The Girl in the Rug Read online

  ‘We didn’t see anything…’ began Andy.

  ‘We were just getting some ‘mosas’ from the basket…Amish said we could have then for 10p…’ began Lucy before getting an elbow in the ribs from Andy again.

  ‘So if you didn’t see anything…did you hear anything?’ Carla asked Lucy this time, but the little girl had learnt her lesson and wasn’t saying anything.

  ‘We heard some men shouting,’ said Andy, ‘I pulled Lucy behind the bread baskets with me and we kept quiet…but I heard them shouting for Amish…er Mr Patel to open the till.’

  ‘Now think carefully Andy, did you recognise their voices…have you seen or heard these men before anywhere?’ Carla looked straight into Andy’s face, she could see all his fear in his eyes, and she could see that his desperation to tell her everything was battling with his strong sense of self preservation…self preservation won.

  ‘No I didn’t know them, I only heard them shouting, anyway we kept really quiet until we were sure that they had gone, and then the police showed up…’ he shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Ok Andy, we will need to talk to you again but for now you can go. I just need you to give DS Hill here your address so that we can run you home. I will come and see you another day…when your mum’s around…ok?’ Carla saw the glimpse of panic that ran over the boy’s face when his mum was mentioned; poor kid was probably going to be in big trouble for being out so late.

  Carla left the children with Frank and went over to where forensics, led by Dorothy Smiles, had been examining the body.

  ‘Looks like he was shot at point blank range, that’s why it’s such a mess,’ Dorothy began as soon as she saw Carla, ‘but someone did a good job of beating him up first, he’s taken a few hefty kicks to his body.’

  ‘Ok Dorothy,’ said Carla smiling at her, ‘can you let me know if you find anything ASAP. I mean this looks the same as the last one, even though they didn’t kill him, same level of violence though…two men, shotgun, I’m betting it’s the same men.’ This was the third robbery of its kind to have happened in the last two weeks.

  ‘What a lucky thing they didn’t spot those two kids…’ said Dorothy shaking her head. ‘Were they able to tell you anything…don’t suppose they saw much hidden behind there though.’

  Carla pulled a face, ‘Not a thing apparently …didn’t hear much either according to the boy. But they are both terrified, and old enough to know what happens round here to anyone giving information. I’ll get uniform to take them home and speak to them tomorrow when they’ve had time to sleep on it…’

  She broke off as there was a commotion near the doorway of the shop. Two uniformed policemen suddenly ran out of the door and down the street shouting for someone to ‘GET BACK ‘ERE YOU LITTLE DEVIL.’

  Carla went over to investigate only to be met by Frank who was shaking his head.

  ‘They bloody gave us the slip…little toe rags. One minute they were there and the next they’re hightailing it down the street.’

  ‘Bloody hell Frank,’ said Carla in frustration, ‘they were our star witnesses…well you had better hope that we get them back.’

  But no sooner had she said that than the two uniforms were back gasping for breath and sweating like pigs. ‘Bloody little sods,’ the first one gasped, ‘slipped down some side alley didn’t they…knew the estate like the back of their hands…little brats.’

  ‘Oh well that’s just bloody marvellous,’ said Carla angrily, ‘perhaps one of you would like to tell me how I’m going to explain this one to the new fucking DCI.’

  Andy and Lucy ran until they could run no more. Lucy was crying that her feet were hurting, but Andy couldn’t afford to stop until he was sure they had outrun the policemen. They hid behind the big bins round the corner from their home and stayed there for what seemed like ages. At last Andy felt safe enough to venture out and try and make it home. It was really late, there was hardly a light shining from the flats…everyone was in bed, their footsteps sounded loud on the concrete stairs that led up to their front door and each step seemed to echo round the whole estate. They had almost made it home when they both jumped back in fright. A huge dark figure stepped out in front of them blocking their path.

  ‘Well Andy…what are you doing out so late fella…you been down near the shops?’ Andy recognised that voice…he would know it anywhere, he started to shake.

  ‘Nno…um wwwe…wwe just went out for a while…not near the shops…somewhere else…’ he stammered.

  The man laughed, ‘Well that’s alright then init…as long as you remember that fella…you understand?’

  Andy nodded nervously, but then a large hand flashed out and grabbed him by the throat pushing him up against the wall, Lucy screamed but she was pushed roughly to one side. Andy fought for breath as the man pushed his face up close to his.

  ‘You say anything…and I mean anything fella and I’m going to come back…you understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘Yyyess,’ Andy managed to splutter, he was dropped unceremoniously to the floor.

  ‘Well that’s ok then,’ the man said and then he was gone.

  Andy tried to get his breath back, Lucy was crying in a heap on the floor next to him, he reached over and helped to pull her to her feet.

  ‘Come on Luce,’ he said putting an arm round her, and on shaky legs the two children walked the short distance back to their flat. Lucy had stopped crying now but every now and then a shudder ran through her little body. Once safe inside Andy’s own tears fell…Amish, that kind old man was dead. He dashed the tears away angrily, he couldn’t think about that now, with any luck the police wouldn’t know where to find him, but if they did he had to make sure that Lucy didn’t tell them anything, one wrong word and they would have ‘Nellie’ to deal with and he was far scarier that the police.

  ‘Nellie’, real name Elliot Dentch, wasn’t a man that you crossed lightly. Andy had known it was him as soon as he had started speaking to Amish, he had a very distinctive drawling accent…just the thought of it was making Andy’s skin crawl. The other man known as ‘Turk’ was Nellie’s sidekick, his creature really; following him everywhere…exacting awful vengeance on anyone that Nellie felt deserved it.

  Nellie had at one time been a customer of Andy’s mum; Andy had hated it whenever he had come to the flat. He seemed to enjoy humiliating his mum, especially in front of Andy and Lucy. He remembered one time when he had demanded that Kathy wash his feet.

  Mum had just laughed at him, ‘I don’t think so love…you’ve got a wife to do that for you. Now if you wanted me to polish up your knob…’ she had got no further before Nellie had smashed his fist into the side of her head.

  ‘Wash my fucking feet you fucking whore,’ he had hissed at her, pulling out a wicked looking knife which he held to her throat, forcing her down towards the floor.

  ‘Lick ’em clean you dirty bint…that’s all you’re good for.’ Terrified, Mum had silently knelt on the floor in front of him, removing his shoes and socks with trembling fingers and proceeded to lick his feet.

  Nellie had sat back in the chair and looked over at the two horrified children.

  ‘That’s your mum that is,’ he’d said with a sneer, ‘dirty rotten whore.’

  Other times he had just been in the living room with mum and they hadn’t seen him until he was leaving, but Andy had hated the way he looked at Lucy if ever he caught sight of her.

  ‘Give you fifty for ‘er,’ he’d said to Mum one day stroking Lucy’s hair.

  Mum had laughed nervously and told Lucy to get to her room, but the incident had scared Andy to death.

  All of this was going through his head as they huddled in the kitchen, trying to keep warm and stop shaking. Thank goodness Mum was asleep in the living room, they both needed some time to get over this without having to deal with her as well. Then Andy remembered something and his face broke into a smile.

  He pulled out two very squashed meat samosas from inside his coat. ‘Good th
ing I hid these though,’ he said handing one to Lucy.

  CHAPTER 6 - HELEN

  ‘Oh blast,’ said Helen, as a very gaudy Mini nipped into the space that she had been edging towards for the last few minutes. She had been driving round and round the streets outside Riddlestone junior school for the last fifteen minutes. Maya had been forced to stay late for a staff meeting and Helen had volunteered to pick her up. Unfortunately it seemed there was some sort of football match going on at the school as well, and she had got caught up amongst the dedicated footy mums, all either dropping off or picking up their future David Beckhams or Stephen Gerrards. Helen spotted a blue hatchback pulling out of a space up ahead.

  ‘Right…you’re mine,’ she said under her breath speeding forward purposefully and nipping into the space seconds before a harassed looking woman in a huge people carrier, who threw her hands up in disgust and mouthed something extremely rude at Helen. Helen ignored her, locked up her car and wandered over to the school entrance. She glanced at her watch it was 5.35, and Maya should be out any minute…in fact she could see her, talking to a rather animated woman in a multicoloured poncho on the steps of the school. They seemed pretty deep in some sort of discussion so she kept her distance but after a few more minutes Maya looked over to where she was standing and waved. She rounded up her conversation and came running over her face glowing, and her eyes full of love.

  ‘I so sorry,’ she gasped, ‘I am talking to Brenda…you know from social services, and I forget the time.’

  ‘Hey don’t worry,’ said Helen with a smile, ‘I’m enjoying being out of the house, Lena’s been on a cleaning marathon today, I don’t think there’s a single thing that hasn’t been wiped down and had a Hoover run over it. Even Benji’s goldfish was looking extra shiny by the time she’d finished and she’s put little bows round the spare toilet rolls in the loos. I blame Kirsty Allsopp; she’s never been the same since watching “Kirsty’s homemade home”.’ Helen finished with a laugh, Maya smiled but Helen could see that she was a bit preoccupied.

  ‘What’s up love?’ she said putting a hand on her arm.

  ‘Oh…is probably nothing,’ said Maya with a shrug. ‘Just work stuff, Brenda says I am too much worrying, and yes she is right I guess…so how was your day?’ she asked Helen with a determined smile.

  ‘Oh the usual…I finished that piece for the town hall, at last!’ she said with an exaggerated sigh. She had recently taken on a piece of work that had forced her out of her comfort zone, a portrait of the newly appointed Mayor of Redbank, the Right Honourable David Wesley. Helen very rarely did portrait work, she felt much more comfortable with her landscapes, but the honour of being asked to paint the mayor had been a temptation too great for her to resist. It had been a right bugger to do though, and she was glad that it was nearing completion, not least because she wouldn’t have to endure any more sessions in the company of said mayor, who was the most pompous, self righteous idiot that she had encountered for a long time!

  ‘Oh I can’t wait to see,’ said Maya squeezing Helen’s hand, she was really proud of her new wife’s talent and was always telling people how amazing she was. Helen and Maya had married a couple of months earlier, very soon after the law had changed enabling Gay and Lesbian couples to marry. They were both still in the gazing into each other’s eyes, honeymoon stage of their relationship, despite having two toddlers and a teenage daughter between them.

  ‘Well I shall be glad not to have to endure the awful Right Honourable’s dubious company anymore that’s for sure,’ said Helen, getting into the car. ‘He spent the best part of an hour this afternoon pontificating about his latest piece in the ‘Gazette’ and his upcoming dinner at Downing Street. The man’s a nightmare; so far up his own backside that he has completely lost sight of the reason he was elected as mayor in the first place…pompous twat.’

  ‘Hmm,’ replied Maya who still seemed miles away, she was used to Helen’s ranting about the Mayor and had only been listening with half an ear. She was still worrying about what she had been discussing with Brenda, who was a social worker attached to the school. One of the boys in Maya’s class was causing her some concern. Social services were aware that there was a problem with the boy and he was on the at risk register, along with his sister, but as far as Maya could see nothing was being done to safeguard the two children.

  They were both painfully thin, and usually inadequately or inappropriately dressed for the weather conditions. Despite being a bright lad, Andy Hunt had trouble concentrating and had even fallen asleep at his desk a couple of times. He was constantly in trouble, fighting in the playground…usually in defence of his sister, of whom he was fiercely protective, but he had shied away from any help that Maya had tried to offer, becoming even less communicative if that was possible. He reminded Maya of herself as a young girl in Poland…before Nonna had rescued her, and if those children were going through anything like she had…then they needed help.

  ‘So I said to him why not wear the pink wig and the sequined jacket…’ Helen was saying loudly to her.

  ‘What?’ said Maya confused, ‘sorry Helen I must have been miles away.’

  ‘Obviously,’ Helen laughed, ‘you were looking really serious love…what’s up?’

  ‘Oh, just a boy in my class…he worries me that’s all,’ said Maya, brushing her thought aside. ‘I will speak again to social services, see if they can keep an eye on him…I am probably just being over cautious…now what was that about a pink wig?’

  CHAPTER 7 - CARLA

  Carla watched the CCTV footage from the camera located just inside the door of Mr Patel’s shop. She saw the two children come into the shop, the boy…um Andy, holding out some change to Amish Patel and being directed by him round to where the baked goods were stored, she just caught their happy little faces as they ran eagerly round to pick out their treats before the two masked men wandered into the shop.

  There had been no urgency about them, as with the earlier robberies these two had been as calm as you like, threatening with the gun and waiting as the bags are filled. The shorter of the two…who Carla was convinced was a nasty piece of work known locally as ‘Turk’, always got a few kicks in no matter how obedient the poor shopkeeper was and the other one, who was obviously the brains behind the raids, seemed to let him have his way for a few moments before stopping him and getting on with the job in hand. This robbery was no different apart from the fact that this was the first time a man had died. From her camera’s eye view Carla couldn’t see why Amish Patel had been shot…she could only assume that his murderer had spotted that he had raised the alarm. She had, however, been able to see the children when they had finally emerged from behind the bread baskets and was now staring hard at a stilled image of them, trying to wrack her brains to see if she recognised them.

  Mandy (DC Hopkins) was doing the same, ‘Actually the boy definitely looks familiar, I think I might have seen him at the school.’ Mandy’s daughter was at Riddlestone Juniors. ‘Poor little mites they look scared out of their wits.’

  ‘Ha!’ retorted Carla, ‘not so scared that they didn’t know how to outwit my sergeant and half of uniform. Bloody hell I don’t have time for this, who else has got kids at Riddlestone?’

  ‘Um…can’t think…oh I know Martin Wier, Constable Wier, his son might be in the same class, he’s about 8 or 9 I think,’ said Mandy.

  ‘Well get him up here can you Mandy and get him to take a look, that’ll save me having to take this picture to the school if he recognises them.’

  Just then WPC Irene Watkins popped her head round the door. ‘We’ve got Mrs Patel waiting downstairs for you Ma’am,’ she said. Carla was taking Mrs Patel to the mortuary to formally identify her husband, the elderly lady had been distraught last night when she had arrived back to discover her husband dead and her shop ransacked.

  ‘Ok Constable…be with you in a minute,’ said Carla still looking at the image on the screen.

  Constable Watkins came into
the room and stared over her shoulder, ‘Aren’t those the Hunt children?’ she said squinting at the screen. ‘Poor little things, who let them go out like that, I mean it was freezing last night wasn’t it…doesn’t look like Lucy’s got anything on her legs, that bloody woman should be shot.’

  Carla turned round quickly, ‘Are you saying you know these kids?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘God yes…they go to the same school as my kids, I’m on the board of governors there. Their names are always cropping up believe me, but…’

  ‘So do you know where they live?’ interrupted Carla.

  ‘Well no, not personally but I can easily find out for you.’

  ‘Thank you Irene…as soon as you can please,’ said Carla, ‘I’ll be at the mortuary with Mrs Patel, let me know as soon as you have it ok?’

  Carla took Frank with her to the mortuary, which was really just a formality. The body had to be identified by a family member as it had already been taken away by the coroner by the time that Mrs Patel and her nephew had arrived back from the cash and carry last night.

  It was a part of the job that Carla particularly hated, and today was as bad as ever. Mrs Patel collapsed at the sight of her husband so great was her grief, and then she had clung on to his hand refusing to be parted from him. Carla had had to prise her fingers open and pull her out of the room, before gently talking her down. She had called the nephew to come and take her home hoping that he would have more success at soothing the poor woman. He arrived but far from being a soothing influence he was a seething mass of rage, desperate for vengeance for the death of his uncle.

  ‘You know who bloody did this,’ he shouted at Carla, ‘everybody on that god forsaken estate knows who did this. What are you waiting for, go and arrest them. Nellie and Turk that’s who did it…you know as well as I…’

  ‘Mr Patel I know you are hurt and angry but we have to work within the law. Of course we will be interviewing Mr Dentch and his associates, but so far we don’t have any evidence to do more than that…’