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  THE SINGHING DETECTIVE

  THE SINGHING DETECTIVE

  M.C. DUTTON

  Also by this author:

  THE DEVIL’S TEARS

  SILENT NIGHT

  Copyright © 2011 M.C.Dutton

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study,

  or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents

  Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in

  any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the

  publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with

  the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries

  concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

  This is a work of fiction.

  Any similarity to persons

  living or dead is merely coincidental.

  Matador

  5 Weir Road

  Kibworth Beauchamp

  Leicester LE8 0LQ, UK

  Tel: (+44) 116 279 2299

  Fax: (+44) 116 279 2277

  Email: [email protected]

  Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador

  ISBN 978 1780889 528

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Printed and bound in the UK by TJ International, Padstow, Cornwall

  Typeset in 11pt Stempel Garamond by Troubador Publishing Ltd, Leicester, UK

  Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  AN UNWELCOME VISITOR

  THE JAZZ SINGER COMETH

  RENEWING OLD ACQUAINTANCES

  THE FUNERAL

  ANOTHER DAY ANOTHER DOLLAR

  WHAT HAPPENED TO ALICE

  IT’S MY PARTY

  ASHES TO ASHES

  ONCE UPON A TIME

  THE SAVING OF SANDEEP KAUR BAMRA

  PAYBACK TIME

  BUSINESS AND PLEASURE

  FRIEDA’S PROBLEM

  THE FOOD OF THE GODS

  THE BOND AND THE PROMISE

  THE BEGINNING OF THE END

  FRIENDS

  MRS CHODDA’S HELPER

  CONFESSIONS OF A SMACK HEAD

  THE WRONG PLACE AT THE WRONG TIME

  A DATE WITH FATE

  REALITY CHECK

  MAD PETE

  “COME INTO MY PARLOUR,” SAID THE SPIDER TO THE FLY

  REPRIEVE AND RETRIBUTION

  THE BEST LAID PLANS OF MICE AND MEN

  THE BEAT GOES ON

  TONY’S LEGACY

  WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS

  GETTING CLOSER TO THE BULLSEYE

  THE SPIDER’S WEB

  ENOUGH’S ENOUGH

  STAKE OUT

  FINALE

  I dedicate this book to Upkar Ghatta-Aureh

  known as Uppy to his friends and colleagues.

  Your Loyalty, enthusiasm and commitment to the job

  has been an inspiration.

  I thank you for your friendship.

  CHAPTER ONE

  She watered her plant above the sink with a shaky hand. There were things that had to be done every day and in the right order. She had washed her breakfast things and before she dried up, she would water the miniature Azalea bush she had bought in Sainsbury’s last month. It had beautiful mauve flowers that looked so cheery and pretty on her kitchen window ledge above the sink. When she had dried up she would have that cup of tea she had promised herself; her throat was gasping for a nice cuppa. She liked to sit and watch Jeremy Kyle with her cup of tea. He was such a good man trying to help those angry and sad people on his programme. Their tales of woe both shocked her and made her laugh to hear such shenanigans going on.

  She was 85 years old and it was her birthday today. Tonight she would have a glass of special sherry. Harveys Bristol Cream was her favourite. With a piece of fresh salmon for her tea, she would have a meal fit for the queen. There was no one to visit her but she always had her imaginary friend, Cissie. Alice had a school friend called Cissie but they lost touch during the war. She was telling Cissie about her Freddie who had died 30 years ago. He had one of those heart attacks and just died. He had got up to go and tell next door’s dog to shut up. It had been barking for hours, no one ever knew why this dog barked so much. She recalled how Freddie had gone puce with rage, and had startled her when he got out of his chair and stood so angrily. He had shouted at the door, saying how he was going to kick that dog up the arse until it choked on its balls.

  “My Freddie was not a man to mess with,” Alice told Cissie in a shaky dry voice. “He was not very tall but he was big built with a barrel chest that he puffed out proudly when he walked down the street.” She smiled at the thought and wistfully recalled, “He would take my arm and we walked like a pair of toffs.” She paused for a moment, remembering him arm in arm with her. The days had seemed sunny and bright all those years ago. With a sigh, she continued her story with her imaginary friend. “So Freddie was very angry now and said he was going to give the neighbours a piece of his mind. Apparently, he knocked at their house and when they came to the door to see who was there, Freddie opened his mouth, went bright red and keeled over. Of course they ran and got me but I could see he was dead when I got there”. Alice paused for a moment, her eyes pricked remembering clearly that horrible day. “They took his false teeth out Cissie, and I don’t know why they did that, he was dead after all. It made him look old without them and that was not how I wanted to remember him.” Alice blinked and let go of the memory. She sighed; it was a long time ago and she had got used to being alone. He had never been much of a talker anyway, but it was nice to have someone to watch telly with. She had Netti the cat but she didn’t come in much these days. “Still,” she added warmly, “I am pleased to have you here Cissie. We can sit and watch Jeremy Kyle together but you had better cover your ears, they say some very bad things.” Alice smiled and thought oh yes, Cissie and her had some laughs together. It was time to put the kettle on.

  Alice Watson had been quite happy living in her home of 59 years. She had moved in with Freddie after they got married and they had never moved. It needed a bit of paint now, but Alice wasn’t too bothered. She had seen some changes over the years. Her road 59 years ago when they first moved in was so quiet and very nice and you hardly ever saw a car in those days. Now, when she looked outside, all the front gardens had been paved over and were full of cars and the street had cars up on the pavement as well. Newbury Park had been quite posh when they first moved in. It was very different from the East End. They came originally from Bow but Freddie had always liked Newbury Park. He had an aunt they used to visit when he was a child, who lived in Aldborough Road. He couldn’t afford one of those big houses but Wards Road was close by and the houses, newly finished after the war, had upstairs bathrooms and toilets, which was very posh. It was quiet and sedate and they had been very happy there. Now it was noisy and car music could be heard late at night.

  The first Indian family moved into the street just after Freddie died. They lived opposite her. Alice was upset that Freddie didn’t meet them. Freddie had been somewhere near India during his time with the merchant navy and he just loved a curry. Alice could never make them. Freddie told Alice about his time in India and how different and wonderful it was. She had a wooden carved elephant he had brought back from one of
his trips. He would have loved the Indian family, he always talked fondly about his time in India. She got talking to Amereen and Jaswinder and she watched little Jaswinder grow into a big lad. They could never get Alice to try a curry though. After many attempts to get her to try a spoonful, Alice had said, courteously begging their pardon for being so blunt, that she thought curry smelt like shit and there was no way she could eat that stuff. She always said her Freddie would have loved it though. This was accepted by the Singh family and never mentioned again.

  Alice and Mr and Mrs Singh formed a close and warm friendship which lasted many years. Mr Singh had died 10 years ago and that was sad. Mrs Singh had died two years ago and Alice missed her. Little Jaswinder was big now and had left home a long time ago and joined the police force. Mr Singh lived long enough to see little Jaswinder join the police force and saw him rise through the ranks. They were very proud of their son. It was a great source of sadness to Amereen that Mr Singh died just before Jaswinder or Jazz as he was now known, became a Detective Sergeant. When Jazz came back for the funeral of his mother, Alice saw him looking taller and leaner than most of the other family members she saw go into the house. She was shocked to see he had shaved his head. He laughed when she asked why he had done that. As a boy, he had thick black hair with a beautiful wave through it. He had laughed off her comments and said it was the worry of having had two wives. Alice hoped he hadn’t had them at the same time. He assured her that one wife at a time was enough for him. What he didn’t tell her was the marriage break up, the pressure of the job and that time back in Ilford had caused his hair to fall out. He liked Alice, who he knew was a sweet, kind and naïve old lady from an era that had long since passed. She didn’t need to know what was out there in the real world.

  Strange things were happening in Alice’s house. She had told Cissie about it but Cissie never had an opinion about anything. Alice had whispered that she thought she might be haunted. There were strange noises that happened like clockwork: in the morning, lunchtime, evening and in the middle of the night. The evening didn’t seem so bad because the TV was on in her room but the strange noises in the middle of the night frightened her. Her walls in her living room were really hot. If someone had lived next door, she would have thought it was their heating but no one lived next door. It wasn’t winter anyway so why would next door have their heating on? she wondered. It also occurred to her that her house was a bit warm too. It wasn’t that hot outside and although she did like a bit of warmth, it wasn’t right and it didn’t make any sense. There could only be one reason, she concluded.

  Alice listened, and thought, and what she eventually decided was that she wasn’t haunted but next door was. It was very frightening. The noises she heard were not voices, more like moans. The walls adjoining next door were hot to touch. She knew it must be the devil in there. She had taken to getting all the crosses she had in her drawers out and putting them on and trying to put them near the wall next door. There was the crucifix her mother left her, another from a visit to a church in Kent and another which was for her to wear. She used to keep it in her jewellery box but now she had taken to wearing it all the time. She found an old bible in a cupboard and put that beside her bed.

  Next door had been bought about six months ago. It was a Chinese family, she thought, well they looked kind of Chinese. Freddie would have told her off for saying that. To Alice, if you looked a bit oriental, you were Chinese. Freddie said there were lots of oriental people; some were Chinese but some were Japanese, or even Vietnamese. Alice remembered she used to say, “Well they all end with ese so Chinese will do.” Freddie was much more worldly than she was. She did missed him. He would know what to do about the Chinese house next door; he always knew what was best. The Chinese people had done some work in the house but then they had stopped and left. Occasionally, she saw someone go back in for a few hours but no one lived there. It was the end house so sometimes a car would be driven down the sideway and she never saw who had come to visit.

  Alice didn’t know what to make of it all. She was frightened by the thought that all the noise and heat could be the devil’s work. She had to do something and after considering everything, she had decided that when the Chinese persons next came to the house, she would knock and ask them if the house was haunted and whether that was why they didn’t live there. She was going to suggest they had it exorcised. She had seen a programme about it on Jeremy Kyle and that sounded the best idea. She would watch every day so she didn’t miss them arriving. The car going down the sideway meant no one went in the front door, they went in the side door and unless she was vigilant, she might miss them.

  She watched Jeremy Kyle with her cup of tea and was amazed at how people spoke to each other on the TV. She would never have had words with Mr Watson in public. They had more pride. Sometimes Freddie would say something quite sharply and she would raise her eyebrows at him. That seemed to settle him down and that was about as bad as it got between them. He was a gentleman, and would never have raised his voice at her in private, let alone in public. People were different all those years ago. Today, she was shocked to see the woman hitting and shouting at a man on The Jeremy Kyle Show. Goodness me, she thought, whatever is the world coming to.

  After Jeremy Kyle, Alice got up to start her daily chores. It was Monday so washing had to be done. She had a few personal bits to wash and the towels and bed linen would go in her washing machine. She had bought an automatic washing machine with Amereen about 15 years ago. They had both gone to the electricity shop and ordered it. Amereen had been such a good friend to her. The washing machine had changed her life. Up until then Alice had a washing machine that just washed. You had to take the clothes out at the top all soapy and rinse everything. There had been a wringer attached to the top of the washing machine and all the clothes were put through the wringer. It had been considered very posh when she first bought the Hoover washing machine, but as she got older, it was hard work, especially when washing sheets and the towels weighed so much when they were full of soapy water. Her arms and shoulders used to ache. Amereen had suggested an automatic machine. Well, Alice thought that as there was only her, it wasn’t worth the money. But, goodness, was she glad she got it. It was now 15 years old and still going strong and there wasn’t a scratch on it. Nothing wore out in her house, except herself of course. She laughed at that thought.

  Yes, she missed Amereen very much. They would sit and chat, each hardly knowing what the other was saying. Amereen had a very confusing accent and her English was always a bit limited. Alice had a strong cockney accent that Amereen found hard to understand, but they laughed and chatted together and looked out for each other. When little Jaswinder left home to work away in Manchester, Amereen was very sad and lost. She had relatives who lived up north but their visits were rare these days. Alice visited every day for months, bringing Amereen’s favourite chocolate digestives to have with a cup of tea. Eventually, Amereen felt better and was not so sad. When Alice had a fall and was bed bound for three weeks, Amereen made her a casserole, cooked her chicken, bought her fish and chips on a Friday and kept her company. Alice was very appreciative of Amereen’s help and she didn’t cook any of that foreign curry stuff for her to eat, which was very nice of her. Everyone she cared about seemed to have gone. Still, it would be her turn soon, she thought, and then they would all be together again.

  Her washing was out on the line. She loved to see it blowing in the wind; it gave her so much pleasure. In fact, if it was a nice Monday, she would wash anything and everything so she could see it blowing on the line. Today was a lovely day to sit in the garden. When she had finished her chores, she would have her lunch in the garden and watch the birds. She was looking forward to her sherry tonight. Alice liked a sherry but confined herself to special occasions only. Her parents had been Methodists and didn’t drink at all. Freddie liked his rum and said that the odd sherry would do no harm so Alice allowed herself such a delicious pleasure every now and then.
r />   This little old lady, who had lived an uneventful life, was about to be responsible for starting a blood bath between gang members.

  Today, Alice changed her routine. Instead of cleaning the bedroom, which was a Monday job, she decided to weed the front garden. She thought that next door might appear and she would notice more if she was outside. She remembered it was always on a Monday that the Chinese gentlemen usually appeared. Alice should have had her sherry at lunchtime, by teatime she would be dead.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jaswinder Singh, or the Jazz Singer, and just Jazz to his friends and enemies, was packing up his desk. He got called into his Chief Super’s office first thing Monday morning and told he was off to join the Met and he would be stationed in Ilford. “Look I know its not where you want to go Jazz,” the Chief adopted a friendly tone and used his nickname. Jazz could lose it when antagonised and he didn’t want a fuss in his office. The Chief also didn’t want Jazz to go. He was a pain in the neck a lot of the time and he got a bit close to the edge most of the time, but a good Detective he was. Dedicated, sensible, enthusiastic and, at the same time, an absolute nightmare for his partners to work with. He had been stationed in Manchester for the past five years and now he was to return to the Met.

  The past couple of years had been an experience Jazz would rather forget. His Chief Super had been a true friend to him and acted like the father he had lost. At times he was bollocked and at other times taken to the pub for a drink and some friendly advice. He had been on an insane merry go round. His wife, picked for him by his family, lasted barely a year. She was too stupid, too foreign and too lazy for him. His family had fled Uganda in 1969 when he was just a baby and he became an East London boy. His second wife was English. A blonde beauty who, at the beginning made him laugh and at the end of their relationship made him cry. His family in Bradford were not happy at all but he didn’t give a flying fuck what they thought. The arranged marriage had been organised by his uncle, who obviously didn’t know what the fuck he wanted or needed so bollocks to them, he thought.