A Taste For Burning Part 3

He showed her to a sitting-room where they talked without interruption. Indeed, for all she could hear to the contrary they might have been alone in the house.

She came directly to the point. 'Monday night's fire at your warehouse. We're treating it as malicious.'

'Yes,' said Asil Younis.

'You're not surprised?'

He gave a delicate Asiatic shrug. 'The Fire Brigade said it probably was.'

She felt a momentary twinge of annoyance. 'Yes, of course. Now you've had the chance to think about it, have you any idea who might have been responsible?'

37.Younis looked surprised. He had very dark eyes set deep into a smooth dark skin. Liz found it impossible to judge his age: he could have been anywhere between about forty and fifty-five. He said, 'I supposed vagrants...' His voice too was ambivalent. There were enough shades of difference that you knew it wasn't an English voice, not enough remaining of his native accent to place it accurately.

'With three fires in five days,' said Liz, 'we think it's rather more deliberate than that. Is there anyone who might have a grudge against you, Mr Younis? Either you personally or one of your companies?'

'Undoubtedly,' said Asil Younis, smiling. 'That, Inspector, is the price of success. It's easy to have friends as long as you aren't too good at your job.'

'And who might have been sufficiently aggrieved by your success to put a match to your property?'

'No one at all,' said Younis firmly. 'Don't misunderstand me, Inspector. I have plenty of -enemies may be too strong a word, but people who have no fondness for me. It is possible that one among them might take direct action to embarra.s.s me. But none of them would have chosen to burn that warehouse. For one thing, it would not be common knowledge that it belonged to me. Even in the business community, only someone with a long memory would know that when that building was in use it was run by Hereward Holdings which is a wholly owned subsidiary of my company Cornmarket Trading. None of this is secret, you understand, but it is of no interest who owns a derelict building.

'And the other reason none of my enemies would destroy it is that I would count it a favour. I haven't found a use or a buyer for that property in ten years. It is an embarra.s.sment to me. I am most pleased that it is gone. I shall be even more pleased when the insurance pays out. Oh no, Inspector Graham, no one burned that building out of hatred for me.' He smiled again, a small feline 38.smile that Liz couldn't interpret. 'And I don't think I have any friends kind enough to burn it for love.'

She had long ago learned to give nothing away by her expression. She might be puzzled by this clever, articulate, wealthy man; she might be unsure how to judge nuances of tone and gesture that would mean one thing in a homegrown man of the same age and status and something quite different in one of another culture; she might wish there was someone whose opinion she respected she could compare notes with afterwards. But outwardly she remained composed and in control of the situation. She couldn't match Shapiro's wonderfully impervious Upholder-of-the-Queen's-Peace mien: she wasn't equipped, lacking the breadth of face to pin it on or the number of chins needed to support it. Nor could she yet match the gymnastic agility of the brain masked by that stolid expression. But she was a skilful detective who conducted a sound and comprehensive interview, and if she were unsure how to react to Asil Younis she could at least keep him from guessing that.

She said calmly, 'Which raises the other point we have to consider. Could it have been done by someone in your employ?'

Younis laughed out loud, amused by her directness. 'You're asking if I torched my own warehouse for the insurance?'

'It would be useful to have your response to that, sir, yes.'

"The answer, Inspector, is no.'

'I see,' said Liz. 'Could someone working for you have done it without your knowledge -thinking he was doing you a favour, perhaps?'

'No, Inspector. People who work for me don't do anything without my knowledge. I encourage obedience over initiative. I have enough initiative for us all.'

'I'd be safe a.s.suming, then, that if the act was carried out by someone on your staff the order came from you.'

39.Younis's smile grew broad. 'Inspector, I believe you would. But you will waste altogether too much time looking for this imaginary employee. My advice is that you look for your arsonist elsewhere.'

Liz gave a friendly nod. 'Oh, we will, sir. We'll be looking for him in all sorts of places. We'll turn him up. Hopefully before he damages any more of your fellow- countrymen's property.'

For the first time Younis frowned. 'My--? Inspector, are you a.s.suming a racial motive to this?'

'That's another possibility we have to consider,' she said coolly. "The first victim was also a Pakistani businessman. Mr Rachid Aziz: do you know him?'

The least hesitation flickered across Younis's face. 'I -He is known to me, yes. We could not be described as friends.'

'And why's that?'

Asil Younis was plainly happier answering questions about his warehouse than about his relationship with Aziz. His tone hardened and he drew himself up tall. 'Isn't that rather presumptuous, Inspector, to suppose that because a man's parents were born in my part of the world we should necessarily be friends? Do you like every Englishwoman you meet? I think not. I have very little in common with Mr Aziz. He was a small shopkeeper; now he's not even that. I am, as you see, a successful businessman. He lives modestly, I do not. We are of a different generation: I was born in Pakistan, I believe Mr Aziz was born here in Castlemere. I know him to see, that is all. I do not understand why you expect there to be more.'

"There is more,' Liz insisted quietly. 'His empty shop was burned down on Friday night, your empty warehouse was burned down on Monday night.'

'And the Evans' thriving timberyard was burned down last night,' parried Younis. 'I also have no close ties with the Evans family. Perhaps you will find that easier to 40.believe since my skin is not the same colour as theirs.'

Liz's first instinct was to deny the inference of that remark, her second to apologize. Sound instinct warned her that neither was necessary nor wise. She waited a moment, eyeing him speculatively, while her mind sieved out the nugget of information from that brief spat of invective. 'No close ties? Then you do at least know them, Mr Younis.'

It was obvious from everything he said, every inflection of his well-modulated faintly un-English voice and every unconscious gesture of his graceful hands, that Asil Younis was a supremely confident man, unaccustomed to the pangs of discomfiture which attend lesser mortals on a daily basis. But he was discomfited now, and it showed more because he was not used to it. 'Yes. No. I mean, of course I know them. They're members of the Chamber of Commerce, as I am. We use the same golf club. But it's not a personal acquaintance. You understand?'

Liz gave him a friendly uncomplicated smile to put him at his ease and still leave him wondering what she was thinking. 'Of course I understand, sir.' She thanked him for his time and left.

41.On his way to Superintendent Taylor's office Shapiro pa.s.sed two men in the corridor. He barely glanced at them. Three paces further on he broke his stride and looked after them, puzzled at first and then remembering. 'Robin?'

Robin Taylor turned back with a ready smile on his handsome young face. 'Chief Inspector Shapiro. I didn't want to interrupt, you looked busy. It's good to see you.'

'Robin. Good grief. I haven't seen you since you were--' His hand hovered at about chest height.

The young man nodded. In fact he'd been eighteen the last time they met and already had Shapiro's bald spot in view, but he was too well mannered to say so.

'What are you doing with yourself now?' asked Shapiro.

'Same thing: the World Health Organization. I'm home for my sister's wedding, of course. It's a madhouse at home. I wish we were Catholics and could be sure once would be enough to keep her married for life.'

Shapiro chuckled. It was refreshing to speak to an intelligent, articulate, witty person under the age of thirty. Talking to David was like drawing teeth; talking to Donovan was like listening to rock music, you knew it was trying to tell you something but too many of the actual words made no sense. And if he overheard a conversation between detective constables it would concern either football or s.e.x, and the depressing thing was how long he had to listen to be sure which.

42.'It could be worse,' he said. 'Women of the Nepalese hill tribes take several husbands at a time; often a family of brothers, to avoid dividing the farm.'

'Multiple bridegrooms -multiple best men,' mused Robin. 'Multiple rings to get lost. Multiple speeches containing amusing references to the stag night. Multiple humorous telegrams to be read out. Catholics or not, I think my mother will despatch Alison to a nunnery if the wedding arrangements get any more complicated than they are right now.' He turned then to include the other man in their conversation. 'Mr Shapiro, do you know my uncle? Major Ian Taylor of the Scots Guards.'

Major Taylor, a beefier version of his older brother with a moustache instead of a beard, seemed aware that Shapiro was pressed for time. He checked his watch, clapped the younger man on the shoulder. 'Come on, Robin, we have things to do and I'm sure the Chief Inspector has as well.'

'Glad to have met you,' said Shapiro. 'I'll see you at the wedding, no doubt.'

'If any of us stays sane that long,' chuckled Robin.

Shapiro continued on his way, equally cheered and depressed by the meeting. He was glad to see young Taylor looking fit and making something of his life. At the same time, it brought home what he couldn't help considering the mess David was making of his. There was less than a year between his son and the Taylor twins, and it was hard to believe that somewhere in the next nine months David too would begin to put down roots.

Superintendent Taylor was waiting for him, ushered him to a seat in a manner that immediately struck Shapiro as odd. James Taylor was a courteous man but they didn't usually play musical chairs.

Shapiro said, 'It's official now. Arson. Having a body makes it a murder inquiry.'

Taylor was watching from under lowered brows. 'The fire at the wharf?'

43.'Wasn't that what you wanted to see me about?'

'Actually, no.' The Superintendent chewed on the inside of his lip. 'This is going to be a bit of a shock, Frank, but something's come up that we have to talk about. Do you remember the Trevor Foot case?'

Shapiro retrieved it quickly from his mental database. It was eight years ago, soon after he came to this town, and the file was long ago closed by a successful conviction. But it had been an odd case, even briefly a celebrated one, and it still stood out from the background of burglaries and muggings that were the staple diet of Castle- mere CID.

'Laboratory, wasn't it? That place out on The Levels -BioMedical Technology, they had a Home Office licence for animal experiments. What was the name of Foot's gang? -some b.l.o.o.d.y silly acronym. BEAST, that was it -Ban Experiments on Animals in Science Today.' His eyes kindled and his voice sharpened as recollection grew. 'That was arson, too. They razed the place to the ground, and a night.w.a.tchman died. Is there a connection?'

'No -no,' Taylor said quickly. 'Frank, I hardly know how to say this so I'd better spit it out. There's been an allegation concerning that inquiry. That evidence was concealed in order to obtain Foot's conviction.'

Shapiro didn't know whether to laugh or cry. 'That's old news. Sir,' he added, reminding himself of Donovan's habit of rationing out courtesies like sips of water on a drifting lifeboat. 'Foot's whole defence was that I'd fitted him up. There was nothing else he could say: the evidence was against him, his brief had to discredit me if he was to put up any kind of a fight. He did his best, but the jury didn't believe him. They only retired out of politeness. For Heaven's sake, after eight years, why--?' His spread hand finished the question.

'I know.' Taylor's manner was apologetic. 'Frank, I know there's nothing in this. But you see my position. A serious allegation has been made, and now for the first 44.time there appears to be some corroboration. I know--'

'What corroboration?' demanded Shapiro. 'There can't be.'

'Frank, please. I said there appeared to be. When we look into it I'm sure it'll be either a misunderstanding or bare-faced lies. Can you give me a little time to get it sorted out? A few days might do; a couple of weeks at most.

'With all the outcry these last few years over unsafe convictions I can't ignore it. We both know what I'll find: that the investigation was sound and any new information is either fabricated or so flimsy that n.o.body thought it worth introducing at the time. But, Frank, since we know that's going to be the outcome, better if you aren't here while I'm looking into it.'

Shapiro stared. 'You're suspending me?'

Taylor was quick to rea.s.sure him. 'Of course not. Frank, it's just a matter of form. We have to be seen to be accountable, that's all. I know a review of the case will vindicate your actions. But your position and mine will both be strengthened by the fact that a review took place.'

'You are.' Shock dulled Shapiro's voice. 'You're suspending me. h.e.l.l's bells, James, that's never happened to me before. n.o.body ever said they didn't trust me to do my job.'

Taylor came quickly round the desk to him. 'Frank, n.o.body's saying that now. I have every confidence in you. But I have some obligations that are even higher than the loyalty I owe my best officers, and one is to be sensitive to public disquiet. Help me with this, please. You must be due some leave. You're always due leave. Take a fortnight now; when you get back it'll all be resolved. I promise you.'

'How can I?' Shapiro's gaze travelled round the office, suddenly less familiar than always, like a bird unsure if it was safe to alight. 'We're in the middle of an arson inquiry. One man's died already. G.o.d knows where this maniac'll 45.strike next, but with three fires in a week it won't be long and if he's graduated from derelict property there are going to be more casualties. How do I walk away from that?'

'You do it because I ask you to.' The Superintendent's tone was both gentle and firm. 'And because, if I have to, I'll insist. And you do it in the confidence that Inspector Graham will perform to the very best of her ability, and if she isn't quite in your league she's at least as good as anyone else we have or can get. She'll catch your arsonist, Frank, depend on it. And I'll lay this other matter to rest.'

Shapiro stood slowly, as if his limbs were numb and he couldn't feel the floor. He was stunned, like a man who's been in an accident. 'Er -what is this new evidence? You haven't told me.'

Taylor looked uneasy. 'I'm not sure I should, at least for now. It's important that you don't get involved.'

Indignation helped Shapiro get a grip on himself. 'What do you think I'm going to do, put the frighteners on Trevor Foot's old dad? Credit me with some intelligence. If you can't tell me who's produced this remarkable new evidence that changes the whole complexion of the case after eight years, fair enough. But I would like to know the nature of the allegation. I'm ent.i.tled to that, surely.'

After a moment Taylor nodded. 'Yes, I think you are. Someone's supposed to have spent the couple of days before the raid with Foot in London. The suggestion is that he couldn't have been involved in the BMT raid because he was with this person throughout the material time. There is a photograph that's supposed to prove it. The allegation is that you were given the original eight years ago and destroyed it because it cast doubt on your case against Foot.'

Shapiro was white; his voice actually shook. He knew the gravity of such a suggestion: if it wasn't disproved it would end his career. 'I never saw any photograph sup 46.porting Foot's defence. I sure as h.e.l.l never destroyed any.'

'Of course not, they're just saying that to explain why it wasn't produced when it mattered. Don't worry about it. When we examine it it'll turn out to have been taken at some other time and that'll be the end of the matter.'

All the way back to his office Shapiro felt to be sleepwalking. Once he took a wrong turning. He literally b.u.mped into Donovan who came out of the CID room with an unfolded copy of the Castlemere Courier.

'Sorry,' muttered Shapiro, continuing on his way.

'Sir?' Donovan's frown was puzzled. 'I've got something to show you.'

'Show Inspector Graham.'

'It's about the fires.'

'Inspector Graham'll deal with it.'

Most people would have taken the hint by then but Donovan pursued him along the corridor. 'Sir? She's not here, sir. And I've found something funny--'

Shapiro stopped. He sighed. 'Donovan, I don't care if you've found an unbroadcast edition of The Goon Show, it's no longer my concern. I'm going on holiday.'

Donovan couldn't have been more surprised if he'd said he was entering a monastery and his mail should be forwarded via Cardinal Hume. Now, sir?'

'Now, Donovan.'

They'd reached the DCI's office. Shapiro tried to close the door between them but Donovan came in on his heels, the newspaper in his hand forgotten. There was a certain jerkiness to his movements, a terseness in his voice, that warned he was building up a head of steam.

'There's a man dead over this,' he said, as if Shapiro might need reminding. 'I grant you, Joey Banks wasn't much of a man. There wasn't a soul living would give you tuppence for him. He never had a job from the day he quit school to the day he died. For the last ten years home was whatever empty building or unlocked shed or stack of wood he could crawl into to keep the rain off, and he 47.lived on what he could beg, what he could steal and what he could find in dustbins.

'He was so nearly a non-person that even the people he drank with didn't know his real name. Bogle, they called him. Only some of his gear survived the fire: a Post Office book with three pounds in it and a letter from Social Services explaining why none of their benefits applied to him. Now, I know a man like that isn't worth much of anybody's time. Alive, he still wouldn't be. But Joey Banks is dead, murdered, and the man who killed him is wandering round out there with a cigarette lighter in his pocket, and -because of him if not because of Joey -I don't think this is the right time to be using up your holiday ent.i.tlement.'

For what came to feel like a long time Shapiro said nothing at all. He stepped round Donovan to close the door. He sat down behind his desk. He laid his hands palm down on its scuffed surface and studied his nails. Then he looked up and caught Donovan's angry, uncomprehending gaze in a grip of steel. 'One day, Sergeant,' he said softly, 'you will favour me with one of these paeans of righteous indignation, and the very next morning I will have you directing market traffic in Castle Square. I don't need to take this c.r.a.p from you. From Superintendent Taylor I have to take it, but not from you.

'I'm going on leave, and I'm going now, because the only alternative I've been offered is suspension. Inspector Graham will take over the arson inquiry. She will, I have no doubt, be fascinated to learn what you've discovered in last week's Courier. She may even be interested in your opinion of me. But for the next ten or fifteen minutes, Sergeant Donovan, or however long it takes me to sort out a few things, this is still my office. And if you don't get out of it now, by G.o.d I'll throw you out.'

Donovan went then, the newspaper crumpled in his fist, his mind a maelstrom of questions. He thought for a moment, then went to the radio room. While he was 48.waiting for them to raise Liz Graham he tried to distil a little sense from the chaos in his head. But two quite trivial notions kept distracting him. One was that he'd never known Shapiro angry enough to say 'c.r.a.p' before. And the other was that he'd no idea what a Goon Show was.

49.7.When Liz got the message she returned to Queen's Street at once. Donovan met her on the steps, told her the little he knew as they hurried upstairs. But Shapiro had already gone.

'Then I'll go see Taylor,' she said, tight lipped.

Casual acquaintances tended to think she was a nice woman and not go much further than that. Those who'd seen her working knew that the long fair hair, its curls subdued for business in a French pleat, the wide brow and the friendly green eyes concealed a core of adamant. She'd already reached a rank which made her rare in the essentially masculine world of criminal detection. Nice women don't do that.

But a superintendent outranks an inspector by two big steps and she didn't get the information she wanted. Taylor repeated what Donovan had already said, that Shapiro was taking leave while a matter arising from an earlier case was disposed of. In the meantime she was in charge of the arson inquiry.

'It's a murder inquiry now, sir. I'd understand if you wanted to bring in someone of a higher rank.'

Taylor smiled at her. He looked tired. 'What I want, Liz, is for Frank Shapiro to get back here as soon as possible and pick up where he left off. If I ask Scotland Yard for a visiting fireman, that's not going to happen. I know you haven't been here long, but I also know you're a good detective very much in Frank's own mould. If I 50.can't have him for a week or two I'm happy to have you instead. If you can tie it up in that time no one'll be more pleased than Frank. If not, you can wrap it up together after he gets back. All right?'

She was helpless to protest further. 'All right. This other matter: can I help with that?'

'Thank you, Inspector, but I'll handle it myself. Frank's got nothing to hide and I don't want it looking like a cover-up. You can help him best by a.s.suring him that everything is under control and we're all looking out for his interests.' He gave a little secret smile into his beard. 'In the unlikely event, that is, of you seeing him.'

'It's right enough,' Liz said when she went back to Donovan. 'There's a complaint against him and he's on leave while it's dealt with. And I'm running the arson case.' She watched for his reaction.

Once in a blue moon Donovan said or did something of such generosity that it was possible for friends and colleagues to forgive the many tactless, abrupt and downright quarrelsome things he said and did in between. 'Well, thank Christ for that anyway. Listen, I've got something to show you.' He fetched his increasingly tatty copy of the Castlemere Courier.

'I was looking for a glazier.' He gave his saturnine smile. 'One who doesn't pale at the idea of windows that aren't square. And I found this.'

It was the timberyard's weekly advert. Liz read it carefully but couldn't see what he was getting at. 'So?'

He turned the page. 'Then I saw this.' It was the property column, commercial section. 'Investment opportunity -priced to allow for improvements -small shop off Milne Road, with vacant possession.'

'Rachid's Eight-Till-Late,' said Liz. 'We knew it was for sale.'