IAN’S PERSONAL MOBILE WAS switched off, unsurprisingly. Neither Fran nor Libby had his dedicated police mobile number in their phone books, so Libby phoned Ben to ask if he still had Ian’s business card.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘At home. Why?’
Libby sighed and told him.
‘Wouldn’t it be quicker just to phone the station? At least they would leave a message for him. Or you could ask for the other bloke.’
‘Sergeant Maiden. The trouble is, the police switchboard is just that – it doesn’t go through to the actual station. Oh, never mind. We’ll sort it out.’ Libby switched off the phone.
Adam stood up. ‘Sophie and I will go round there. It’s only five minutes from here. And if he’s in the station he’ll see us, or we’ll leave him a note. Or speak to someone else. After all, he’s not the only person on the enquiry, is he?’
‘Don’t talk to that dreadful Big Bertha,’ said Libby.
‘She’s County,’ said Fran. ‘She’ll have gone back to Maidstone or wherever she comes from.’
‘Good idea, though, Ad. You OK with that, Sophie?’
‘Yes, fine,’ said Sophie. ‘Rachanda can stay here with you, can’t she?’
‘Of course,’ said Fran.
‘You are all very kind,’ said Rachanda when Adam and Sophie had gone. ‘I wish my parents were more – more -’
‘Liberal?’ suggested Libby.
‘Yes. I love them, but they are very strict.’
‘Do you know,’ said Libby, ‘I was reading an article the other day about integration in this country, which said that things had often changed completely in the home countries of cultures like yours, yet people in this country didn’t realise it. They were keeping to traditions that had been outdated for several generations.’
‘Libby!’ said Fran, but Rachanda shook her head.
‘No, Mrs Wolfe. Mrs Sarjeant is quite right. Many people of my generation know this, that is why people feel free to break away and go to university, or get good jobs. But my parents’ and grandparents’ generations are still living as though they were at the beginning of the last century. My grandmother still hardly speaks any English.’
‘It’s so sad, when you think of all that has been done to integrate our different communities,’ said Libby.
‘Yet there are still people here who are openly racist,’ said Rachanda.
‘There are, but not so much towards the better integrated,’ said Libby. ‘And there are examples of whole communities living side by side and respecting each other. Look at the terrific Sikh Temple in Gravesend. It’s there for the community.’
‘Yes.’ Rachanda looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps because we keep ourselves to ourselves people think we are somehow different from them.’
‘But you are different,’ said Libby, ‘but we should be celebrating that. Teaching each other.’
They were still debating the issue ten minutes later when they heard steps on the stairs. Fran went to open the door. ‘Oh,’ she said.
Ian came into the room and stopped in front of Rachanda, who stood up and bowed her head. Libby wanted to shake her.
‘Miss Sharma,’ he said. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Connell. I believe you have some information for me?’
‘We’ll go,’ said Libby, turning to shepherd Adam, Sophie and Fran from the room.
‘No, please stay,’ said Rachanda, a note of desperation in her voice. ‘They may stay, Inspector?’
‘Of course, if you want them to.’ Ian looked round at the others with a smile. ‘They already know everything anyway. Please sit down.’
And Rachanda began her story once again.
‘And your sister has no idea who they were hiding from? Or what?’ asked Ian when she’d finished.
‘She says she has not.’
‘Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to speak to her whether her – your – parents want me to or not.’ Ian frowned. ‘Has anyone tried to speak to her?’
‘My father told them on the phone it was out of the question. I don’t think they have been to the house.’
‘Do you know who they spoke to?’
‘No, but it was the local station. They were not pleased it was reported in the first place.’
‘I’m sure they weren’t,’ grunted Ian. ‘I suppose I’m going to have to bring in the big guns on this, and a Community Liaison officer.’ He sighed and stood up. ‘Would you like to be taken home, Miss Sharma?’
Rachanda looked confused, and Fran stepped forward. ‘She can stay here for the time being, Ian.’
‘Thank you,’ said Rachanda.
Ian left and Libby stood up. ‘Shall I go and get us all a take-away for lunch? I don’t suppose anyone feels like cooking.’
Everyone agreed, Rachanda admitting she had a weakness for pizza and was never allowed it at home. Adam volunteered to go with his mother.
‘Seriously, Ma, what do you think’s going on here?’ he said as they walked along Harbour Street. ‘And is it anything to do with your bodies in the barn?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Libby. ‘I can’t see the link at the moment.’
‘If Rachita had been kidnapped I would have said yes and had serious doubts about the parents. Now I don’t know. It looks as though this Kiran was on the lam, but why and who from I’ve no idea.’
‘On the lam?’ Adam frowned at his mother.
‘On the run. Running away. Anyway, someone was after him. I bet he wasn’t exactly thrilled when Rachita ran after him!’
‘But Rachanda says they were in love.’
‘From what I hear, Rachita is a headstrong young woman who, as far as she’s able, does what she wants. And what she wanted for a time was Kiran, so when he upped and offed, she went too. You notice she didn’t hang around long after he’d disappeared from the hideout.’
‘No, I noticed that,’ said Adam, looking pleased. ‘Thought it was a bit odd.’
‘And now she’ll do anything to get out from under the parental controls, you watch.’
The truth of this was proved an hour or so later when Guy appeared in the flat, a worried frown on his face.
‘Ian’s downstairs with Rachanda’s sister,’ he said. ‘May they come up?’
‘What?’ Everyone stood up and Rachanda made a rush for the stairs. Sophie gently pulled her away.
‘Yes, show them up,’ said Fran, and everyone looked at each other in silence while they waited for the unexpected guests to make an appearance.
Rachita exploded into the room in a flurry of brightly coloured sari and flew at her sister.
‘Sorry,’ said Ian, looking grey and harassed.
‘What happened?’ said Libby, while Fran once again went to put the kettle on.
‘The father wasn’t there, luckily, but the mother and grandmother were not prepared to let me or anyone else in. If it wasn’t for the young lady quietly letting herself out of the house at the back and being stopped by one of our policewomen we would have had to get a warrant, which was precisely what we didn’t want. And now she’s refusing to go back home or talk to us. All I could think of was to bring her to her sister.’
‘Very sensible,’ said Fran, putting a steaming mug into his hands. ‘But she can’t stay here, there isn’t room.’
‘I know that, and to be frank, I don’t think I’d fancy either sisters’ chances if they went back home. Can I just talk to her here, then we’ll see what can be done? PC Donnington is looking into accommodation for them both, and Maiden is fielding the family’s complaints at the station.’
Eventually Rachanda calmed her sister down, not an easy job as Rachita was quite obviously thoroughly enjoying being the centre of attention, and persuaded her that she need to talk to Ian. This however, she refused to do, looking pointedly at Adam, who, with an exasperated ‘For fuck’s sake’ stomped downstairs to the shop. Rachita smiled sweetly.
‘Miss Sharma,’ Ian began, ‘you are not under arrest, I am simply asking you a few questions about the man with whom you – er – ran away.’
‘Kiran, yes.’ Rachita nodded.
‘And you have stated that he was hiding from someone or something.’
‘Yes, but I do not know what.’
‘Or why?’
Rachita wrinkled her brow. ‘When they talked about it together and they thought I wasn’t listening – this is Kiran and his friend, you know? – they said it could be either of them.’
‘Either Kiran and his friend?’
‘No, no, either of two people who were after them. I don’t think they knew which it was.’
‘And you have no idea who either of those people were?’
‘No, I told you.’ Rachita looked annoyed. ‘One was the boss they worked for, I think.’
‘And you don’t know who the boss is?’
‘No!’ Libby got the feeling that Rachita was just stopping herself from stamping her foot.
‘Did you ever see the boss at Uncle Jaiman’s shop?’ asked Rachanda.
Rachita shrugged. ‘No. The only person I saw there was Uncle Aakarsh. He organised for Kiran and his friend to do the work.’
The silence that fell in the small room was almost tangible. Ian kept his eyes steadily on Rachita, who began to fidget.
‘Miss – Rachanda,’ he said. ‘Is your sister referring to Aakarsh Vindari?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We call him Uncle, although I think he is only a distant cousin of my father’s. He owns two restaurants.’
‘Yes, we know him,’ said Ian. ‘So do Mrs Sarjeant and Mrs Wolfe.’
‘You do?’ Rachanda looked at them in surprise. ‘How do you know him?’
‘We met him in the village where he lives,’ said Fran.
‘So, Rachita – Miss Sharma – do you think it was Mr Vindari who they were afraid of?’ Ian leant forward, elbows on knees.
‘Uncle Aakarsh?’ She stared back, wide-eyed. ‘Of course not.’
‘Do you know if he organised any other work for them?’
‘I think he had recommended them in the past, but I don’t know who to.’ She looked round at the four other women. ‘What is this all about? I am over sixteen. My parents have no legal control over me in this country. I can’t be prosecuted for running away. And now,’ she let her voice wobble tragically, ‘my Kiran is dead and I am being persecuted.’
Ian sighed deeply. ‘Miss Sharma, you are not being persecuted, but someone murdered your Kiran and we have to find out who. You are the best chance we have of finding his murderer, who is still at large, and -’ Ian paused dramatically ‘- knows that you are still alive.’
Rachita’s expression changed from tragic heroine to frightened child in an instant.
‘You think she’s in danger?’ asked Rachanda, putting her arm round her sister’s shoulders.
‘I think she could be, yes,’ said Ian. ‘So, for the time being, I want you both to stay in accommodation that we will find for you. The first place whoever it is will look for you is at your parents’ home.’
There was a knock on the outer door of the flat and a young woman police officer put her head round the door.
‘Sorry to interrupt, sir, but we’ve found a small hotel with a nice en-suite double for the young ladies, and Sergeant Maiden says Mr Sharma and a friend of his are playing merry hell at the station.’
‘Thank you, Donnington,’ said Ian with a grin. ‘Perhaps you can organise an unmarked to take the ladies to their hotel?’ He turned to Libby, Fran and Sophie. ‘I don’t want to send any of you with them, or you could well start getting unwanted attention, but you could perhaps buy them any essentials they need and we’ll see they get them.’ He turned back to Rachanda and Rachita. ‘Will you give your friends a list of things you might need?’
In under ten minutes the sisters had gone.
‘I don’t think we’ve got time to visit the cellar today,’ said Ian, ‘but I’ll give you a ring tomorrow. I’m going to tackle Mr Sharma and his friend, now. Thanks for all your help.’
‘What about Rosie?’ said Libby. ‘She’s still missing.’
‘I know.’ Ian’s face held a strange expression. ‘I don’t think you need worry, though.’
Fran and Libby exchanged puzzled frowns as he left the flat. Sophie sighed and stretched.
‘Well, if this is the way things go when you’re on one of your cases I wonder why you carry on with them,’ she said. ‘What a performance.’