Call & Response Read online

‘No worries. And for what it’s worth I reckon it was Flynn. There aren’t any other names being mentioned, as far as I know, anyway.’ Linda pointed to the kerb. ‘Just here is fine, ta.’

  Pepper pulled in, and they sat in silence for a moment. ‘And you’re sure you’re OK for cash? Is there anything I can get the kids, anything like that?’

  ‘No, honestly. Tommy just sold the computer console that you gave them for our John’s birthday. Did I tell you?’

  ‘Aye, you did.’

  ‘He said the lad was playing on it too much, and he needed to do his homework. Can you bloody believe that?’

  ‘Your Tommy is just a total wanker, I’m afraid, love.’

  ‘Aye’ said Linda, without a hint of irritation in her voice. She reached for the door handle.

  ‘Just one thing, while I think of it’ said Pepper. ‘You remember David Young?’

  ‘Dai Young? As in ‘only the good die young’?’

  ‘The very same. Is his dad even really Welsh?’

  ‘Aye, I think so. He was a miner out west somewhere, back in the day, if I remember rightly.’

  ‘Have you heard that he’s back? Dai the younger, I mean.’

  ‘Sort, of, aye. Tommy said something the other day. I didn’t mention it, because it just sounded like one of Tommy’s stupid stories. You know, the ones where him and his mates get to run the bloody place and you lot have to hide in your Police stations. Listening to him you’d think Dai was some kind of leader of the pack. But my Tommy couldn’t run a fucking bath, none of them could.’

  ‘Not without instructions.’

  ‘They’d be no use, love.’

  Pepper laughed. ‘Because blokes don’t read instructions?’

  ‘Because they can’t even bloody read, most of them. I always say to Tommy that it’s a good thing that internet porn comes with pictures, or he’d have no use for the sodding internet at all.’

  ‘So what did Tommy say, about Young?’

  ‘Just that Dai had been seen around a couple of times, and that he was thinking of moving back up here. The big gangs aren’t interested see, because the market’s too small.’

  ‘The market for what?’

  ‘What have you got? All the usual shit, I expect. Tommy says that Dai coming back is proof that you lot couldn’t pull the skin off a rice pudding any more, you’re so weak. But that’s not really how it is, is it, Pepper?’

  ‘Of course not, love’ said Pepper, trying to stiffen the certainty in her voice. ‘If Dai Young wants to come back here and try his luck again then bring it on, I say. Ten years ago he tried that on here, and he ended up running. It’ll happen again this time, you mark my words.’

  ‘So you’ll tell your bosses that he’s back?’

  ‘Of course I will, love. When the time is right, like.’

  Monday, 7th September

  8.20am, CID office, Carlisle Divisional HQ.

  ‘Bollocks’ said Rex Copeland, looking across at Henry Armstrong’s desk. Henry had his head down. ‘Shit’ he said, more loudly, and waited for Henry to look up.

  ‘Bad news?’

  ‘Yeah. That big lad in your tech team hasn’t been able to prove when those pictures were taken. He’s been working over the weekend, which I’ll thank him for when I see him, but he hasn’t been able to find anything of evidential value. He thinks he has of course, but there’s nothing that would stand up in court.’

  ‘Shame. So that’s Afridi off the hook then, is it?’

  ‘That’s what you think should happen, is it?’

  ‘Well, if there’s no evidence…’ Copeland cut him off.

  ‘Do you know what they do for work, the Afridis?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘They’re all self-employed mini-cab drivers. Does that ring any bells?’

  ‘Weren’t taxi drivers involved in the Rotherham child abuse cases?’

  ‘They were.’

  ‘But that doesn’t prove anything. It could just be co-incidence. The world’s a big, random place, mate. And Ashley isn’t in care, is she?’

  ‘Maybe not, but the kid’s vulnerable, I can tell you. The dad’s done the vanishing act, years ago, and the mum only thinks about herself, it stands out a mile. Afridi could have been grooming the poor kid for years and the mum would probably have been none the wiser.’

  ‘Don’t you think you’re…’

  ‘What, stereotyping? Profiling, even? Bollocks I am. What we’ve got here is a thirty year old bloke who’s put up sexually explicit pictures of a kid who was barely at the age of consent when they were taken, and who was probably younger. I don’t care what bloody colour he is. The bloke wants a hiding, and he wants nicking.’

  ‘I take your point, Rex, of course I do. Look, the boss has just come in. Why not have a word with her? There’s a Community Engagement unit down at HQ, and they’ll probably be able to help. With the more sensitive aspects, like. The bosses are very keen on us showing sensitivity, I do know that.’

  Copeland nodded at Armstrong, got up, and walked straight over to the DI’s office.

  ‘Coffee, boss?’

  ‘Thanks, but don’t feel you have to.’

  ‘I wanted your advice on something, actually.’

  ‘Right, then sit. Talk first, coffee after. What’s on your mind?’

  ‘Ashley Weekes. The techies have tried, but they can’t establish that the pictures of her were taken when she was a minor.’

  ‘But you still reckon that they were?’

  ‘Yeah. I phoned the mum yesterday, and asked again how long Ashley had known Mo Afridi. She was evasive, but we’re talking several years.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Three or four. But she can’t swear to it, or so she says. But I think we could be looking at something bigger here.’

  ‘Shit. We’re talking multiple girls, even multiple offenders?’

  ‘Exactly. The laptop has pictures of other girls, and though we can’t prove it they look like they were all taken by Afridi. So it’s got to be a possible, hasn’t it? And Henry mentioned that we’ve got a Community Engagement unit, so I thought we’d maybe involve them.’

  ‘The politically correct squad? They spend most of their time sending out emails telling us what we should call people this week. Absolutely bloody useless, they are. I’m still waiting for the one saying that we’ve got to call white cons pigmentally challenged or something. Don’t laugh. We’re all in a minority of some kind or other, aren’t we?’

  ‘Some more than others, I guess. So are this lot worth a bell?’

  ‘Christ, no. You’ll never get anything done if you go down that road, although on the plus side you won’t offend anyone, including any paedophiles, of course. No, you just crack on, and if they start complaining go down and see them. I bet you’d all get on like a car on fire. They’d probably want to have their picture taken with you, to be honest. Most of them have probably only ever seen pictures of black people before.’

  ‘Very funny, boss.’

  ‘Just trying to make you feel at home, Rex. And by the way, call me Pepper. Everyone else does.’

  ‘So you’re white Pepper, then?’

  ‘Now who’s being smart? Seriously though, what’s our next move on this one?’

  ‘Get the mum and daughter back in.’

  ‘What good will that do? I did say that no evidence means no further action. And I’m still not seeing anything solid, to be honest.’

  ‘I know, and you’re right. But we really should keep plugging away on this. Look at it this way. The only good thing to come out of the whole Rotherham nightmare is that forces have to take complainants more seriously, even when they’re young and vulnerable. Correct?’

  ‘Aye. There was an email from on high to that effect only last week. So you’re saying that if we can get an on-the-record complaint then we might be able to escalate properly, and put a bit of pressure on Afridi?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Pepper nodded agreement. �
�Sounds like a plan. And does he have a record, this Afridi?’

  ‘Oh, yeah. Bits and pieces mainly, though he did get an ABH last year when he got into a bust up with a couple of girls in his cab. The usual shit, by the sounds, only with a violent edge. He said they wouldn’t pay, called him racist names, and then one of them tried to bottle him. They said that he wanted to take them for a little ride in the country, and meet some of his mates. One of the brothers has got some form too, although it’s mainly motoring related. He has got an affray and a threatening behaviour from down in Birmingham as well, though.’

  ‘The usual charmers, then. Have we got an intel file on Mo, or any of the close family?’

  ‘No. And there’s no flag showing an interest from the spooks either.’

  ‘All right, fine. That’s probably in our favour, if no-one else has an interest in these jokers. So I’ll tell you what. Get Ashley and her mum in one more time, but if you get nothing then this one goes on the back-burner, Rex. I’ve got half a dozen current enquiries that could really use your input, and we don’t do crusades around here.’

  ‘I’ve got you.’

  ‘One other thing, and I hardly dare ask this. Has young Ashley got a record?’

  ‘Actually no, she hasn’t.’

  ‘Excellent, but the same can’t be said for the mum, I take it?’

  Copeland laughed. ‘She likes a scrap and all, does Mrs. Weekes. A drink too, by the looks. Put her in a room with Mo Afridi and she’d be the only one of them walking out, I’ll bet you.’

  ‘You’d better have young Henry in with you, then. Now, how about that coffee?’

  ‘No time, Pepper. I’ve got work to do.’

  She laughed, and Copeland got up.

  ‘Keep me informed,’ she said. ‘And if this does lead to some high profile arrests I’ll do you a favour, and take all the credit.’

  ‘How do you work that out?’

  ‘Because no one loves a smart-arse, Rex, especially round here. Why do you think I’m still only a DS?’

  DC Armstrong seemed surprised to hear that the community engagement unit’s input wasn’t required, but he only mentioned it twice as they drove round to collect Ashley Weekes and her mum.

  ‘Why are we giving them the chauffeur treatment, Rex?’

  ‘Because they’d never show up otherwise.’

  ‘And what if they don’t want to come?’

  ‘Mrs. Weekes knows the score. I’ll tell her that I’ll nick her for conspiracy to pervert if she doesn’t come voluntarily, but you watch, that’s not how it’ll play out. Like I say, she knows the score.’

  Copeland was right, and after a couple of minutes of doorstep persuasion Mrs. Weekes agreed to come to the station. She talked all the way, telling Copeland that he should investigate the goings-on at the housing association. It was a right funny business, she was certain of it. Copeland said he’d bear it in mind. Ashley stayed quiet. So Armstrong asked her about how she was getting on at college, but didn’t get much response. But that didn’t stop him trying again.

  ‘Childcare must be interesting, Ashley.’

  ‘Aye, not bad.’

  Mrs. Weekes wasn’t going to miss out on an opportunity.

  ‘You wouldn’t believe this, mister, but one of Ashley’s mates is working for one of those Polish families. Isn’t that right, love?’

  ‘Aye, she is.’

  ‘They’ve only been here five minutes, and they’re already lording it over us. It’s not right, the immigration job.’ She paused, then leaned forward and tapped Copeland on the shoulder. ‘No offence, like.’

  ‘I’m not an immigrant, Mrs. Weekes. I was born in Tottenham. That’s in London.’

  ‘Aye, well. You know what I mean.’

  When they were settled in the family suite, and Mrs. Weekes had asked Armstrong if he knew where the cushions came from, and then told him that she wouldn’t mind nicking them, Copeland turned to Ashley, sitting on the sofa opposite him.

  ‘What happened to you was wrong, wasn’t it, Ashley?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘And you weren’t the first, were you? There have been other girls, haven’t there?’

  Mrs. Weekes started to answer, but Copeland held up his hand. To his slight surprise she closed her mouth.

  ‘Aye, there have.’

  ‘Do you know any of them, Ashely?’

  ‘I’ve seen some of them around, like.’

  ‘And would any of these girls have been very young? Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen?’

  Ashley shrugged. ‘Maybe, aye.’

  ‘OK. In a minute I’m going to show you some pictures of girls’ faces. If you know any of them, would you tell me their names?’

  ‘Aye’, said Ashley, uncertainly.

  ‘Don’t worry, you won’t get them into any trouble. Nothing like that, all right?’

  Copeland passed a tablet computer over to Ashley.

  ‘Just swipe through those pictures, and tell me if there’s anyone you recognise.’

  ‘These are all girls that Mo knows, and who he took pictures of, are they? Like the ones he took of me, I mean.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. Just look at the faces and tell me if you know any of them.’

  Ashley swiped in silence for a few seconds. She wasn’t looking at each face for anything long enough, but Copeland didn’t say anything.

  ‘Bitch’ said Ashley suddenly. ‘You fucking little bitch.’ She threw the tablet onto the carpeted floor. It bounced, but didn’t break. Copeland reached down and picked it up.

  ‘You recognise this girl then, number 7?’

  Ashley didn’t say anything, so Copeland passed the tablet to her mum.

  ‘Oh, aye. That’s young Tracy something, she was in your year at school, wasn’t she? Fostered, she was.’

  ‘Do you know her surname?’

  ‘Black. Aye, that’s it, Black.’

  ‘And is Tracy younger or older than Ashley?’

  ‘She’s younger’ said Ashley, ‘the little bitch.’

  ‘And where will we find her?’

  ‘How should I know? She’s a right slag, is Tracy.’

  ‘All right, don’t worry about that for now. Let me just ask you again. How old were you when Mo Afridi took those pictures of you?’

  ‘Fourteen, maybe fifteen. No older.’ Mrs. Weekes tried to say something, but Ashley raised her voice. ‘Shut up, mum. You’re no fucking use. Let me ask you something, copper. What will happen, if this comes to court? Mo’ll just say I was begging for it, like, or that I made it all up.’

  ‘I’m sure he will, because that’s what people like him do, but that’s not the point is it, Ashley? Because you weren’t the only one, were you?’

  ‘No, I weren’t. I knew there were others before me, but not Tracy. I thought she was my friend, the slapper. But they always had booze, and drugs, and Tracy likes both of those.’

  ‘Who had the drink and drugs?’

  ‘Mo and his brothers.’

  ‘And did they give you drink? Drugs?’

  Ashley and her mother both laughed. Their reaction took Henry Armstrong by surprise, but he tried not to show it.

  ‘Don’t be daft. Of course they did.’

  ‘And how old were you, when this started?’

  ‘Thirteen. Aye, thirteen.’

  ‘And this was Mo and his brothers? They were involved as well?’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Anyone else?’

  ‘No, just them.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure.’

  Copeland sat back. He felt the way that he always did in these situations, equal parts elated and uncomfortable.

  ‘All right, Ashley, thanks. What we’ll do now is take a formal statement, and then we’ll find Tracy Black, and maybe some of these other girls too. And when they all tell the same story as you, which they will, then we all know who the courts will believe, don’t we?’
/>
  ‘And you do believe me, don’t you? He never raped me, like. I never said that he did that.’

  ‘I know you didn’t, but that doesn’t make it right, what Mo did. You were a child in the eyes of the law, and drink and drugs were involved. You’re the victim here, Ashley. We can all see that.’

  ‘We’ll all be fucking victims when them lot find out about what Ashley has told you’ said Mrs. Weekes. ‘Can we get witness protection now, like?’

  ‘We’ll undertake a risk assessment, certainly.’

  ‘Only after he’s come round with his brothers and done us over though, I’ll bet. Jean, down the road, she got burgled last week. Lost her big telly and everything. Only made one payment, she had, and the bastards in the shop are saying that she’s got to pay the rest. What’s she going to watch now? And she said all you lot did was talk to her on the phone for about two minutes. You told her that she should look out for her stuff on the internet. Would you bloody believe it?’

  ‘We’re not talking about burglary now though, are we?’ said Copeland, patiently. ‘Now, Ashley, about that statement.’

  Afterwards the two DCs returned to the DI’s office. Pepper was on the phone, and she made a gesture as if she were hanging herself. After five minutes of listening to her side of the conservation, which seemed to be something to do with photocopiers, Copeland was more than ready to order three coffins. He pointed towards the door, and smiled hopefully, but Pepper shook her head. She told the person on the other end of the phone, very politely, that she would have to go. When that didn’t work she said much the same again, only a good deal more directly. That did the trick.

  ‘Good news, I hope?’ she said to Copeland.

  ‘Absolutely. I’ve got a formal statement from Ashley. And yes, she says that sexual contact between them started when she was fourteen. Drink and drugs were involved, and the grooming started a year before at least. It’s a textbook case, boss.’

  ‘Were any other men involved in the abuse?’

  ‘The brothers she says, but the mother was there, so it’s anybody’s guess really. But I wanted to take what I could get, while I could get it.’