Read An Act of Kindness: A Hakim and Arnold Mystery (Hakim & Arnold Mystery 2) for Free Online Page B

constables, was what looked like a cartoon of a far-right thug except that his build was slight. A swastika tattoo covered one side of his neck. Vi ignored him and looked at the Asian who, in spite of the blanket, was shivering.
    ‘Mr Islam.’
    He moved towards her, his voice trembling. ‘Yes?’
    ‘You might not remember me, I’m DI Collins,’ Vi said, ‘from Forest Gate.’
    ‘Oh, yes. Hello.’
    ‘Hello. You discovered the body?’
    ‘I fell over it,’ he said. Then he corrected himself. ‘Them. The man and the skeleton, I …’ He swallowed. ‘I’m always chasing people out of this place. There should be some sort of guard.’
    ‘So you dialled 999?’
    ‘From in here,’ he said. ‘I was in here when I called. I saw them, people, running about. I saw at least one get over the gate and get away.’
    ‘You shouldn’t really climb in here you know, Mr Islam,’ Vi said. ‘It’s dangerous.’
    ‘I know that!’ He shook his head. ‘And believe me, most of the time I wouldn’t dream of getting in here. The wall is high …’
    Vi looked at it. It had to be at least eight feet tall.
    ‘But this time I heard someone scream,’ Majid Islam said. ‘Iwas in my house, in my dining room, and I heard screaming coming from here.’ He shrugged. ‘So I put a ladder up against the wall, and then I saw them.’
    ‘How many were there?’ Vi asked.
    ‘Three that I saw. One I saw get away, the other must have got away and this one …’ He turned to face the figure with the swastika. Majid Islam moved in closer to DI Collins. ‘They’re always of that type,’ he said. ‘That, or they’re jihadi boys.’
    Of course they were. Who else would break into a Jewish cemetery except white rights nutters and al Qaeda fanboys?
    ‘Do you know the dead man at all, Mr Islam?’ Vi asked.
    ‘No.’
    ‘Not a neighbour or …’
    ‘I think he looks like a homeless person. He does to me,’ he said.
    ‘And do you know that person?’ She indicated the figure with the tattoo.
    ‘No!’
    ‘By “know him”, I mean have you ever seen him before?’
    He considered the question for a moment. ‘No, I don’t think so.’
    ‘Thanks, Mr Islam,’ Vi said. ‘When SOCO have finished we’ll be able to take you home. Until then, I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to keep you here.’
    He said nothing, clearly not happy, but resigned. Vi and Tony Bracci moved forward until they were standing in front of the skinhead being restrained by the two constables. A pair of the sharpest, bluest eyes Vi had ever seen looked at her with loathing.
    ‘So what’s your story then?’ she asked.
    The skinhead tried to pull an arm free and then spat down on the ground.
    ‘Charming.’
    One of the constables said, ‘She doesn’t speak English, guv.’
    ‘She?! Are you sure?’
    ‘Yes, guv.’ The constable who was speaking looked embarrassed. ‘When we grabbed her to stop her escaping, we …’ He nodded towards the figure’s chest, covered in a loose, hoody top.
    Vi tried not to laugh. ‘So if she can’t speak English, what can she speak?’
    ‘Dunno.’
    ‘Well, find out.’ Vi looked at the swastika proudly displayed on the girl’s neck. ‘It’s bad enough we have to put up with our own scumbags without importing the bleeders. And we need to know what she knows about our body.’
    ‘Yes, guv.’
    Vi turned to Tony Bracci. ‘I want everyone in every house that backs onto this cemetery spoken to, Tone,’ she said. ‘I know that wall is high but it ain’t soundproof.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Do it.’ She waved him on his way, then watched as the Scenes of Crime officers erected a tent over the body and the skeleton. Tangled together they lay on top of some poor-looking graves, marked only with simple plates and surrounded by stones.
    Vi looked around the cemetery, darkness now illuminated by SOCO’s powerful lamps. The wall was high, but it was still possible for people in the surrounding houses to see what was