Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [readnow TXT] 📗

“Reverend Paul Truelove. Very beautiful people; they were so kind and helpful to me when I was new in this country. I hold them always very close to my heart, Allah be merciful.”

I nodded. “You probably remember that back then Simon Martin was the victim of a home invasion…”

His face had changed in a second and he looked like he might cry.

“It was a tragedy. I pray every day for his soul. Such a good man, with an equally as good wife, beautiful baby. Kind people. How can this happen to such a kind family? I want to know. How can this happen? Allah be merciful!”

“Well, that is what we are trying to find out. We have reopened the investigation, Ahmed, and as I understand it, you were there on the day in question, with Reverend Truelove.”

He was doing big nods, involving his whole upper body. “I was. I was. You want to know what I saw, and what I remember?”

“That would be very helpful.”

He sank back in his chair. His eyes became abstracted. “It is such long time ago. I was…” He shook his head, pulling down the corners of his mouth. “Fifteen? Sixteen? Just a boy.” He gave a small laugh. “So grateful to be away from Iraq! So grateful for starting this new life! And to Paul and Simon…” He sighed and I waited. “They were trying to decide what is best, I work for Paul Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Simon Thursday, Friday and Sunday?”

“Sunday. Not Saturday?”

“No, Sunday, because Saturday is bad for me. Sunday. Or maybe they think is best I work for Paul in the mornings and Simon after lunch. They were wondering, talking, talking. This day Simon is at work. He is always at work! Six, seven days of the week. I joke with him, ‘If the week have fourteen days, Mr. Simon, you would work fourteen days!’ He laugh a little…” He held his fingers together to show a really small amount. “He’s a man who does no laugh much. ‘We praise God in our work!’ he say to me. I say, ‘Allah be praised!’”

“So what happened this day?”

“Paul he say me, ‘Come on! We go talk with Sylvie! She will decide!’ so we go through the garden. Is very good. The gardens are connected so we can go, pom pom pom, through the garden to her house.”

“What time would that have been around, can you remember?”

He rocked from side to side, like he was listening to a sweet melody. “Maybe five or six. I go always to Paul after four, five. So he go inside to have coffee and talk with Sylvie, and I start to collect fruit from the plum trees and the apple trees.”

“What happened next?”

“I am working, pompompom, pompompom, and Paul come to the step of the kitchen door. He said to me, ‘Ahmed!’ And he put up his thumb.” He showed me the thumbs up gesture. “He say me, ‘It is all set up, you work afternoons for Simon and Sylvie. Mornings with me.’ I say him, ‘Sounds good to me’ and he go.”

“What time?”

“Oh, it must be around six. Maybe more.”

“What did you do with the fruit?”

He smiled. “Put in baskets and leave them in the kitchen. Sylvie tell me she is going to make jam and pies to sell for the church. She say maybe she will have some extra for me.” He winked and his grin was infectious. “She is very good woman. Very religious, with God. Allah is merciful. I clean the leaves, water the flowers, and I go.”

“How did you go?”

“Through garden to church. Then I got on the bus.”

“I want you to think very carefully about this question, Ahmed. It is very important. If you are not sure, then just say you are not sure, okay? Did you or Mrs. Martin close the kitchen door before you left?”

He put his hands over his eyes and then slid them slowly onto his forehead. His eyes were wide and abstracted. “No…” he said, “No, don’t say this to me. I leave the door open. Is this how he is getting in? Oh, man…!”

I shook my head. “We don’t know yet, Ahmed. Don’t blame yourself. He might have got in any number of ways. You are sure you left the door open?”

“Yes.”

“I know it’s a long time ago, but anything you can remember is helpful. Did you happen to notice anybody or anything that struck you as odd, strange, out of place?”

He shrugged and sighed. “Maybe, then, but is such long time. I don’t remember.” He made a ‘pfff’ sound. “And you know, it is Bronx, right? What is strange is when you don’t see nothing strange.”

“I hear you. Ahmed, you have been very helpful. Thank you.” I stood and he stood with me.

“We always want to help the police. Anything at all, we are here, you are always welcome.” We shook hands and he saw me to the door. “Please, come again.”

I made my way back to the Jag and sat thinking and turning things around in my head, and whichever way I turned them, I couldn’t get them to sit right. It just didn’t work, however I looked at it. At least one person was lying, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t Ahmed.

I took my time driving back, running over every detail in my mind, trying to find the corners and the straight edges of the jigsaw, hoping I’d catch Dehan before she left for her uncle’s.

I parked in the lot, crossed the road and stepped into the lobby. Maria was behind the desk and gave me an insolent wink. “Hey handsome!”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Hello Sergeant. Don’t make me report you for sexual harassment.”

“In your dreams, white boy!”

“You