He had his own reasons for feeling loyal. He’d spent months doing evening classes here, working his way through the exams he’d never got at school. His teacher was probably in there now, bribing his students with Werther’s Originals and coaxing them through the minefield of Functional Skills English.
They planned to go straight to student services, but when the receptionist clocked Carly’s uniform, she offered them a cup of coffee and asked them to wait until the principal was available. Carly peered into the rooms along the carpeted corridor.
‘They’ve got better kit in there than we’ve got down at the station. Look at those computers!’
‘Try and look just a little bit professional, Carly.’
She walked back and slouched down on the seat next to him. He was beginning to wish he’d brought someone else. Carly was several years older than him and she’d looked out for him in the past, but they were experiencing some kind of role reversal. Maybe it was his suit.
‘What made you bring up that girl?’ Sean said.
‘In the briefing? Well she’s called the Chasebridge Killer, isn’t she?’
‘Right. I think there would have to be a bit more of a connection than that, don’t you?’
‘Maybe.’ She leant back in her seat and looked up at the glass atrium above them. ‘I feel like a naughty kid sitting here,’ she said.
‘Yeah, and you’re behaving like one. It’s all about PR, I reckon. They want to make sure nothing reflects badly on them.’
‘“College Student – Victim of Castration”. They can hardly be blamed for that.’
‘Don’t be giving the press ideas,’ Sean said.
‘Get lost. Those wankers won’t get anything out of me and you know it.’
At which point the principal, Dr Angus Balement, was standing in front of them.
‘Detective Denton?’
Dr Balement was wearing one of those collarless granddad shirts which are meant to recall a glorious working class past, but Sean could see that the fabric was well-cut, top quality linen, stretched over too many lunches. Sean was about to correct the principal’s mistake, but Balement was ushering them into his office and gesturing for Sean and Carly to sit. They remained standing, told him what they’d come for and watched him slump into a leather chair with a deep sigh. He ran his hand through his hair and turned to his computer.
‘Yes. Mohammad Asaf. Name rings a bell. He’s technically on roll here. We’ve been trying to engage with him.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning that he’s enrolled in a course of study. I don’t wish to breach any data protection issues, of course. Suffice to say that it appears from his attendance record that we haven’t seen very much of him. Here we go. He was on a second warning, so technically on his way out.’
‘I don’t suppose you could tell us who his associates were?’ Carly said, through a poor pretence at a smile. ‘I don’t mean to pressurise you, but technically, I think we’re a bit late for data protection.’
Dr Balement said nothing.
‘He must have had some friends,’ Sean said. ‘Is there anyone here who knew him, from his course?’
‘As I said, he was rarely here, so I think that’s unlikely.’
‘What did he study?’
Balement looked at the screen again and smiled. ‘Foundation Diploma in Media. Does that help?’
‘Might do,’ Sean said.
‘Hold fire on putting out a statement, if you don’t mind,’ Carly chipped in. ‘We don’t want anything in the press yet.’
‘A statement? I can’t see why we’d want to make a statement.’
‘Yes, “the college regrets” etcetera. Usual thing.’ She smiled. ‘We’ll make sure the press know he was one of yours, but not yet.’
Sean wondered if he could kick her without Balement noticing. ‘We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.’ He shook the principal’s hand and headed for the exit.
‘Is it me or is that guy a slippery freak?’ Carly said.
‘It’s not you. I wonder why Mohammad was on a second warning?’
‘Maybe this fine young gentleman can help us.’
Outside, the squad car had a visitor. Saleem Asaf was testing the doors and windows.
‘Now then,’ Sean said. He was sure they were well covered by CCTV if Saleem tried his police brutality trick.
‘I need protection,’ Saleem said.
‘I’m sorry?’
The boy’s fingers played over the wing mirrors of the car.
‘Mistaken identity, innit.’
‘You’ve lost me.’
‘They were after me and they got my cousin.’
‘If you’re worried,’ Sean said, ‘you’re welcome to a lift home. I’m sure we could fit you in.’
Saleem jumped back as if the car had stung him. ‘I’m not getting in that voluntarily.’
‘We can cuff you, if you’d prefer,’ Carly said.
For the second time, Sean fought the urge to kick Carly, but Saleem was looking at her, as if a new idea was forming in his mind.
‘Can you tell me,’ Sean said, ‘why Mohammad was on a warning from the college?’
‘They didn’t like him doing business here,’ he shrugged. ‘This is where he got nicked. And even after he came back and was more sorted, they’ve been trying to find ways of getting rid of him.’
‘What was he selling?’
‘Whatever people wanted: skunk, sweets for the gym boys, a bit of miaow. Coke and old school ganja for the teachers. But nothing lately. That’s what I’m saying. They got the wrong guy. I’m the one in danger now.’
‘I don’t know what you expect us to do,’ Sean looked at his watch. He and Carly needed to be back on the estate or the Rottweiler would be on their case. ‘Unless you’re confessing to a crime.’
‘Yeah, maybe I am. OK, you better bundle me in the car now. Knock us about a bit, in case anyone’s watching. Then drop us off at the Cash and Carry on Christ Church Road, will you? I promised Ghazala, my sister, that I’d get some stock.’
Carly shook her head. ‘Forget it.’
Sean watched the boy run his fingernail along the black rubber trim on the windows. It started to lift. ‘Leave it out, Saleem, or you’ll be nicked for damaging police property.’
The boy looked up and grinned. ‘Suits me.’
‘Go home, Saleem.’
They got in the car and left him in the car park, staring after them like a kid whose mates have taken the ball and left him with nothing and no one to play with.
‘Just a wind-up merchant,’ Carly said, as she opened the glove compartment and rooted around among the old tissues and sweet wrappers.
‘What you looking for?’
‘Dunno, peppermints. Whatever. Seeing if anyone’s left us anything nice.’
‘We should be so lucky,’ Sean said.
At which point, Carly launched into an impression of Kylie Minogue that lasted all the way to the Chasebridge estate. Sean couldn’t be bothered to tell her to shut up; he was still trying to make sense of Saleem Asaf. Carly was probably right. He was a wind-up merchant and an attention-seeker too. Sean thought back to the other night in the alleyway. He and Gav were sure they’d seen money or drugs change hands, but all the boy had on him, when he’d been searched at the station, was chewing gum and cigarettes. Saleem wasn’t as gangster as he made out. His cousin, on the other hand, had been playing with the big boys, and it had cost him his life.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Doncaster
Sean found DS Dawn Simkins sitting in an unmarked car on the access road alongside Eagle Mount One. He knocked on the window. She gestured that he should come round to the passenger side and get in.
‘God,’ she sighed. ‘This place is a right shithole.’
He said nothing. It might be a shithole, but it was his shithole.
‘I’d rather be in Sheffield,’ she said. ‘I was only put on this case so he could prove he could work with a woman.’