Poisoned Ground: A Hakim and Arnold Mystery (Hakim & Arnold Mystery 3) (34 page)

Three Weeks Later

Shirley decided she did want to take the plastic dinosaur pen-holder that had been given to her by a woman on the chronic ward. Not all her experiences at Ilford had been bad. In fact, apart from her own rapid exit from the Advocacy, it had all worked out for the best.

When he’d become chief consultant, Dr D’Lima had wielded a ruthless new broom. Timothy Pool was on ‘gardening leave’, which meant that all of the complaints against him were being investigated by the Trust. Several of his acolytes had chosen to give notice. Shirley had too.

She felt a failure. Mumtaz Huq – or Hakim, as she now knew her – had noticed that the chronics were under-medicated when she’d only been in the hospital for five minutes. She was a private detective but still Shirley felt she’d failed. After the police arrived, Mandy and Roy, traumatized by the whole experience and furious with Mumtaz for deceiving them, gave up the Advocacy. It was a shame, but Shirley didn’t blame them, or Mumtaz. She’d come to Ilford to do a job and she’d done it and more. The price had been high to the reputation of the hospital but there’d been no choice. Mr Cotton, Dr el Masri and Dr Golding
had been selling psychiatric drugs to gangs out in Essex and Hatem el Shamy had abused Sara Ibrahim and other women too. Poor Sara. She’d wanted to tell Shirley who had raped her that day but she couldn’t quite believe it herself. Hatem el Shamy’s extravagant piousness had fooled everyone. He was guilty of many crimes. Ironically, the only thing he hadn’t been was a bomber.

Shirley threw the last handful of pens on the desk into her handbag. God alone knew how she’d pay the mortgage but at least she’d be free of Ilford. Dr D’Lima was going to give her a reference and she genuinely wished good luck to whoever was recruited to take her place. All the old bins were supposed to have closed years ago, but everyone knew they still had their place. People got sick and they needed somewhere to go to get better. Some needed somewhere to live. Shirley thought about the chronics. They were quiet now they were medicated. Terry no longer saw planes flying over the hospital, dropping his father’s ashes at the end of his bed. The price for that was that he, and all the others on the ward, were zombies. They didn’t know what time it was, what day, what year. And that wasn’t right. But then, what was? Only what was wrong was entirely clear. Unfortunately it hadn’t been quite crystal enough for Shirley.

As she left, Shirley saw Dylan Smith on Forensic looking out of a window. She waved to him and smiled but he just looked at her as if he’d never seen her before in his life.

*

It was Lee’s first day back at work and Mumtaz wanted it to be easy for him. They only had one appointment in the office, which she knew he’d find fascinating; the rest of the day would be devoted to tea and catching up. On the inside she was quite
another person, one crucified by nervousness, but that couldn’t be allowed to matter for the moment.

‘So how was your move?’ Lee asked. His eyes were a little glassy still, which was disconcerting.

But she smiled and put his mug of tea on his desk with a KitKat.

‘Thanks.’

‘Oh, my father ran true to form, did too much and had to have a lay down and a chocolate bar,’ Mumtaz said. ‘Cousin Aftab managed to back his van into some woman’s sports car and Shazia had a hissy fit over her One Direction posters. But we survived.’

What she didn’t tell him was that Naz Sheikh had watched the whole procedure. She’d had to say yes to his request about becoming his spy and so, she imagined, he was in some way protecting his investment. What he didn’t know was that she wasn’t going to be his eyes and ears anywhere. How she wasn’t going to do it she didn’t know. But she wasn’t.

The office buzzer went off. Lee hadn’t even had a chance to see if they had any appointments in the diary, which was just the way that Mumtaz had planned it. When she opened the door, there was Sandra Rivers dressed in red.

‘Sandra?’

Lee stood up.

‘Cor blimey, it really has changed round here, hasn’t it?’ Sandra Rivers said. ‘Parking’s a nightmare!’

‘Sandra, this is a surprise! Mumtaz told me something about Phil and Del Salmon …’

‘Sit down, love,’ Sandra said. She smiled at Mumtaz. ‘You’ve not told him all of it, have you?’

‘Not everything, Mrs Rivers.’

Sandra sat down and then so did Lee.

‘About my Phil,’ Sandra began. ‘I found him. Or Mumtaz did.’

Lee looked over at her. ‘Yeah, at Gallions.’

‘When we were taken out of Gallions Hotel that terrible night there were some local people standing around. They’d come out to see what was up and I thought I recognized one man. I didn’t know it was Mr Rivers until I got back to the office next day and I found that photograph you’d shown me.’

‘So did you tell Derek Salmon?’

‘He was on holiday,’ she said.

‘So she called me,’ Sandra said.

‘I couldn’t call the police, that would have been against your client’s wishes,’ Mumtaz said to Lee.

‘Mumtaz told me where she thought he might be living, Gallions Reach, and so I just went over there and waited until I saw Phil or I didn’t. But I did.’

‘So did you speak to him?’ Lee said.

‘Him and A. N. Other man were on their way out to go on their holidays to Sardinia,’ Sandra said.

‘I thought that Phil was afraid of …’

‘Flying? Only with me, apparently. With his bloke he was fine! And do you know who that bloke was, Mr Arnold? Oh, I s’pose you have to know that.’

‘Derek Salmon,’ Lee said. ‘Just before all the Gallions business I’d worked out there had to be a connection between him and Phil’s bogus lawyers because their letterheads had the same fault. I didn’t have him down as a …’

‘Poofta,’ Sandra said. ‘Apparently they fell in love when I was ill and Del had come over to the house to get me to sign things.
Derek was in debt up to his chinstrap. Then Phil had this great idea to leave me and sell the house I’d let him stay in from under me. Del set up the fake solicitors, arranged for Phil to get a new identity – called George O’Dowd. Boy George.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘He’s so bloody out the closet he’s in the fucking bathroom.’

‘So Derek could shield Phil.’

‘Exactly. Until I said I wanted to know where he was but I didn’t want to prosecute. Phil was no fool, he’d guessed correctly that I wouldn’t come after him for money. Not then. But neither of them had thought about my just wanting him found. Put Del as the family solicitor in a bit of a spot. So he hired you, because he knew you and could pull an old pals act if he needed to. Well, that was what he thought. But when you got close, like to Barry Barber, he got some moody blokes to give you a little tap.’

‘I gave him all the information he needed to track me along the way.’ Lee shook his head. ‘So what about the flat at Gallions?’

‘Paid for, like Del Salmon’s debts, with my money,’ Sandra said. ‘Mind you, they won’t have the flat for very much longer even if I’ve had to kiss the rest of it goodbye.’

‘You’ve reported them?’

‘You bet I have,’ she said. ‘Bastards. How could they do that to me? And what about Del’s wife? She’ll want her cut and bloody right too.’

Lee said. ‘Obviously if you need evidence from us you only have to ask.’

Then her face clouded. ‘You think I’m doing the right thing, don’t you, Mr Arnold?’

Mumtaz felt for her. Women, even women with money, were
always at such a disadvantage when it came to the men in their lives. Phil still had a hold over her.

‘Of course you are,’ Lee said.

Sandra Rivers’ smiled and for a moment Mumtaz felt content. Only when Sandra had gone did she think about Shazia and her threat to tell Lee about Naz Sheikh. She’d have to stall her somehow. If she could just get her to university the kid would be safe. But that was still a long way off. Negotiating the Sheikhs and Shazia without help was daunting. But what choice did she have? She could blow a corrupt hospital apart almost singlehanded. Why couldn’t she take control of her own life? Then she looked up and saw that Lee was smiling at her.

He said, ‘You know, I’d invite you over for dinner if I wasn’t still living with Tony Bracci. To celebrate all this.’

Mumtaz’s face reddened. She looked down and said nothing for a long while, then looked up at him again.

This time he was not smiling. ‘Ah, sorry. Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve embarrassed you. Stupid.’

And although she wanted to say that what he’d said wasn’t stupid she mumbled, ‘That’s OK.’

She went to make more tea.

*

The massive man with loads of keys and fists like hammers closed the cell door behind him and locked it. He looked through the hatch at him once and David made himself assume an appropriately sad expression.

When he’d gone, although he was bursting, he made himself look for a camera but he didn’t find one. He looked again, just in case. Then, when he was sure he wasn’t being watched, filmed
or monitored, David Golding allowed himself, finally, to laugh. Good old Cotton, what a sport he’d been. How did the police think that a stick like the chief consultant had cut a large man like el Masri’s throat with no assistance? David remembered it with some relish. Maybe when he did finally get out he could kill someone else.

Acknowledging everyone and and every event that lies behind this story isn’t possible for all sorts of reasons. Suffice to say, I owe the creation of this book to a lot of wonderful people who work in mental health as well as to those who suffer from mental health problems. My own many years ‘in the business’ have also been instructive.