Deception on His Mind (Inspector Lynley, #9)(97)

“But, Em, that's no different to what Armstrong may be doing with the tossed car. A different approach, but the same intent.”

“Armstrong has an alibi.”

“What about Muhannad's? Did you find this Rakin Khan in Colchester?”

“Oh, I found him all right. He was holding court in a private room of his father's restaurant, with half a dozen others of his ilk. In a suit by Armani, slip-ons by Bally, wrist watch by Rolex, and a diamond signet ring from Burlington Arcade. He was an old friend of Malik's, he claimed, from their days at university.”

“What did he say?”

“He confirmed everything, Chapter and verse. He said the two of them had dinner that evening. They began at eight and went on till midnight.”

“A four hour dinner? Where? A restaurant? That restaurant?”

“Wouldn't that be lovely for our side? But no, this dinner took place, he said, at his own home. And he cooked the entire meal himself, which is what took so long. He likes to cook, loves to cook, cooked all the time for Muhannad at university, he said, because they neither of them have ever been able to abide English food. He even recited the menu for me.”

“Can anyone confirm the story?”

“Oh yes. Because, conveniently, they weren't alone. Another foreign bloke—and intriguing, isn't it, that everyone's foreign?—was there as well. Also a mate from their university days. Khan said it was a little reunion.”

“Well,” Barbara said, “if they both confirm …”

“Bullshit.” Emily crossed her arms. “Muhannad Malik had plenty of time before I got to Colchester to phone Rakin Khan and tell him to corroborate his story.”

“For that matter,” Barbara said, “Ian Armstrong's had plenty of time to ask his in-laws to do the same. Have you spoken to them?”

Emily made no response.

Barbara went on. “He's got a solid motive, Ian Armstrong. What's Muhannad got that's holding your interest?”

“He protests too much,” Emily said.

“P'rhaps he's got something to protest about,” Barbara pointed out. “Look, I agree he comes off like a lag in the making. And this Rakin Khan may be just as bad. But you're leaving out some details that you can't tie to Muhannad. Think of just three of them: You said Querashi's car was tossed. His body was moved. His car keys were thrown into the brush. If Muhannad killed Querashi for the honour of his family, then why toss the car and why move the body? Why put neon lights round what otherwise might have been taken for an accident?”

“Because he didn't want it to be taken for an accident,” Emily said. “Because he wanted just what he's got: an incident that he can rally his people round. He meets two ends at once this way: He evens the score with Querashi for blackening the family name and he cements his position in the Asian community.”

“Okay. Perhaps,” Barbara said. “But on the other hand, why should we believe Trevor Ruddock about this homosexuality thing in the first place? He's got a motive as well. Okay, he didn't get his job back like Armstrong did, but he didn't seem the type to say no to a decent spot of revenge if he had the chance to get it.”

“You said he has an alibi as well.”

“Bloody hell! They all have flaming alibis, Em! Someone's got to be lying somewhere.”

“Which, Sergeant Havers, is exactly my point.” Emily's voice was quite even. But there was a steely quality to it that reminded Barbara once again of two facts: that not only was Emily her superior officer by reasons of talent, intelligence, intuition, and skill, but also that she herself had been admitted to work on this case on DCI Barlow's generous sufferance.

Back off, she told herself. This is not your patch, Barb. She was suddenly aware of how bloody hot the incident room was. It was worse than an oven. The harsh light of late afternoon poured in like an armed invasion. When, she wondered, had the country ever had a summer this beastly and miserable at the seaside?

“I checked on Trevor's alibi,” she said. “I stopped by Racon Jewellery on my way back here. According to her mum, Rachel did a runner right after I left them. Her mum couldn't say where Rachel was on the murder night because she herself was dancing in some ballroom competition in Chelmsford. She did say something interesting, though.”

“What's that?” Emily asked.

“She said, ‘My Rachel only goes with white boys, and mind you, remember that, Sergeant.’ What d'you think that means?”

“That she's worried about something.”

“We know that Querashi was probably meeting someone that night. We have only Trevor Ruddock's word that Querashi was cottaging in the first place. And even if Querashi was cottaging, that doesn't mean he doesn't swing both ways.”

“You're putting Querashi with Rachel Winfield now?” Emily asked.

“She gave him that jewellery receipt, Em. She had to have a reason.” Barbara considered one other element of the puzzle that they'd not yet tried to place. “But that doesn't really take care of the question of the bracelet: what Theo Shaw's doing with it. I've assumed that Sahlah gave it to him. But he always could have taken it from Querashi's body. If he did that, though, it means that Sahlah's lie about having tossed the bracelet from the pier was prompted by the fact that she knows that whoever has the bracelet is involved in all this. Why else lie?”