. Frank followed behind
trying not to breath in too deeply, the place was disgusting, he peered into
the kitchen on his left as he went through…dirty pots and dishes were piled
high in the sink with huge bluebottles buzzing around them. On the table were a
couple of bread rolls already turning mouldy on the edges…the air was foul. The
living room was no better, empty vodka bottles and glasses littered every
surface, a huge ashtray stood on the coffee table piled high with cigarette
butts. Kathy Hunt had slumped back down onto the sofa and was lighting up yet
another cigarette with shaking hands, she squinted up through the smoke at
them.

‘Whatcha want,’ she slurred, ‘I ain’t done nuffin…and my
kids ain’t done nuffin.’

‘Mrs Hunt we are investigating the robbery at the local
supermarket, owned by a Mr Amish Patel…’

‘Fuck…did Amish get done over…fuck,’ Kathy said with a nasty
smirk on her face.

‘Did you know Mr Patel?’ asked Frank.

‘Nah…not really, he was a right moody bastard…always looking
down his nose at me. Fucking no mark…who does he think he is…lets the kids buy
my voddy though…bet he didn’t tell you that did he?’ she finished with a
spiteful curl of the lip.

‘He couldn’t tell us anything Mrs Hunt,’ said Carla coolly.
‘He’s dead, he was shot last night by whoever raided his shop…Andy and Lucy
were in the shop at the time of the raid and…’

‘They ain’t done nuffin…they was here wiv me all night…’
Kathy interrupted.

‘Well no, they weren’t…’ went on Carla, ‘they were at the
shop. I actually spoke to them but before I could ask them any questions they
ran away…so I need to speak to them okay? Did they not tell you about what had
happened when they got home?’

Kathy had the grace to look shamefaced, ‘Um…no well I was
asleep when they came home so…’

‘Ok well what time do they usually get home from school…do
you collect them?’ said Frank with a knowing look.

‘Nah…Andy he’s a good boy he is, sensible you know…he brings
Lucy home wiv him…they should be home soon. I don’t fink they will be able to
help you though, they probably didn’t see nuffin.’

Andy and Lucy ran all the way home after school in the hope
that they could get in before either Nellie or the police spotted them. Andy
heaved a sigh of relief as he walked into the hallway of his flat only to turn
tail and try and run the other way when he saw who was waiting in the living
room for them. He was caught before he made it outside and marched back into
the living room. The kind police woman from the previous night was in there…so
was Mum who had fixed her eyes upon him, giving him a look that promised
nothing good if he so much as told the police his shoe size.

‘Hello Andy,’ said Carla with a smile, ‘remember me?’

Andy nodded, but then put his head down.

‘I told you last night Andy that we needed to speak to you
again about what you may have seen or heard at Mr Patel’s shop…’

‘They don’t know nuffin…do you Andy?’ shouted Kathy before
Andy had a chance to reply. Lucy was standing behind Andy as if to hide herself
from her mother, she had visibly flinched when Kathy had raised her voice.

Carla went round and knelt in front of the little girl. ‘Hi
Lucy, where did you two run off two last night…you were very clever, we looked
and looked but we couldn’t find you, you must have had a really good hiding
place.’

Lucy smiled, ‘We was behind the big bins…I was really cold
though but Andy said…’ she stopped when she caught her brother’s eye.

‘Well you outfoxed us anyway,’ went on Carla, ‘have you
remembered anything more about the men you saw last night Lucy?’ Lucy shook her
head looking nervously from Andy to her mum.

‘What about you Andy?’ said Frank hunkering down in front of
the boy trying to get him to look him in the eye. Andy seemed to have gone dumb
again though, just shaking his head in response to Frank.

‘What about their voices…were they loud…did they shout a
lot?’ tried Carla.

‘Did you recognise their voices…have you heard them
before…or since maybe?’

Lucy gave a gasp and looked at Andy, but Andy just kept his
head lowered and his mouth shut.

‘You do recognise them don’t you Lucy…where have you heard
that voice before. Is it someone that scares you maybe…?’

Lucy’s eyes filled with tears her bottom lip trembled…she
looked again at Andy…he said nothing.

They were getting nowhere; these two kids were scared out of
their wits. Carla decided to leave it for the moment.

‘Ok…well we’ll leave it there for today, but I may have to
speak to the children down at the station Mrs Hunt, show them some pictures,
maybe that’ll trigger their memories…’

‘Look you just leave ‘em alone…they ain’t seen or heard
nuffin…they’re good kids…just leave it ok,’ said Kathy Hunt pointing her finger
in Carla’s face.

‘I’m afraid I can’t leave it Mrs Hunt, a man was killed
yesterday and I believe your children were witnesses to that killing. If you
are too scared to talk to us then we can give you some protection…’

‘Oh don’t make me laugh,’ Kathy spat out. ‘Protection…you
fucking coppers have no fucking idea do you…you’ve already brought trouble
‘ere…just by knocking on my fucking door…protection…what a joke.’

‘Mrs Hunt how can we protect you if no one will tell us
anything…we need names then we can make arrests and these thugs will be taken
off the streets…’ Frank tried.

‘LOOK…WE AIN’T SAYING NUFFIN…OK? MY KIDS DIDN’T SEE
NUFFIN…THEY DIDN’T HEAR NUFFIN, GOT THAT!’ shouted Kathy aggressively.

Carla and Frank made their way to the front door, but before
they left Carla turned and gave Andy her card.

‘Andy this has my number on it…if you ever need to call me
about anything ok?’

The little boy took the card and just looked at it.

‘Sorry we couldn’t help you Missus,’ he said before putting
the card in his pocket.

Carla and Frank walked back down the stairs despondently, it
was obvious the children knew exactly who had killed Amish Patel but they were
far too afraid to say anything.