The phone broke into the conversation. I looked at Ray. ‘It won’t be for me,’ he insisted.
‘Hello?’
‘I want Sal Kilkenny.’
‘Speaking.’
‘That boy that was killed, Ahktar Khan, you’ve been asking questions about it.’ A woman’s voice, my age or younger.
‘That’s right.’
‘Well, that witness, Sonia Siddiq, she wasn’t there. She’s lying – she never saw anything, she can’t have done.’
Mancunian accent but with a tinge to the words that made me think she was Asian.
‘Who is this?’ I asked. No reply. ‘How do you know she wasn’t there? Do you know where Mrs Siddiq was, that night?’
‘She wasn’t at the club. She’s been told to say it – it’s not right, she’s lying.’ The phone went dead.
I sat down trying to digest what I’d just heard. It made sense. It made so much sense when I thought of Mrs Siddiq’s attitude, the questions that had troubled her, the delay in coming forward. What about him, though? The caller had only talked about Sonia. Emma had been astonished that Rashid had been at Nirvana. Had he? Had either of them?
But an anonymous phone call – untraceable, impossible to corroborate. A mixed blessing. Progress though. She’s lying.
Outside it had started to spot with rain. The picnic was over.
Chapter Eighteen
On the way to see Luke at the remand centre I played with scenarios in my head. The club, kids tripping, happy. Joey, running round with a little something for everyone, knife tucked away. Ahktar and Luke partying, Zeb irritable and pressed for cash, Emma storming off. Rashid Siddiq, on his own? Out of place, looking like some of the hired help?
Joey stabbing Ahktar, a bad trip, seeing monsters instead of his friend. Luke holding Ahktar, too drugged to cope, to stay awake. Ecstasy wires you up, lets you dance all night, but they’d taken all sorts, hadn’t they? Maybe the drugs had been bad, cut with something nasty? Or a dodgy combination powerful enough to make someone psychotic for a while?
I wiped the image clean and started again. Suppose the lads had argued, what then? Joey, eager to help, slipping Luke the knife. ‘Here Luke, you show him this, soon shut him up.’ Luke, out of it, takes the handle, stumbles. Surprise as Ahktar pitches forward, blood spilling. It wasn’t meant to be this way. Joey watching, clocking it, running. Rashid Siddiq walks on by.
With a chill in my guts I realised that there really was no guarantee that Joey’s account would exonerate Luke. Joey might not even know what had happened – only that his knife had gone and a young man lay dead. But it must be more than that, surely, to send him so far for so long?
We met in the same grim cubicle as before. Luke looked pinched and pale; he’d lost weight and the nervousness I’d noticed had given way to a dull apathy. He seemed to be half-asleep. I told him about Mrs Deason buying a new knife from Henson’s. He frowned in concentration. ‘You think Joey did it?’
‘I think his knife was used. That’s the only reason she’d go out and buy a new one, and it partly accounts for him doing a runner. Though I think there’s more to it than that.’
He blinked a couple of times and shook his head. I wondered whether he was getting some sort of sedative, he seemed so dull.
‘We don’t have to convict anyone else,’ I said. ‘We just need to make the charge against you look doubtful. I’ve seen Emma, she wanted to know how you were.’ He looked mildly surprised at that. ‘She’s convinced you’re innocent. She split up with Zeb that night, hasn’t seen anyone since, but she had some interesting things to tell me. Your dad probably mentioned it. Emma said Rashid Siddiq worked with Zeb and would have known Ahktar, by sight if nothing else. So the Siddiqs have been lying about whether they knew Ahktar, and Zeb Khan has been lying as well, claiming he didn’t know Siddiq. For some reason he wants to make a secret of it. Emma also told me that the brothers are involved in drugs, importing stuff. Zeb and Rashid Siddiq collect the stuff and distribute it. You’re not surprised?’
‘Ahktar said something once, how they were getting into deep water. He knew it was happening but he never had anything to do with it. They were family, so I suppose he heard stuff but he kept his distance. Zeb is a jerk anyway.’
‘Emma says he owed Jay money.’
‘He owed everyone money,’ Luke said, ‘but what’s all this got to do with me and what happened to Ahktar?’
If only I knew. ‘There’s something else which makes me more sure that there is a connection,’ I went on. ‘I got a phone call on Saturday, an anonymous one. The caller said that Mrs Siddiq had not been at Nirvana that night, that her statement was all lies. That someone had told her what to say.’
Luke looked at me, struggling to work out what I meant.
‘I’ve no proof,’ I said, ‘but it fits with what I’ve heard so far. When I saw her she got very defensive about the details of that evening – innocent stuff about where they’d sat and who they’d seen. If she’s perjured herself, it’s good news for you as their testimony is the biggest part of the case against you. There’s no motive, after all.’
‘What about him?’
‘If all I’ve heard is true, Rashid Siddiq is a very nasty piece of work. He’s employed as a minder, security man, whatever, by Jay and every so often he’s involved in drug smuggling. According to Emma, he drives down to Southampton or up to Hull or over to Holyhead with Zeb and they collect a little something for Jay. Now, this hard man sees a crime committed. He does nothing at the time but late the next day he’s at the police station offering himself up as a witness. To me, that’s a bit peculiar. Most people in his position wouldn’t go anywhere near the police. They don’t want to be known to the police.’
‘Maybe he’s an informer,’ he said.
‘It’s possible.’ I thought about it, ‘OK, suppose he is informing on the drug stuff. They’ll be after the big players, won’t they – the suppliers overseas as well as Jay. if they’re using Siddiq, they’re not going to want him attracting attention by getting involved as a model citizen in a murder trial. That would only make Jay suspicious, wouldn’t it? Because it comes back to it being out of character.’
Luke rubbed his hands over his head, tired of all the supposition. ‘It’s all “if this” and “maybe that” and “what if” – and yet I’m still fucking here.’ His voice rose in desperation. ‘Can’t you just get me out of here? Can’t you just…’ He covered his face with his hands.
I waited a moment. This place was crushing him: the harsh regime, the pervading culture of hard men and bad boys, the smell, the ceaseless noise, the constant bullying.
‘I’m sorry. I realise how hard this must be, being in here. We are making progress,’ I said gently. ‘I’m going to see Pitt. Think about it: so far we’ve found new evidence about the murder weapon – Joey D’s knife killed Ahktar, the witnesses are lying about knowing him, and one if not both of them is lying about the whole thing. I’m sure Pitt can use this, Luke.’
He didn’t respond.
‘I’m pushing very hard to see Joey. His grandmother is in touch with him. He knows something, that’s why he’s hiding. I’ve given them an ultimatum: me now or the police will be after him. And you’re seeing Eleanor tomorrow for the hypnosis.’
‘Yeah,’ he said gruffly. He looked up at me then, dry-eyed, vulnerable. ‘What do you think happened?’
I took a breath, sat up in my seat. It could be dangerous to speculate as he wanted me to, raise false hopes or paint an untrue version of events, but he needed something to hold onto. ‘I don’t think you killed Ahktar; I don’t believe you even argued with him. I think someone else killed him, with Joey’s knife. I don’t know why Zeb would lie about you two arguing, or why Mrs Siddiq would pretend she was there if she wasn’t, or why Rashid Siddiq wanted to stand up and be counted, but I don’t think you did it.’