The Inspector Walter Darriteau Murder Mysteries - Books 1-4 by David Carter (best finance books of all time .txt) 📕

The women turned and saw the blazing looks on the men’s faces.

‘She’s taking a bath. What on earth is the matter?’

‘Get her out of the bath and get her in the sitting room!’ said Mohammed.

‘Why? What’s going on, Mohammed? Tell me what is happening.’

‘Do as your husband says!’ snapped Ahmed. ‘And do it now!’

Maaz came running, alerted by the raised voices.

‘What’s up peeps?’ he grinned, as he unplugged his iPod from his ear.

‘I’ll tell you later,’ said Mohammed. ‘Turn that bloody thing off and put it away!’

‘Of course, father,’ said Maaz, eager to know what was going down.

WAZIR WAS SITTING IN his favourite armchair in the sitting room. Ahmed came in and stood in front of the window. Mohammed arrived and stood beside him. Maaz ran in and sat beside Wazir, and said from the side of his mouth, ‘What’s happening here then, old man?’

Wazir scowled and said, ‘You’ll know soon enough.’

Nadirah and Akleema came to the door, and Akleema said, ‘Here she is, the naughty girl, whatever she has been up to.’

Sahira breezed in, still not understanding the seriousness of the situation. She had finished bathing, just got dressed in grey slacks and a Hamas Tee shirt. The Khan men were all there, one in his twenties, one in his forties, one in his sixties, one in his eighties, four generations of misery, judging by the looks on their sour faces.

‘What’s the matter, folks?’ she said, but by the time she had finished her question those same looks told her everything she needed to know. She was in big trouble, and she could guess why.

Mohammed, her father stepped forward three paces, and slapped her hard across the left cheek.

Sahira yelped and held her face, tried hard not to cry. Her cheek was on fire. Stinging hot. She flicked her tongue over the teeth on that side. Felt blood, and tasted it, and thought that one tooth had come loose.

‘What is happening?’ screeched Akleema.

‘Get the women out of here!’ yelled Mohammed, and Maaz leapt to his feet and ushered Nadirah, who was staring quizzically at Wazir; and Akleema out of the room. Maaz closed the door in their faces and retreated to the sofa.

‘Do you dare deny it?’ yelled Mohammed.

‘Deny what?’ said Sahira, regaining a little composure, as a trickle of blood spilt from her lips.

‘That you have become a common prostitute! That you are sleeping with kaffirs, and God alone knows what else you have been up to.’

Maaz’s mouth fell open.

He grinned and glanced at Wazir, as if for confirmation.

Wazir stared directly ahead at the door, as if straight through the door, to his wife, and Akleema, who were waiting and listening on the far side.

‘I am not a prostitute!’ insisted Sahira, ‘I love Luke, if that’s who you mean. We hope to get married.’

Mohammed had heard enough.

He slapped her again, and yelled: ‘You have brought disgrace to this door, to this family, disgrace to the mosque, disgrace to your religion, disgrace to me, your father. You will never be allowed out unaccompanied again!’

‘But father...’

‘Don’t but father me! From now on you will only eat one day in three. If you are caught stealing food I will personally cut off your right hand!’

‘But father, I...’

‘I can’t tell you how much you disappoint me. You are nothing but a common whore!’

IN THE LAUGHING CAVALIER Luke finished his coffee. He had decided on his next assignation and he would make it a good one. It would be his last meet in England for a long time and it had to be special. He made a quick phone call, and after that he began to text. When he’d finished, he ordered an early light lunch. An active man had to keep up his strength.

IN THE SITTING ROOM above the State of Kerala the text dumped into Sahira’s mobile with a tinkly sound, alerting the recipient that it had arrived.

Everyone heard it.

Sahira pulled her mobile from her slacks’ pocket.

Hurriedly tried to delete the text.

Too late.

Mohammed jumped forward and jerked the device from her hand.

He had always been against the thought of her possessing a mobile phone. It was a ridiculous idea. Wazir had bought it for the girl for her birthday, to curry favour, so Mohammed imagined, but Wazir was losing touch with reality. His day-to-day decisions were becoming more and more questionable.

Mohammed glanced at the incoming text.

Raised his eyebrows.

Shook his head.

For one moment it looked like he might cry.

He read it aloud, so they could all hear.

GOING AWAY FOR 3 MTHS. Need to see you before I go, this aft. 1pm, same pad. Get yr black arse down there. B naked + waiting. Thrashing awaits. L.

SAHIRA BURST INTO TEARS.

Maaz looked disgusted, and confused, and dumbfounded.

Wazir scratched his chin.

Ahmed tried to feel pity for the misguided girl, but could not.

Mohammed felt murderous; then he said, ‘Where is the “same pad”?’

Sahira thought a moment, then said: ‘The Red Rose Motel, room fifty.’

Mohammed bobbed his head, deep in thought, aware that all eyes were on him.

‘You are not to use the telephone, you are not to use the Internet, you are not to leave the building, you are not to eat or drink until I say, you are not to play music, turn on the radio or television, and you are not to discuss this matter with a living soul. Not with your mother, not with your great grandmother. You are not to open your mouth to speak at all. You are to remain silent. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, father.’

‘Maaz, take her to her bedroom, shut her in, make sure she does not come out, and that no one speaks to her.’

‘Yes, father,’ said the twenty-one year old Maaz, and he jumped up and grabbed the twenty-two year old girl’s arm, and practically dragged her from the room. As far as he was concerned she was no longer his sister. She was a sinner, a reprobate, an outcast, and he wasn’t in the least