Heather's Busy Week Pt. 06

'Ouch!' Imran sniggered. 'Two feet and over the top. Rovers could do with a bit of that. She'd beef up their midfield.'

'And this is her in the middle, holding the cup.'

'Like I said, I don't know her.'

'So she didn't try to buy coke off you last night?'

'I don't know what your game is, Naz. I don't spend my nights on the streets and I don't know Miss Big Tits. Why don't you drink your tea and fuck off? No, why don't you just fuck off?'

Heather moved in front of her friend. She was getting violent vibes and wasn't going to let the dealer strike first.

'What's this?' he scoffed. 'Lara Croft?'

'Try anything and I'll throw you off that balcony out there.'

'Ooo, I am scared!'

Naz pushed past Heather. 'What happened to the real Imran? What happened to the boy who loved his pet rabbits and played Scalextric with his cousins from Yorkshire?'

'Don't give me that shit. I hardly ever saw you. You don't know me at all.'

'We stayed a weekend at yours when I was nine.' Naz briefly turned to Heather. 'Imran was being lined up as a future husband for Minha, my twin sister. Of course they didn't know that at the time. But Imran was really nice. Hospitable, even. We raced Scalextric cars for hours and hours. And we helped clean out his rabbits' hutch. There were two of them, both black and white. I remember thinking that a boy who loved his pets had to be good.'

Imran actually snarled. 'If that was meant to appeal to my sensitive side, forget it. I don't have one.'

Not liking that snarl one bit, Heather tried to get back into a defensive position. Naz pushed past her again.

'The other time was at that wedding in Clitheroe,' she said. 'By then you and Minha did know what was planned for you. You'd both have been twelve. And you were both up for it, weren't you? I caught you kissing her at least twice. And the things Minha told me when we finally got home! Your wedding night would have been hectic, I can tell you that.'

Naz paused theatrically. 'If she hadn't died.'

She turned back to Heather. 'It was meningitis. Minha got a particularly virulent case. It killed her within hours. Twelve was as old as she got, and losing her will always be the worst thing that ever happens to me. Nothing can ever be worse than that. Do you know the crazy thing? Previously we got everything at the same time. Coughs and colds, chickenpox, tonsillitis . . . you name it. We bruised in sympathy, too. But meningitis was different. I had no symptoms at all. And that made me so angry. I wanted to be dead as well, so I'd be with her again.'

Imran's eyes weren't flickering in all directions now. He was staring at his feet.

'I'm still a believer,' Naz continued. 'But I tore up the rule book when Minha died. The way I saw it, I'd been punished by God for nothing. For absolutely nothing at all. And it was far and away the worst, most despicably nasty punishment possible. So why follow His rules?'

Another theatrical pause.

'I made up my own seven deadly sins,' she resumed. 'Here they are, in no particular order. I smoke tobacco, even though I don't really like it. I have sex with men, and I do like that, a lot. I eat bacon sandwiches, and they are nearly as good as sex. I have some sort of gamble at least once a week, although I nearly always lose. I drink alcohol . . . beer or wine, usually . . . but sometimes hard liquors. I skip prayers more often than not. And for me Ramadan passes by unnoticed. Naughty, eh?'

'Okay, okay.' Imran held up his hands in surrender. 'Maybe I do have a sensitive side.'

Naz steamrollered right over him. 'I think you, as Minha's intended, were as messed up when she died as I was. I think you'll have your own list of sins. And I think it's time we traded a few off.'

'I already surrendered. What more do you want?'

'I'll give up four of my deadly sins. I'd give up more, but it's a bit late for sex. If I ever do marry, my husband's going to have to tread an already well-beaten track. Alcohol and bacon are not negotiable, either. The others are history, as of this very moment. Big of me, no?'

Heather had noted that half Naz's concessions were ones she didn't like anyway. And there hadn't been any mention of dress code at all. Imran seemed to miss her craftiness. Keen as ever on sisterly solidarity, Heather kept schtum.

'I don't have seven sins,' Imran said. 'More like five.'

'I'm not expecting you to give anything up,' Naz countered. 'I just want you to tell me the truth about last night.'

'I wasn't out last night.'

'I know someone who saw you. So stop stalling.'

The black sheep of the family sighed and held out his hand. 'Let me see those photos again.'

He thumbed through the pile then returned to the one with the cup. 'All right, confession time. I do know her.'

'You saw her last night?'

'No. I've seen her about, but not last night.' He frowned as he thought. 'I've only spoken to her once. It must have been Bonfire Night; there or thereabouts. I remember kids letting fireworks off every two minutes, yeah? Anyway, she came up to me, wanting to buy coke. That's not my scene, so I pointed her in the right direction.'

'You sent her to a rival?' Heather had been quiet for too long. And she didn't believe what she was hearing.

'I deal H and nothing else,' Imran said simply. 'Cocaine is fucked. Costs are going up, prices are coming down. It's a recipe for disaster, isn't it? Coke dealers aren't rivals, they're suckers, there to be taken.'

'I though you guys charged what you liked.'

'In your dreams. We've got global influences on one side, supply and demand on the other.'

'Less of the economics,' Naz put in. 'What about last night?'

'I told you already. I didn't see her.'

'You admit were out, though? After one o'clock?'

'Yes. I don't usually do the streets. But I needed a wedge.' Noticing quizzical glances, Imran enlarged. 'Safest bet is to operate by throwaway phone. I arrange meets with people I know I can trust. Change my number pretty often. Use plenty of different venues. The drawback with that is bigger than an elephant's foreskin. It's steady but slow. Street corners turnover quicker. Much riskier, but quicker.'

Naz railed at yet more economics. 'Who else was out?'

'After one o'clock? Hardly anyone. It pissed it down almost all day. By the time it stopped just about everyone had decided to stay in.'

'Drug dealers included?'

'Ha, ha,' said Imran.

'Come on, you're supposed to be helping us.'

'I'm trying.' Imran sighed again. 'Listen, I was only out to get my wedge. Everyone else jacked hours before me.'

'Surely there was somebody out there.'

'Wednesday nights are quiet, even when it's not pissing it down. The pubs are all closed by midnight. The only place Miss Big Tits could have scored was outside the Whiskers.'

'Who'd be there at that time?'

'Spider.' Imran visibly shuddered. 'He's the only one who operates on that patch. Idiots who try to muscle in on him tend to die.'

Naz didn't flinch. 'What does he deal? Coke?'

'He does the lot. It's the club scene, isn't it? Uppers on the way in, downers on the way out.'

'And Spider would be there as late as one o'clock?'

'The Whiskers doesn't shut 'til three on a Wednesday. He'll have been there all the way.'

'What's he like?' Heather put in. 'Where does he live?'

'I don't want to know where he lives. He's that nastiest cunt you could ever hope to meet. He makes Leeds United fans look like boy scouts. Trust me, Lara Croft, wherever he hangs out, you do not want to go there.'

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

(Thursday, 25th April 2002)

Reminding herself they were stale, Heather overcame the urge to snaffle the biccies. Outside, mildly astonished to see patches of blue sky, she took Naz by the hand.

'You were absolutely brilliant in there,' she said sincerely. 'But now it's time to bow out.'

'While you go after this Spiderman character? Not a chance, Hev. I've started so I will finish.'

'What can I do to change your mind?'

'You can arrange for a SWAT team to arrest him and save us the bother. Otherwise nothing.'

'What if I make inappropriate comments and try to seduce you?' said Heather, in a low, husky voice. 'Will that scare you off?'

'No. That would only encourage me. Face it, Hev, I'm in for the long run.'

'Okay, I'll save the seduction for later.'

'Suits me,' said Naz. 'So what's the plan?'

'I don't know, but my subconscious is working it on it.'

Still hand in hand they set off walking, more or less heading back towards the university.

'Let's talk about something else,' Heather said. 'My subconscious works a lot better when I'm distracted.'

'Okay. You start.'

'Why did you have those football photos with you, today of all days?'

'That's not a different subject,' Naz objected. 'It's related.'

'I don't care. Tell me.'

'I don't know. And that's the truth. I've been threatening to show them to my dinnertime gang for ages. I always forgot them before today.'

'And today you finally remembered?'

'Yes, I was actually out of the house, locking up behind me, and I finally remembered.'

'Spooky,' said Heather.

'Came in handy, though, didn't they?'

'Okay, next question. Why did Minha have an arranged wedding planned and you didn't?'

'Because I resisted.'

'More detail, please.'

'As you know, they found loads of potential husbands for me. I've been rejecting them all ever since primary school.' Naz laughed and rolled her beautiful brown eyes. 'Minha used to think arranged marriages were like something out of a Disney film. I used to think they were shit. I still do, come to that.'

'What about your seven deadly sins? Are you really giving half of them up?'

'Smoking and gambling are easy. I won't miss them.' Naz grinned. 'I'll do my best to keep up with the prayers but Ramadan can go whistle. Can you imagine a whole month without beer or bacon butties?'

'Naz Hussein, you are one wicked woman.'

'Takes one to know one. And how's your subconscious doing?'

'I've got an idea.' Heather stopped walking and got out her phone. 'It's a long shot, but . . .'

'Give it a go, then!'

Heather dialled out.

'DC Parker speaking.'

'Hi Chrissie, it's me, Heather. This is going to sound odd, but it's really important.'

'Go on.'

'I need to find a drug dealer called Spider.'

'You're taking the piss.'

'No, really. It's very, very important.'

'It's important that you shoot up, is it?'

'No. I'd never do that. Not ever.' Aware Naz was listening intently, Heather softened her voice. 'I'll explain why you-know-when. But I need his address right now.'

'You know I'm not in Narcotics.'

'I bet you know someone who is.'

'And this is nothing to do with a habit I don't know about?'

'No. I swear it isn't.'

Stuffypants sighed her most exaggerated sigh. 'Miss Hunter, this is going to cost you big-time. Give me ten minutes.'

Naz's look was critical. 'That was a girlfriend, wasn't it?'

'Might have been.'

'You have a girlfriend in the police force?'

'She's more of an acquaintance,' Heather fibbed. 'And before you ask, she's definitely not the sort to lend me a SWAT team.'

'What do we do if she gives you an address?'

'The same as we were going to do at Imran's. We find out if she's there and, if she is, if she's there voluntarily or not.'

'Spiderman's hardly likely to invite us in for a cuppa, is he?'

'We could say we're doing a survey.' Heather gestured at their matching grey hoodies. 'One on behalf of the university . . .'

'We'd need notepads at least. And we left our backpacks behind the bar.'

'I'll try to think of a better subterfuge. Failing that, we can snoop around, can't we? We might see Carrie through a window or something.'

'Or hear her screaming, if Imran's story is anything to go by.' Naz shivered. 'I know it's not at all cold, but can I have a cuddle while we're waiting?'

Heather never refused requests like that. She held open her arms and Naz stepped into her embrace, pressing up closer than close. Naz was a couple of inches shorter than she was but had lovely long legs. Although their boobs weren't quite on a level, their lower bodies were a snug fit. The contact between them was nice, even if Heather was unsure what to do with her hands. Gripping Naz's bum-hugging jeaned backside was one idea, even if it was ever-so-slightly forward.

'Mmmm,' Naz murmured. 'I'm enjoying this.'

Heather moved her head so she could smell the other girl's shampoo. It was herbal honey, she reckoned. Nice, nice, nice.

'I want to run . . .'

'Your fingers through my hair. Oh yes, please!'

Slowly, delicately, Heather eased her fingers into Naz's stick-straight mane. Naz sighed and arched her back, her boobs moving upwards, over Heather's.

'Good grief,' Heather gasped, feeling Naz's barbelled nipples scraping her own, 'that's nice.'

Naz stared into her eyes, her lips slightly parted. 'Kiss me. Please kiss me.'

Heather didn't wait for a second invitation. Still moving slowly and delicately, she brought their mouths together, thinking about butterflies brushing wings.

Nice, nice, nice!

Then her mobile rang.

*****

Stuffypants wasn't keen on giving out Spider's details. A source in Narcotics had given her all sorts of grisly background. In fact, now she knew his real name, she recognized him from CID investigations. And not just one or two of them.

'Everyone who gets in his way ends up beaten to a pulp,' she told Heather. 'Some of his rivals have vanished off the face of the earth. And nobody but nobody ever testifies against him.'

Trying to hide mounting concern, Heather sweet-talked Stuffypants as best she could. Finally, after much grumbling and sighing, the policewoman gave her the address. She read it back so Naz could hear. Naz nodded once, confirming she knew where they were going. Not that Heather told Stuffypants that, of course. She assured her she wouldn't go within a mile of the dealer and again promised she'd explain "you-know-when". God only knew what she'd say in explanation. She'd worry about that nearer the time.

'You did a lot of promising and reassuring,' Naz said as she ended the call.

'Stuffypants is a very suspicious copper.'

'Stuffypants!'

Heather flushed a little. 'She's all right really,' she said. 'But she can be a bit of a stick-in-the-mud. And she's worried about me confronting this guy. I mean really worried. She made him sound as dangerous as Imran did. We'd better skip the survey and just snoop around.'

With Naz navigating again, they set off, more or less retracing their most recent steps.

'What do you call me behind my back?' Naz wondered.

'I don't call you anything behind your back. Nobody does. You're very popular.'

'All right, if you did call me something behind my back, what would it be?'

'Seen from behind? It'd have to be Sexybum.'

Naz laughed. 'You should have had a feel of it a few minutes ago, while you had chance.'

'Now you tell me!'

They passed the turnoff to Imran's apartment and kept going along nicer and nicer residential streets. Old terraces and blocks of flats gradually gave way to newer, well-maintained semis. The roads and pavements were still seriously made-over. At least they were until they came to the turnoff they were looking for.

'Good grief,' said Heather. 'The Luftwaffe must be still strafing this one.'

For once she wasn't exaggerating. Well, not a lot anyway. The road looked as if it never had been properly surfaced. There were potholes everywhere and big, axle-breaking stones that jutted out of unevenly packed earth. The puddles were back too, with a vengeance. Some of them looked deep enough to drown in. Perhaps that was why there were no other pedestrians to be seen.

'It's a private road,' said Naz, 'so it's unadopted. Look at the houses.'

Heather did. There were perhaps twenty on either side, all of them big, detached affairs, with extensive grounds, none of them remotely alike.

'This was Rich Man's Row in the days when cotton was king,' Naz explained. 'These were mill owners' houses, built to individual tastes. Some of them are borderline follies. And note they built them in the west side of town. They couldn't have lived downwind of the stinking masses, could they?'

'Blimey Naz, I thought I was the revolutionary in these parts.'

'Number twenty-three's on this side.' Naz indicated left. 'Let's do a leisurely walk by, as if we have all the time in the world.' She took Heather's hand in her own again. 'Cover story: we're out of our usual haunts so we can be alone together.'

'Fresh air and stolen kisses, eh?' said Heather.

'Exactly.'

Most of the detached houses were in good shape with well-maintained gardens, but a few were run-down and on ragged, ill-kept land. Heather decided the shabby ones had probably been converted into flats, none of them rented by keen gardeners.

'Okay,' Naz whispered, 'here it is. Take in as much as you can.'

Number twenty-three looked reasonably good from outside. It was unostentatious compared to some if its neighbours and only had two storeys but, even so, it probably had a lot of rooms on each floor. There was, at the far end of twenty yards of gravel driveway, a gleaming black BMW, blocked in by a not-so-gleaming Ford Focus. The grounds were moderately pampered, large enough to have a stand of trees off to one side. Hedges of ten foot high leylandii marked the right, left and, as far as Heather could tell, rear boundaries. The front was just bounded by a low stone wall.

She compared notes with Naz as they walked on along the patchily flagged pavement. There were no obvious signs of life, but two cars on the driveway suggested otherwise. No obvious signs of security alarms or cameras, either. No drawn curtains. No lines of drying washing. No kids' toys on the lawn . . . they'd noted the lack of things rather than any positives.

The road intersected with another recently-surfaced one. Heather sniffed. 'I'd have expected Rich Man's Row to keep up with the Jones's.'

'That's the thing with unadopted roads,' Naz observed. 'It doesn't matter if the householders are rich or not, nothing ever gets done. When it comes to chipping in for road repairs, there's always going to be at least one Scrooge McDuck.'

Heather nodded down the intersecting road. 'I reckon there's another road at the back. With a tradesman's entrance. We could get in that way.'

'To snoop, you mean?'

'To snoop and no more. Fancy house and a fancy BMW . . . I'm starting to believe Spider is as dangerous as everyone makes out.'

'Let's walk past the front again. Make sure the coast's clear, then do the back road from the other end.'

Still hand in hand, they went back at a stroll. As they neared number twenty-three an engine kicked into life.

'Rats, my lace is undone!' Heather exclaimed. Then, sotto voce: 'Look like you're waiting for me patiently, but don't miss a thing.'

Releasing Naz's hand she knelt and pretended to wrestle with a knot. In her peripheral vision she saw the Focus reverse into the private road then turn their way and pass them. Struggling to fight off curiosity, she rose and they strolled on, rounding a corner, out of line of sight from Spider's place.

'Well?' she demanded.

'Two men,' Naz said. 'Mid-twenties, at a guess.'

'Do you think one of them was Spider?'

'I don't know what he looks like, do I? But there was no sign of Carrie, so I'm betting he's still in there. Unless she was dead in the boot.'

'Naz! Don't say things like that!'

Heather's reckoning had been correct: there was another road along the back and it did have tradesman's entrances. Spider's was smack in the middle of his leylandii border. She peered through the open gate, seeing no faces in windows, no cameras or tripwires.

'I'm going in,' she announced. 'Wait here.'