Dirty Old Town

by L M Krier

  He’d expected to be the first person in and to profit from a bit of quiet time at his desk. Instead he found Steve already installed in front of his computer. He looked dreadful. He never really had the look of a healthy, outdoor type, but he was now paler than Ted had ever seen him. He also looked as if he had dropped some weight, and he didn’t have any to lose.

  He lifted his head at Ted’s entry, his expression more anxious than usual around his senior officer.

  ‘Morning, sir.’

  ‘Morning, Steve. Are you all right to be in work? You don’t look on top form, I have to say.’

  ‘That’s what I wanted to tell you, sir. I came in early, hoping to catch you. I had to take the weekend off. I had some sort of gastric bug or maybe food poisoning. I started being sick at the demo and I’ve spent most of the weekend throwing up ...’

  ‘It’s fine, Steve, you can spare me the details. You’ve got an excellent record, so a couple of days off sick isn’t an issue. As long as you’re sure you’re fit to be back at work.’

  ‘Yes, sir, there’s nothing left to come up.’

  Ted headed for his own office to tackle whatever had landed on his desk in his absence. He rather wished Steve hadn’t shared so much information with him. He wondered fleetingly if he had been doing what suspects so often did in interview. Supplying too many details in an attempt to make something sound credible. But then he pushed the thought aside. He’d no reason to suspect Steve would be anything other than truthful, or would pull a sickie when he knew how stretched they all were. To be on the safe side, he’d need to have a quiet word with Jo and Rob to get the full picture. If Steve needed their help and support, they would all rally round him. But first they’d need to know what was going on.

  He’d made a small dent in the catching up when his mobile rang. He recognised the number but even if he hadn’t, he would have known immediately the voice which greeted him with, ‘Eddie, dahhhling, how are you?’

  Gina Shaw. An undercover Drugs officer he’d worked with on a previous case. One which was still frustratingly unfinished. Her speaking to him like that meant she was either somewhere she needed to stay in character for her PR cover, or she was enjoying teasing him. When he hesitated slightly and she laughed, he knew it was the latter.

  ‘Hello, Gina, what can I do for you?’

  He tried not to get too optimistic, but if she was calling him out of the blue, there was a slim chance she might have some good news for him about the still-open case. It would make his day to hear there was a chance of getting some justice, finally.

  ‘It’s more what I and my colleagues might be able to do for you. I don’t want to get your hopes up too high, because it may yet not come off, but I’ve been covertly and carefully watching your delightful young drug dealer, Data, for some time now. It’s just about possible that we may shortly be in a position to arrest him for possession with intent to supply. I thought that might perhaps be of interest to you?’

  ‘It certainly is. Especially if I can be there to see the little bugger get his collar felt. We want him for quite a few other things too. Most importantly, we want him to lead us to our famous blind dwarf drugs baron, if we can.’

  ‘I thought you might. I’d already raised the possibility with my powers that be and got a very guarded agreement. Apparently I’m meant to remind you that you would be there to observe only and not to do any special agent stuff abseiling down buildings, if that means anything to you?’

  Ted laughed at her words. They’d clearly come from someone who knew about his previous role as a Specialist Firearms Officer, when operations like that had been routine work for him.

  ‘Right, I’d better love you and leave you, Eddie,’ she stuck ironically to the name she’d given him for their cover when they’d first met. ‘I promise to keep you posted, and look forward to meeting you again soon, hopefully in positive circumstances.’

  Jo Rodriguez came to find Ted before the rest of the team arrived, as they’d arranged. He paused to ask Steve how he was feeling and if he was really fit to be back at work. Steve looked uncomfortable and replied with a, ‘Yes, sir, thank you,’ which surprised Jo. No one on the team ever called him anything but Jo. Not even Steve, in normal circumstances.

  Jo’s tap on the door of Ted’s office was cursory, to say the least. Merely a formality. As he went in and took a seat in response to Ted’s nod, he observed, ‘Well, you look pleased with yourself, Ted. Was the hippy-fest as good as that?’

  ‘I actually enjoyed myself a lot more than I thought I would. It was like nothing I’ve ever attended before, but it was great fun. The happy couple have gone off on their honeymoon up to the Highlands and Islands now. Or whatever the equivalent is called in hippy-speak. So let’s hope the Professor’s replacement for the next two weeks is as easy to get along with, and as efficient as she always is.

  ‘What’s really put a smile on my face this morning is that Drugs have their eyes on our old friend Data once more, and are hoping to mount an op to pull him in. I’ve already declared an interest for us and pointed out that we’re keen to use him as a possible way to get to the man behind the whole drugs operation. The famous Big Man. Not to mention the rest of it.’

  ‘Now that would be a very welcome tick on the books all round. Especially if he can lead us to the mysterious Big Man, whoever he is.’

  ‘I want to try to be involved in briefings on this from the beginning, if I can. I need to make sure everyone concerned knows exactly what we’re up against. Not just from him but from his Special Forces henchmen. It would be a serious mistake to underestimate any of them.’

  ‘As long as you’re not spreading yourself too thin,’ Jo told him. ‘You can’t be everywhere at once. That’s what I’m supposed to be here for. To spread the load a bit.’

  ‘I know and I appreciate it, Jo. I’m leaving you in charge again later on. I’m going back over to Ashton to see if they’ve achieved anything yet. I’ve a mind to ship DC Burgess back here, so you can ride shotgun over him a bit. Have a think about who we could send in exchange. It needs to be someone who can guide DS Ramsay without undermining him. Or maybe I should shift Burgess across to Trafford for Sarah Jenkins to sort out. Then once things ease up a bit here, we could replace him by sending Graham Winters to Ashton. He’d be an asset.’

  Ted had briefly told Jo about his visit to other stations when they were discussing best use of available officers.

  ‘So tell me, how it’s been. And what about Steve? He looks shocking this morning. Have you managed to find out anything more about what’s bothering him? He told me gastric flu or food poisoning, but he really isn’t himself, is he? If we can get to the bottom of it, we might be able to help him, but he doesn’t open up easily.’

  ‘Steve was the first thing on my agenda to talk to you about. It started on Saturday, apparently, as soon as things got lively with the crowd control. He was at the front with Rob and the others when it all started to kick off. Rob said he looked ready to turn tail even before he was sick. Clearly once he started throwing up he had to leave. The thing is, we don’t know if it was genuine illness or if he really did bottle it.’

  ‘Who’s going to talk to him about it? It’s time we tried to get to the bottom of whatever is going on with him. He’s clearly not right. We need to make it clear he’s not in any sort of trouble, but we can only help him if we know what the problem is.’

  ‘I was going to leave it to Rob to talk to him, initially. He was in charge on Saturday, after all. Steve was answerable to him. I thought it might seem as it we were undermining Rob’s authority if either of us waded in initially. If necessary, we could refer it on to Kevin. It was his op, he was in overall charge, and he can do tactful. Perhaps you should make time to have a quiet, unofficial word with Kev about it? On the off-chance that someone else there had a clue about it all.’

  ‘That sounds like a plan. Shall we go and catch up? Sounds like the rest of them coming in now.’

  ‘Before
we start, Ted, I keep meaning to say, and forgetting. I have the perfect video footage to blackmail you with whenever I need to, which I’ll hold over your head for ever more,’ Kevin Turner warned Ted as he went into his office and sat down later on.

  ‘What, Moondancegate? That’s has been all over social media and goodness knows where else. There’s no blackmail mileage left in that at all.’

  Kevin looked sly and tapped the side of his nose.

  ‘Not Moondance, no. Something much, much better to threaten you with.’

  ‘Give me a clue, then.’

  Kev gave a sadistic chuckle.

  ‘You’re the clever detective. It’s up to you to work it out. But it gives me total power over you for as long as I want. All I’m saying for now is, nice legs.’

  Ted stared at him in dawning horror. He thought he’d got away with having had to do a hasty striptease in the station car park to get out of a suit which stank like the crime scene he’d just left. He should have known that nothing like that went unnoticed at the nick.

  He made a clumsy and obvious change of subject.

  ‘Anyway, I gather there was a bit of a problem with Steve on Saturday. It may have been genuine illness, of course. But until I find out more about what’s wrong with him at the moment, if you need us for any more fun and games, I’ll either substitute him with someone else or make sure he’s done some update training before we put him in a similar situation again.’

  He went hurriedly through everything else he needed to discuss with Kev, then beat a retreat as hastily as he could, Kev’s threat about the video, and his laughter, ringing in his ears.

  He decided to go to Ashton earlier than he’d planned. He’d prefer to be somewhere else if CCTV footage of him in his kecks really was circulating in the station. The mere idea was making him paranoid. Were the two PCs who stood aside to let him go through a doorway first really grinning at him with knowing expressions, or simply smiling politely at him?

  He hadn’t booked Hector for this journey. It wasn’t justifiable use of his time to keep him hanging around when Ted didn’t know how long he was going to be. He would take his service vehicle. He was turning up unannounced, as he said he would. The optimistic side of him was hoping to see an improvement in the team over there, and there was certainly room for it. The realistic side warned him it was probably too soon for results.

  Only DS Ramsay and Lee Wu were in the office when Ted walked in. He could see that Lee was trawling through CCTV footage. Ramsay was doing paperwork. The look the sergeant gave Ted when he saw him raised his hopes once more. He would really like to see a result from this team.

  ‘Hello, sir. You’ve come at exactly the right moment. Alan, DC Burgess, has just gone out with Uniform assisting to bring in one of our suspects. You were absolutely right. Once we started going out and about checking for private CCTV footage, we found some. And it shows a regular of ours. Nasty piece, with previous for robbery and assault. So hopefully we might be getting somewhere at last.’

  ‘Good, I’m pleased to hear it. Are you planning on interviewing him yourself?’

  ‘I thought I would do, guv. I’ve dealt with him before. I’ve sorted out a warrant to search his place for any of the stolen property.’

  ‘Excellent. I’d like to stay and watch over the monitor, if that won’t cramp your style.’

  ‘Fine by me. Oh, and I should say, the credit for this goes to Lee. She was the one who spotted him on the footage.’

  Ted smiled at that. He was pleased with the progress, but even more pleased that the DS gave credit where it was due instead of grabbing the glory for himself. Perhaps there was hope for him.

  * * *

  The chicken was in the oven, on a low light. It should be fine for when he got home. Nice and tender. Just the way he liked it. The boy had eaten earlier. She’d have something with her husband when he got home. If all was going well. Perhaps, for once, they could sit together at the table and enjoy their food. Like normal couples did. It would be a long time since that had happened.

  As ever, she listened out for warning sounds as he came through the door at the end of his shift. A way to gauge his mood. Sometimes, if he was feeling calm, he gave a little two-tone whistle to announce his arrival. He did that this evening, as she heard him put the car keys down quietly.

  ‘We’re in the living room,’ she called out. ‘I’m helping him with his homework.’

  She realised she’d made a mistake, saying that, as soon as she heard his snort of derision. She was so stupid. Always saying the wrong thing. She wished fervently that she could bite back the words. But it was too late. She’d said them, and he’d heard her.

  ‘Good god, woman,’ he said as he strode in.

  His tone was mocking but he didn’t have the dangerous edge to his voice.

  Not yet.

  ‘Don’t you think he has enough difficulties getting it right, without you adding to them? Come on, then, lad, show me what you’ve been doing with all this wonderful help from your mother. Between us, you and I might be able to sort it out into something that’s worthy of you handing in.’

  Mother and son were sitting at the table together. The resemblance between them was striking. There was nothing of the father in his appearance, although there was no doubt the boy was his. There’s no way the woman would have dared to cheat on him.

  The boy was as skinny as she was, with that same permanently anxious look. As if he was sure everything he did was wrong and he was about to be punished for it. Yet always striving so hard to get it right. Seeking his father’s approval.

  He was holding up his exercise book now, his hand visibly shaking. Two faces looked up at the man, both with the same look of desperately wanting everything to be right.

  ‘Oh dear,’ the man said, shaking his head. ‘Oh dear, oh dear. This is no good at all, lad. What have I told you about relying on your mother for help? This is a pile of crap, to put it mildly. You can’t hand this in. You’ll only embarrass yourself if you do. Let’s you and me sit down together and see if we can’t make a better job of it.’

  He put the book down on the table and moved round to where the woman was sitting. For such a bulky man, he could move with surprising speed. He gripped her by the back of the neck and hauled her bodily from the chair, shoving her aside so roughly that she lost her balance and fell over with a small cry of pain.

  The boy was on his feet in an instant, his chair tipping over backwards with the speed of his movement. He flew at the man, pulling powerlessly at him, trying to get to his mother, as his father stood over the fallen woman,

  ‘Leave her alone! Stop bullying her! Mum! Mum!’

  The man turned slowly towards the boy as the mother struggled to get up off the floor to protect him.

  ‘Well, what have we got here? The cub trying to fight the alpha male to save his mother’s worthless hide?’

  He didn’t bother to raise his voice. His tone was measured, reasonable. He simply picked the boy up, gripping both upper arms and holding him effortlessly aloft.

  ‘You’ll thank me for being strict with you now, my lad, when you land the job you want and you do well at it. And I know you will. As long as you listen to me about what standards are acceptable and not to her,’ he jerked his head to where the woman was now pulling herself up off the floor, trying to get hold of his arm to stop him hurting her son.

  He set the boy carefully back down on his feet and told him, ‘Sit back at the table, lad, and let’s go through this again. The two of us. Until it’s worthy of being handed in.’

  His casual back-handed slap to the woman’s face as she managed to get up off the floor had little more force than he might have used to swat a fly. It still knocked her back off her feet and made her gasp.

  ‘You. Go and see to my tea. And make sure it’s edible, for once. Goodness knows how long I’ll be, sorting out this rubbish. But I’ll see to you later.’

  Chapter Nine

  It was a smugly self-sati
sfied DC Alan Burgess who strode into the office having arrived back from bringing in the suspect. He was clearly so pleased with himself that he failed to notice the DCI sitting, head down, going through the case file, at a desk in the corner. It was finally coming together, although there was still a lot of work to be done on it before it was fit to send to CPS.

  ‘Got the bastard downstairs, Pete, so I’m ready when you are. Stick the kettle on, Chop Suey, love, I could murder a brew before we get stuck in.’

  It was only when Ted lifted his head and spoke quietly that Burgess seemed to notice him.

  ‘If you’re brewing up, DC Burgess, mine’s a tea, white, two sugars, please.’

  Burgess recovered his stride quickly enough. It was obvious that it was a rare thing indeed for him to be office tea boy. He knew roughly what his male colleagues drank but he clearly had no idea about Lee Wu and had to ask her. It emphasised that this was the first time he had ever made a drink for her.

  When Burgess left the office to go to the kitchen with their orders, Ted soundlessly got up to follow him. He was in his famous stealth mode, which his own team knew so well.

  Burgess was opening and closing cupboards to find things. The unfamiliarity of it all was noticeable. Ted was so tempted to shut the door of the kitchenette behind him with a high-flying karate kick – the action his team called his kick-trick – but he held himself in check. He decided it didn’t quite go with the image of Head of Serious Crime. In addition, he could hardly have the talk about equality he intended to have with Burgess if he left himself open to allegations of bullying and intimidation.

  ‘How long have you been with the Force, DC Burgess?’

  ‘Twenty-five years and counting, guv.’

  ‘Long enough then to know that it’s not the nineteen-seventies any more and that any form of racism, sexism or any other type of discrimination is not tolerated.’

  ‘Chop Suey?’ Burgess asked, his expression all outraged innocence, getting tea, coffee and sugar out of a cupboard now he’d found the right one, as he waited for the kettle to boil. ‘That’s just a bit of a joke. A nickname, like. Lee doesn’t mind.’