Post Mortem by Gary Bell (inspirational books for students .TXT) 📗

by hand and sellotaped to the outer door frame: No Jehovah’s Witnesses.

I had to force a smile, repeating an earlier mental reminder to invest in a more stylish wardrobe. ‘I’m not here from any church, ma’am. I was actually hoping to speak to you about your next-door neighbour.’

Her eye widened, aglow with new-found excitement. ‘Are you the police?’

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. ‘I am an officer of Her Majesty’s court.’ I hoped it sounded just as good.

It must have, because the door was closed, the chain slid across, and then the door opened fully to reveal an elderly Indian lady braced on a walking stick. ‘You’ve come about the dog, have you?’

‘Yes. Though I should warn you that my visit here must be held in the strictest confidence.’

‘Confidence, yes,’ she replied, bearing a remarkable likeness to Yoda in both voice and gait. ‘Four times I ring the council. Four. Sending somebody today, they tell me, and here you are.’ She rolled her tiny eyes up and down the street, then lowered her voice as if imparting a great secret onto me. ‘No big loss, it was a horrible creature, but council property, that is. Well, half council, half charity, but belong to her? No. She says it’s all right because she puts slabs down. Number 4, David, he grows his bloody carrots over there! Sanitary? I don’t believe it. Nasty, rotting beast.’

‘I’d have to agree with you. Did you witness the burial yourself?’

‘Yes, sir, from this very window. Her, the brother and that fellow of hers. Putting flowers on it, the little ones were. More flowers than my own husband ever got!’

‘You seem to keep a sharp eye on things around here, Mrs …?’

‘Sharma.’

‘Mrs Sharma. This fellow you mentioned. What do you make of him?’

‘Make of him?’ She didn’t so much as roll her eyes; she rolled her entire skull, creaking the fibres in her neck. ‘Day and night, he’s coming and going. Music blasting. Three, four o’clock in the morning. Used to be a nice road, this did.’

‘How very inconsiderate.’

‘Not just me saying it. Everybody in the lane has had enough. Take that back to the council.’

‘How long has this been going on for?’

‘Weeks. Month, maybe.’

‘What about last year? The summertime, perhaps. Did you notice him coming round then?’

‘No. No, I would’ve noticed.’

‘Yes, I’d believe it. He has a rather recognisable vehicle, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Horrible noisy thing. German.’

I smiled. ‘Yes, I hear they’re quite good with the vehicles over there.’

‘Eh?’ She tilted her ear towards me.

‘This car,’ I said, increasing volume. ‘Have you seen it around over the last couple of days?’

She thought about it, eyes shrinking further. ‘No.’

‘Not at all?’

‘Since the weekend, no. Not since the dog. Right down there with Dave’s carrots, it is!’

‘Curious.’ Thirty minutes. I was pushing my luck.

‘Need me to point out the plot, do you?’

I looked up from my watch. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘The allotment! What are you going to do about it?’

‘I’ll be passing it along to the necessary parties, and we’ll go from there.’

‘Rotting by now. Disgusting.’

‘Yes, I suspect it will be.’

I made my excuses, thanked the lady for her time, and let her return to her living-room window.

Upon leaving the garden, I saw the paving slabs some way off behind the fence across the road. I pictured the Meadows family standing out there on a warm Saturday, burying their puppy under the earth, and it made me feel nauseated. I wanted to get out of there fast, not only because I still had to walk until I could source a cab, but also because I now felt guilty for leaving Scout alone all day.

As I turned the bend in the lane on foot, a flatbed truck from Waltham Forest Council arrived and parked up behind me.

At least Mrs Sharma would be pleased.

I was halfway back to the main road when I rang Zara.

‘Where did you run off to?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘I just went to the bloody pub expecting to find you there, and what did I find instead?’

‘The entire Meadows family.’

‘Good guess. How’d you know?’

‘Because I’m walking away from Charli’s house right now. I don’t suppose Deacon Walker happened to be there tucking into a roast as well, did he?’

‘No. I’m assuming you went over there to catch him out?’

‘I did. No luck.’

‘Even if he had been there, you really expect him to answer the door?’

‘It was worth a shot. How did your latest Section 8 application go?’

‘The judge was actually really good about it when I explained the situation. He lifted the PII and the prosecution confirmed that the raid had been as a result of information from an informant. I asked Linford about it in evidence, and he accepted that Omar Pickett was the registered informant.’

‘About time.’

‘Right. Only, when I suggested that there were supposed to be six dealers including Omar – which would mean that Andre was an extra body – he didn’t buy it. He said that Omar hadn’t given specifics on the number of dealers who would be sitting in the pub. So, as far as Andre is concerned, it was a bit of a bust.’

‘The real fun will start when both Israel and Pickett give evidence against the Cutthroats.’

‘Yeah, I’m not so sure I’d call that fun. How about your trial? How’s it going?’

‘As well as could be expected, but I think tomorrow will be better.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘Because we’re not sitting,’ I said. ‘Garrick is in the Court of Appeal.’

‘No way! That means you can come and help me out!’

‘That’s not really the day off I had in mind …’

‘Ah, come on. When was the last time you gave yourself an actual day off anyway?’

I sighed. ‘All right, I’ll see you in the morning.’

But I didn’t get the chance.

23

Thursday started off strange.

I was approaching the outer gates of the court’s grounds when my phone began vibrating against my knuckles in my coat pocket. I expected it would be Zara telling me she was running late, but it was