An Act of Kindness: A Hakim and Arnold Mystery (Hakim & Arnold Mystery 2) (35 page)

Dave went back to saying nothing.

‘Of course, because Mitra’s dead, I can’t prove any of this,’ Vi said.

‘Then why …’

‘Just like I’m finding it hard to prove even the existence of a Russian girl called Tatiana …’ She watched Dave’s face carefully. He visibly reddened. Vi smiled. ‘Ringing bells?’

‘No.’

‘No? Well, Wendy Dixon …’

‘Khan killed her. She was up the duff to him.’

Vi shook her head. ‘No, she wasn’t actually, Dave,’ she said. ‘Wendy might have wanted to be pregnant, but she wasn’t. I think that Abdullah Khan killed her because it occurred to him that she, if she wanted, could finger him as the shooter that Saturday night up at Sean’s place.’

‘Khan weren’t …’

‘Oh, but he was there,’ Vi said.

‘Did he tell you he was?’

‘Didn’t need to, Dave,’ she said. ‘The bullet we found at Sean’s matched the gun that Khan killed Wendy with. Not rocket science, love. But to get back to my Russian girl, do you know where she went to?’

‘I don’t know any girl called Tatiana,’ he said.

‘Strange. She lived in that house you used to go and visit when you was sweet on, what was her name …’

He said nothing.

Vi chucked her fag out the window and lit another. ‘No, I forget her name too,’ she said.

Some kids over on the Flats screeched with delight. Vi looked at them. One little boy was running hard, laughing with the joy of it.

‘Think he thinks he’s Mo Farah?’ Vi asked. Even she had been pulled into the Olympic ‘nonsense’ as she still liked to call it. She looked over at Dave again. ‘Well, anyway,’ she said, ‘whether Tatiana’s back in Moscow or underneath the A13 somewhere, until she turns up, there’s nothing I can do about her. I know she existed because, as I don’t suppose I have to tell you, Dave, she and I knew one another.’

‘So, if you … What’s the …’

‘The point is, Dave,’ Vi said, leaning in so close to him that her head was actually on his shoulder, ‘that I know your bosses aren’t little angels, and I know that because of both Abduljabbar Mitra and Tatiana. Hard proof is thin on the ground, but I can’t actually make sense of the death or disappearance of either of those people without some involvement from your bosses. Know what I mean?’

Dave sweated and said nothing.

Vi said, ‘But anyway, now that’s off me chest, you can take me back to the station.’

‘What?’

She looked at the stunned expression on his face and smiled. ‘Take me back to Forest Gate nick,’ she said. ‘I’ve had enough of all this green outdoors stuff. Your problem if Sean and Marty see me in their car. Quite honestly, Dave, you spineless wanker, I couldn’t give a fuck.’

Because the flat was empty, Sean Rogers looked even bigger than he usually did. Dolly Dixon watched him walk from room to room, apparently making sure that she and her aunt and uncle hadn’t nicked anything that belonged to him. Down on the street her Uncle Wazim waited for her in his taxi, ready to transport her and her brothers to a new life, away from the violent ghosts of the past.

Dolly, though only fifteen years old, had asked to go over the flat’s inventory with her dead mother’s landlord because she’d wanted to make sure, once and for all, that her family’s business with the Rogers brothers was well and truly at an end.

Sean looked down his list of fitments and fittings and then he said, ‘You know you still owe me, ’cause of your mum, don’t you.’

Dolly, shaking, was nevertheless defiant. ‘Mum’s dead, killed by one of your men. You owe us.’

He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. ‘Feisty.’

‘You’ll never get a penny off of us,’ Dolly said.

He walked towards her, watching with pleasure as she backed away from him. ‘Sure about that are you, kid?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Mmm.’ He stopped. ‘Hate your aunt and uncle to have bother where they live.’

Dolly shouted, ‘You leave them alone! You leave all of us alone!’

Sean laughed. ‘We’ll see,’ he said. And then he walked away from her and opened the front door to the flat.

‘So is that the inventory done now?’ Dolly didn’t move.

The gangster turned to face her. ‘Yeah, I guess so,’ he said.

‘So you going now or …’

‘Yeah.’ He moved through the door and began to walk down the stairs. Dolly followed him but then, suddenly, he stopped. Turning, he smiled, which caused Dolly to fight for breath again. Then he said, with a confidence that made her blood freeze, ‘One day you’ll sell your hole, just like your mother. It’s in the blood, Dolly love, trust me on this.’

And then he laughed.

*

Mumtaz felt her eyes drawn to the mezuzah and so, she noticed, did Lee. But neither of them said anything.

Halfway through the afternoon, Lee went out to an appointment with Brian Green, who was having some sort of issue with an employee. When he returned, however, his eyes went straight back to the mezuzah.

‘How did it go with Mr Green?’ Mumtaz asked, when she gave him his afternoon tea.

‘Brian?’ Lee tore his gaze away from the mezuzah and frowned. ‘He’s got a new gardener he suspects smokes dope. Wants us to confirm or deny. Simple surveillance.’ Then he shook his head. ‘But I don’t know what he’s doing.’

‘Brian Green?’

‘As I left, Marty Rogers arrived. They looked pally, you know?’

‘You think …’

‘Brian might be up to his old tricks? I doubt it,’ Lee said.
‘Might’ve been perfectly innocent, Brian’s Sean’s neighbour, but …’ He shook his head. ‘Oh don’t mind me, I’m starting to see the hands of Sean and Marty everywhere. Though I agree with Vi in that I think Abdullah Khan is shielding Sean and Marty.’

‘But Khan killed John Sawyer and Wendy Dixon, he admitted it, and there is forensic proof,’ Mumtaz said. ‘He’s going to prison whatever he does.’

‘Yeah, but when you’re inside, organised crime can get you very easily,’ Lee said. ‘By not grassing up the Rogers boys, Khan could just be ensuring his own survival in Stir.’

‘But if he won’t talk …’

‘We’ll never know,’ Lee said. And then he sat down and looked at the mezuzah.

Mumtaz began, ‘Lee, I …’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I want to open it too.’

They stared into each other’s eyes, wondering who would make the first move and when.

*

Marty Rogers didn’t accept Brian Green’s offer of champagne because he was driving.

‘I thought that Dave usually drove for you,’ Brian said, as he settled himself down on his sofa with a vodka and tonic.

‘He’s out collecting,’ Marty said.

‘Business good?’

He shrugged. ‘Could’ve done without all the Khan nonsense. I tell you, that’s the last time I employ a Paki. Too fucking unstable.’

Brian laughed. ‘You’re in business with a Paki, you daft twat!’

‘Yunus? What does he do?’ He shook his head. ‘He puts in a bit of money and he takes a bit out. Sleeping Pakis I can handle but full on …’

‘Yeah, but he done the right thing by you,’ Brian said.

‘Oh, yeah.’ Marty looked out into Brian’s neat and finely sculpted garden. He had one very like it himself. For a moment he watched the young man who was Brian’s latest gardener pull up weeds from a flower bed.

Following where he was looking, Brian said, ‘That’s Ricki, he’s Brazilian.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘He’s why I had Lee Arnold here.’

‘I wondered why you was talking to him. He doing something for you, is he?’

‘I found what might have been the end of a joint in the greenhouse last Friday,’ Brian said. ‘I’ve asked Lee to see whether Ricki’s got a little habit.’

‘Oh.’

Brian downed what remained of his vodka. ‘I don’t want the law knocking on my door over some South American pooftah, not at my time of life.’

‘So why’d you give the job to Arnold?’

Brian Green smiled. ‘Well Marty, indirectly, I do owe Lee Arnold.’

‘How’s that?’

‘Well, Amy of course. Come on, mate.’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Lee was the perfect witness. The poor PI on watch over some old man’s wife sees her and her lover boy get killed by an unknown driver. Meanwhile, said old man sits at home hoping his suspicions about his wife are unfounded.’

Marty shook his head. ‘I know she was your missus, Brian, but she weren’t half a little slapper.’

‘If only she’d kept her knickers on I’d’ve give her everything
she’d ever want. But I couldn’t have her fucking chauffeurs and shagging little wide boys,’ Brian said. ‘Word was getting out.’

‘You don’t have to explain it to me.’

Brian smiled. ‘Your Paki boy done a good job there. I’d think carefully before you say you’d never get another one. Mind you, when he went on to shoot—’

‘All the young lads want guns these days,’ Marty said. ‘You can’t get any of them to work for you unless you throw in a clean shooter.’

‘Where’d you get ’em?’

Marty smiled. Brian Green was old school, he didn’t approve of guns. ‘Why’d you want to know, Brian?’

The other man said nothing.

‘We got rid of your problem and you paid us well, Brian.’

Brian looked up through bloodshot, yellow-tinged eyes. ‘Yeah, you did, you helped me get back my good name,’ he said. ‘And for that I’m grateful.’ Then he stood up. ‘But I do want you to go now, Marty, if you don’t mind.’

Marty shrugged. ‘It was only a courtesy call, Brian.’

‘And it’s appreciated,’ Brian said. ‘But Marty, I hope you won’t be offended when I say that I do hope that we don’t meet again.’

Marty Rogers pushed himself out of Brian Green’s overstuffed armchair. Still smiling, he said, ‘The days of old lags, truncheons and faithful trophy wives are over, Brian. That’s the past.’

‘So now it’s all guns, Toms taking it up the arse and crack, is it?’

‘Yup.’ He began to walk towards Brian’s hall. ‘You wanna try it sometime, Brian. Feel a gun in your hand, come on a tart’s face, live the modern dream.’

Brian watched him walk down the hall and then, just before Marty opened the front door to let himself out, he said, ‘No, think
I’ll pass on that, Marty mate. Might kill some innocent by accident.’

Marty laughed. ‘Brian,’ he said, ‘grow up. There are no innocents any more.’

*

‘I think’, Mumtaz said to Lee, ‘that
you
should open it.’

‘Why?’

They were both leaning on her desk, staring at the mezuzah. Their heads low, they looked as if they were stalking it.

‘Because you’re an atheist,’ she said.

‘Meaning what?’ Lee asked. ‘Why’s that significant? And anyway, I’m not so much an atheist as an agnostic. I don’t believe in religion but I can’t discount some sort of Being who’s in charge of the universe. Not even scientists can really disprove that.’

‘Yes, but if I open it, as a Muslim …’

‘What do you think’s gonna happen?’ Lee said. ‘You think smoke’s gonna come out followed by outraged Jewish spirits? This isn’t
Raiders of the Lost Ark,
this is you and me, Mumtaz, trying to find out what’s in there.’ He tapped the mezuzah with his finger. ‘Just in case it’s …’

‘Don’t!’ She turned her face away, but then she turned it back again.

Lee flipped the holy lump and saw that the back was secured by tiny screws. They were rusty, and when he put his fingernail into the groove across the top of one of the screws, ginger-coloured dust puffed from it down onto the desk. Lee shook his head. ‘Can’t use a screwdriver on this, it’s too small.’

Mumtaz sat back in her chair. ‘Maybe we should just leave it alone.’

‘Oh, and never know, yes, that’s smart.’ Lee shook his head
and then tried to move a screw with the top of a ballpoint pen. ‘Shit!’

‘It’s not going to come, Lee. Maybe we should give it to the local synagogue. I think that might be best.’

He put the mezuzah down. He looked at her. ‘What, and never, ever know? You could live with that, could you?’ He shook his head. ‘Apart from anything else, if this contains what it just might, but probably doesn’t contain, we’ll have a duty to tell the police. This could change things for Nasreen Khan, this could …’

‘Who would they belong to though?’ Mumtaz asked. ‘Really?’

Lee shrugged. ‘Dunno.’

She shook her head again. ‘I’m just not happy about this. I
am
curious but I feel that it’s wrong and I don’t know what to—’

‘I’ll give it one more try,’ Lee said. He inserted his thumbnail in the top of the other tiny screw and pushed down hard. ‘If this doesn’t work this time, I’ll stop.’

‘OK.’

They both saw the screw begin to give at exactly the same moment. He looked into her eyes and she looked into his, and Lee ventured a smile. ‘It’s …’

‘Oh my, it’s …’

As the small screw came out so its opposite number on the other side of the mezuzah snapped in half. Lee took a deep breath and slid the metal backing plate away.

There was paper. Parchment by the look of it, old and yellowed and folded up into a sort of a lozenge.

‘That must have the prayer written on it,’ Mumtaz said. ‘We shouldn’t disturb it, not now that we know.’

Lee sighed. ‘We’ve come this far,’ he said. He looked at her. ‘While we’re here, we might as well see it.’

She shrugged. She wasn’t happy about what some Jews would
almost certainly deem desecration, but Lee wouldn’t be content until he’d had the mezuzah apart.

He picked the lozenge of paper up between his thumb and his finger and placed it on the desk. Bits of dust accompanied its transit and it was only when this had cleared that Lee and Mumtaz could see what was behind it.

Three large, and one very large, very purple pink diamonds.

Grateful thanks go to Melvyn Hartog, Head of Burial at the United Synagogue as well as to Leonard Shear who very kindly showed me around Plashet Jewish Cemetery. Other heroes and heroines who provided help, advice and succour to me on my
Act of Kindness
journey included Vivian Archer and all the staff at the fantastic Newham Bookshop, the staff at the Kalavara Restaurant, Upton Park and everyone at The Boleyn Pub. Other ‘persons of interest’ include Jim Reeve and Teri Varhol, Steve Grant, Kathy Lowe, Sarah Bancroft and Darragh Carville. Finally I’d also like to thank Jane Wood, Katie Gordon and Lucy Ramsey plus Mark, Dan and Caroline at Quercus. Thank you for continuing to have faith in what I do.