On Eden Street

by Peter Grainger

  ‘It looks like it’s a rough sleeper, which is tragic but hardly unknown. DI Terek had already sent a couple of people to check this out but he wanted me to be aware. Probably nothing to do with us, but just to be on the safe side, nobody leaves this room until we know for sure.’

  Freeman had a straight face most of the time. This, combined with a very odd sense of humour, was likely to lead to some awkward moments, but Waters remembered the no-pineapple-on-my-pizza joke, and risked a smile. Freeman shrugged and said, ‘So I’ll do the first run. Who drinks what?’

  Chapter Three

  On a wet weekday morning, the traffic and parking in Kings Lake are abysmal. The rain makes maybe five per cent more of the people take their car, and that’s enough to trigger critical mass and gridlock. The ten-minute drive had taken Waters twenty-five. On the way, he had pointed out features of local interest to his two passengers – local interest in terms of future policing activity – because Freeman had suggested this was an opportunity for Denise Sterling and Maya Kumar to get to know a part of their new patch.

  But there was more to it than that, naturally. In his meetings with Freeman since he’d agreed to join the squad, Waters thought he had begun to understand how she operated. For example, if she’d done the obvious thing and sent out the Kings Lake detectives, the existing bonds between them would have been reinforced; in the face of change, Waters, Murray and Serena Butler would have talked over the meeting and the new faces and become a still tighter unit. This way, she’d split them and would use the time in the office to work on Murray – she would not have missed his reluctance to engage earlier – and Serena would get to know DI Greene and Clive Betts.

  And more – Freeman would have realised that the really important relationship at this stage of the squad’s development was the one between her two sergeants. Good sergeants create loyalty and a willingness among the infantry to go the extra mile for the team; if two sergeants don’t get on, that same loyalty becomes a negative quality, a cause of division and dissent. Smith and Wilson? Freeman was clearly saying to the two of them this morning, off you go and learn to play nicely. Finally, this was their first body and potentially the squad’s first case – sending both sergeants meant no one could feel left out or left behind.

  He pulled into the taxi rank close to The Blue Note club on the market square and switched off the engine. The wipers stopped and light, steady rain began to trickle down the windscreen. Denise Sterling said, ‘If you parked in a taxi rank in Yarmouth, the rest of your squad would be investigating your own murder by lunchtime.’

  Waters opened the glove compartment, took out one of his official cards and pushed it into the clip on the inside of the windscreen. He said, ‘It’s the same in Lake. But this place is mainly used when the club is open, and I know a couple of the drivers who use this spot, anyway. We should be OK, as long as they see the card. Ready?’

  He pushed down his door handle and looked at Sterling.

  She said, ‘We’re going to get wet.’

  He couldn’t resist the thought, it’s easy to see why you’re a detective, but he said nothing. Then the girl they had forgotten about in the back seat said, ‘Is it far from here?’

  Waters said, ‘No. There’s a lane behind the jazz club. That takes us into Kingsgate which is undercover. Then we turn right into Eden Street, which isn’t. But it’s only a couple of minutes’ walk.’

  Detective Sergeant Sterling was checking her phone.

  ‘No signal.’

  Waters decided it was best to get as much of the bad news out of the way as early as possible.

  ‘You’ll get used to that. Especially up on the coast.’

  A few more seconds passed. Waters turned to look at Maya Kumar, offering a half-smile but her face was blank. Inscrutable. Definitely something Far Eastern there.

  Pushing the door open a little way, Waters made a final attempt at conversation.

  ‘The club is pretty good. Do you listen to jazz at all?’

  Denise Sterling seemed fixated by the water running down the windscreen. Without taking her eyes from it, she said, ‘Not intentionally.’

  ‘Oh. Right…’

  ‘Country and western.’

  Waters climbed out of the car, and the two women followed. He locked it and pulled up the hood on his waterproof jacket. Sterling looked thoroughly annoyed at the weather in Kings Lake. Miss Kumar had a shoulder bag, and from it she produced one of those stubby-looking compact umbrellas which open out to be almost as large as the real thing. When she’d done so, she held it up over herself and her detective sergeant, who congratulated her on making an excellent start in her new post.

  When they turned onto Eden Street, the scene that met their eyes wasn’t quite what Waters had been expecting. The location was easy enough to find, halfway down on the right-hand side. A small knot of people was standing in the centre of the pedestrianised area between the two rows of shops and businesses, all looking more or less in the same direction, towards one particular place. And Waters knew it as they got closer, a Chinese noodles restaurant – he’d visited it once not long after moving into Lake. Then he could see Detective Sergeant Wilson and Detective Constable O’Leary on the edge of the group nearest to the restaurant, and with them two officers in the PCSO uniform.

  Waters edged his way past three or four people until he was next to Wilson and able to see what was happening. The body was in the doorway of the noodles place, or rather, there was a heap of bedding which was concealing it, and between the unfortunate rough sleeper and the group of people was a dog, hackles raised, tail up and teeth bared.

  Wilson gave a sideways glance up at Waters and said, ‘Oh, good. The cavalry’s arrived.’

  Denise Sterling had pushed her way through behind Waters. She looked at the dog and said, ‘This is a first. I assume it’s the bloke’s hound?’

  Wilson gave her a long stare before he turned to Waters.

  ‘Who’s this?’

  Waters said, ‘DS Sterling. Joined DCI Freeman’s squad this morning.’

  Wilson said, ‘Lovely,’ and looked away, back at the dog, which had stopped growling but wasn’t making any other concessions.

  ‘And you are? Sorry, I didn’t get your name.’

  Sterling had taken a step closer to Wilson, deliberately putting herself in front of his face. Wilson stared back at her, their eyes almost on a level, and then said, ‘That’s because I didn’t give it.’

  Sterling wasn’t budging an inch. She said, ‘I expect it’s just the pressure of the situation. Your manners are normally better than this, aren’t they?’

  Wilson had to make a quick calculation – whatever occurred next would be reported back to the rest of the office by O’Leary, and a draw was the best he could hope for now.

  ‘Not particularly,’ he said in answer to her question, ‘but I am more interested in dealing with this bloody dog than a meet and greet. John Wilson.’

  Then Sterling held out a hand and shook Wilson’s firmly, still eye to eye with its owner.

  Waters said, ‘What happened? Terek told the DCI you’d checked the body.’

  ‘I did. Or I was. One of the PCSOs had hold of the animal. When it saw what I was doing, it went barmy, got away from him and went for me. If I hadn’t got out sharpish, I’d be on my way to A and E. The effing thing needs a dose of lead.’

  Waters took another look at the dog. It was sitting on its haunches now, positioned between the crowd and the corpse, and seemed as if it was prepared to sit there all day. It wasn’t a huge dog, some sort of cross-breed black Labrador he thought, but it was big enough and annoyed enough to do plenty of damage. And the crowd was growing as more passers-by stopped to see what was going on – sure enough, he could see some with their mobiles out, taking pictures or videos. He said to no one in particular, ‘We need to sort out the audience first,’ and then spoke to the PCSOs. Finding a body is about as good as it gets for a Police Community Support Officer and they were enjoyi
ng their moment – one of them was in conversation with a couple of onlookers. Waters asked for a private word and thanked them for their help; after that, he couldn’t have got more cooperation if he’d offered them a hundred pounds. Within a minute they had the people pushed back another twenty yards, and anyone moving along Eden Street was directed into a narrow corridor on the opposite side from the Chinese Chow restaurant. Most of the crowd got the message and began to wander away.

  Waters went back to Wilson and Sterling – O’Leary had undertaken mission impossible and was trying to engage Miss Kumar in light conversation.

  ‘What can you tell us, John?’

  Wilson said, ‘I was only in there a few seconds before Lassie tried to rip my throat out! It’s a bloke, been on the streets a while – he stinks. Or he did. He’s middle aged, lying on his front. I didn’t get the chance to double-check for a pulse in the neck but he’s stone cold. Been dead for hours.’

  Denise Sterling, Waters suspected, was keeping out of it because this was his patch – police officers become surprisingly territorial and you transgress at your peril – but she was paying close attention. In age and experience she had at least ten years on him, and she would therefore have a clear plan of action mapped out – but she was waiting to see what her new colleague would do first.

  Waters said, ‘It could be natural causes; he wouldn’t be the first to die on the street. But Terek involved Freeman. What else did you tell him?”

  Wilson said, ‘You didn’t let me finish. When I was reaching to check for a pulse, I could see blood underneath him, all soaked into the bedding. There’s a lot of blood. Unless he’s a haemophiliac who cut himself shaving, it wasn’t natural causes. That’s my guess, for what it’s worth. You’re the experts.’

  There was plenty of ill-feeling at Kings Lake, thanks to the setting up of the new squad. Freeman had warned him about it. Detectives don’t take kindly to having their best cases handed over to elite squads – they don’t like elite squads at all unless they happen to be members of one.

  ‘Right. What else has already been done?’

  Wilson said, ‘O’Leary put in a call for the dog handler. Simon! Anything?’

  Wilson made a phone gesture that meant have you had a response, and O’Leary, probably keen to have a reason to leave the detective constable alone, came across to them, taking out his mobile.

  ‘No, boss. They said it could be a couple of hours.’

  Wilson grinned and raised his eyebrows at Waters. Two hours! They’d have local TV cameras here in that time, filming the stand-off in Eden Street, then the video on Facebook and YouTube. Detective Chief Superintendent Allen would be over the moon – what a perfect start to the week.

  ‘Excuse me, sir?’

  Waters turned to see one of the PCSOs.

  ‘It’s about the dog, sir. These ladies think they might be able to help.’

  Behind the officer stood two women. One was in her late thirties, plump and plain but with an open friendly face. The other was her physical opposite – around Waters’ age, slender, a little above average height, with long glossy-black hair and eyes of a startling, intense pale colour that he realised almost immediately could not see him. In her right hand, she held the harness of a guide dog for the blind. The dog was a golden Labrador, and because its owner had stopped walking, the dog sat obediently on its haunches.

  When Waters spoke, he saw the face turn fractionally to the right as her ears told her where he was, and a small frown appeared. He said, ‘Thank you. It’s good of you to offer, but the dog is quite distressed. He’s likely to do some harm if anyone gets too close. We’ve sent for some professional help, so if you wouldn’t mind stepping back…’

  The older of the two women said, ‘Her name’s Lola. She knows us. We could probably get her away without any fuss. And she knows Ben.’

  The dog looked up at the mention of his name, and then at Waters, who said, ‘May I ask – do you know the man in the doorway?’ It’s never too soon to begin the investigation.

  The same woman said, ‘Michael. We can’t believe it. He’s dead, isn’t he?’

  The blind girl had located him precisely now but the frown was still there. She had a face that was simply beautiful but he felt guilty for looking at her. He glanced at Sterling, said, ‘We have a name,’ and then the blind girl spoke for the first time.

  ‘This “professional help” – who exactly is that? What will they do?’

  Waters said, ‘The police dog handler. He’ll know how to remove the dog – Lola – safely.’

  ‘Remove her to where?’

  The older woman was from the town – Waters had recognised the blend of old Norfolk and estuary English, and Smith had once given him a five-minute lecture on the threat posed to the language by everything linguistically associated with Essex. But the blind girl’s speech was as distinctive as her looks; he would not have been surprised by a foreign accent but she was native and very well spoken. He looked behind the two women at the shops and businesses and wondered where on earth they had appeared from – plainly they knew the homeless man.

  He said, ‘I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. To a rescue centre, I expect.’

  The blind girl said, ‘Where she would not be rescued because she’ll have been taken in by the police as a dangerous dog. She’ll be destroyed within seventy-two hours.’

  Behind, Waters heard Wilson say, ‘This is all we need – the Animal Liberation Front!’

  The girl heard it too – but she continued to look up exactly at Waters, if a blind person can be said to look at all. He thought, when I got up this morning, first day as detective sergeant in a new murder squad, could I have imagined it would begin like this? He said, ‘I’m sorry but what is your name?’

  ‘Miriam Josephs. I own the florist’s shop you can see behind me.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m Detective Sergeant Waters from Kings Lake Central police station. Your friend is right – Michael has died, and we need to get into that doorway as soon as possible. But I don’t think we can risk any injury to the public. Thank you for your offer of help.’

  Waters looked at Denise Sterling, who had her arms folded while she watched and waited but not, apparently, in a judgemental way; when he caught her eye, she shrugged.

  The girl said, ‘I don’t think Ben qualifies as a member of the public, does he? Lola knows Ben, and both of us. We often take her water and food. Ben can go first and see how she reacts.’

  Behind them, O’Leary sniggered and said, ‘Lola and Ben!’ to Wilson.

  The girl went on, ‘So, I’ll unclip the harness and tell him to say hello to Lola.’

  She was reaching down but still waiting for Waters to say something. With leadership comes responsibility but he couldn’t recall a module in the management training manual that even came close to this situation. Wilson guessed that he was considering it, weighing it up, and said, ‘No bloody way we’re being a part of this, Waters. A video of a dog-fight’ll go viral. I’m calling Terek and telling him this is your squad’s business from now on.’

  Miriam Josephs had unclipped the harness now, and she was crouching, her two hands holding her dog by the shoulders; long, slim fingers, each nail a pale pearlescent blue. He wondered who did that for her, and how she chose a colour. Then he said, ‘Alright.’

  ‘Ben, say hello to Lola.’

  She let go and her dog immediately wagged its tail and went towards the other one. They stood nose to nose, both tails in action, and then the rough sleeper’s dog half-reared, ready to play. The older woman said to Miriam, ‘They’re fine. Do you want me to put the harness back on?’

  Waters realised he hadn’t taken a breath for at least a minute. As he watched, Ben was put back into his harness, and the two women stood with the two dogs as if they’d just met in the park. Miriam said, ‘Let’s see if she’ll follow us back into the shop. She can go into Ben’s cage until the nice policeman wants to interview her.’

  Somehow she’d re
membered where Waters was – her sightless gaze was only millimetres away from meeting his own. She had full lips and her nose had the slightly arched bridge of her race – if he hadn’t heard her name, he would have guessed she was Jewish from her profile. And now she was smiling because she had saved the dog and got her own way, perhaps.

  He said, ‘Yes, keep her in close custody please,’ and she laughed as she turned away, the other woman just momentarily touching her arm to guide her towards the shop. He watched them go, the two dogs side by side, the girl very upright, her long hair now shining with the rain, and thought what an extraordinary Monday morning this was.

  When he turned back, Waters saw that Detective Sergeant Denise Sterling was already crouched in the restaurant’s doorway.

  Chapter Four

  No one had been nominated as the crime scene manager but Waters’ experience with Michelle Simms had him thinking that way even before he realised it. He stood at the entrance and watched Denise Sterling, remembering that at least one of the PCSOs had also been inside – he would need his name and details. Wilson had been on his mobile to Terek as he had promised but Waters didn’t know the outcome of that and he didn’t particularly care – the two other Kings Lake detectives stood together several metres away, keeping their distance literally and metaphorically.

  Sterling had gone in past the bedding and now she was down on all fours and peering from the end where the man’s head lay. She went closer until her face was only inches from the top of the skull – this was not a squeamish sort of woman. In contrast, Maya Kumar stood behind and to Waters’ left, staring and not disguising her feelings.

  Waters said, ‘Is this your first?’

  It might be if she’d only been on the force and in uniform for a couple of years. She nodded, and he thought, why would Freeman bring someone into a murder squad who had never encountered a dead body? It made no sense to him. But he thought about Wayne Fletcher, his own first corpse, and Smith making sure he had looked at the photographs before he went to the mortuary.