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It was an Excel spreadsheet of meaningless figures, the years at the top, starting with the present, and in the columns below gradually increasing numbers following a starkly straight trajectory. She snorted a laugh when she saw that rounded figure of £80,000 in the final column. Not a pe
Hurriedly she looked through the other files: badly sca
‘Malki Tait’s ma says he was out till two last night.’ Ba
‘Where is he now?’
‘Doesn’t know.’
‘Did he just walk out of the house this morning?’
‘Left the house in a minicab this morning. Gobby and Routher called around the local firms and found the cab that attended the address. They’re tracking down the driver for a destination. Anyway,’ he fell back into the corridor, ‘move it. We’ve got Omar upstairs. His lawyer’s with him. I want you with me.’
She looked at the thumbnail images on her screen. ‘I don’t think he’s doing a VAT fraud, Grant, to be honest-’
‘Yeah, let’s go up and find out.’ Ba
28
Omar didn’t look up as his lawyer shepherded him down the corridor to the interview room. He didn’t look worried so much as exhausted. His eyes were red, like someone who’d been eccied, up all night, and had just started coming down. Morrow saw him shut them tight a few times, as if trying to coax moisture across them. She felt a bit that way herself. She thought of home and hoped Omar’s interview would drag on and on, that they’d uncover information that would spark an urgent new course of investigation. She was overtired now and felt too delicate to go home.
It was teatime, shift change at the station, and the interview rooms were all empty. Ba
Ba
She conceded and they took their seats, the lawyer on the outside, unpacking her papers and pens, Omar by the wall, shifting about in his seat, wringing his hands under the table, getting them out again. Morrow watched him from the corner of her eye. He didn’t seem unduly nervous, not guilty-nervous, just appropriately uncomfortable.
Lord of them all, Ba
He and Morrow busied themselves with cassette tapes, fitted them, turned the machine on and waited for the beep to notify them that the recording had begun. Ba
The lawyer was young, a pretty blonde woman with an enormous amount of make-up on. Pearly pink blusher was drawn in thick stripes across her cheeks and eyelashes glued into black sticks.
Omar looked even thi
When they were all settled he looked up and recognised Morrow from the night before. ‘Oh, hi again,’ he said, eyes open and hopeful, pleased to see her, not at all like an accused.
Both Ba
‘Omar, in the course of our investigations we have uncovered some facts that we would like to ask you about. In relation to that you’re being detained here and I’m going to read you this caution, OK?’
Omar answered at the same time as his lawyer’s formal response that he was willing to cooperate in any way: ‘Oh, ’course, aye, yeah. Fine.’
Ba
‘Yeah, yeah, I do,’ said Omar, whose attention seemed to have wandered a little during the recitation.
‘Well, Omar, first of all, you said in the interview last night that the gunmen were looking for-’
‘Rob, I know.’ Omar covered his eyes with his willowy hand and cringed. ‘I know, sorry. I spoke to Billal and he said you knew it was Bob. Sorry about that.’
‘… not be flippant,’ muttered the lawyer.
Omar straightened his face and opened his giant hands towards them in appeal. ‘No, I know, I am sorry. I am. We just, you know, thought it would be better if you were looking for those guys instead of thinking it was something to do with me.’
‘When did you decide to lie?’
Omar frowned as if he thought Ba
Coldly Ba
Omar dropped his gaze. ‘Well, um, after we called 999. When the ambulance came, just before the ambulance came.’
‘How did you decide?’
Omar’s mouth flapped once. ‘Wha’?’
‘Did you all get together and agree a version of what happened?’
‘No,’ he was adamant, ‘no, no, no, listen we were, Mum was, tying a tea towel to Aleesha’s arm, and we just sort of said, you know, might be best if we said Rob instead of Bob.’
‘You said it?’
‘I du
‘So your family know you’re called Bob by some people?’
‘Yeah, yeah, they know.’
‘Your dad knows you’re called Bob?’
It was a good move, Morrow had to give it to him, a good build to the point and a good crash. Omar frowned at the table.
‘What do you suppose your dad’s thinking now? They came looking for you and you didn’t own up so they took him. What do you think he’s thinking now?’
Tearful, Omar shrugged.
Ba
Omar’s voice was soft, childlike. ‘Not… great. Better recently.’
‘Better recently?’
He shrugged again, a small gesture, shameful. ‘Been trying harder.’
‘Why?’ asked Morrow.
He sucked his teeth, looked as if he was thinking about telling a lie, looked at Ba