Out of the Ashes: A DI Maya Rahman novel. Vicky Newham
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‘Perhaps the fire was about gentrification too?’ Dan eyed us all.
‘If I can chip in here . . . ?’ Jackie said, and I could tell from her tone that things were about to get a lot more complicated. ‘I’m not saying gentrification isn’t a genuine issue, but it’s possible that it was a front for both the flash mob and the arson.’ She spoke quietly but her voice conveyed authority. She joined Dan and I at the front of the room. ‘It’s the Trojan horse model of sneaking something under the radar. If you want to create a distraction, you pick a theme which is guaranteed to stir people up. That way, you maximise the chances of getting a big crowd.’
‘From what I see as a newcomer, it’s definitely the cost of living that bothers Londoners most,’ said Dan.
‘And the more faces and bodies you can gather,’ Jackie continued, ‘especially when they dress the same, the more difficult it is to see what’s going on.’
‘The masks?’ It was obvious now.
‘Precisely,’ she said, gauging the reaction to her words. ‘Masks aren’t just about group identity. They render people faceless. Group dynamics quickly shift from the inter-personal to a mob.’
‘Do we know whether LfA simply publicises these flash mobs or whether they’re the organisers?’ Shen asked.
‘We don’t know.’ I felt frustration bite. ‘Some of the kids mentioned a man called Frazer. Hopefully the technicians can find out what his role is.’ I took stock. ‘Moving on to evidence. Alexej, can you summarise?’
‘The exhibits are all catalogued. Loads of personal items.’ He clicked his screen into life and read off it. ‘Bags. Clothing. Phones. Keys. The speakers.’ He turned to face me. ‘Dougie’s sent through a list of the top priority ones. Any chance of the lab fast-tracking these?’
Jackie must’ve caught his sideways glance. ‘I can see that the scope of this investigation is vast,’ she said, adopting a cautious tone of voice, ‘but I’ve literally just got off the DLR. Maya, I’ll need you to bring me up to speed on budgets, PDQ.’
‘Sure. Let me run through the main lines of enquiry and who’s doing what later.’
Jackie nodded her agreement.
‘Until evidence tells us otherwise, I’m going to suggest that Indra is our prime suspect. Anyone disagree?’
The room was quiet.
‘Right. Shen, can you assess the H-2-H reports? Check alibis and if anyone was seen entering the shop. We need background information on Simas and Indra. Bank and phone records. And insurance details for the shop.’
Shen leaped into an empty seat.
‘Alexej, the CCTV. There wasn’t any smoke when the arsonist entered the shop. It’s a small window of time but let’s find it. And keep checking for anything that’ll help ID our UnSub.’
‘Sure.’ He wheeled round on his chair.
‘Dan, can you chase the fire investigation engineer on when we can get the bodies out?’
‘Gotcha.’
‘I’ll ask Indra for a list of people who had beef with them or their business.’ We had more questions than answers, but at least we had a plan of action. ‘Let’s get some sleep and I’ll see you all bright and early tomorrow.’ I turned to Jackie. ‘Shall we nip up to the Morgan Arms? We can grab a bite to eat and I’ll bring you up to speed.’
‘You read my mind.’ Her tone shifted and she smiled warmly. ‘Tell me to mind my own business,’ she lowered her voice, ‘but I’m pleased Dougie is still around. I hope you two are still . . . ?’
I chuckled. It was so ‘Jackie’ to make a comment like this, moments after joining the team. ‘We are.’
She began gathering up her bag and jacket, then stood still for a moment. ‘I was sorry to hear about your brother last year.’
‘Thank you. At the time, his suicide was a terrible shock for all of us. Particularly Mum.’ I felt my eyes filling up and my throat tighten. This wasn’t like me. Was it Jackie’s kindness?
‘Maya, I know how much you cared about him and—’
‘. . . It’s Mum I worry about. She’s never recovered from Dad leaving. It’s like a huge black cloud rolled in front of her and she can’t seem to emerge from behind it.’ Mentioning Dad reminded me that I still hadn’t opened the forensic results. ‘When Sabbir moved back to Bangladesh, she took it personally, as though it was another betrayal and he was leaving her rather than a life that wasn’t the right shape for him.’
Jackie was nodding gently, and I appreciated her not churning out comments about ‘sympathising’ and ‘time healing’.
‘. . . She was never going to understand Sabbir committing suicide. Do you know the really sad thing though?’ I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and looked at Jackie. ‘It shouldn’t have been a shock to any of us. All the warning signs had been there for years. We just didn’t see them.’ I paused. ‘The truth is, I can’t stand on Brick Lane without remembering him and wondering whether I could have done things differently.’
Jasmina holds the packet of Love Hearts to her nose and sniffs. ‘You have a go.’ Her giggle rings out in the enclosed space of the shop. She stuffs the packet at my face. ‘It’s like breathing in luuuurve.’ She makes her voice go all dreamy and breathy as she says the last word, and pulls a silly face.
‘Urgh. They’re too sickly.’ I push her hand away, grabbing several Cough Candies instead.
‘Come on, you two.’ Sabbir’s frustrated plea falls on deaf ears as usual. He’s at the door, flicking through a magazine which he’s already paid for. ‘Dad’s waiting.’
‘I wouldn’t worry,’ Mrs Feldman whispers to Jasmina and I conspiratorially, and it sends me into giggles because she’s deliberately made her voice loud enough for Sabbir to catch. ‘If I know them, your father will be having a good chinwag with my husband.’
Sabbir’s demeanour relaxes and he returns his attention to his magazine.
Jaz peers at the contents of my paper bag. ‘I don’t like Cough Candy. They cut the roof of my mouth. You always get Parma Violets. How can you say that Love Hearts are too sweet and like them?’ She chuckles.
Coming to Mrs Feldman’s shop is such a treat. Dad came home in a good mood and announced that he was taking us out.
‘The wholesaler delivered some new sweets this morning,’ Mrs Feldman says. ‘My son put the order through and only told me when they arrived. Shall I get him to bring them out for you?’
Jasmina and I beam at her.
‘Thanks, Mrs F,’ says Jaz.
‘Knowing him, he’s probably putting through a few more orders while his father’s not looking.’ She chuckles, as though she’s secretly proud of Tomasz’s interest in the shop. She disappears out the back and begins calling. ‘Tomasz? Tomasz, love, could you bring the new sweets through for the Rahman girls?’
A few moments later, she arrives back with a mousey-haired boy in tow. He’s about Sabbir’s age but taller. I’ve seen him in the shop before. He’s carrying two boxes with an air of cool about him.
‘Here you go, girls,’ Tomasz says. ‘Lemon Sherbets and Black Jacks.’ He places the two boxes on the glass counter and his smile warms the room. ‘Bet you haven’t had them before.’ He gives a friendly chuckle. Rips open a black and white packet and offers us a wrapped cube.
‘My Agnieszka loves the Black Jacks. Soft and chewy, she says, but they make