Let the Dead Lie by Malla Nunn

hashish?'
    'No
ways.' The Indian man shook his head. 'I ain't stupid.'
    'Why
did you lie about knowing him last night?'
    Parthiv's
Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed and he blinked rapidly. Emmanuel was all
too familiar with this facial dance, had seen it performed a hundred times
before. It was the desperate search for a new lie to cover an old one. This was
one part of being a detective sergeant that he did not miss. Everyone lied.
Some were better at it than others. Parthiv was an amateur.
    'Just
tell me,' Emmanuel said. 'Then we can all go home.'
    'I
don't know him. I have seen him. Around the docks and the like: running around
to make deliveries. That's the truth. It doesn't pay for an Indian to get
friendly with a white boy so I never asked him to fetch me anything.'
    That
was the plain truth. If Parthiv was on the docks to pick up hashish, he'd never
risk a conversation with a European boy. It would have just elicited more
attention. Emmanuel moved on.
    'What
did you do after you picked up the package?'
    'Took
it back to the car and hid it in the glove box.'
    'Then
what?'
    'It's
like I said. I took Amal to find a woman.'
    'Where
was Giriraj?'
    'At
the car.'
    'No
he wasn't,' Emmanuel pointed out. 'He was in the alley with the two of you.'
    Parthiv
pulled on an earlobe. 'I said to stay and keep guard. Plenty crooks on the
docks.'
    'Did
you tell him to keep a lookout for you?'
    'No.
I told him to keep eyes out for police. Police take your stuff, you can't steal
it back; it's gone and gone.'
    Emmanuel
slipped the knife into his jacket pocket. Giriraj's strength and speed were
impressive. He hadn't heard him lurking in the alley; wouldn't have looked
behind him if the brothers hadn't tipped him off with a look over his shoulder.
    Why
was Giriraj in the alley instead of at the car, and how did he get the
scratches Emmanuel had seen on his arm last night?
    Best
to concentrate on one thing at a time and take small steps along a path that he
would abandon come sunrise tomorrow.
    'The
notebook,' he said to Amal, who was pressed against the wall. 'Let's get it.'
    The
boy peeled himself away and they turned to the exit. Maataa stood in the
doorway, an unlit clove cigarette in one hand and a box of matches in the
other. Emmanuel nodded to her. She'd witnessed the whole scene with Parthiv, he
was sure. Seen it and done nothing.
    He
let her make the first move. He was sure that if Maataa came at him with a
knife, she'd find a major artery and the courtyard would be spray-painted a
nice shade of 'blood from a reclassified white man'.
    Maataa
lit her cigarette and threw the matches onto the floor. She walked over to a
corn oil can that contained a fruiting aubergine and pulled a bamboo stick
loose from the soil. Another puff of her cigarette and she swished the stick
through the air to test its soundness.
    'Giriraj!'
she called. 'Giriraj!'
    Amal
pressed to the wall again and slid down to a crouching position, smaller
targets being harder to hit. Parthiv searched, in vain, for a magical way to
break through the walls and escape.
    With
a rustle of sari silk from the partition, Giriraj appeared in the courtyard. A
tap on the floor with the bamboo stick told him where to stand.
    'Down,'
Maataa said.
    Parthiv
and Giriraj kneeled side by side with blank faces. Maataa laid the bamboo stick
lightly on Parthiv's shoulder and then on Giriraj's shoulder, as if knighting
them into a secret society.
    The
bamboo gained height and whistled through the air before smacking against
Parthiv's and Giriraj's shoulders and legs. And then all over. Emmanuel inched
forwards then thought better of it. Not his fight. Both men absorbed the blows,
their bodies like stiff toy soldiers arranged on the battle line.
    Emmanuel
crouched next to Amal and whispered, 'What's going on?'
    'They
are being punished.'
    'I
can see that. What for?'
    "The
package. They were not supposed to pick it up.'
    'Did
the package belong to someone else?'
    'No,
but Mr Khan, he controls