Dead on Arrival by Patricia Hall

Author:Patricia Hall [Hall, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780312265724
Goodreads: 603159
Published: 1999-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

Laura drove slowly through the clotted taffic, past Ben Jonson School cowering behind its high protective walls, to park on a littered strip of tarmac outside the grim brick block where Osman Barre’s mother and sister had been housed. She was hot and tired but driven by a fierce anger. She locked the car, wondering whether it would still have its wheels when she returned. This was not a neighbourhood where a new car would survive long.

It was midday and very humid as the temperature climbed into the eighties, and she felt breathless by the time she had climbed up the three flights of smelly concrete steps to the top walkway. She glanced down. The whole area appeared deserted in the glare of the sun, but she had the feeling that hidden eyes were watching her progress. The car still seemed to be intact.

Mrs. Barre’s door was as tightly closed as the last time Laura had called, and a box of groceries stood unattended on the threshold. She reached through the metal grille and knocked on the reinforced door and eventually it was opened on its chain by Mrs. Barre, who looked older and greyer than ever.

“Your supplies have arrived,” Laura said cheerfully. “Do you want me to carry them in for you?”

“I can do it,” the Somali woman said, unsmiling.

“Can I come in?” Laura asked. The woman shrugged, no sign of welcome in her eyes. She unlocked the gate but held the door firmly with one hand, barring Laura’s way.

“There is nothing more I can tell you,” she said.

“You could tell me the names of some of Osman’s friends,” Laura said.

“He had no friends,” Mrs. Barre said.

“He had a friend with him the night he was killed,” Laura said, an edge of irritation in her voice. “I saw him. They were very friendly.”

The woman was already on the brink of panic and suddenly, as she glanced nervously over the balcony to the street below, she became agitated. Laura followed her gaze and saw a group of young men with aggressively short haircuts and heavy boots marching across the deserted car park in the direction of the entrance to the flats just beneath them. Mrs. Barre’s eyes widened in fear and she clutched the door jamb to support herself.

“They are coming here,” she said, her voice hoarse. Laura pulled her mobile phone out of her bag.

“I’ll call the police,” she said but Mrs. Barre clutched at her frantically to prevent her using the phone. Behind her in the doorway Laura saw her young daughter Djamilla and a figure she recognised instantly as the young man she had last seen laughing and chattering with Osman Barre as they made their way home together through Princess Wharf station.

“No, you don’t understand,” Mrs. Barre said urgently. “No police. We can’t have the police here. My son Ahmed is here with me. They will arrest him.”

Laura glanced over the balcony again. The gang of youths had reached the entrance door at the end of the block and were shoving and pushing their way inside.

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