‘My brother’s house. In Leicester. I’ve…’
‘You’ve had trouble sleeping after what you witnessed. I’m not surprised. But if you could find somewhere to stay in Derby it would be better. We need to be able to contact you…’
Mr Singh sat down on his plush sofa, indicating a chair for Brook. ‘I see.’
‘Do you live here alone?’
‘My wife and daughters are in India for a few weeks. But yes, I’m alone…’
‘A lot of worry, aren’t they?’
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘Daughters. A lot of worry. I’ve got a fifteen year old.’
Mr Singh nodded. ‘Yes. They can be difficult.’ He wouldn’t look at Brook, who sensed Mr Singh was probably picturing the difficulty Kylie Wallis had encountered next door. Finally his eyes turned to Brook. ‘What questions?’
‘Just routine. Like how did you get on with the Wallis family?’
‘Mr and Mrs Wallis are…were racists. And their son Jason. They were unpleasant people and we had nothing to do with them.’
‘So things were strained between you?’
‘Not really. As I said, we had nothing to do with them. We kept out of each other’s way.’
‘What about noise from next door? Was that usual?’
‘Sometimes. Things got a good bit quieter when they had the baby though. Do you mind if I smoke, Inspector?’
‘As long as I can join you,’ replied Brook.
‘Of course.’ Mr Singh took a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his dressing-gown pocket and lit up with a heavy sigh then studied Brook, wondering why he hadn’t done the same.
Eventually Mr Singh retrieved his cigarettes, shook one out for Brook and handed him the lighter.
‘Thank you. I left mine in the car.’
‘No problem. That’s where I’ll have to hide mine when my wife gets home.’
Brook smiled but resisted the invitation for man talk. ‘What about Kylie?’
Mr Singh was puzzled. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You said Mr and Mrs Wallis and Jason were racists. You didn’t mention Kylie.’
Mr Singh hesitated for a moment then smiled sadly. ‘She was a lovely girl. Lovely. They didn’t deserve her, the rest of them. They were scum. I’m sorry to speak ill of the dead, but they were. They were trash and won’t be missed. But Kylie was always nice to my girls.’
Brook nodded. ‘When you went next door, you went into the living room first and turned off the CD player.’
‘Yes.’
‘You turned the volume down first?’
‘Yes.’
‘Were you aware that Jason was in the kitchen at that time?’
‘No. I turned the CD player off then turned the big light on at the wall…’
‘You could see to do that?’
‘Yes. The hall light was on.’
‘Then what?’
‘I saw…’ Mr Singh took a more urgent draught of tobacco and hung his head. ‘…then I went to the kitchen to phone 999.’
‘You didn’t touch the bodies?’
‘No!’
‘Not even to check for signs of life?’
‘No. They were dead. Or I thought they were. I was glad to hear about the baby…’
‘Then you saw Jason in the kitchen?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I called the police.’
‘You didn’t check Jason’s pulse.’
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. I assumed he was dead.’
‘Then you went outside to wait.’
‘Yes.’
‘And you saw no-one and heard no vehicles?’
‘That is correct.’
Brook nodded and pocketed his notebook. ‘May I use your phone, Mr Singh?’
‘Please.’
Brook drew out a piece of crumpled paper from a pocket and proceeded to dial. ‘Constable Feaver, it’s me. Okay. Half way.’ He put his hand over the receiver and smiled at Mr Singh.
From the Wallis house a barely audible noise could be discerned. Brook listened, watching Mr Singh closely. Singh nodded. ‘That’s how it started out.’
‘What time would that have been?’
‘Twenty minutes to midnight.’
‘Why so exact?’
‘When you’re disturbed by neighbours you look at the time. In case…’ He hesitated, then looked away, unwilling to finish.
‘…in case you want to charge round there and have it out with them.’ Brook smiled politely.
‘I suppose so. I wouldn’t have. My wife…’ Again he left the sentence hanging.
Brook spoke into the phone. ‘All the way up, Constable.’ The music was no longer muffled. It pounded through the wall and crashed onto Mr Singh’s floor which vibrated in tune. Then it died somewhat but that was more down to Mahler’s composition. Before long the horns were hammering on the floorboards again.
‘And it was midnight when it became that loud?’ Singh nodded. ‘Okay. Thanks Constable,’ said Brook into the phone. ‘Turn it off.’ Brook replaced the receiver and turned to Mr Singh. ‘I admire your patience. I would have gone straight round and hammered on the door.’
‘I was going to but they turned it off a couple of minutes later.’
‘Sorry. I thought you told DC Noble you put up with it until half past twelve before going round?’
‘I did. I mean I got my slippers on to go round but it stopped completely. So I went upstairs to get ready for bed then it started up again. Really loud. As you said, I stood it for as long as I could then I went to complain.’
‘And that would have been at half past.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us this before?’
‘I’ve only just remembered with you playing the music.’
‘And how long was the music off?’
‘A few minutes, Inspector. Maybe five, no more than ten.’
‘I see.’
‘Is it important?’
Brook shrugged. ‘It could be.’
‘Is there anything else, Inspector? I’m very tired.’
‘Me too. Thanks for answering my questions at this hour, Mr Singh.’
Singh took the hint and set off for the front door. As Brook passed through the entrance Singh smiled at him. It was a bleak expression which Brook recognised as that of a fellow insomniac.
‘When will my clothes be returned to me, Inspector?’
‘As soon as we’ve finished with them. Assuming you still want them. There’ll be blood on the shoes and probably the garments too.’
