Free An Act of Kindness: A Hakim and Arnold Mystery (Hakim & Arnold Mystery 2) by Barbara Nadel Page B

property development company as well as a sideline in lending money. The money had to be secured on something of course, like a house or a car – or a wife.
    He dialled the number on his iPhone and put it up to his ear. As he listened to it ring, he looked up at the window of the office above George the Barbers, and he saw her pick her up mobile. Lee Arnold was still out and so he expected her to be forthright.
    ‘I’ve paid you,’ Mumtaz Hakim said tersely. ‘What do you want?’
    ‘Just reminding you about the date for next month’s payment,’ he said. ‘It’s the sixteenth.’
    ‘I know that,’ she snapped. ‘Leave me alone.’
    He could just see her features fall into a scowl.
    ‘Making sure there’s no mistakes,’ Naz said. ‘I’d hate to—’
    ‘Spare me your insincerities,’ she said, and cut the connection. He watched her throw her mobile down on her desk and then she disappeared from view. Shame. Although older than he was, she was a tasty-looking woman. That said, if given the choice between her and her stepdaughter Naz would be a bit stumped. The kid was cute.
    *
    Nasreen put the strange metal object on Mumtaz Hakim’s desk and placed the small photograph alongside it.
    ‘You found this on one of the back doorposts?’ Mumtaz asked.
    ‘Yes.’ Nasreen was surprised at quite how young Mrs Hakim was. She’d imagined her to be pretty but a bit motherly too. But, like they said, she was beautiful. ‘I’d like to find out who she is, if that’s possible.’
    ‘Mmm.’ She looked up. ‘Do you own your house, Mrs Khan?’
    ‘My husband does, yes.’
    ‘Because previous owners will be listed in the deeds and then there is the Land Registry.’
    ‘Yes, I know.’ She could have asked Abdullah to look it up, but she wouldn’t. ‘My husband is very busy,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to bother him with this.’
    ‘OK.’ She gave Nasreen a look as if she didn’t quite believe her.
    ‘I’m three months pregnant,’ Nasreen said. She knew this didn’t explain anything, but she felt compelled to say it anyway. ‘I’d like
you
to look into it.’
    ‘Very well.’ She smiled. She wore the most beautiful rose-coloured headscarf that was tied in such a stylish way it almost made Nasreen want to wear one herself.
    ‘I’ve money.’
    ‘Of course.’ Mumtaz smiled again. ‘Now can you tell me if you know anything at all about your house. Anecdotal stuff is fine.’
    Abdullah had bought the house effectively on his own at auction. ‘It was empty for a long time,’ Nasreen said. ‘Years.’
    ‘Do you know who your husband bought it from?’
    ‘A firm of solicitors held the deeds, I believe.’
    ‘Do you know which one?’
    Nasreen didn’t and it made her feel stupid. ‘No,’ she said. They’d been married when Abdullah had bought the house andyet she’d let him get on with it like some sort of helpless village woman. Her mum wasn’t like that. Although in public her mum always covered her head, like this Mrs Hakim, she was very much the mistress of her own destiny. Sometimes, Nasreen felt, her father was the junior partner in their relationship. Had she taken a step back into the past when she married Abdullah? Or was she simply reflecting a trend for increasingly traditional relationships that seemed to be growing in some sections of the Muslim community?
    ‘May I keep the photograph?’ Mumtaz Hakim asked. ‘And the …’ She picked up the metal capsule.
    ‘I don’t know what to call it, either,’ Nasreen said. ‘Yes, you may.’ And then something occurred to her, something her mother had said when Abdullah had bought the house. ‘One thing I’ve heard is that a man lived in our house alone for many years.’
    Mrs Hakim began to write this down. ‘Do you know his name?’
    ‘No, but my mum said he was white.’ She bit her bottom lip. Her mother had advised her against buying that particular house. ‘She said that whenever she saw him, he looked very sad.’
    *
    It