by L M Krier
Chapter Eight
Ted took the stairs back up to his office two at a time. He was not in the best of moods. He’d not managed to get to either the self-defence club or his judo session the night before. His martial arts usually provided him with an invaluable safety valve, a way of dealing with the pent-up frustrations and emotions of the job. It didn’t help that when he went into the main office, Virgil had clearly just cracked a joke as there was some laughter from the team members working at their desks.
‘Am I to understand by the laughter that there’s been some sort of a breakthrough on the case?’
Heads immediately bowed back over work. It was rare for the boss to speak sharply. It meant they took more notice when he did. Rob O’Connell, as the senior officer present, awarded himself the short straw of answering, although he suspected the question had been rhetorical.
‘Nothing new to report yet, sir,’ he opted for formality, sensing the boss’s mood was not good. ‘But we are working on it.’
‘Well, can we have more work and less hilarity. We need to start seeing some results. We also need to think about prevention. Our abductor may go quiet for a time, if he follows his previous MO. If not, we need to be on the lookout for any similar cases in the making. I want to be kept informed of any young teenage boys who go missing, especially if they match the profiles of the three we know about. Young, sixteen or seventeen, good students, trouble-free. Anywhere in the country. Let’s get something circulated and see if we can’t stop another one from happening. Steve, you’re in charge of that.’
DC Jezza Vine was the one brave enough to put her head above the parapet to voice what they were all thinking.
‘Er, boss, that risks being an awful lot of false alarms to be checked out.’
‘I’m well aware of that, DC Vine. Thank you for pointing it out. But what do you suggest? We wait until the next victim turns up? Remember all three of these young men have been held and systematically tortured for six months.
‘Can we please all just focus on what it must have been like for Tim, Robbie and Darren being held like that, not knowing if they were ever going to get out alive. And keep in mind the state they were in when they were found. So yes, this is going to mean extra work for all of us. But please think of the alternative.’
Ted headed for the office which Jo Rodriguez shared with Mike Hallam. Jo was at his desk, Mike was out somewhere. Ted sat down in the spare chair.
‘This is confidential. It goes no further for now.’
Jo looked up from his paperwork.
‘You have my undivided attention, boss.’
‘We have to lose a team member. A DC. Orders from on high. You know we’ve done well to escape the axe so far. Our luck just ran out. So, from ADRs, do you have any recommendations? Or has anyone shown any signs of wanting to spread their wings and move on? I really would prefer to do this on a voluntary basis.’
Jo sat back in his seat and looked at the boss.
‘What more do they want from us? We’ve had some brilliant results. Isn’t that enough?’
‘Nothing we can do about it, sadly. We’ve been lucky so far. I need to make a decision, and the Super needs it by end of play tomorrow. So, ADRs? Anything there to help?’
‘Well, we both know, without a review to tell us, that Maurice is a plodder. He does the bare minimum required to scrape by. We also both know what he brings to the team which no one else can. He’s the longest-serving and has the least ambition. No plans at all to try for promotion or to stretch himself.
‘Sal, on the other hand, is ambitious. He’s putting in for his sergeant’s exams, which he’s bound to waltz through. He should have done them long ago. And then that will present another problem, as surely the team can’t justify three DSs?’
‘Not remotely. We’re lucky to be keeping two. If we suddenly got a major breakthrough on this current case, it might just win us a stay of execution. But that’s me clutching at straws, in a big way.’
‘So how are you going to pick someone, boss?’
‘I wish I knew. I gather Kevin Turner is facing a harder job than me. I’ll buy him a consolation pint later on, after work. In the meantime, if you have any bright ideas, Jo, I’d welcome them. And like I said, this is confidential. I don’t want people getting worried.’
Ted decided to leave it until later in the day to go and talk to Kevin Turner. He knew he would be taking the news of further cuts to his officers hard. He was on a rant the moment that Ted walked into his office, after a cursory knock.
‘If you’ve come in here to whinge about how hard things are for you then don’t. Just bloody don’t. I’m dealing with shit here and I’ve no idea how I’m going to manage. So whatever it is you want to moan about, you can just piss off. Sir.’
It was a measure of how wound up he was that he made the reference to their difference in rank, even in a tone dripping with sarcasm. He and Ted had known one another for years and got usually on well together, working with a mutual respect which made their jobs easier for both of them.
‘I was actually coming to suggest I buy you a drink after work. It sounds as if you need it.’
Kevin was rubbing his stomach, a sign that his ulcers were playing up again. It was no surprise, with the stress he was currently under.
‘Yes, sorry, Ted. That would be good. I’ll phone the missus and tell her I’ll be late, again. She’s starting to forget what I look like.’
‘Six o’clock in The Grapes, then. My shout.’
Ted got his phone out on the way back upstairs to call Trev.
‘I’m going to be late again tonight. Sorry. Are you teaching? You probably told me and I forgot.’
‘I did and I am. What time will you be back? I’m just doing a one-hour slot at six, so I won’t be late back.’
‘No idea, at the moment. I’ll text you when I’m leaving. Eat when you’re ready, though, don’t wait for me. I don’t want to spoil your evening if I get back too tired to feel hungry.’
When he returned to the main office, Ted noticed all the team members had their heads down, working. He didn’t like doing it, but the odd sharp reminder didn’t do them any harm, especially on a case as complex as this one.
‘Another thing I want compiling is a detailed list of the injuries each of our victims sustained, and a cross-reference of similarities and differences. Let’s look in detail at whether our attacker’s methods have changed over the course of the three abductions. Virgil, unless anything else turns up to occupy you, you’ve got that one.’
‘On it, boss.’
‘Evening, Ted. Your usual, is it?’ Dave, the landlord of The Grapes greeted him as he arrived at the bar ahead of Kevin Turner.
Ted rested his hands against the counter and leaned forward, his weight against his straight arms.
‘Not tonight, Dave. Tonight I think I need …’
He let his voice tail off as he bowed his head, struggling for control.
Dave had never seen Ted drink alcohol in all the time he’d known him. He didn’t know his reasons and had never considered it his place to ask. But he could recognise the signs of a man fighting inner demons. He liked Ted. He and his team were good customers, no trouble, always polite. He reached for the makings of Ted’s trademark Gunner – ginger beer, ginger ale and lime juice. Ted always insisted on no Angosturas to keep it one hundred per cent alcohol-free.
‘Tell me to mind my own business, but I think probably your usual would be a good idea. I’ll put some ice in it and an extra slice of lime, just to liven it up a bit.’
Before Ted could reply, Kevin arrived at his side.
‘And whatever Kevin’s having, please, Dave.’
‘Scotch. Double.’
‘Take a seat, gents, I’ll bring them over. I can see it’s been a hard day.’
‘Hard day? He doesn’t know the bloody half of it,’ Kevin commented as the two of them found a quiet table in a far corner.
Ted, the former Specialist Firearms
Officer, instinctively took the seat with his back to the wall, facing the door, in a position to see anything going on around him and particularly any trouble approaching him.
‘Sorry about earlier, Ted. I’d just about had a bellyful,’ Kevin began after Dave had brought their drinks. His double Scotch barely touched the sides on the way down, then he lifted the empty glass in Dave’s direction to ask for another, pointing to Ted’s barely-touched soft drink to line up another of them for later.
‘Leave your car at the station and I’ll run you home,’ Ted told him. ‘I’m not drinking. And go easy on your ulcers. I hear I got off lightly in comparison to you. I have to lose a DC and I’ve no idea who to pick, but I think you’re facing much worse.’
‘Apart from having to lose more officers and CSOs by whatever means I can find, I’ve got to find a way to persuade Bill to take his retirement.’
‘Shit. What the hell is he going to do if he hasn’t got his work to live for? It’s going to kill him.’
Bill had been a desk sergeant ever since Ted had first transferred to Stockport. He was a widower whose wife had died young. He still lived alone, apart from his profane parrot, Father Jack. His job was what kept him going and he was always picking up any extra shifts available to him.
‘They’re cutting down on opening hours to the public. It’s one way to make crime figures appear better than they are, to discourage people from coming in to report them. I suppose we should be grateful they’ve not shut our old nick completely, centralised everything somewhere else. That bit of a refurb they gave it probably saved its bacon.
‘But how the hell are any of us meant to solve crimes with fewer numbers and our resources being slashed all the time? It makes me seriously wonder whether I want to carry on. And this sick pervert you’re after at the moment. What if he takes someone else and you just haven’t got enough officers to go after him? It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
They talked for a long time. It didn’t solve either of their problems but it made them both feel better. Ted liked and needed the company of other coppers from time to time. He tried not to take his work home with him and there were aspects of his job Trev could never begin to understand, though he was always supportive.
It was a drunk and unsteady Kevin whom Ted delivered home to his long-suffering wife later that evening.
‘It could have been worse, I suppose,’ she sighed as she headed for the kettle, leaving Ted to help a now laughing Kevin to a seat in the kitchen. ‘At least he didn’t try to drive home. Thanks for bringing him back safely, Ted. I’d offer you a cuppa but I’m sure you’re anxious to get back home to your Trevor.’
For once, Ted wasn’t sure himself what he wanted to do. He was always glad to get home to the sanctuary of the house. He deliberately avoided taking any of his worries back to the home setting, to keep it as a place of escape. He would normally be looking forward to a welcoming hug from his partner and purrs of greeting from the cats. This evening, he felt scratchy, irritable. He would have liked to get his day pack and his hill-walking boots and disappear for hours over the tops of the High Peak. Whatever he did, the decision would still be there, waiting for him. Tomorrow he was going to have to pick which member of his team he was prepared to lose.
Trev was at the kitchen table, which was strewn with his English teaching papers. The untidy piles spilled over on to the other chairs and even the work surfaces. It looked as if he had eaten his supper in several stages, judging by the number of dirty plates, bowls, mugs and glasses littered about.
‘Hey, you. I got fired up with enthusiasm after the class tonight so I thought I’d start prepping for the next one, while I still had the ideas in my head. Are you hungry? I can soon heat something up for you, if you just give me a minute.’
‘And where am I supposed to sit? How can you work in such chaos?’
Ted started clearing up the dirty dishes, running them under hot water so he could move them to the dishwasher.
‘Could you not at least rinse things and load them, even if you can’t manage to run the cycle?’
He caught sight of the bewildered look Trev was giving him, his blue eyes clearly hurt. He stopped what he was doing, wrenched open the back door and stormed out into the garden. He’d lost it and he was ashamed of himself. It wasn’t Trev’s fault he’d had a bitch of a day. He’d allowed himself to become the clichéd copper, lashing out at the person he cared for most after the frustrations of work.
Ted was no gardener. The one thing he did love to grow was highly scented lilies. His grandmother had always had them in her garden and he’d been intoxicated by the smell of them on a summer’s evening when he was a small boy. He grew them in pots inside a construction like a fruit cage, to keep the cats away from the toxic pollen.
He let himself into the enclosure now, ready to wage war on the dreaded lily beetles which would be starting to ravage the first tender shoots appearing from the bulbs at this time of year. They might not be about at this time of evening, but there may be some greenfly. And crushing living things between his finger and thumb seemed like quite an inviting thing to be doing, feeling as he was. He took a clean handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hands on as he worked. He didn’t want squashed beetle juice on his work suit.
Trev wisely left it some time before he let himself quietly out of the house and walked across the lawn to the lily cage.
‘Are you coming out or is it safe for me to come in?’
Ted wiped his hands clean on the handkerchief then let himself out of the mesh enclosure, avoiding eye contact with his partner, feeling wretched.
‘I’m sorry I snapped. I’ve not had a good day, but I shouldn’t have bitten your head off.’
‘I’m sorry for the mess. I didn’t realise it bothered you so much. You’ve never said anything before, not in all the years you’ve put up with me.’
‘It doesn’t. Not really. Well, maybe if you just rinsed things and put them in the dishwasher occasionally?’
‘What can I say? I’m a total slob. I grew up with servants.’
Ted was looking round the garden, still avoiding eye contact, still angry – with himself, with the system, with their attacker.
‘I think I’ll mow the lawn.’
‘At this time of night? You can’t do that. The neighbours will report you for antisocial behaviour.’
‘I’m feeling pretty antisocial.’
‘Is it the latest case? Can I help?’
‘I don’t like bringing work home, you know that. And it’s not the case. It’s just admin stuff. I hate it. I’ve got to make big decisions and I don’t want to.’
‘Could you talk to Jim about it if you won’t talk to me?’
‘He’ll just tell me it’s part of my job and to suck it up. It’s just that on days like this, I’m not sure I want to keep doing this job.’
Trev hesitated for a moment, watching his partner closely.
‘What would you do if you didn’t do the job you have now?’
Ted turned away to look round the garden.
‘Anti-terrorism is the one branch of the force which doesn’t seem to be facing endless cuts. And I’m a good shot.’
‘Ted, you’re not serious? Don’t even think about it. Please. Look, there must be something I can do to help. We could take the bike and go out somewhere. Go walking. You need something. You’re wound up as tight as a spring. Let me help. For better or worse, remember. I know we didn’t say those exact words but I certainly meant them and I hoped you did too.’
‘I’m not very good company tonight. Sorry.’
‘Which is why you need to do something. Let some of the anger out. Pad work, then? Look, go and get changed. I’ll get the pads. Half an hour or so of something fast and physical might help.’
He was right. Nearly forty minutes of controlled, energetic martial arts training, aiming jabs and kicks at the pads Trev held, had Ted sweating and breathing hard, but feeling better for it. It was what he needed. He was
still no nearer to reaching a decision but the earlier anger and frustration had largely left him. He felt calmer, more in control after a long shared shower, as the two of them lay in bed together.
‘Will you be able to get any time off at the weekend? You need a break before the trial. It’s Tuesday it starts, isn’t it? I’ll sort out the right shirt and tie and get everything ready for you on Monday evening. I imagine the press and TV will be there, so you’ll want to look nice. Your mother might get a glimpse of you on telly, and you want to show the jury what a good policeman you are and how they can safely believe everything you say.’
‘It’s not a fashion show,’ Ted replied, but there was warmth and affection in his voice. Trev always made such a big deal about how he looked when it was the least of Ted’s concerns. ‘I doubt I’ll get much time off this weekend. We’ve not made much progress so far on this latest case and we’re under pressure to do so.
‘I’m sorry about earlier. Really. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. It’s been a tough day and tomorrow risks being worse. I’ll try to take a half-day at the weekend, at least, if I can. What did you have in mind?’
‘We could take the bike, go to the Peaks. Do some strenuous yomping, have a picnic and make mad passionate love in the open air.’
Finally, Ted laughed.
‘It sounds tempting. But with such a big trial coming up and our chances of conviction depending in a large degree to how credible the jury find me and my evidence, I’m not sure it’s the best time for me to get myself arrested on a public order offence.’
Chapter Nine
‘Where’s Megan?’ Ted asked, looking round the room before starting morning briefing.
‘Medical appointment, boss,’ Jo told him. ‘She rang me first thing to clear it. Apologised profusely for the timing, said it was the best slot she could get. She said she’d be here as soon as she could, depending on waiting times.’
‘And Maurice?’
‘He went straight to the hospital. They’re wanting to discharge Darren today. They seem to like to get rid of the tricky ones before the weekend and they’re saying there’s nothing else useful they can do for him at the moment. His mother’s in bits, worried about how she’s going to cope, especially as she has to go out to work.’
