Part 14 (1/2)
”Peachy me, mate.” Cheeky sod. Hearing his voice had thrown her just a tad.
”Could've fooled me.”
She bit back a cheap jibe. Had he got a point? Was stroppy her second nature these days? And she wasn't seeing it like she refused to acknowledge her mum's hurt? ”Sorry, Oz. How you doing?”
”You wanted to pick my brain?” She gave a wry smile, imagining anatomical features she'd rather poke around. Either way, the conversational opening was missed Oz was all business.
”Yeah.” Feet tucked under, she reached for her gla.s.s. Keeping her voice down, she told him about Fareeda. How she'd turned up on the doorstep bruised and battered refusing to say who'd inflicted the injuries, how the Saleem family had no idea where she was and how Fareeda had no intention of returning home. ”Found a predictor kit in her bedroom drawer as well.”
”Found?”
She sniffed. ”Sumi and me thought she was missing one night.”
”And you thought you'd find her in a drawer?”
Bev sniffed. ”Yeah, well. If I hadn't had a nose round we'd be none the wiser, would we?” If the girl wouldn't reveal who'd beaten her up she wasn't going to say who'd knocked her up.
Sounded like he was scratching his eyebrow. ”And you can't get her to name names?”
”Can't get her to do diddly, mate.” She talked him through some of the tacks tried and failed.
”Want me to have a go?”
”Nah. I'm of a mind to pay the Saleems a visit, have a quiet word with her dad. Say the college has reported her missing or something? What you reckon?” She'd no problem with treading on people's toes, she needed Oz to point a way through the cultural minefield.
”You fancy the father for this?” he asked.
”Wouldn't be surprised.” Car door slammed in the street, next door's dog was having a fit.
”Where's the evidence?”
”Got me there.” Intuition, bad vibes, fear in a girl's eyes when her father's mentioned? Not enough to convince a custody sergeant let alone the Crown Prosecution Service.
”'Kay, here's how I see it.” She pictured those beautiful eyes, stunning cheek bones, perfect mouth. Concentrate, dumbo. ”She's old enough to leave home.” Oz's first vision. ”She's not pointing the finger, she's not even made a police report. Go in there on gut instinct and your feet won't touch the floor.”
”The girl's face is broken, Oz!” Loud. Accusatory. She strained her ears, thought he'd cut the connection, though that was normally her forte. When she'd called time on the relations.h.i.+p, Oz had tossed the emotional ball into her court that's why there'd been no play.
”I'll try and come up in the next day or so.” How wrong could a girl be? He'd been working on ways to get here not keep his distance. She'd question later why there was a s.h.i.+ver in her spine. Even so, it could be a wasted journey.
”She'll not talk to you, mate.” Sodding dog was still going ballistic.
”No. And the Saleems won't talk to you.” White, female, cop ticked all the wrong boxes. Bev narrowed her eyes; was Oz...? ”Saying you'll go round there?”
”Yeah. Cos if I don't you'll go barging in anyway. All guns blazing knowing you.”
”I'll come with you, then.” There was a smile in her voice. ”Always fancied riding shotgun.”
”Thought it was me who always played Tonto?”
And what did that make her?
”I'll hang fire till I see you.” It wasn't her best line and the smile had faded anyway. Blinking, she bit her lip. ”Catch you later.”
Yapping dog. Shut the f.u.c.k up. b.l.o.o.d.y animal was worse than a burglar alarm. Hands jammed in coat pockets, the dark-haired man walked straight past the house. He knew she was in there; itched to take her out now. Patience, man. When he acted she'd get no warning not even a neighbour's mad mutt. She'd lied through her teeth, used him, made him look a complete r.e.t.a.r.d. No one treated him like that. No one. b.i.t.c.h wouldn't even give him her number. He'd had to nick her mobile. And he'd been so generous with his gifts. A sly smile tugged his lips. He hoped he hadn't hidden the timer too well.
Timing as they say is all.
FRIDAY.
26.
Highgate, first thing, place was buzzing. Rumours of a break were running round like petrol-fuelled wildfire. Bev had picked up a whisper in the corridor when she'd b.u.mped into Powell on the way to her office. The DI wasn't privy to the detail, only Byford and the operator who'd first listened to the recording knew the full story. She'd just had time to fit in a quick call to Interflora. The biggest bunch of flowers this side of Kew Gardens should soon be winging its way to her mum. The card would read: Down payment for lunch. See you Sunday.
Now, Bev and the rest of the squad waited breath-bated to be brought up to speed. Air in the briefing room was electric, not a spare edge-of-seat in the house. Rife speculation ended abruptly when Byford flung open the door, he started shooting soon as he walked in.
”We may have a witness.” Reaching the front, he turned hand held high to silence the whoops. ”A caller claims he saw the perp leaving Libby Redwood's house.” May? Claims? Clearly the jury was still out. Bev sat back, crossed her legs: she'd spotted a tape in the guv's other hand. Maybe the best was yet to come. Readying the player, Byford told the squad the message had been left less than an hour ago on a confidential police hotline. ”Listen up.” Like a pin dropping on velvet wouldn't be deafening.
The killer you lot are after? Male voice. Scottish accent? Nasal as if he had a heavy cold.
I seen him last night coming out of that posh gaff in Kings Heath. He was wearing that clown mask like on the telly, at first any road. At first? Bev leaned forward, elbows on knees, chin in hands.
Here's the thing: I wanna know if there's a reward like, or anything? Or anything: barbed wire round the grasping b.a.s.t.a.r.d's b.o.l.l.o.c.ks for a start.
Gra.s.sing ain't safe is it? I reckon I deserve a bit o' danger money, like.”
Sotto voce snort from Bev. Stony glare from the guv.
Think it over. When I see something about a reward on the news I'll get back.
”Guy's a joker,” Bev spouted before Byford hit pause. ”The accent's all over the shop. The cold's prob'ly faked. There's not a word on there he couldn't have picked up from the press. No name, no number, nothing.”
”Finished?” The guv traced an eyebrow with a finger. ”Obviously, there are holes.”
”Holes? It's a moth eaten sieve.” She sat back, foot circling. ”Traced the call yet?”
”Phone box. City centre.”
She hooted. ”Quelle surprise.”
Mac interrupted the exchange. ”What we doing about it, guv?”
”Bernie's working on a news release.”
”There is no reward though?” Carol Pemberton seeking confirmation.
”A carefully-worded news release.” Byford gave a thin smile. ”We'll hint there's money on the table without going into details.”