area, where light flooded through a window that led to the small balcony. The place was messy, with newspaper sections, magazines, CDs and empty cups and glasses scattered here and there, dirty dishes piled in the sink, and a few old wine or coffee stains on the fitted carpet. The color scheme, shades of blue and green, was a bit too dark and cold for Tracy’s taste. A number of framed photographs stood on a shelf above the television set, which was tuned to the BBC News at Six. A couple of the photos were of Jaff, clearly in exotic places, but there was one of a beautiful woman in a colorful sari. She had golden skin, long glossy black hair, high cheekbones, large eyes, a perfect, straight nose. To Tracy she looked like a model. One of Jaff’s old girlfriends, perhaps?
“Sorry about the mess,” Jaff said. “The cleaning lady doesn’t come till Thursday.”
Tracy smiled. “No need to apologize to me. It’s not as if I’m exactly the tidiest person in the world. Who’s that beautiful woman in the photograph over there?” she asked.
Jaff looked toward the shelf. “That’s my mother,” he said. “Don’t be…It can’t possibly be,” said Tracy.
“It is,” he said. “Honest. She was thirty-six when that was taken. Four years before she died.”
“Oh, Jaff. I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago. She was an amazing woman. Grew up in the slums of Dhaka and ended up one of the biggest Bollywood stars of her day.” As he spoke, staring at the photograph, he seemed choked with emotion. “Sorry,” he said, with a wan smile. “I still don’t find it easy to talk about her. Let’s go outside.”
“Okay,” said Tracy, following him. “I understand.”
It was clear from the cigarette smoldering in the ashtray and the half-full glass of lager that Jaff had been sitting on his balcony. Tracy sat in the opposite chair.
“Good to see you, babe,” Jaff said, touching her shoulder lightly. “I was going to ring you soon as the dust settled. Thing is, I had to go away for the weekend. Bit of business. Amsterdam and London. Just got back an hour or so ago. Drink?”
Tracy accepted, more out of politeness than anything else. Jaff went back inside to pour her a gin and tonic. Tracy gazed out over the city beyond the railway tracks. So much had changed since she had first arrived there at university more years ago now than she cared to remember. She could see several distant building sites where the giant cranes had remained stationary for months, since their funds had dried up, the ambitious towers only half- finished. The closer view only confirmed what she had felt before about the canal-side development being claustrophobic and ugly. It was too near to the railway lines, for a start, just at the back of City Station, and below the balcony was the canal, a ribbon of murky, stagnant water on which floated plastic bottles, fast-food wrappers and other things she would rather not think about. There was still plenty of activity. At the moment the area seemed to be one enormous building site. Everything was crammed together cheek by jowl. God only knew what the mishmash would look like when the builders had finished, if they ever did finish. Tracy doubted that the planners had ever thought of sketching out the whole picture.
It was a warm evening, but she kept her denim jacket on against the chill that always crept in at this time of year when darkness fell. Jaff came back outside with her drink and sat down. Tracy hadn’t stayed at the Headingley house long enough to get changed after work, and as usual, she felt quite scruffy compared to Jaff, who was wearing designer jeans and a loose white shirt hanging out at the waist. It stood in sharp contrast to his golden skin. Not for the first time, Tracy found herself admiring his long dark eyelashes, gelled black hair, smooth complexion, lean body, loam-brown eyes and the lithe way he moved. He was beautiful, she thought, like some exotic cat, but there was nothing at all effeminate about him. She also sensed that he could be a dangerous enemy, and there was a hardness in his eyes at odds with the humor and intelligence that also dwelled there. But that combination and contrast excited her, too.
He picked up his glass. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” said Tracy. They clinked glasses. “Ever been to Amsterdam?”
“No. I’ve been to London, though. Used to live there.”
“Amsterdam’s a great city. All those canals. And the clubs. Melkweg. Paradiso. Mind-blowing. Enlightened, too. You can get hash brownies in the cafes, and there are places you can sit and smoke dope and listen to music.”
“Cool,” said Tracy. “Maybe someday.”
“For sure. So what brings you here? Is it just a social visit, or what?” Tracy leaned forward and frowned. “I’m not certain,” she said. “But I think something’s wrong. The police came around to our house today and searched the place, Erin’s room in particular.”
Jaff sat up. “Erin’s room? Police? Why?”
“I don’t know. I was at work. Rose was there, and she told me about it, but you know what she’s like. I’m not sure she got all the details right. Apparently they also asked questions about who her friends were, including boyfriends.”
“Did Rose say anything?”
“She says she mentioned your first name, but she doesn’t know the address, only that you live by the canal. She’s scared stiff, Jaff. There’s something else.”
“What?”
“I rang Erin at home and a strange voice answered. I thought it was a cop.”
“Why did you think that?”
Tracy couldn’t tell him why, that she had grown up listening to cops and recognized the tone, the thrust of the questions. As far as Jaff was concerned, she was called Francesca, and he knew nothing about her father. “It just sounded like a cop, that’s all. Trust me,” she said. “What’s it all about?”
Jaff looked at his watch and stood up. “Let’s see if there’s anything on the local news. It should have started by now.” Tracy followed him inside. He cleared away a pile of magazines, and they sat next to each other on the sofa. There was nothing of interest on until the headline recap at the end, before the weather, and then all they got was a little grainy, jerky video footage taken with a hand-held camera, or a mobile, and a voice-over that didn’t really explain what was going on, except that an armed police raid had taken place on a quiet leafy street in Eastvale. Laburnum Way. Tracy felt her jaw dropping in shock at the familiarity of it all as she watched. She recognized all the houses, knew almost everyone who lived on the street.
When it was over, they were not much the wiser. Erin’s name hadn’t been mentioned, nor any possible reason for a police search of the house in Leeds.
“What’s going on?” Tracy asked again.
Jaff turned off the TV and stood up. “I don’t know,” he said. “But I don’t like the look of it. An armed police raid? Why? It seems serious. What was Erin doing at home, anyway?”
“After last Thursday,” Tracy said, “she didn’t come back to the house that night. I thought she’d…you know… just stopped the night with you. On Friday, she came by to pick up a few things to go home for a while, so she said. Rose was there.”
Jaff paced. “She did stop with me on Thursday night. Well, she stopped here, at any rate. Crashed. Passed out on the sofa. Whatever you care to call it. We weren’t on speaking terms by then. It was late. We had a row.”
“Because of what happened earlier?”
“Partly. But it’s been brewing longer than that. She’s been getting too possessive. Too clingy. I hate that.”
“So what happened?”
“I had to leave early, drive down to London. She was asleep. I left her here.” He paused. Something seemed to dawn on him. “I left her here alone. Stay here a minute, please, would you?”
Tracy did as he asked while Jaff hurried into the bedroom. He came back moments later and seemed even more agitated than before.
“Shit! The stupid bitch.”
“What is it?” Tracy asked, picking up on his sense of alarm…
“I’ve got to get out of here. They could turn up any moment. The stupid, stupid woman. She doesn’t know what she’s done.”
“Why? What were they looking for at the house?”
Jaff turned and touched Tracy’s hair so gently that she felt a little shiver run up her spine. “You ask too many questions,” he said. “You sound like a policewoman yourself. You’re not, are you? I wouldn’t put it past them to plant such a pretty girl on me.”
“Don’t be silly.”
He smiled at her, flashing those so-white teeth. “Of course not.” Then he went back into the bedroom.
“Will you please tell me what’s going on?” Tracy called after him.
