An Act of Kindness: A Hakim and Arnold Mystery (Hakim & Arnold Mystery 2) by Barbara Nadel Page B
Authors: Barbara Nadel
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body up the old Jewish Cemetery last night?’
‘Yes,’ Lee said. ‘Terrible.’
‘Not really,’ Cheryl said. She burped. ‘He was grave robbing.’
Lee walked back towards her. ‘Who was?’
‘The dead geezer.’
‘How do you know he was grave robbing?’
Cheryl smirked. ‘Can I have a Kronenbourg?’ she said.
She was always ligging booze off everybody, using all sorts of weird stories. Even through the booze Cheryl knew that Lee was an ex-copper and that stories about crime would get him going.
‘You can have a Kronenbourg if you tell me,’ Lee said. ‘Story first, Cheryl.’
She swayed. Stained teeth made a brief appearance as she smiled.
‘Because they found him with a skeleton.’
‘Who did? The coppers?’
‘Yeah. Can I have that beer now?’
‘No, not yet. How do you know this, Cheryl? And why should I believe you?’
Cheryl put a finger to her nose and tapped it. ‘Because I was up there, you stupid arse.’
‘Where?’
‘The fucking cemetery.’ She waved a hand in the air. ‘They was talking about it. I was walking past.’
‘The coppers?’
‘Yeah.’
‘When?’
‘I dunno. It was dark.’
‘What did they say?’
‘Fucking hell, don’t you listen?’ Cheryl said. ‘They said the stiff had been grave robbing. He had a skeleton. Can you get me a beer?’
*
Vi was alone in the cemetery. She’d asked for a moment by herself and so SOCO had gone off to have a break. She didn’t have a clue where her Nana Faye was buried. She remembered her dying but she hadn’t gone to the funeral. She’d only been eight and NanaFaye hadn’t liked her anyway. Or rather she hadn’t liked her mum. Her dad’s people had been Orthodox Jews and so her gentile mum had never gone down well.
She looked around at the gravestones but it was hopeless. The inscriptions were in English as well as Hebrew but half of them had been worn away or vandalised. Nana Faye had called Vi’s mum a ‘gypsy’ because she was Irish. She’d felt keenly and bitterly the dilution of her own Jewish blood. Vi’s dad, her son, had hated her for it. But in spite of this, Vi was relieved that it didn’t seem as if their unknown dead bloke had dug anyone up from the graveyard. The Polish skinhead girl they held in custody was denying any sort of involvement too and, so far, the forensic evidence from her clothes didn’t point to any either. SOCO had already checked out the one pathetic camera on the site, but it hadn’t shown anything of interest. But if the skeleton hadn’t come from the graveyard, where
had
it come from? And why had the dead man been lying beside it when Majid Islam tripped over him?
Vi looked around the cemetery. She put one hand up to the Star of David around her neck but she knew that she was as much of an intruder there as the Polish girl had been.
7
Monday morning was dull, but at least it wasn’t raining. Nasreen sat on the back step looking at the tangle of trees and bushes that concealed John’s shack. To distract herself from thoughts of him, she took the photograph and the thing it had been hidden behind from her pocket and looked at them again. It was weird to nail a photograph behind something like that, on a doorpost. Maybe Abdullah would know what it was. He was the one who’d chosen this house, after all. He had to know more about it than she did. But did he? He’d bought the house at auction, which meant that he’d only viewed it very briefly and in a group of other potential buyers. As far as Nasreen could tell, it had been the price that had attracted him to it more than anything else. Although why that should have been of concern to a man who bought her emeralds she couldn’t always square in her mind. But since they’d got married, and particularly after she became pregnant, Nasreen had found it hard to talk to Abdullah. If he wasn’t busy, he was distracted, and if she talked about something he wasn’t interested in, he would cut her off.
They’d met,
‘Yes,’ Lee said. ‘Terrible.’
‘Not really,’ Cheryl said. She burped. ‘He was grave robbing.’
Lee walked back towards her. ‘Who was?’
‘The dead geezer.’
‘How do you know he was grave robbing?’
Cheryl smirked. ‘Can I have a Kronenbourg?’ she said.
She was always ligging booze off everybody, using all sorts of weird stories. Even through the booze Cheryl knew that Lee was an ex-copper and that stories about crime would get him going.
‘You can have a Kronenbourg if you tell me,’ Lee said. ‘Story first, Cheryl.’
She swayed. Stained teeth made a brief appearance as she smiled.
‘Because they found him with a skeleton.’
‘Who did? The coppers?’
‘Yeah. Can I have that beer now?’
‘No, not yet. How do you know this, Cheryl? And why should I believe you?’
Cheryl put a finger to her nose and tapped it. ‘Because I was up there, you stupid arse.’
‘Where?’
‘The fucking cemetery.’ She waved a hand in the air. ‘They was talking about it. I was walking past.’
‘The coppers?’
‘Yeah.’
‘When?’
‘I dunno. It was dark.’
‘What did they say?’
‘Fucking hell, don’t you listen?’ Cheryl said. ‘They said the stiff had been grave robbing. He had a skeleton. Can you get me a beer?’
*
Vi was alone in the cemetery. She’d asked for a moment by herself and so SOCO had gone off to have a break. She didn’t have a clue where her Nana Faye was buried. She remembered her dying but she hadn’t gone to the funeral. She’d only been eight and NanaFaye hadn’t liked her anyway. Or rather she hadn’t liked her mum. Her dad’s people had been Orthodox Jews and so her gentile mum had never gone down well.
She looked around at the gravestones but it was hopeless. The inscriptions were in English as well as Hebrew but half of them had been worn away or vandalised. Nana Faye had called Vi’s mum a ‘gypsy’ because she was Irish. She’d felt keenly and bitterly the dilution of her own Jewish blood. Vi’s dad, her son, had hated her for it. But in spite of this, Vi was relieved that it didn’t seem as if their unknown dead bloke had dug anyone up from the graveyard. The Polish skinhead girl they held in custody was denying any sort of involvement too and, so far, the forensic evidence from her clothes didn’t point to any either. SOCO had already checked out the one pathetic camera on the site, but it hadn’t shown anything of interest. But if the skeleton hadn’t come from the graveyard, where
had
it come from? And why had the dead man been lying beside it when Majid Islam tripped over him?
Vi looked around the cemetery. She put one hand up to the Star of David around her neck but she knew that she was as much of an intruder there as the Polish girl had been.
7
Monday morning was dull, but at least it wasn’t raining. Nasreen sat on the back step looking at the tangle of trees and bushes that concealed John’s shack. To distract herself from thoughts of him, she took the photograph and the thing it had been hidden behind from her pocket and looked at them again. It was weird to nail a photograph behind something like that, on a doorpost. Maybe Abdullah would know what it was. He was the one who’d chosen this house, after all. He had to know more about it than she did. But did he? He’d bought the house at auction, which meant that he’d only viewed it very briefly and in a group of other potential buyers. As far as Nasreen could tell, it had been the price that had attracted him to it more than anything else. Although why that should have been of concern to a man who bought her emeralds she couldn’t always square in her mind. But since they’d got married, and particularly after she became pregnant, Nasreen had found it hard to talk to Abdullah. If he wasn’t busy, he was distracted, and if she talked about something he wasn’t interested in, he would cut her off.
They’d met,
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