Askari

ASKARI By Bhavin Patel

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Wordage 4943 Approx.

Askari There it was again, another strange door for him to walk through and figure out the nightmare that awaited him. It was a dirty white door, in a filthy corridor in a brown block of flats. The protective whites will keep him clean, the thought crosses Paresh’s mind. He walked through confidently into the living room, trying to look like it was just another day at the office for him. The other officers would be looking at him to see if anything could be used against him. Finding the weakness in people was a social sport for the Police. They knew it can be used as a weapon, especially for someone who had cocked up so dramatically the last time. The paranoia started to creep in. The attending officer at the scene looked worried. Paresh was trying not to think the officer looked like a schoolboy in uniform. Hopefully the attending didn’t cock up this time. The probationers don’t even get a second chance these days. “Have SOCO finished preliminary yet?” Paresh asks the attending officer.

“I think so” the officer stutters. “That’s good enough for me” Paresh barges over to the victim in the bedroom. “The baby is with Social Services Sir” the officer calls after Paresh. Instinct and training took over when surveying the scene. This was no domestic - the thought passed through him immediately. No major struggle, a quick, premeditated kill. Her throat was slit from someone standing behind here. Someone she had let into the flat. “The victim is Nadifa Cabdille Xasan, a Somalian on indefinite leave to remain Sir” the probationer bravely speaks up. “Did the neighbours have anything to say” Paresh asks. “Nobody heard or saw anything,” the officer said looking at his notes for no reason. “The last person to see her alive was a friend babysitting for her, three stories up,” the officer points upwards with his thumb, “says she saw her leave about midnight out the front” “Nobody saw her come back” “Not anyone we can find sir” “Who found her?” “Her flatmate, she’s been taken to the station for questioning” “Do we know how long she’s been in the game? “ “Sir” the officer is looking at him bewildered. “How long has she been in the country? They traffic these girls in!” snarls Paresh.

“I don’t know sir; I’ll ring the Home Office as soon as I can leave” Paresh bends down to inspect the body more closely. She was wearing a dress which seemed unusual to him. When was the last time a prostitute wore a nice dress around here. Maybe the punter liked them to dress up. She wasn’t wearing any shoes. It looked like a toe had been hacked off. “Is that what I think it looks like” Paresh asks. “We haven’t found the toe yet” replies one of the SOCO boys hovering over a blood spat with a camera. The SOCO team begin to cover her head, hands and feet with white plastic bags to stop any trace from falling off the body. She had no dignity left even after she had been murdered Paresh thought. The hatred started to build up inside him. “I don’t think the boys back at the station realised this wasn’t a domestic, otherwise they would have been all over it, Trainee DC Shana Mistry” she offers her hand. “I was wondering if you had gotten lost” remarks Paresh. “And how do you know it’s not a domestic?” “You can tell there was no struggle, she was taken by surprise, no murder weapon and someone’s buggered off with the toe….Sir.” Shana had been assigned to Paresh for Detective Constable training. He would like to think that they assigned this dusky woman to cheer up a middle aged, beer belly like him. But he knew it wasn’t the case. Nobody wanted to train her on their watch, she was a so called ‘known trouble maker’. Shana

had already filed an internal complaint for racism against her superior officer, and won. Paresh had given up fighting for his rights many years ago. “Let’s go back to the station and set up the murder room” Paresh tells Shana. “I’ve already borrowed a room and moved some stuff in, that’s why I was late Sir” “Well, don’t get too cocky, you’ve got to manage all the boys in blue now, they won’t be too happy to take any crap from you,” Paresh tells her. “Lets get out of here; we can’t do much until forensics gets back to us anyway”. *** It took them until the afternoon to organise the murder room and bring in the manpower. The forensics preliminary report had come in by then. The victim was 21 years old; she had only been in the country for sixteen months. She had her baby 3 months after she arrived. She was found at around 3.a.m, and died around 1 a.m. Nadifa had her throat slit. The small right toe had been removed by knife. No transfer under the fingernails. There was plenty of DNA material on the carpet and bed – too much for it not to be used as coincidental material in court. There were hundreds of fingerprints in the apartment. The long slow process of eliminating these would have to begin. All those lives disrupted by this one act, how will the wives take the infidelity of their husbands – Paresh couldn’t stop thinking about that. “Is this all they could muster?” Paresh asks Shana. There were about 13 detectives and uniform stood in front of him.

“The rest are still shaking down the terror suspects. Half of these guys are from Derby. Bad timing for a black prostitute to get killed, I suppose” she replies. Shana walks away and sits with the rest of the officers. Paresh goes over the collected information so far to the officers in front of him; the early witness statements, the method of murder and the lack of forced entry - it was obvious it was she knew her attacker, probably a punter. “Right we know it’s not her flat mate, she was down the pub trying to pick up punters. The bar owner has confirmed this. She was too small to have done this anyway. We have to wait until tomorrow for the fingerprint list, but there’s plenty to be going on with today. I want you guys to pair up and visit all the overlooking, flats. Don’t miss any line of sight to the entrance; there are a lot of people with binoculars who are ‘bird watching’ in those flats.” “What, watching those gruff whores?” a uniform speaks up looking round to his mates. “You don’t look so attractive either Johnno” Paresh trying to keep his anger in check. “There is no CCTV we can find at the moment of where she went at midnight”, he gets more serious. “We need to know what she did in that hour before she came back to the flat and who she came back with. Now fuck off and find the bastard”. The officers start to file out. They looked happy enough – they’ll get plenty of overtime on this case. “What are we going to do?” asks Shana. “We’re going to visit a suspect.”

“We have a suspect already?” “Siloso, her flat mate told me that she has a regular on a Monday night. Let’s go talk to him”. *** Chandra Bose owned businesses all around the East Midlands area, including five restaurants. His P.A. told Shana that Chandra was in the ‘Delhi Blues’ restaurant. It was nearly late afternoon by now and they found him half way through a meal. He was fat and sweaty, how the rich over indulge - could this guy have killed her, Paresh thought? Maybe, he had been wrong over first impressions before. Before Paresh even sits down the fat man speaks up. “I’m very good friends with your Chief Super you know?” “And how did you know what we want here? “I saw you flashing your badge at my man, and I read about my murdered whore this morning”. “So you admit that you saw her last night?” “I don’t admit anything of the sort you stupid ‘Muinda’, I was with my wife and she will confirm it.” “Do you want me to take you into custody right now or talk to your wife first?” “Try it and I’ll have your badge. Now fuck off until you have something to talk to me about. You can leave your nice detective behind if you want,” Chandra was nodding to Shana.

“As soon as I find your fingerprints in the flat – I’ll be back to shove that nan into your mouth sideways. Enjoy the rest of your meal Sir.” Outside the restaurant Paresh is still seething. He wants this guy to be the murderer. Chandra must be about the same age as him and he has obviously come from East Africa with the other ‘Muinda’s. This Swahili word was an affectionate name for the Indians that ran their countries on behalf of the British. He could barley remember it there, but his father loved talking about the past. How could this guy be so different to us? “That fat bastard!” Shana can’t keep calm either. “What would he want with a cheap shag like Nadifa? I’m sure he can afford more a more discreet service”. “He must have a penchant for African prostitutes. There’s not a lot we can do until we get some forensics in. I think you should go home and get some rest while you can.” Shana turns on her heels and starts walking away looking upset. Paresh can see the Chandra on the phone, obviously ringing his boss. It won’t be long before a bollocking from his boss. Thinking about the past reminds Paresh that he needs to visit his father at the housing association. He hasn’t been for several weeks and his father keeps begging him to come and visit. *** His father was sitting in the communal area at the ASRA housing association. The room seems very homely to him. There is a TV on in the corner of the room showing some old Bollywood musical. There are groups of men and women dotted around the place. His father is sat with a group of men. They

start to wonder off as Paresh comes and joins his dad, sitting down in a soft sturdy chair. “At last you come and visit your father. They must be quiet at the station, or have you remembered where I live?” asks Jayanti. “Don’t start dad, you always say the most clichéd things to me. How are you?” “I’m very well, I think I am beginning to like it here,” he says with a big smile “lots of people to talk to all day. Better than being at home on my own waiting for you to come home. I think your mother would’ve have liked it here as well. They can’t cook, but they let us help out in the kitchens if we want – make my food just like I want it.” “I told you dad, but you never listen”. Paresh and his father have always got on well together. They continue to talk about the daily trivialities of his father life for a while. Paresh decides to tell him about his new trainee after his father has finished detailing the minutiae of his life. “I’m working with this new trainee – a girl; they call her a trouble maker. I don’t think she’s too bad at all – in fact I think she is very sharp. She’ll go a long way.” “She’s not too young for you to marry is she?” “Dad, I’m forty-five and she’s half my age – what do you think?” “Never mind, I’m sure you will get married one day” “I don’t think anyone would have me now,” he smiles.

“We are working on a murder case together. I think the other homicide boys thought it was a domestic violence case, so they passed it onto me.” Paresh hadn’t led a homicide case for over two years, not since the death of his last murder suspect. The murderer jumped from the 10th floor of his block of flats, but there were lots of people who thought that he was thrown out of the window. The murder suspect was a racist thug, who had beaten up a girl of 16 for wearing a Hijab. The girl died in hospital while Paresh was trying to question her. “So you’re the lead DCI on this case? Thank god you have got back into it. You shouldn’t let those murdering swine out there get the better of you. I dealt with dozens of murders back in Uganda – much nastier than you see over here” “Come off it dad, you’re not going to bore me with your old stories of when you were a policeman in Uganda. Kampala’s criminals must have run riot after you left” Paresh teased his father. “It might have said police on our badges, but they used to call us Askari, after the soldiers that used to fight with the British” his father proudly announces. His father leans over intently “So tell me about your case”. “I can’t tell you too much, only what’s been in the papers this morning. The victim was a prostitute living in Highfields – near where we used to live actually. She was from Somalia, a 21 year old. Her throat was cut. The funny thing was she had a toe missing, the murderer took it with him. That’s why we

know it’s not just an old boyfriend. We’re just waiting for forensics before we start the real hunt.” “Now don’t tell me off, but I remember just a few months before we were chucked out by Idi Amin in ‘72, there were a series of murdered prostitutes with parts of their body parts missing. I’m sure the one of the victim’s had her left toe hacked off.” “Are you suggesting it’s the same M.O. and the same murderer? The guy must be an older than you! I think your memory is playing tricks on you.” “Typical, just because we get old, you young people think we have all gone senile” “I’ve gotta get going now dad, I’ve got an early start tomorrow” Paresh starts to get out of his chair. “Don’t forget to call me, I have my mobile phone with me all day and no-one rings me on it!” The following day, more forensics reports had come and the door to door questioning results were all in. There were hundreds of leads to follow now. Paresh wasn’t convinced by any of the names on the suspect list. They just looked like regular punters to him, but they would all have to be investigated. Luckily they had found Chandra’s fingerprints inside the flat. Paresh couldn’t wait to pay him a visit again. After he had given his morning briefing to the rest of the investigation team, he went to visit Chandra and his wife at their home. Shana did most of the questioning this time. She wasn’t very subtle asking the wife about her husband’s infidelities. Mrs Bose didn’t seem to be

too bothered about her husband’s affairs. Chandra even had an alibi for the night; he was actually at home with his wife and children. Outside the house, Shana looked disappointed. “I wanted that bastard to have done it,” she repeated. “Never mind, we need to concentrate on the actual killer,” Paresh replies, also looking very disappointed, “Looks like a lot of dead ends at the moment”.

*** A week later, Paresh is looking at another door and thinking he just wants to run away this time. Another murdered prostitute - this time it was his fault because he was the one responsible for catching the murderer. He went in and inspected the murder scene. Shana had already beaten him to it. “Exactly the same M.O. again Sir. Definitely our guy again.” “What was her name?” Paresh asks. He wanted to make sure he knew the name of the person he could have saved.” “Adele Thomas, Sir, 22, local girl, Jamaican origin. Her mother found her when she wasn’t returning her calls.” “Did he take anything” Paresh asks hesitantly. “Left little finger, Sir” Shana was trying to sound officious to hide her anger. “Was she wearing a dress?” “Yes sir” “Any witnesses?” “None. It was very late at night sir. Initial guess, it happened around 3 a.m.”

Paresh had had enough and left for the station. There were dozens of police now waiting for him at the station. His boss, Chief Superintendent Maxwell Cosely, decides to have an ‘encouraging’ word with him before he went in to talk to the investigation team. “Don’t fuck this up Paresh. I know you were going down a blind alley with Mr Bose last week. I don’t want any more sidetracking of the investigation like that again. You need to catch this killer quickly. It’s the reputation of the force at stake here.” “If I find that bastard’s fingerprints at the scene again – I will not only sidetrack towards him, I’ll jump down his throat so hard, he’ll be shitting me for a week!” Paresh, nearly loses it. “This is your last chance, I’m going to bring some of the other DCI’s in on this if you don’ make any progress soon. Stop chasing dead ends!” he walks away. Paresh and Shana both recap the current investigation to the new members of the team. There was a lot of information but no solid leads. Without witnesses and without any forensics they were going nowhere. They were hoping that the latest victim would yield some clues. There would be another excruciating 24 hours wait for the forensics. “What are we going to do now” asks Shana after the briefing. “I’m going to visit my father” replies Paresh “You coming?” “I don’t think this is the time for a family get together sir. Everyone’s watching to see what our next move is.”

“It’s actually an official visit for the investigation.” “Sir?” “My father reckons there were similar murders in Uganda in ’72 when he was a copper there.” “You’re joking!” “He was ill yesterday, so I rang him this morning, on the way to the murder scene and he told me that I would find that a left sided finger or ear would be missing this time.” “A copy cat murderer?” “Let’s see what he has to say first”. As soon as they arrive at ASRA, his father starts with the clichéd greetings again. “So you remembered where I live, Oh and who is this lovely friend of yours?” “She’s not a friend dad, she works with me.” “Hello” Shana says smiling to his father. “So what can you tell me about the murders in Kampala Dad?” “Only what I said last time, but you ignored me for an old fool.” “Don’t start, there are people’s lives at risk here”. Jayanti suddenly becomes very serious. “We thought there may have been dozens of murders, but we only started investigating them early in ‘72. There were 3 murders within four weeks. Each one had a severed piece of the body like your victims.” “Were they all prostitutes?” Shana asks.

“Yes, exactly like your murders. That’s why no one took them seriously. Not until one of the victims was a sister of a senior army guy.” “Did you find any suspects?” Paresh asks this time. “Well at the time everything was going mad, including Idi Amin. But we did have the protection of the army during the investigation. We didn’t have access to everyone. At the time we suspected the Bose brothers but they were too rich to be investigated” “Bose?” “Yes the same family that lives right here in Leicester.” “Why did you suspect them?” Paresh gets very interested. “They used to go to see those women all the time. The women told us they would get beaten and raped all the time by those boys. They were so scared of them. The brothers even used to bring their kids!” “What?” Shana shouts out. “There were stories that these guys would bring their kids with them to watch” “Animals” exclaims Shana. “Right, we need to get going” Paresh starts to get up. Paresh knew what he had to do next. Bring Chandra into the station for questioning. This is going to be tough to get past the C.O. but his instincts told him he was on the right track. ***

They pick up Chandra on their way back to the station. Once Paresh had told his C.O. what he was about to do, Chandra became very cooperative. He also had a top notch solicitor waiting for him at the police station, thanks to my C.O. informing Chandra. “You do realise this is just questioning to help with our investigation” Paresh informs Chandra when they finally sit down in the room. “You’re not actually under arrest.” “Maxwell told me to cooperate with you, which is what I’m doing. But I still want a solicitor in here with me.” Shana wasn’t invited into the interview room as she was still a trainee. They didn’t want to give anybody any reason to question their professionalism at this time. “We would like to know more about your father and his brother when you and your family were in Uganda” “You really are stupid. My father doesn’t even have any brothers.” That stopped Paresh right in his tracks. “We have reason to believe that he along with someone else was suspected of abusing women in 1972 in Kampala. We think that has a direct bearing on this current case.” Chandra starts to whisper into his solicitor’s ear. His solicitor returns the favour. “My father died last year and you are trying to ruin his good name!” “I am only following a lead for our current case Mr Bose.”

My father was questioned by police at the time from what I remember my father telling me. But it went no further than that. Those stupid whores were all lying.” “Can you tell me the man who used to accompany your father to visit the prostitutes?” “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about” Paresh was running into a dead end pretty quickly. “Did you ever go with your father on any ‘visits’ to those women?” “I refuse to answer that question. I was only nine years old in 1972 for god’s sake. I’ve had enough of this. I’m leaving; you can arrest me if you want to.” “Just one more question if you don’t mind. Did you ever visit the second murder victim, Adele Thomas, at her home?” “No, never. She wasn’t one of my women. I’ve never met her.” Whatever Paresh thought of Chandra, he did believe him about this. Paresh escorts Chandra out of the station. He has a driver waiting for him outside. When he gets back to Shana, he has to tell her the bad news. “We’ll get him next time Sir.” “I don’t think it is him now. I’m more interested in who else used to go with his father ….. and his children” “You think that his father’s friend was the murderer back then, and his child inherited his murder gene?” “That’s one way of putting it. If the child used to escort his dad during the murder of these women, then maybe he’s murdering now.”

“Just like abusing fathers and their kids.” “Just like that. I’m going to ring my dad to see if he remembers anything else.” When Paresh asked him, Jayanti couldn’t remember the name of the other man. He had always assumed they were brothers. Asians often said their cousins, friends and even distant family could be classed as siblings. “What next boss” asks Shana. “We’ve exhausted all the leads. All the fingerprints in both flats have checked out. It’s amazing how many people can come up with an alibi so quickly. There’s no other trace to follow”. “Now you just have to follow your gut instincts. This is where you get in trouble if you follow my lead.” “I was never afraid of trouble” she smiles. “Why don’t you go through the old witness notes and I’ll check out as many of Boses’ acquaintances as I legally can.” *** Several days later and there was still no break in the case. Paresh was pounding on doors and had nearly exhausted all of his favours and contacts to find out as much as he could about Chandra’s friends and relatives. Shana, as usual, was working long hours going through the hundreds of witness statements to see what she could dig up. It had been nearly two weeks since the first murder. Shana was wondering whether to get a pizza delivered for her dinner, when something stood out of the statements to her.

“What’s this” she mutters to herself. A witness from the second murder describes seeing a man picking up Adele the night before she was murdered. They haven’t found the man yet. He is described as ‘Asian and Middle aged’, that’s half of Leicester Shana thought. Something in the description puzzled her. The man was described as a very well dressed – which stood out from Adele’s other punters. Maybe this man liked his women to dress well? The thought of the well dressed man started to bug her. This guy didn’t sound like Chandra Bose, but maybe it was a friend of the family as Paresh thought. She spent the next few hours going through all the pictures and magazines which featured Chandra. She decided to search for Chandra’s friends online. She ‘Googled’ him, which didn’t produce many results surprisingly. Maybe he likes to keep out of the picture. She started to ‘Facebook’ his children. As she suspected, the children’s Facebook was open to anyone who wanted to see their personal lives. After going through hundreds of their pictures and following their friends, she saw a picture of a wedding with Chandra standing next to an immaculately dressed, middle aged, Asian man. The picture was even labelled for her – Tony Singh. *** Meanwhile, Jayanti had called Paresh and asked him to come over. When he got there, his father was getting very anxious for him to speak to one of the other residents at ASRA.

“I’ve been investigating for you. Mahendra, tell him what you told me.” Says Jayanti. “Well, I think I remember, who the other guy Bose used to hang around with” “Are you sure, Mahendra” asks Paresh. “My mind doesn’t work as well as it used to, but I think the other guy was a Sikh. I used to work for him. I think his name was Pritpal.” “Did he have any children ?” “I’m sure he had a son, but I can’t remember his name”. Shana rings Paresh – he doesn’t answer. Shana decides to text Paresh where she is going before she decides to talk to Tony Singh on her way home. He also lived in Leicester, near his friend Chandra. No immediate reply on her phone – he must be busy. “Never mind” she thought, it was a long shot anyway. She makes her way out of the office. Paresh leaves the ASRA building and checks his phone. ‘Gone to visit a friend of Chandra’s. Guy by the name of Tony Singh’ “Oh shit” Paresh cries out. He hits the speed dial for the station to get the address for Tony Singh. He runs to his car. *** Shana is at Tony’s front door. She hesitates before knocking. “Hello” Tony answers the door very quickly. “How can I help you?” “I’m DCI Shana Mistry,” she left out the trainee. “Come in please, what can I do for you?” Shana follows him in.

“I’m investigating the murder of two prostitutes in Leicester. You may have seen the press coverage.” “Of course I have, but I haven’t paid much interest in it.” Shana decides the untactful approach. “Even though you were seen by a witness picking up Adele the night before she was murdered?” she was going by gut instincts now – just as Paresh told her to. Tony’s face suddenly changed from the confident smile into a menacing grin. “I see you’ve come on your own – stupid mistake my girl,” he grabs Shana by the wrist and punches her in the face. She is knocked out. When she wakes up, she is tied to bed. She tries to scream, but is muffled by the gag. Tony walks into the bedroom. “I didn’t really want to use my house, but when the opportunity of a stupid whore turns up – I can never give that up.” He pulls a knife up from his side which Shana didn’t see at first. There is panic in her eyes. She starts to cry uncontrollably, she even wets herself. Tony puts the knife up to her ear. “I’ve not collected an ear for many years. I thought I had these urges under control, but since my wife and children left me – I can’t control myself again,” he grins. Just as his knife starts to cut her ear, Paresh comes crashing through the door, tackles Tony and both go flying out of the bedroom window. Paresh lands on Tony, breaking his neck in the process.

Moments later, he is rushing upstairs to Shana. “Are you ok, did he hurt you?” “I think I’m fine. Thank you, thank you, thank you” she is crying. Paresh unties her and picks her up. He takes her out of the house and into his car. ENDS