Dead Wrong - [41]

Chapter Nineteen

I pulled into a petrol station on the drive back and rang Dermott Pitt. When I had finally bought a mobile phone, I had promised myself solemnly that I wouldn’t be one of those types who blithely use it while driving; one hand on the steering wheel and concentration all over the shop.

I spoke to his secretary. Yes, she had passed my message on. No, Mr Pitt had not offered me an appointment time. No, he had not said anything about my suggestion of turning up at the courts. I checked with her which case he was on and which court it was being heard in.

With all I’d heard about Rashid Siddiq from Emma I wasn’t sure whether I’d be taking a risk with my own safety if I pursued an interview with him. Given he was one of the eye-witnesses, possibly the only eye-witness if Sonia Siddiq hadn’t been there, it really was part of the job to talk to him, but I’d been putting it off. I checked my notebook and rang the warehouse. ‘Can I speak to Mr Siddiq, please.’

‘I’ll get him for you.’ The young woman failed to check out who I was and that could only work in my favour.

‘Hello?’

‘Mr Siddiq? My name is Sal Kilkenny. I’m ringing about the case against Luke Wallace. I’d like to arrange to talk to you about what you saw the night Ahktar Khan died.’

‘I don’t have to talk to you.’ And he hung up.

He was right, he had no obligation to see me but I was angry at the snub. My cheeks burned. I was aware that I was a stone’s throw from where the Siddiqs lived, if he wouldn’t see me then I’d call on his wife, see what she had to say about the allegations against her.

The white Saab was parked outside as before. I banged the lion’s-mouth knocker. Sonia answered the door with the chain on; at the sight of me, her face widened with dismay.

‘What do you want?’

‘I want to talk to you.’

‘I’ve said everything I’ve got to say.’

‘Except the truth.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘You arrived at Nirvana at ten o’clock. Had tickets in advance, did you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Which floor did you sit on?’

‘I don’t see what this has to do-’

‘What did you wear? What was the music like? Did you watch the videos? Did you like the decor? Could you describe it?’

Silence. Her face stony.

‘You had a clear recollection of seeing the murder but everything else is very vague. Were you taking drugs?’

‘No!’ Outrage.

‘People do – a lot of people do at these events. It’s part of the culture, really.’

‘Well, I don’t.’

‘Did you see people taking drugs?’

She shrugged.

‘You see, I don’t think it’s because you can’t quite remember, I think you just don’t have a clue. Because you weren’t there.’

‘Of course I was there,’ she insisted.

‘That’s not what I’ve heard.’

‘That’s rubbish. I was there. Why would I lie about it?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps you were told to.’

‘Who said this?’

‘No one saw you there.’

‘Zeb,’ she said. ‘He saw us. You ask him – Ahktar Khan’s cousin, Zeb Khan.’

‘I will. We can check easily enough anyway. They’d have you on tape, wouldn’t they, coming into the club, those cameras? We could even confirm the exact time. Prove it one way or another.’ I was bluffing. I’d no idea whether they did continuously record the club entrance, though I thought it likely. But how long would they keep the tapes before re-using them? She was completely still, her face blank, every ounce of energy going into hiding her reaction to what I’d just said. I had her scared witless. At last she spoke, her voice bright with bravado. ‘Fine, you do that.’ She shut the door.

Driving away from the courtyard I felt I’d gathered even more to relate to Dermott Pitt; much of it was intuitive rather than concrete, but my meeting with Mrs Siddiq had confirmed for me that she hadn’t been present on New Year’s Eve, and that her testimony was invented for someone else’s benefit.

It was three thirty. I’d no need to collect Maddie and Tom; Ray did the school run on Mondays as he’d no lectures. I parked in the multi-storey car park near the college on Lower Hardman Street, and had to go up eight floors before I found a space. Then I cut through to Crown Square where all the Law Courts are.

Dermott Pitt would be in the Crown Court. I passed through a security arch where my bag was checked. At reception I asked for Court No 2, and learned to my disappointment that they’d adjourned for the day. I walked down there anyway just in case Dermott was still hanging around chewing the fat with his colleagues.

The place was light and airy, with a long corridor, marble floors and pillars, and full-length windows all down one side giving a view of the square outside. On the other side were the courtrooms. At intervals there were statues of kings and lawgivers, and up on the wall opposite the windows, a huge colourful coat of arms, done in relief and surrounded by several smaller ones. My trainers squeaked on the floor; there was no other noise. The place was deserted. I poked my head into Court No 2. There was an usher there who told me that they’d all left. ‘He wanted to start fresh tomorrow with the defence witnesses.’ She was referring to the judge.