Last request, p.22
Last Request, page 22
part #1 of DS Nikita Parekh Series
Chapter 46
The warmth hit Nikki as soon as she entered The Mannville Arms. The open fire was roaring in the corner and after the smart walk through the increasingly whirling wind, her cheeks were raw and cold to the touch. Sajid’s looked similar. She made her way over to the bar, leaving her colleague to head to the toilets to wash his hands and wipe the last of the tunnel dirt off his face. She’d do the same in a moment, but for now all she wanted to do was get a pint. Gordon was his usual taciturn self, grunting at her as she ordered two pints of Sheep Dip ale. She didn’t let that put her off. She had a lot of time for Gordon. Unlike some of the customers, Nikki valued a barman who could hold his tongue. She wasn’t one of life’s small talkers herself. ‘Nancy not in today?’
Gordon’s grunt was all the reply she got, so she grabbed the two pints in her just-beginning-to-warm-up hands and headed to the table nearest the fire. She didn’t normally choose to sit in the open like this, but the draw of the flames after the chill wind was too much to resist. She much preferred ensconcing herself in one of the booths, ignoring the stickiness of both the carpet and the upholstery. She placed the glasses on the table and snagged the chair nearest to the fire for herself. This offered her an uninterrupted view of the booths along the back wall. Waiting for Sajid’s return, she did a quick headcount. The Mannville was rarely heaving at teatime. Students didn’t tend to hit the pubs till nearer nine, but tonight there was a low buzz of chatter indicating that it was busier than normal.
As her eyes drifted over the room, she saw a big lad she vaguely recognised facing in her direction, stripping a beer mat between his fingers and talking animatedly to someone with their back to her. The lad’s expression was earnest, his head nodding as he spoke. Angling to the right a little, Nikki tried to see who he was talking to. Perhaps that would allow her to put a name to the lad’s face.
As she peered into the dully lit booth, the other lad turned his head as if, like her, casing out who was in the pub. Nikki froze. Her eyes narrowed and before she could stop herself, she was on her feet and striding towards him. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing in here?’
Franco barely lifted his head. Sprawled in the booth, a half-drunk pint before him, he smirked. With dope-glazed eyes, he commenced a slow nodding motion that made Nikki itch to slap him. ‘Yoll, it’s the oinks. Hope you’re off duty, pig. If not, I’ll have to report you for breaking the law.’ He giggled, a high-pitched pot-fuelled sound that returned that itch to Nikki’s hand. ‘It’d be my civic duty.’
Nikki leaned right over him, and banged her hand on the table, loud enough to silence the rest of the room as everyone turned their eyes on the scene that was unfolding. From his position behind the bar, Gordon picked up a beer glass and began drying it, his gaze never leaving the table in the corner. Nikki waved a hand at him to let him know she’d no intention of this escalating too much and got a taciturn nod in response.
Pushing her face tight up to Franco’s, she could smell the weed coming off him in waves combined with the sickly-sweet smell of some high-end aftershave, no doubt advertised by some muscly actor or footballer. She almost preferred the ammonia smell from the tunnels.
‘You!’ She prodded her finger as hard as she could into his shoulder, making him wince and rub it. His lower lip jutted out like a petulant child as she continued. ‘Ever.’ She repeated the jab with equal force. ‘Go near my sister’s home again and I will.’ She administered the third prod of the evening. ‘Chop your balls off, put them through a mincer and force feed them to you and your vile little goons. Got it?’
Franco tried to jump to his feet but, hindered by his own lack of coordination, the table and Nikki’s close proximity, he fell back onto his arse. He glared across the table at his friend. ‘You gonna do something about that?’
Big Zee, that was his name. She remembered now. Nikki usually saw him with a smug little scrote that rented a student house near her.
Franco’s mate jumped to his feet and towered over her. He looked less wasted than his boss and that worried Nikki. He looked ready to challenge her, when a larger figure appeared behind her, casting a shadow over the none-too-clean tabletop. Sensing his comforting presence, Nikki smiled. Sajid to the rescue.
‘Maybe we’ll just sit down again, eh?’ Sajid’s tone was firm. He placed a hand on Nikki’s arm and tugged. ‘These two tossers are leaving. They won’t be back. This pub is now off limits to them, so let’s you and me go and enjoy our drinks in peace.’
He raised an eyebrow in Gordon’s direction and was awarded one of the barman’s signature nods.
Nikki glared from Franco to Big Zee, her eyes still narrowed. It went against the grain to let Franco walk out of there in one piece. He’d threatened Anika and Charlie – but now they had him in their sights they could at least keep an eye on him and his arse-wipe mates. She nodded once, abrupt and fast, and strode back to her seat. Sajid lumbered over behind her, scraped his seat round to Nikki’s side of the table and sat down. From here he could keep a proper eye on these two. Picking up Nikki’s phone, moaning about his broken one under his breath, he took a quick photo of the two lads and sent it to Archie with a request to get the uniforms to keep an eye on both of them.
In a final show of defiance, Franco stood, peered round the room before taking a last draught of his drink and then swaggered towards the door. Big Zee hesitated and kept glancing at Nikki until Franco’s sharp demand spluttered across the room, ‘Now, Big Zee – no pigs on this one, okay?’
Nikki wondered what that was all about, then turned her attention to Sajid. Within seconds, he had her laughing as he relived her earlier antics in the tunnels. Happy to return the banter in spades, Nikki sipped her pint and joined in. Her earlier tension had evaporated a little now she’d challenged Franco, although she was still concerned about Khalid’s dad’s insistence on contacting Charlie. That she’d have to deal with before too long, but for now she’d have a drink with her mate, before going home to sort things out with her truculent teenage daughter.
A good plan … until her phone rang. After that it was one mad dash back down the hill to where they’d parked the car earlier at Sunbridge Wells. For once, Nikki was in the lead, with Sajid trailing behind. Amazing how a threat to someone vulnerable … someone you considered to be under your care, could jump start a super dose of adrenaline that could turn a dog-tired, wrung-out woman into a sleek, snappy greyhound with a rabbit in its sights.
Chapter 47
As she turned into Lister’s Avenue, Nikki saw the blue of the ambulance light revolving in the darkness. Saj had dropped her at her own car in case they needed to split up and he’d beaten her to the scene. She screeched to a halt and barely stopping to slam the car door shut behind her, she ran over to the ambulance. It was double parked next to a car with no tyres, chassis held up by a pile of bricks. The ambulance’s rear door was open and the paramedics were positioning a trolley on the back lift, ready to raise it into the ambulance. The small frame on top barely made a dent in the blanket that covered her. Her eyes were shut, whether because of the swelling around them or because she was unconscious wasn’t clear. A drip had been inserted and one of the paramedics held it aloft as they sidled past her with a gentleness born of frequent practice, into the vehicle.
Looking to the right, Nikki saw Deano sitting on one of the fold-down passenger seats already belted up ready for the off. His head was down, and Nikki couldn’t see his face. She couldn’t tell if he was hurt too. ‘Deano?’ Despite her previous anger with the boy, her voice was tender. ‘Deano, you okay?’ He raised his head and Nikki saw that apart from a slight weed glaze, he seemed unhurt. That was something! She leaned into the vehicle as the paramedics administered to Margo. ‘You need to look after her now, okay?’
Something flickered in his eyes as he nodded and his mouth twitched. Nikki frowned. Was he laughing? Surely not? No – of course not. It’d be the weed making him stupid. She’d seen it before … arresting young lads who could do nowt but laugh as she read them their rights. By the next morning when the effects of the weed had worn off, it was a different story. Reaching over she grabbed his arm and squeezed, her fingers pressing hard.
‘Look after her,’ she repeated, and waited till he’d nodded, before releasing her hold on him and stepping back.
As the paramedic slammed the door shut, Nikki cast her eyes round the scene. ‘She gonna be okay?’
The paramedic shrugged. ‘Hard to tell – she’s in a bad way. We need to get a move on.’
The medic’s words were like a mallet to Nikki’s stomach. She’d tried to look after Margo for so long and now the worst had finally happened. Her eyes narrowed as they homed in on the police car parked along the street. Sajid was standing by the rear passenger door and Nikki could tell from his posture that he was barely controlling his anger. His large body blocked the figure that stood next to a waiting uniformed officer, but Nikki had no doubt who it was. Without stopping to consider what she would do when she got there, she ran over to it, pushing Sajid out of the way. Roddy McGonagall was handcuffed and as she reached him, the uniformed officer placed her hand on his head ready to guide him into the back of the car. Nikki flexed her fingers, trying to release the anger that threatened to explode from her. How many times had this brute done this? How many times had he got away with it? She only hoped that this time he hadn’t succeeded in killing Margo.
Roddy glanced up, stopped, one foot in the vehicle. He jerked his head to remove the hand that was pushing him into the back and a smirk contorted his mouth. When he spoke, his words slurred. ‘Aw, if it in’t the half-breed come to slap my wrists for me. That’s nice.’
He cleared his throat and Nikki, sensing what was coming, moved to the side so that the glob of phlegm landed somewhere to her right. Waves of whisky engulfed her. Roddy was on the harder stuff tonight. The officer yanked his handcuffs with one hand and replaced her hand on his head. ‘Get in, now.’
McGonagall threw back his head and laughed.
Nikki wanted to punch him, wanted to rant and tear at him, call him all the vile names she knew, but she refrained. Instead, her voice low, her gaze steady, she said, ‘I’ll have you for this McGonagall. Make no mistake. This is the last time you’ll do this.’
Just before the door slammed on him, he spoke with the precision of a lifelong drunk. Despite being slurred, each word was clear and venomous. ‘Not been on the whisky for months, I ain’t. That other little half-breed set me up for this. Wants me gone. Wants the house for himself, that one.’
He stuck his middle finger up at Nikki. ‘So, porky pig, looks like I’m not culpable. Not if I’ve been knowingly supplied with whisky.’ He started to laugh and tried to slap his thigh, missing by a good two inches.
There was nothing more compelling than the lucidity of a drunk talking sense. Nikki, her mind whirling, watched the car drive off. Was Roddy just talking through drink or had Deano really set this up? If anyone was aware of the effect spirits had on his stepdad, it was Deano and she’d certainly smelled cheap whisky coming off him in rafts. Last time she spoke to Margo, the other woman had assured her that Roddy was sticking to beer only and true enough, although she’d no life to speak of, Margo hadn’t sported any visible injuries for a while now. Nikki screwed up her mouth. Roddy McGonagall was too vicious when under the influence of spirits to care what visible trace he left on his partner. On beer, he was cruel right enough, but he stopped at doing much more than pushing her around – not that pushing Margo around was acceptable either, but it was preferable to the sort of injuries that could leave her friend comatose.
Nikki turned on her heel and glanced round at the crowds who had gathered. Most were neighbours, who hung about the pavement or in their gardens, but she detected movement in the cobbled alley to the left. She peered through the dimness, pleased that the streetlamps cast some light onto the street. Was that Franco? Was he following her? She took a step towards the alley, but before she could get there, someone called her name. She glanced round and saw a uniformed officer waving at her.
‘Give me a minute, yeah?’ When she turned back to the alleyway it was empty. She could have sworn she had seen two figures loitering there and she was almost sure one of them was Franco. If it was, this put a whole new complexion on things. She turned back to the officer who’d greeted her and listened as he explained that Deano had called the incident in and that they arrived shortly after the first responders. Leaving them to finish off getting statements and getting the scene processed, Nikki gave a wave to the remaining officers who were trying to take statements from the neighbours congregating outside and walked over to Sajid.
‘You go to her, Nik. I’ll stay here and then head back to the station later to see if that bastard has sobered up enough to interview.’
Nikki could have kissed him. That was the main reason she loved working with Sajid. He was intuitive. They made a good team. She nodded and got back into her car. Now she had two things to worry about. First, if Roddy McGonagall had been speaking the truth, she’d make it her business to find out if the little toad Deano was responsible in any way for what had happened to his mum. Secondly, if Franco was monitoring what happened in Listerhills so closely even after what he’d done to Haqib, and after her earlier brush with him, then he clearly had a bigger investment in the area than she’d thought.
She got into her car, turned the key in the ignition and glanced in her rear-view mirror. A car a couple of spaces behind started up too. Coincidence? Maybe. Usually, Nikki would have driven straight down the street and turned onto the main road, but something, possibly that fleeting glance of Franco and his thug, made her hesitate. Instead, she accelerated quickly, did a U-turn at a speed Lewis Hamilton would have been proud of and headed back the way she’d come. As she neared the other car, she slowed and keeping her head pointed straight ahead, strained her eyes to the side. There were two shapes in the vehicle – both in the front. By the interior light of the car, she saw the driver, head bowed as if he was fiddling with the radio. She couldn’t be sure it was Franco, however, Big Zee’s distinctive frame was instantly recognisable in the passenger seat.
Driving on, she looked in her rear-view trying to catch a glimpse of the number plate, but it was covered with muck. A trick often used to save having to steal a legitimate number plate from another car. Pissed off, she continued on her way. Her final glimpse of the car before she turned off, was it driving towards the opposite end of the street. Perhaps it was just coincidence. Possibly Franco had turned up to see Deano and decided to stay for the fireworks, watching from a safe distance to keep out of the way of the uniforms.
Chapter 48
Resigned to spending yet more time at Bradford Royal, Nikki headed down Ingleby Road, keeping an eye on her rear-view mirror. Franco sticking around after what he and his goons had done to Haqib seemed a bit reckless to her. Mind you, his attack on Haqib hadn’t made him keep his head down, had it? He’d still rolled up to terrorise Anika and then later on turned up at her watering hole. Little tosser’s arrogance knew no bounds! Unless, of course there was some other agenda going on that she knew nothing about. Her stomach rumbled – she hadn’t eaten at all today and she was starving, but she couldn’t just leave Margo with Deano. She had to at least show face, find out what had happened and, of course prod the little scrote until he told her the truth about what had gone on tonight.
She thought she saw Franco’s car behind her in the rear-view mirror. Keeping her driving steady, instead of taking the left that she would normally take to get to BRI, she drove straight at the Morrisons traffic lights. The car behind her also accelerated to follow her through the lights. Was he following her? She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t like it. Seeing Franco near her home had put her on edge. He was usually hard to find, like a nasty smell under the floorboards, difficult to find but persistent as hell. Yet, today he’d been visible not one, not two, but three times. The fact that he was there with his trolls meant that something was afoot and she’d bet money on it being something to do with Deano. She’d got the impression that they were keeping an eye on her too. What other reason could they have for turning up at the Mannville? What was it Deano had said about Franco when she’d spoken to him last time? ‘He’ll kill me. Franco will kill me.’ Maybe he hadn’t been visiting Deano. Maybe he’d been keeping an eye on the little turd. Seems I’ve something in common with Franco after all.
Keen to get to Deano to find out why Franco was in Listerhills, yet reluctant to let Franco know she had contact with the lad, she decided to enlist Ali Khan’s help. If she turned up at his taxi rank, they’d be able to work out some sort of tactic to get her to Bradford Royal Infirmary without Franco knowing she’d spoken to Deano. Better make it quick though. Margo looked bad and Nikki wanted to get there before it was too late. Margo had been a good friend to her in the past.
Tiredness weighed heavy on Nikki and she longed to get home and to bed, but she needed to be with her friend. She felt a momentary pang as she remembered Charlie. She owed Charlie some time … and Marcus. Shit, when would this all end? When would she have the chance to repair the damage with Charlie, sort out Khal’s old man and deal with her own grief? Exhaling, she straightened up in her seat, rolling her shoulders to ease the tension. She’d no time to be a wuss. Just needed to get on with it – as always.
Ali’s taxi firm was on Toller Lane, set back off the road between an Asian sweet shop and a knackered old newsagent. Ali had been in business for as long as Nikki could remember. When she and Khalid had been students it was Ali’s dad who ran the business. Now that his dad had Alzheimer’s, Ali ran it on his own. Nikki pulled into the large car park reserved for taxis and got out. Light spilled from the office window as she approached, and the constant ringing of phones told her business was good. She was pleased. He’d recently won the BRI accessibility contract from a rival and was employing more drivers than ever. If there was one thing Nikki was sure of, it was that this was one of the taxi businesses in Bradford that didn’t launder money.
