Authors: Lee Weeks
The next morning Hafiz’s body was discovered on a stairwell.
Sheng knelt beside Hafiz. ‘They say it can take twenty minutes.’ Daniel Lu didn’t answer him, he was busy drawing a plan of the scene. ‘Twenty minutes to die.’ The smell of burning tyre was still an acrid taste in the air. The smell of roasted flesh.
‘He wouldn’t have taken that long. He hasn’t much fat on him.’
Daniel was knelt beside the body, examining the blackened corpse. Hafiz’s charred body was lying on its side, hands tied behind his back. His knees up around his chest, where the body had shrivelled as it burned.
‘They’ll save a bit on the cremation anyway. They could ask for half price, half the job’s already done for them,’ joked Sheng. Daniel didn’t comment. Sheng left him to it. ‘I’m going to talk to the family. I’ll catch you back at the station.’
Sheng made his way back down the stairwell. The Delhi Grill was the site of mourning. It had Indians queuing to pay their respects to PJ and the family. He walked past
the mourners and found PJ sat at one of his tables, Flo next to him. Ali was standing, talking to people as they approached the table. Nina was busy laying out plates of food and drinks for the mourners. She kept her head down, she moved silently around as she worked.
PJ looked up as Sheng approached.
‘Mr Kahn, a word please.’
Ali gently eased the mourners out. Nina got a chair for Sheng. He thanked her. She smiled at him. His eyes lingered on her as she went about her work again, refilling the plates of food ready for new mourners.
He turned back to PJ and Flo. ‘My sympathies for your loss.’
‘Where is his body now?’ asked PJ. He had aged twenty years. His face hung in sorrow.
‘He will be moved shortly.’
PJ groaned and hid his eyes as he wiped them. ‘Still on that stairwell?’ Sheng nodded.
Ali placed his hand on his father’s shoulder. ‘It’s all right, Dad.’
PJ rounded on him. ‘It’s not all right,’ he said angrily, shrugging off Ali’s hand. ‘You said it would be but it’s not. Two of my children lost. One dead, the other in prison. How is that all right?’
Ali looked nervously at Sheng and back at his father and spoke to him in Urdu.
‘English please.’ Sheng spoke. ‘I can get a translator here if you need.’
‘No we don’t need that.’ Flo spoke. Her eyes burned with sorrow and anger. ‘We can all speak English. Hafiz was murdered by the Africans.’
‘Did anyone see it?’
‘Of course not. We smelt it though. The Mansions was full of smoke. People said you could hear him begging for mercy as he burned to death.’
‘Did anyone try and help him?’
Flo shook her head. ‘No one helps in these Mansions, not unless you want to be killed next.’
Sheng stood. ‘I will leave you for now, I’ll get someone in to take your statements. Hafiz’s body will be taken to the morgue for the autopsy. It will be released to you as soon as we have finished with it.’
PJ nodded his head, his eyes on the table. ‘Nina, show the officer out,’ PJ said, always polite, always respectful.
Nina stopped her work and walked Sheng to the door. He stopped to speak with her.
‘What do you think about it, miss?’
Nina looked up at him. Sheng wasn’t usually partial to Indians. He had never dated an Indian woman but this one had something about her that appealed to him. She had a full chest beneath the silk and the sari; she had a beautiful face and light skin.
‘My brother had got in with the wrong people.’
Sheng raised an eyebrow, he nodded. He smiled. ‘Do you live here with your family? You’re not married?’
Nina shook her head. ‘I live with my grandmother.’ She looked away shyly and down at her feet. ‘I am engaged to be married.’
‘Not yet though, hey? I tell you what – it would be really helpful to catch your brother’s killers if we could meet for a private chat about it all. I would like to help you and the Indian community. I am sure, with the right
information, I could change things in here. Does that sound good?’
‘Of course. Thank you. You’re very kind.’ Nina smiled nervously. She was anxious to get away.
‘Fine then. We’ll have a private meeting, you and I, somewhere quiet where we can talk and I’m sure we can achieve a lot.’ Sheng grinned. ‘I’ll ring you here and arrange something. Don’t go anywhere.’
Shrimp looked closely at the computer image of the skull found by the fishermen. It was worn smooth, its right side was missing. The teeth were all there except for the molars on the right at the back. Shrimp clicked on the program until he had produced a projected image of the whole skull.
He took the photo of David’s brother, Ishmael, and enlarged it. He studied it closely: Ishmael had only one significant scar on his face, the one extending from his mouth to his ear on the right side. The skull was missing on the side.
He enlarged and cropped the photo till he was left with an A4 photo of his face. He scanned it into the computer and superimposed it over the skull found by the fishermen. He took it straight to Daniel Lu’s department.
‘I’m impressed. It’s a good match. Can you get his brother in here for a DNA match?’
‘Possibly,’ said Shrimp. ‘They’re a bit wary of police stations.’
‘Okay, I’ll give you a swab kit. Have you time to go back in there? You’re undercover from tonight.’
‘Yes. I’ll ring him. Get him to meet me. I’m not worried
about being recognized undercover. I’m not moving from the bar. It’s all travelling businessmen in there. Plus, I have a great disguise.’
Shrimp phoned David. ‘Can you meet me at the park at the back of the mosque?’
Shrimp could see by David’s face that he was expecting bad news. They walked away from the park aviary and past the old men playing chess. They found a shaded bench and Shrimp told him what he believed. David listened, his head down.
‘The scar on Ishmael’s face, how did he get it?’
‘He was hit with a metal bar. It cut all the way from here to here.’ David ran his finger down the side of his face. ‘It knocked out four of his back teeth.’
‘He was doing the same sort of business as you here, wasn’t he?’
David nodded and then shook his head perplexed. ‘I don’t understand. He was doing well here in Hong Kong, he even had a girlfriend.’
‘Did you meet her?’
‘She was someone from the Mansions. He said it had to be kept secret. He said her name was Pearl, or Rose, I can’t remember. He liked her a lot.’
‘Did he tell you anything about her, age, height, second name, anything you can think of?’
‘He said she wasn’t Chinese. He didn’t say if she was tall or not. He said she had a nice figure. She was young.’ He shook his head. ‘My mother will cry forever when she hears this news.’
‘I am sorry, David. I need to ask you something else. Was he married?’
David shook his head. ‘No.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yes.’ David looked across at Shrimp. ‘So, she has killed others?’
Shrimp nodded. ‘We think so.’
‘Why did she kill my brother?’
Shrimp shook his head. The words in his head:
there always has to be a first.
Ruby had seen Hafiz’s burnt body on the stairs but it meant little to her now. They would all die at some time. The difference is that Ruby would choose when and how.
Humming to herself, she picked Peter Thorne’s head out of the sink. She held it tightly to stop it slipping and slid it into a plastic bag, then another and two more. Then she tied them tightly and placed the head in her handbag, ready. She had a lot of things to do today. She went around the room and gave each of her dolls a kiss.
‘Mummy has to go out now so be good, babies. If anybody knocks on the door, don’t answer it. Mummy is taking Daddy somewhere special today.’
She stopped by a doll with a shock of curly blond hair. ‘This was your daddy.’ She placed the photo she had taken from Peter Thorne’s wallet into the doll’s lap, resting it on the stiff edge of her frilly skirt. ‘I know, I know.’ She looked around at her dolls. ‘Everyone needs a daddy.’ She scanned the room and her eyes stopped on a baby doll sucking its thumb, it had a blue cap on its head. On its tummy was a photo of a man, his family had been cut out, only his head remained. ‘Do you love your daddy, Steven Littlewood?
Or you, little Louis?’ She picked up a ruddy-faced chuckling doll with painted plastic hair coming down its forehead in a kiss curl. ‘Of course you do.’
Ruby began dancing. She twirled around the room spinning and laughing. She clapped her hands in the air. From the cupboard came the noise of a baby crying. Ruby stopped, walked slowly to the cupboard and opened the doors. She stood at eye level with the baby on the shelf. Its mummified remains wrapped in muslin. Next to it the crying doll was smiling again. ‘Look after your sister. Don’t let her be lonely.’ Ruby talked to the blue-eyed doll. ‘Mummy has a special treat coming for you. For all of you.’ She turned and held her arms open addressing all of her dolls. ‘We are going to have the one daddy I have been searching for all this time. He is going to be the one and we will keep him. We will keep him forever.’
Ruby felt a pang of sadness. Her eyes became blurred. A tear fell. She hid it from her dolls and wiped her face, annoyed. For the first time she realized she was afraid of dying. Her world spun at that thought and she let out a small cry from deep in her chest. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her to run away, start again? She looked around at her dolls and shook her head. They needed her. They relied on her. She was their mummy. They belonged together in this room. Every day she heard the news that the police were searching the Mansions, coming nearer to her. They were closing in. One day they would find her. But…Ruby took a deep breath and stood tall, she was the mistress of her own destiny. She would let them find her but, by then, it would be too late and she would not die alone.
Shrimp set his bag down at the reception desk in Vacation Villas. ‘My name is Ian Townsend. I have a reservation for three nights.’
The receptionist scanned down her computer screen. ‘Yes, Mr Townsend, we have you here. You’re in room sixty-one on the sixteenth floor.’
Shrimp knew he would be–they had requested it. It was the same floor they had found Max Kosmos’s body on. This was the floor for businessmen on large company expense accounts.
‘It’s our executive suite. Morning paper, wake-up call?’ She passed over a form for Shrimp to fill in. He gave it back along with a credit card, false documentation that had been rushed through.
‘Neither, thanks.’
‘Do you need help with your luggage?’
‘No. I’m good, thanks.’
Shrimp took the lift up to his floor. The piped music was playing a mix of classical and what sounded like Bavarian folk music. He came out of the lift and followed the room number signs, took a right at the end and found
his room. He put his card key in the slot, opened the door and stepped into the suite. It was the opposite layout to Max Kosmos’s room, this room had the bathroom to his left and the wardrobe to his right, the lounge area was straight ahead, and the bed to his right. Shrimp laid his case on the space provided. He walked around, inspecting every part of the room, behind the curtains and under the bed. He checked the minibar. What was it about minibars and the fascination for stale Mars Bars and expensive packets of nuts? When he was satisfied he knew every inch of the suite he knocked on the adjoining door. After a delay of three seconds there came a knock back. It was faint, but it was there. The two undercover operatives were in place.
He phoned Mia. ‘I’m in, Boss.’
‘Okay. You know the brief. We don’t think she will operate in the day so your work starts from five. The rest of the time you can carry on as usual but we’ll keep you off the streets in the day. You can help Ng in the incident room; he’s inundated with dealing with the crossover between the crimes. Did you get anywhere with Mahmud?’
‘No, but he’s very fragile. He’s been beaten badly. I don’t think he is guilty of Tammy’s murder. Someone handed him the knife. I don’t know why he went there to the market that night. Now with Hafiz dead I was hoping he might not feel the need to cover for him any more, but he still refuses to say any more about what happened. I am hoping Daniel Lu might come up with something that might help us. Unless he talks no one else will.’
‘Yeah, the facts are pretty plain. Tammy was stabbed with the bundi knife Mahmud was carrying. Chase it up
tomorrow with Ng. Don’t forget the wedding ring. Keep safe, Shrimp.’
‘Okay, Boss. If nothing happens I’ll see you back at the office in the morning. Has Mann checked in today?’
‘No, not yet.’
Shrimp unpacked. He’d brought with him the usual striped blue and green shirt that the businessmen seemed to favour, even with jeans. He laid out his toiletries in the bathroom. He lined his hair products up. He had studied the businessmen abroad. A lot of them liked their hair. It seemed to be the one thing they spent money on–that and their glasses. They liked expensive specs. He checked his mike and got an affirmative from the men who were waiting for him downstairs and the ones in the room next door. Shrimp checked himself once more in the mirror and then prepared to leave.
At the same time, Ruby slipped into Vacation Villas with a group of tourists.
She kept her glasses on, her head down. Her hair was tucked up into a blond wig. The hotel was busy–no one noticed her. They had people coming in off the street all the time, sometimes they headed down to the bakery, sometimes they came into the small shopping mall at the entrance, but no one thought twice about a woman walking through the doors of Vacation Villas, straight into the lifts to the upper floors. Her mouth was dry, her bag heavy. She had Peter Thorne’s head in it. She got to the sixteenth floor. The lift doors opened. She stepped out to the Bavarian music and the floral spray that swamped every hotel floor.
Shrimp stepped into the lift opposite.
The landing was quiet. She came to the end, turned right and stopped outside Peter Thorne’s room. She checked her phone. She had a message. Ruby read it then shook her head. Didn’t Victoria realize it was too late now? She hovered for a moment outside the hotel room, unsure, and then she turned and walked back down the corridor. She smiled to herself as she patted her bag. She had thought of a much more fitting place to leave it. If Victoria was
going to play a game then Ruby would up the stakes. Victoria would have to learn that the game had taken on a life of its own. When you start a fire you can’t always predict which way the wind will blow it. Ruby was seeing things differently now. She no longer cared for the promises. She no longer held the dreams she once had. It was all gone now. Ruby must prepare for the end of the game. She would go hunting tonight and this time it would be for someone very special.
That night she headed to an Irish pub she knew. Ruby walked down the steps, past the Guinness posters, into a bar with dark alcoves and dark wood, shamrocks a plenty. The Pogues were playing. On the screen at the end of the bar Manchester United was playing Arsenal.
Ruby chose a different table to last time. It wouldn’t do to form a pattern, a recognizable trait. She went to the left of the bar, beneath the TV screen. She could watch them as they watched the game. She tucked herself away with her glass of Coke. This place was good. The clientele was businessmen. There were several sat at the bar. Several more alone at tables, eating dinner; pub food that they found familiar, comforting when they were away from home. This was a good place to start the night’s hunting. She slid from the stool and took off her mac and then sat back down and crossed her legs.
A group of three men were sat at the bar talking business and football. Well, two of them were, the third looked bored. He was dark haired, red faced. He looked a little bit the worse for wear. His eyes wandered round the room and came to settle on Ruby. She stared back and allowed a small smile as she sucked her Coke through the straw.
The man continued staring. Ruby watched him staring at her legs.
He was going to be easy,
she thought.
He had only one thought in his mind and it wasn’t business and it wasn’t football.
Ruby was looking for someone specific tonight, she could spot a policeman a mile away and he wasn’t one. Ruby knew where she could find one.