Dirty Old Town

by L M Krier

  Please don’t let the boy come in and see them like that.

  What programme was he watching?

  Would it end soon?

  He’d eaten, so he shouldn’t be hungry and come looking for food.

  He must have heard the man come in. He usually kept out of his way until he was sure it was safe to be in the same room.

  Finally, the man gave a long, juddering sigh. His hips and his hands slowly stopped moving, in unison.

  His voice, when he spoke, was once more almost conversational.

  ‘Now, this is a beautifully sharp blade. You can easily take off any fat and sinew with it. It will slide through meat like through butter. Look, let me show you.’

  He dropped the steel with a loud crash against the work surface. Then he grabbed her wrist once more, turning the vulnerable white flesh of her inner arm upwards to meet the soft kiss of the descending blade.

  His mouth was close to her ear again as he said, ‘Like this, you silly bitch. Remember, always lengthways, never across. And it’s so much better in hot water. In the bath. When you finally do it, remember that.’

  A trickle of blood appeared instantaneously where he’d opened up the skin. A flesh wound. Painful, stinging, but not serious. She couldn’t stifle the cry it brought from her lips.

  He flung the knife into the sink, clattering against the stainless steel, clamped his large hand over the wound, then said loudly, ‘Oh, darling, what have you done, you silly thing?’

  The boy came running in, alerted by the sudden loud noises. He saw the man holding his mother’s arm aloft, hand gripping it tightly, blood trickling between his fingers.

  ‘Don’t worry, boy, silly mum’s had a little accident with the knife while she was seeing to my lamb chops. Don’t panic, there’s a good boy. I’m going to fix it. It’s not serious. It looks worse than it is. Pass me a couple of clean towels, there’s a good chap. Don’t worry, I promise you it’s going to be all right. You know how clumsy mum can be.’

  The boy stood rooted to the spot, suspicion etched into his face. Then his mum spoke, choking back the tears.

  ‘It’s all right, love. Just a silly accident. It’s really not serious. Get some towels, there’s a good boy. It’ll all be fine in a minute. You’ll see.’

  Warily, not convinced, the boy went to the drawer where the clean towels were, took out a handful and passed them to the man.

  ‘I told you you weren’t fit to look after the lad,’ the man said, his voice low, but the words still clear to the listening boy. ‘You can’t even look after yourself, let alone him. You’re going to hurt him one day, mark my words. Even if you don’t mean to.’

  She tried to smile reassuringly at her son as he stood watching, missing nothing. She couldn’t find the voice or the words to reassure him, only the watery smile.

  Her mind was occupied. The tune playing over and again in her head on a loop against the repeated mantra she recited deep inside her brain.

  ‘Wish harder. It will all be all right if you wish a bit harder.’

  Chapter Three

  ‘Right, team, settle down.’

  Ted started off the morning briefing in his customary way. He wanted a quick update before handing over to Jo. His DI was more than capable of running things while he was elsewhere. But Ted held the purse strings now, so he liked to keep an overview of what was happening with his budget, as much as anything.

  ‘As you know, I’m off up to Central Park later, so I need bringing up to speed with what we’ve got on the books here, please. That way, having now met most of the other teams, I can bring extra officers in to help out as necessary.’

  DS Mike Hallam spoke first.

  ‘Boss, the fatality from yesterday. The flats in Sandstone Street. Not a husband and wife, but a couple cohabiting. Not that that makes it any better. We’ve got the man downstairs. I’m going to crack on with interviewing him after we’ve finished here but he was denying everything yesterday.’

  ‘Gut feeling, Mike?’

  ‘Guilty as sin, I would say,’ Mike told him. ‘I don’t think he’ll confess, though, and I don’t initially see how we can make a case against him. Depending, of course, on forensics and the PM. Plenty of witnesses to say there was always a lot of shouting from the flat but there’s no one who actually saw the incident on the stairs. Or not anyone we’ve found so far.’

  ‘Any children?’

  ‘A little lad of nine. Very traumatised, as you would expect. Children’s Services are looking after him for the moment, until they find a relative, if there are any. Our best bet is detailed statements from all the neighbours and anyone who knew the couple, and that’s going to take a lot of time and people, boss. We’ll also need the woman’s medical records to check whether or not his claims about her state of mental health are true or not.’

  ‘What does the man do for a living?’ Ted asked him.

  ‘Lead shift engineer in a manufacturing plant. In charge of a small team, keeping the production line running at full capacity. They often have to work antisocial hours so they can get access to the machinery when it’s not running at full throttle.’

  Ted nodded at the information, then said, ‘Jo, liaise with Kevin Turner to see if he can help out with anyone from Uniform for now. Tell him I’ll bring in reinforcements, too, as soon as possible.’

  ‘Will do. It’s a good time to ask him as he wants some of us to help with the big demo coming up this weekend. They would choose a Bank Holiday, of course, so we’re all going to be stretched a bit thin. And it’s this weekend you’re on a Do Not Disturb, isn’t it boss?’

  ‘That’s the theory, at least. What else?’ Ted asked them.

  ‘The Black Mould Scam, boss,’ DS Rob O’Connell told him, a note of humour in his voice.

  ‘Black Mould Scam?’ Ted echoed. ‘Explain, please.’

  ‘A particularly nasty pair of individuals going round targeting older people who look like they might have some nice pieces in the house. Saleable antiques more than cash, although they take that too, of course, if they find any. Anything easy to lift that they can sell on. They tell the homeowners they’re sub-contractors for the council, surveying homes for signs of serious black mould infestation in kitchens and bathrooms, which is a big health risk. Usual story, one of them keeps the householder talking while the other one goes round taking anything they can pocket and making a note of anything to go back for.

  ‘They seem to be doing their homework thoroughly as they’ve largely been targeting single occupant households.’

  ‘Is there much of it going on?’

  ‘One or two reports so far, but I suspect it might be one of those crimes which gets under- reported because people are embarrassed about it. They might feel stupid that they fell for something like that and prefer to write it off to experience.

  ‘I’ve not had time to do any door-to-door yet, but I’ve been to one so far where the scammers met their match good and proper. An older lady, down Bramhall Lane. A widow, living alone. She let them in, because their paperwork looked genuine enough, but as soon as they separated, it made her suspicious, so she went on the offensive.

  ‘Her late father had been in Africa during the war and brought back a load of memorabilia with him. She grabbed a weapon and started prodding one of them with it until he squealed, so they both decided to leg it fairly quickly.

  ‘Mrs Hamer, the lady in question, is small and slight, but I can imagine her being quite fearsome armed with an assegai.’

  ‘An assegai?’ Ted queried.

  ‘A type of spear,’ Steve supplied, as Jezza added helpfully, ‘Like in Zulu, boss, if you saw that film.’

  The two of them often helped Jezza’s younger brother Tommy in his constant searching for quiz questions and answers.

  ‘Spear or not, she was taking one hell of a risk, going on the offensive with them. What were they like? Do we have a good description of them?’ Ted asked.

  ‘We do, boss. She’s very observant. A very
good witness. I’ll circulate it and cross-check against known offenders. And as far as risk goes, Mrs Hamer is a retired headteacher. She started her career in approved schools with some challenging young offenders. I did have a word with her about the wisdom of having weapons lying around which could potentially be used against her by intruders. But she gave me one of those teacher looks. You know the ones. It took me right back to my schooldays, so I shut up.’

  Even Ted had to smile at that. Then he looked across at Jo and said, ‘When you’ve finished here, come over to my office and we’ll talk about getting some press releases out. Some sort of a warning to potentially vulnerable people. We should talk to the council, too, work with them on getting the word out there.

  ‘Anything else I need to know about?’

  When Jo said not, Ted went back to his office. Jo joined him after a few moments, and began by asking him, ‘Is Steve all right at the moment, do you know?’

  ‘As far as I know he is,’ Ted replied, as Jo sat down, nodding at Ted’s suggestion of coffee. ‘Have you seen something to make you think otherwise?’

  ‘I may be overthinking, of course, but he spoke up just now in a full team briefing without calling you sir or even boss, and that doesn’t happen very often.’

  ‘Well, that’s true enough. But maybe he’s gaining a bit of confidence? He’s finally realised none of us bite. After all, he’s had some cracking ideas on recent cases. Really dug us out of a rut on a couple of occasions, and we’ve always been careful to let him know his input is valued.’

  ‘He also doesn’t seem very focused, to me. Not like he usually is. Other than that interaction, he seemed to be mostly staring into space. That’s not the first time I’ve noticed it recently. A bit preoccupied by something, perhaps? I’d better keep a close eye on him, make sure he’s okay. He’s always so worried about saying or doing the wrong thing,’ Jo went on.

  ‘I could perhaps have a quick chat with Bill, see if he knows of anything that’s worrying him more than usual,’ Ted suggested. ‘I can’t say I’ve noticed, but then I’ve been out of the office quite a lot.’

  DC Steve Ellis lodged with former sergeant, now in charge of the reception desk, Bill Baxter. At least when he wasn’t spending time with his computer expert girlfriend, Océane.

  ‘Could you perhaps have a quiet word with him, if you can find the time?’ Jo asked, as Ted put drinks in front of them both and sat down.

  ‘For some reason I seem to scare him, although I try not to. I don’t think I’m a particularly scary person. Am I?’

  ‘Honest answer or diplomacy?’ Jo asked, smiling. ‘But no, I wouldn’t say you were scary. Although maybe I’ve simply never merited seeing you in scary mode. Yet.’

  He took a drink of his coffee before continuing, ‘I have to say he seems to have some sort of a hero worship thing going on with you.’

  ‘D’you think so?’ Ted queried, surprised by his words.

  ‘It’s obvious he thinks highly of you, and praise from you is particularly important to him. Is there anything on his files that gives a clue? Does he have any family? I’ve never heard him talk about himself at all, I have to be honest. I really don’t know much about him. I know he lives with Bill now and before that with Maurice, but that’s about as much as I do know. I can try asking Maurice, too, see if he’s noticed anything unusual.’

  ‘I honestly don’t know much about his background myself. I only know that he had a bit of a rough time of things growing up. I tend not to look at files on team members. I prefer to make up my own mind about people.’

  Jo’s laugh was louder this time.

  ‘I’m delighted to hear it. You’ll find mine full of “spoken to about inappropriate apparent flirtation with female colleagues”. It’s the red-blooded Latin in me, but I hope you believe I don’t mean anything by it. And I would never deliberately make anyone uncomfortable by how I behave.’

  It was Ted’s turn to chuckle.

  ‘I’ve never got over Professor Nelson saying how much she enjoys your charm, as she puts it, when you’re working together.’

  Professor Elizabeth Nelson, the Home Office pathologist with whom they often worked, was not someone used to being chatted up, on her own admission. She’d confessed to Ted a fondness for Jo’s style, and his flashing gold tooth.

  ‘And if you ever got a sneak peek at mine you would doubtless find several references to “cocky little sod”, but that’s not for public consumption, either. Right, well, let’s keep a close eye on young Steve between us. Especially if he finds himself in the front line when we have to put uniforms on to help out Kevin’s officers.’

  ‘We, Ted? Are you thinking of coming and joining us mere mortals in the thick of it? Won’t you have more than enough on your plate in your new role?’

  Ted threw him a conspiratorial grin.

  ‘Why not? When I need a good excuse to escape some of the paperwork, you might find me queuing up to volunteer. But seriously, though, keep a close eye on Steve, please.’

  ‘So statistically speaking, the most common cause of death and serous injury we’re currently investigating appears to be related to domestic violence.’

  Ted finished his summing up, looking towards the ACC rather than any of the assembled inspectors, chief inspectors and superintendents from around the force area. He knew most, if not all of them. A couple of them had tutted their irritation and asked him to speak up as he presented his report. Ted always spoke quietly. He found it was a good trick to get people to listen to him.

  Before Russell Evans could reply to Ted, a Uniform superintendent gave a contemptuous snort and said, ‘Preventive policing, Ted. That’s what we’re on about here. How do you propose doing anything to prevent domestic violence? Leaflets through letterboxes, asking people to play nice and stop knocking the shit out of one another?’

  Evans could sense Ted’s hackles rising even at a distance. He stepped in swiftly to calm things down. They were all tense, pitching for a constantly-shrinking budget.

  ‘All right, Vinny. Knowing Ted as well as I do, he will have done a detailed report with his proposals, which I’ll take away and study, to see if any of it has legs.’

  It was as near to a rebuke as anything he would say to his officers in an open meeting.

  ‘Am I right, Ted? You’ve written something up for me?’

  ‘I have, sir,’ Ted told him, pulling documents in a folder out of his briefcase and sliding them up the table towards the ACC.

  Then, looking directly at Superintendent Vinny Harrison, he went on, ‘And I appreciate it’s not the easiest of crimes to prevent. Appealing to the better nature of someone who thinks it’s all right to assault their other half is a waste of time, obviously, because if they had a decent nature, they wouldn’t do it.

  ‘And I say other half advisedly, because this isn’t exclusively a male on female crime, although that’s the more common. I have at least one case that I know of in my area where a woman has killed her husband, seemingly after years of physical and psychological bullying of him, rather than her defending herself, according to witness statements. He’d said nothing about it because he’d clearly been conditioned to believe that men don’t do that sort of thing.’

  It had gone quiet around the table, all eyes on Ted. Most of them knew him, at least by reputation. Ted leaned back in his seat, folding his arms. He’d said enough. He sensed he may well have said too much. But he’d said his piece, as he’d been determined to do.

  ‘Thank you, Ted,’ the ACC told him. ‘I look forward with interest to reading your proposals.’

  Ted was quiet on the drive back to Stockport. He sat in the front next to Kevin Turner who was driving, their own Superintendent, Debra Caldwell – the formidable Ice Queen – in the back seat. He was worried he might have pushed things a bit far.

  He was surprised when, as they walked back towards the station together, while Kevin went to park the car, the Ice Queen turned to him and said, ‘Well done for standing
up to Superintendent Harrison like that, Ted. He’s always struck me as something of a bully himself, and after all, domestic violence is the most extreme form of bullying. Good for you.’

  Ted stopped at the front desk for a quick word with Bill before he went back up to his office.

  ‘Does Steve seem all right to you at the moment, Bill?’

  ‘Bearing in mind I don’t always see him every day, if he’s off with that lass of his, then I’d say yes, he seems about as usual. He’s quiet, but then he often is. Why, have you noticed anything?’

  ‘Jo says he seems a bit distracted, and even quieter than usual. Did you ever find out any more about what you told me? About him keeping his T-shirt on in the shower?’

  Bill gave him one of his old-fashioned looks over the top of the reading glasses he used for paperwork.

  ‘Patience, Grasshopper. I’ll find out if and when he’s ready to talk to me, and not before. If it’s anything I think you should know about, I’ll tell you.’

  Ted went on his way smiling to himself. The Grasshopper reference reminded him of the Kung Fu TV series he’d watched as a martial arts mad young boy. Repeats of a classic from the seventies.

  * * *

  ‘Mum! Why have you come to meet me? Only the babies’ mums come to meet them.’

  She’d hoped he might be pleased to see her waiting by the school gates for him. Instead he scowled at her in that way he had when he felt he was being shown up. It made her want to hug him. She knew he would never forgive her if she did. Not with his schoolfriends around, who might see it and tease him mercilessly about it. Not that he had many friends. He was a quiet boy who kept very much to himself. Always busy with his books or glued to his Playstation, which they’d bought him as a special Christmas present for doing well at school.

  It wasn’t surprising he didn’t form friendships easily. He wouldn’t want to bring anyone back to the toxic atmosphere which reigned in the house. She tried to shield him from it as much as she could but he wasn’t stupid. Far from it. He was observant. He picked up on things. Especially when there was an atmosphere.