Deception on His Mind (Inspector Lynley, #9)(69)

“Your son told you that we've determined Mr. Querashi was murdered?” Emily said. When Akram nodded gravely, she went on. “Then anything you can tell me about him will be of help.”

“There are those who believe this an arbitrary racist crime,” Malik said. It was a clever way of addressing the issue, not accusing so much as contemplating.

“Your son among them,” Emily said. “But we've evidence that shows the crime was premeditated, Mr. Malik. And premeditated in such a way to suggest that Mr. Querashi—and not just any Asian—was the target. This doesn't mean that an English killer isn't involved. And it doesn't mean that race isn't an issue at some level either. But it does mean that it's a personal crime.”

“That doesn't seem possible.” Malik made another careful fold in his paper cap and smoothed his dark fingers along the crease he'd created. “Haytham had been here so brief a time. He knew so few people. How can you be certain that he knew his killer?”

Emily explained to him that there were some details of the investigation that procedure required she keep to herself, things that only the killer and the police knew, and thus things that ultimately could be used to construct a trap if a trap became necessary. “But we do know that someone studied his movements to be assured that he'd be on the Nez that night, and if we learn what his regular movements were, we may be able to trace them to that person.”

“I hardly know where to begin,” Malik said.

“Perhaps with his engagement to your daughter,” she suggested.

Malik's jaw tightened slightly. “Surely, you don't mean to suggest that Sahlah is involved in Haytham's death?”

“I understand that this was an arranged marriage. Was she agreeable to it?”

“More than agreeable. And she knew that neither her mother nor I would force her to marry against her will. She met Haytham, she was allowed to spend some time with him alone, and she decided favourably. Quite favourably, in fact. She was eager to marry. Had she felt otherwise, Haytham would have returned to his family in Karachi. That was the arrangement we made with his parents, and both sides agreed to it before he came to England.”

“You didn't think a Pakistani boy born in England would be more suitable for your daughter? Sahlah was born here, wasn't she? She'd be more used to others born here as well.”

“Asian boys born in England are sometimes at odds with their origins, Inspector Barlow. They're often at odds with Islam, with the importance of family, with our culture, with our beliefs.”

“Like your son, perhaps?”

Malik sidestepped. “Haytham lived by the tenets of Islam. He was a fine man. He wished to be a haji. This was an attribute I valued highly in a husband for my daughter. Sahlah felt likewise.”

“And how did your son feel about Mr. Querashi's becoming part of your family? He holds a position here at the factory, doesn't he?”

“Muhannad is our director of sales. Haytham was our director of production.”

“Positions of equality?”

“Essentially. And, as I know you will next ask: there was no conflict of position between them. Their jobs were unrelated to each other.”

“Both of them would want to perform well, I expect,” Emily noted.

“I should hope so. But their individual performances would not change the future. Upon my death, my son will rise to become managing director of the company. Haytham knew this. Indeed, he would have fully expected that to be the case. Thus, Muhannad had no need to fear Haytham's advent among us, if that's what you're suggesting. In fact, the situation was very much the contrary. Haytham took a burden off Muhannad's shoulders.”

“What sort of burden?”

Malik unfastened the top button of his shirt and once again pressed his wrist against his face to dab off the perspiration. The room was airless, and Emily wondered why he didn't open one of the two windows. “Before Haytham's arrival, Muhannad had the extra job of overseeing Mr. Armstrong's work. Mr. Armstrong was only a temporary employee and as he isn't a member of the family, he required more supervision. As director of production, he was responsible for the workings of the entire factory, and while he did a fine job, he knew his employment was temporary and thus did not have reason to be as meticulous as someone with a permanent interest here.” He raised a finger to stop Emily from speaking when she would have asked another question. “I do not mean to imply that Mr. Armstrong's work was unacceptable to us. I wouldn't have asked him back upon Haytham's death had it been so.”

This, of course, was very much the point as well as the detail that which Barbara Havers had stressed. Armstrong had been asked back to Malik's Mustards. “How long do you expect to have Mr. Armstrong working here this time round?”

“As long as it takes to find my daughter another suitable husband who can also work in the factory.”

Which, Emily thought, could take quite some time, cementing Ian Armstrong's position in the business. “And did Mr. Armstrong know Mr. Querashi? Had they ever met?”

“Oh yes, indeed. Ian trained Haytham for five days prior to leaving us.”

“And their relationship?”

“It appeared quite cordial. But then, Haytham was an easy man to like. And he had no enemies here at Malik's Mustards.”