No Way Home Read online

  An image of the man she’d been attacked by popped unbidden into Emma’s mind. She shook her head. ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘You’re asking me? How would I know what goes on in a head like that? He told me I looked lovely or something, I thanked him – as you do – and suddenly, he was talking about his wife – his wife, mind you – who’s gone to India for two months. Some family thing. And how they’re not really compatible. Arranged marriage and all that. And he prefers English girls because that’s what he was brought up with. What, mind you, not who. And how I reminded him so much of a girl he’d known when he was my age. And then…’ She shook her head and fixed Emma with a wide-eyed gaze. ‘Then he said, “I wanted her so much, but my parents wouldn’t allow it,” and…’ She shuddered. ‘Ugh!’

  Jesus! Was the world full of rapists, perverts and chauvinists? ‘So, have you reported it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why the hell not?’ Emma burst out before she could continue. ‘He’s assaulted you, for God’s sake! You can’t let him get away with it. What if he does it to someone else? He could go further next time. He might rape someone!’

  Tanya sat back in her chair, her dark eyes narrowing. ‘Oh, come on, Em! It’s a bit of a leap from groping my leg to rape.’

  ‘Maybe, but it’s a slippery slope. And if he gets away with the first step, who’s to say he won’t take the second? And the third?’

  ‘Yes, but… we don’t know he would, do we? I mean, he’s missing his wife at the moment. Once she comes home, he’ll probably be as faithful as a puppy and there won’t be any more problems.’

  Emma stared at her. ‘I can’t believe you’re defending the man.’

  ‘I’m not defending him. I’m just not prepared to make an issue of it, that’s all. Nothing happened.’ She flicked her hair back again.

  ‘Then why were you making so much of it a couple of minutes ago?’

  ‘God! I wish I hadn’t said anything now. I was just venting, that’s all. Drop it, will you?’ She pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘I’m going to get a coffee.’

  *

  ‘OK, what progress have you guys made this morning?’

  Pete dropped his briefcase by his chair and shrugged out of his jacket.

  ‘I’ve managed to get one step closer,’ Ben said, leaning back in his chair to look across behind Dick Feeney. ‘Got a response from his mobile provider with the tracking data. Looks like we were right at the start, boss. He was out on Bonhay Road rather than round by the clock tower or the university.’

  Pete gave him a nod. ‘Nice one, Ben. Anyone else?’

  ‘Found that for you, boss.’ Jill tossed a catalogue towards him and Pete grabbed it out of the air, looked down at it, then back at Jill with a raised eyebrow.

  She shrugged. ‘Well, what you said earlier on the phone – I thought it might come in handy.’

  ‘OK. Thank you. But what about the case?’

  ‘We’ve also got the victim’s call log,’ Dave said. ‘The last one he picked up was from the fare he took to the station. Nothing after that, apart from missed calls coming in. Nothing at all going out.’

  ‘So, whoever he picked up wasn’t a pre-booked fare,’ Pete said. ‘They must have flagged him down.’

  ‘Somebody from the carvery then,’ said Dick. ‘They’ve got CCTV, haven’t they?’

  ‘Yes,’ Pete confirmed. ‘But not out the front. Only in the back corridor inside and the car park behind the place.’

  ‘Still, it’s a starting point.’

  ‘Anybody needing a taxi won’t have gone out the back, though, will they?’ Jane argued. ‘You’ve got a car, you don’t need a taxi. You haven’t, you go in and out the front.’

  ‘Unless you drove there, then had one too many,’ Pete said. ‘It’s a fallback option. And it gives us another place to canvas for witnesses. Anybody who saw anything on Bonhay Road, in the area of the carvery, around the time he passed there. Customers, staff and passing motorists.’

  ‘That would be best handled through the press, wouldn’t it?’ Dave asked.

  Pete nodded. ‘I’ll have a word with his lordship. But we also need to go out there and talk to people. And we can check for other properties and businesses down there that have CCTV. See if they picked up anything useful.’

  ‘So, what’s the Ann Summers all about?’ Dave asked, and got an elbow in the ribs from Jane that, for once, he didn’t respond to.

  ‘Eh?’ Pete frowned.

  ‘The catalogue,’ Jane explained. ‘It’s the only type he knows, poor lamb.’

  ‘What we’ve just been talking about. CCTV. There’ve been two attacks on my house this week. A spray-paint job and then my tyres slashed. It’s why I was late in this morning. Jill’s suggesting I put a camera up out there and catch the perpetrator on it. But, who’s to know they wouldn’t be watching me put it up?’ He looked at Jill.

  ‘So, use two,’ she said. ‘Overlap them so there aren’t any blind spots.’

  ‘Or just figure out who it is and arrest them,’ Dick put in.

  ‘Yeah, that’s easier said than done lately,’ Pete admitted. ‘We haven’t exactly been idle since I came back, have we? Plus, there’s all those we put away before, some of whom might be out by now.’

  Dick nodded slowly. ‘Good point, well made.’

  ‘Well, on the bright side, we know a few it isn’t,’ said Dave. ‘Malcolm Burton. Neil Sanderson. Gagik Petrosyan. Frank Benton.’

  ‘Tommy,’ Pete added and got a nod in response.

  ‘Yeah, but knowing Petrosyan’s reputation, it might well be connected to him,’ Ben said. ‘I mean, the fact that we’ve got him inside doesn’t mean we’ve got his whole gang – clan – whatever they are. He must have visitors now and then. It wouldn’t be that hard for him to still be calling the shots from inside.’

  ‘Ain’t you the cheerful little sod this morning,’ Jane said dryly.

  ‘He’s got a point, though,’ Pete said. ‘It would bear looking into. He’s up for trial soon, same as Burton and Sanderson. He could well be trying the same tactics that built him his reputation and his business.’

  ‘I’ll get onto the prison, see what I can dig up,’ Dave suggested.

  Pete looked at him.

  ‘Well, you can’t, can you? It’s your house being targeted.’

  ‘OK. Jane, you can come with me out to Bonhay Road then. Jill, get onto the council, see if they’ve got any CCTV over that way. If they have, give me a ring and tell me where exactly. Ben, check with Graham downstairs to make sure we haven’t, then let me know and carry on with what you were doing. Dick, you could go back through our arrest records, see what possibilities you can dig up. Let’s get somewhere today, shall we?’

  CHAPTER NINE

  Emma’s mind festered all morning. She could barely focus on what she was doing. How did this bloody man think he was going to get away with being such a perv? Did he think that, just because he was an Indian or Pakistani or whatever, political correctness would prevent any comeback?

  Because, if so, he was going to learn a powerful lesson, that was for sure. Whether Tanya wanted to pursue the matter or not.

  And Emma couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t. After all, he hadn’t actually assaulted her, so it wasn’t as if she’d have to submit to a rape examination or to reliving a major trauma under cross-examination. So, if it was going to potentially prevent further, worse attacks, then surely it was a moral obligation.

  She gave up trying at 12.30, closed down her screen and announced, ‘I’m off to lunch. I’ve got to go into town, briefly. So, what was this groper driving, specifically, so that I can avoid him?’

  Tanya gave her a sour look. ‘You’re not going to go and report him, are you?’

  ‘No. I couldn’t if I wanted to, could I? I didn’t witness anything. I just don’t want the same experience, that’s all.’

  Tanya sighed. ‘All right. It was a black Prius with yellow signage on the doors.’
>
  ‘Thank you. Do you want anything, while I’m out?’

  Tanya shook her head. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’

  ‘See you in a bit, then.’

  Emma knew perfectly well which cab company in the city that signage belonged to. And, although she couldn’t go to the police about the matter, she could certainly go to the company.

  She picked up her handbag and walked out of the office, across the road and through into Cathedral Square, heading for Fore Street and beyond it to Bartholomew, where she knew the taxi company had its offices, two doors down from the cinema.

  *

  Pete had just turned left off Pennsylvania Road, only a few yards short of the queue to the traffic lights, when his phone rang. He hit the button on the car’s hands-free system to accept the call.

  ‘Boss?’

  ‘Dave.’

  ‘We’ve got something on Ranjeet Singh. Could be something big.’

  He glanced at Jane, in the passenger seat beside him. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing. ‘What sort of big?’ he asked.

  ‘Friend of a friend. Singh’s Hindu, but he associates with a lot of Muslims. Goes with the job, I suppose. But one of those associates turns out to be a cousin of Mohammed Iqbal.’

  Mohammed Iqbal, Pete knew, had been arrested in Plymouth the previous November. He had been one of the main players in the city’s drug trade. The city’s police had been after him for a couple of years before that, but he had been too slippery – always a couple of steps away from the actual product. But, that morning – the morning Pete had returned to the job after his leave of absence – he had been caught with his pants down. Literally. In bed with a known drug runner: a fourteen-year-old boy with three outstanding warrants against him.

  And he had a cousin driving around Exeter.

  ‘Why didn’t we know about this bloke?’

  ‘Don’t know, boss. But we do now. Should Dick and I go and see what we can find out about him on the streets? Ben can dig up what there is online and in the database.’

  ‘Yes, do that, Dave. We’ve got a quick interview to do, then we’ll be back.’

  Reaching the address they were looking for among a row of small, modern houses, Pete pulled over and stopped the car.

  The manager of the Old Mill pub and carvery had only been able to give them one thing of possible use: the name of a barmaid who had spoken to a taxi driver on Tuesday evening, the man having come in to ask after a fare to Pennsylvania Road.

  ‘Here we are. Let’s see what Mandy Appleton can tell us.’ He stepped out of the car and headed briskly up to the front door of the little redbrick house, Jane hurrying to keep up. He pressed the bell-push and a pretty chime echoed from within.

  Mandy opened the door in pyjamas and dressing gown despite the hour. Her dark-blonde hair was up in a scruffy bun, and she had no make-up on her girlish face and pink fluffy slippers on her feet.

  ‘Oh.’ Her brown eyes narrowed when she saw Pete. ‘Sorry. I was…’

  Pete held up his warrant card. ‘Sorry to disturb you. I’m DS Gayle. This is my colleague, DC Bennett. Could we have a brief word? We’ve got a couple of questions that you might be able to answer for us.’

  ‘Uh… yes. Come in.’ She stood back, still not entirely recovered from her confusion. ‘I was expecting a friend.’

  ‘We won’t take long,’ Pete assured her.

  ‘Go on through.’

  A short, narrow hallway led into an open-plan kitchenette that gave onto a living/dining area with French doors at the back, leading out into a small, plain garden. Pete headed through, followed by Jane.

  ‘Have a seat,’ Mandy offered.

  Pete waited for her to settle herself in the single armchair, then took the sofa, leaving room for Jane beside him.

  ‘So, what’s this about, officer?’

  ‘Tuesday night,’ Pete said, taking his notebook and pen from his pocket. ‘You were working at the Old Mill.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘A taxi driver came in, looking for a fare to Pennsylvania Road.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What can you tell us about him?’

  She settled back in her chair. ‘Not much, really. He was forty-ish, I suppose. Local, from his accent. Short, thick-set with wavy, sandy-coloured hair. I didn’t get his name and I didn’t see what car he was driving.’ She frowned. ‘Cassie asked me about this a little while ago on the phone. Is there some sort of problem?’

  Pete pursed his lips. ‘A taxi driver was killed that night, up at the end of Argyll Road. We thought there might be a connection, but it was obviously someone else.’

  ‘I saw something was going on up there yesterday. I normally cut through that way to work and back. Saves going into the city centre, especially with the roadworks down here.’

  ‘Well, thanks for your help. We’ll get out of your way before your friend comes.’ He stood up and had taken just one step towards the entrance when the doorbell rang again.

  ‘Oh,’ said Mandy with a shrug. ‘Too late.’ She hurried past them to the door.

  When she opened it, Pete tilted his head, smiling in recognition. ‘Hello, Darren. Fancy meeting you here.’

  Confusion was followed by fear, then defiance, on the face of the young redhead at the door. ‘DS Gayle. What are you doing here?’

  Darren was an occasional and reluctant informant of Pete, who he hadn’t seen for a few months now, since Darren had put him onto a drug dealer who’d been killed in a car crash before Pete got the opportunity to question him. Pete had wondered at the time if Darren had told anyone else of his interest in the dealer, but in the end had put it down to a strange coincidence.

  And here was another one.

  ‘Just leaving, as it happens. But, seeing that you’re here, you don’t happen to know anything about a taxi driver who got killed up the road from here a couple of nights ago, do you?’

  ‘What? Why would I…?’ He stopped, shaking his head. ‘Don’t wind me up.’

  Pete pressed his lips together. ‘It was a serious question, Darren. Bloke called Ranjeet Singh. Had his… well, I won’t go into details with ladies present. Suffice to say it was particularly messy.’

  Darren looked from Pete to Mandy to Jane and back to Pete. ‘I heard someone had died, but I don’t know any details,’ he said. ‘Why would I?’

  Pete shrugged. ‘No reason at all. Just thought I’d ask while the opportunity was there. Anyway, we’ll be on our way. Thanks again for your help, Mandy.’

  He stepped forward, passing between them, followed by Jane. Behind them, they heard the door close, but Pete didn’t look back until he got to the car. Darren had gone inside with Mandy.

  ‘Darren Westley?’ Jane stared at him across the roof of the car. ‘She isn’t…?’

  Pete shrugged. ‘Opposites attract. Or maybe she’s not as squeaky-clean as she ought to be.’

  ‘I can’t see it,’ Jane said as they climbed in. ‘Nice little house. Well kept. And she’s only a barmaid. She’s not going to be overly flush, is she? Won’t have the spare cash to waste on a habit.’

  ‘True. And much as I know you’d like to, I can’t see any cause to go back there and search him.’

  She grimaced. ‘I don’t know that I’d like to. I might be inclined to…’

  *

  ‘Shafiq Ahmed, boss.’ Dave pointed to a photo he’d put up on the whiteboard. ‘Mohammed Iqbal’s cousin. A taxi driver here in the city. Brought up here from the age of three, when his parents came here from Saudi, along with Iqbal’s. They stayed in regular touch until the Iqbals were killed in a house fire seven years ago. Gas leak, apparently. More of an explosion than a fire, but it was proved to be an accident.’

  ‘I’ve just got into Ahmed’s Facebook account, boss,’ Ben announced.

  Pete turned to look at him. ‘Right. Check him out thoroughly, then move on to Singh’s account.’

  ‘I already covered Singh’s. That’s how I got into Ahmed’s. There was
nothing out of the ordinary there.’

  ‘OK. See what their friends throw up.’

  Ben nodded and Pete turned back to Dave.

  ‘We spoke to the people at Ahmed’s firm and some of the other drivers on the ranks he uses. No signs of anything untoward there. Haven’t spoken to his family yet, though.’

  ‘There’s nothing official on him,’ Ben said. ‘And, so far, his Facebook page looks perfectly normal. Family stuff and general stuff that you get on there. And his interests don’t show anything out of the ordinary.’

  ‘OK. Keep looking.’

  Dave shrugged. ‘That’s about it, so far.’

  ‘We’re going to see Ahmed’s wife in an hour,’ Dick said.

  ‘We?’ Dave asked.

  ‘With your delicate disposition, I’d probably best take Jill.’

  ‘What’s the matter with my disposition?’ Dave demanded.

  Jane laughed. ‘Subtle you ain’t, matey. And subtle is exactly what it’ll need to coax anything useful out of the bloke’s wife. She’ll be on her guard from the first question.’

  ‘I can do subtle.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ben put in. ‘As a brick. There’s nothing indicative on Ahmed’s Facebook, boss. I’ll check out his friends’ pages.’

  ‘Right, Ben. While you were finding all that out, Jane and I have been making a few discoveries of our own.’ He brought the rest of the team up-to-date on what they had discovered. The taxi driver looking for a fare at the Old Mill. The fact that he was white rather than Indian. And the fact that there would be no useful CCTV footage from the area.

  ‘So, are we saying Ranjeet Singh nicked a fair?’ asked Jill.

  Pete tilted his head. ‘Looks possible. Unfortunately, our witness didn’t get any details, so it’ll be a case of trawling the various cab companies. Jane, maybe you can do that.’

  ‘Sure.’

  There were only a handful of major companies in the city, but an unknown number of one- and two-driver family firms. The council could provide licensing records that would help track them down.

  ‘Meantime, I’ve got something else to follow up on.’

  ‘What’s that then, boss?’ Dave asked.