An Act of Kindness: A Hakim and Arnold Mystery (Hakim & Arnold Mystery 2) by Barbara Nadel
Authors: Barbara Nadel
Ads: Link
she’d finished the call, she’d have to go and pick up Shazia.
‘If you like I’ll come round to your house tomorrow morning, I can show you the footage,’ she said. ‘But it isn’t for the fainthearted. I’m sorry.’
At the other end of the line, Mrs Mirza sighed.
‘Christ, I knew our Wend was into something horrible. Everyone knows what Sean Rogers and his brother are, but to do that to our Wend … I’ve got to get her and the kids out of there.’
‘But you must be careful, Mrs Mirza,’ Mumtaz said. ‘Wendy owes Sean Rogers rent or she wouldn’t be doing this.’
‘Then I’ll pay it off for her, I’ll—’
‘Rogers may want to charge you interest on what she owes,’ Mumtaz cut in. She wanted to add
I know all about this
because that was exactly what had happened to her with Ahmet’s debts, but she managed to stop herself. Her problems with the Sheikh family, the gangsters her husband had associated with, were not Mrs Mirza’s. ‘It could be at an extortionate rate. Say nothing until you’ve seen the footage and then speak to Mr Arnold, he was a policeman and he knows the Rogers brothers. He will advise you.’
She eventually agreed to this and Mumtaz managed to end the call. She walked out of the house and looked at the shabby little Micra on her driveway. When Ahmet had been alive they’d had not only the Mercedes, but a gardener too,
and
she’d had all herjewellery back then … But what had gone along with all that had not been so pleasant. She looked at the battered old car and smiled. She was about to open the driver’s door when Mr Higgs from across the road, the one Ahmet had always called the ‘Leftie’, stopped trimming his hedge and called out to her, ‘Did you hear they found a man dead in the old Jewish Cemetery?’
*
John’s shack was barely a structure at all. Made out of a hood of tangled branches and creepers, it hung between two trees that butted up against the cemetery wall. The branches, which didn’t belong to the trees, were clearly old and dead and, at some point, someone had thrown a sheet of polythene over them.
Underneath the canopy, on ground that was churned and damp from the recent rain, was a rolled up sleeping bag, a candle that was half burnt down and a tobacco tin. How did John survive?
Feeling like a burglar, Nasreen ducked down into the shack. The sleeping bag was covered with a camouflage pattern and she wondered whether it was John’s old army one. She opened the tobacco tin and found only a couple of Rizla papers. She hadn’t realised that John smoked. She closed the tin again and unrolled the sleeping bag. There was nothing in it except a spider. Nasreen looked at the uneven surface and she wondered how he ever slept there. She didn’t know anything about the man who had been found dead in the cemetery. It might be John, but it might not. Yet she knew she should tell the police about the man who sometimes lived in her garden, a few metres from the graveyard, and was now nowhere to be seen.
But then there was Abdullah to consider. She’d kept quiet about the ex-soldier at the end of their garden for a good reason. Whatwould he say if she suddenly went to the police with a story about keeping a homeless man in food?
*
Lee went into the Boleyn at lunchtime. Usually on a Sunday he went to his mum’s place in Custom House, but she’d been invited to a friend’s for lunch and Lee didn’t want to spend any time alone with his brother. Roy Arnold, Lee’s older and only sibling, was an alcoholic. In that respect the Arnold boys were the same, except that Lee had managed to stop drinking. Roy, on the other hand, reeked of cheap cider, was lairy most of the time, could be violent and ligged off their mother at every opportunity. Lee hated him with almost the same passion as their mother loved him. He only gave him the time of day at all because of her.
So he read the Sunday papers in the pub, ate a plate of chips and drank more diet Pepsi
‘If you like I’ll come round to your house tomorrow morning, I can show you the footage,’ she said. ‘But it isn’t for the fainthearted. I’m sorry.’
At the other end of the line, Mrs Mirza sighed.
‘Christ, I knew our Wend was into something horrible. Everyone knows what Sean Rogers and his brother are, but to do that to our Wend … I’ve got to get her and the kids out of there.’
‘But you must be careful, Mrs Mirza,’ Mumtaz said. ‘Wendy owes Sean Rogers rent or she wouldn’t be doing this.’
‘Then I’ll pay it off for her, I’ll—’
‘Rogers may want to charge you interest on what she owes,’ Mumtaz cut in. She wanted to add
I know all about this
because that was exactly what had happened to her with Ahmet’s debts, but she managed to stop herself. Her problems with the Sheikh family, the gangsters her husband had associated with, were not Mrs Mirza’s. ‘It could be at an extortionate rate. Say nothing until you’ve seen the footage and then speak to Mr Arnold, he was a policeman and he knows the Rogers brothers. He will advise you.’
She eventually agreed to this and Mumtaz managed to end the call. She walked out of the house and looked at the shabby little Micra on her driveway. When Ahmet had been alive they’d had not only the Mercedes, but a gardener too,
and
she’d had all herjewellery back then … But what had gone along with all that had not been so pleasant. She looked at the battered old car and smiled. She was about to open the driver’s door when Mr Higgs from across the road, the one Ahmet had always called the ‘Leftie’, stopped trimming his hedge and called out to her, ‘Did you hear they found a man dead in the old Jewish Cemetery?’
*
John’s shack was barely a structure at all. Made out of a hood of tangled branches and creepers, it hung between two trees that butted up against the cemetery wall. The branches, which didn’t belong to the trees, were clearly old and dead and, at some point, someone had thrown a sheet of polythene over them.
Underneath the canopy, on ground that was churned and damp from the recent rain, was a rolled up sleeping bag, a candle that was half burnt down and a tobacco tin. How did John survive?
Feeling like a burglar, Nasreen ducked down into the shack. The sleeping bag was covered with a camouflage pattern and she wondered whether it was John’s old army one. She opened the tobacco tin and found only a couple of Rizla papers. She hadn’t realised that John smoked. She closed the tin again and unrolled the sleeping bag. There was nothing in it except a spider. Nasreen looked at the uneven surface and she wondered how he ever slept there. She didn’t know anything about the man who had been found dead in the cemetery. It might be John, but it might not. Yet she knew she should tell the police about the man who sometimes lived in her garden, a few metres from the graveyard, and was now nowhere to be seen.
But then there was Abdullah to consider. She’d kept quiet about the ex-soldier at the end of their garden for a good reason. Whatwould he say if she suddenly went to the police with a story about keeping a homeless man in food?
*
Lee went into the Boleyn at lunchtime. Usually on a Sunday he went to his mum’s place in Custom House, but she’d been invited to a friend’s for lunch and Lee didn’t want to spend any time alone with his brother. Roy Arnold, Lee’s older and only sibling, was an alcoholic. In that respect the Arnold boys were the same, except that Lee had managed to stop drinking. Roy, on the other hand, reeked of cheap cider, was lairy most of the time, could be violent and ligged off their mother at every opportunity. Lee hated him with almost the same passion as their mother loved him. He only gave him the time of day at all because of her.
So he read the Sunday papers in the pub, ate a plate of chips and drank more diet Pepsi
Similar Books
