Shut Up and Drive: DI Ted Darling Book 4

by L M Krier

  'I will take the precaution of getting the Press Office to prepare a guarded statement, just in case we need it. And in terms of fire-fighting, Inspector, make time as soon as possible to buy your local reporter friend a drink. We want him on side, so that if this woman does contact him with the story, he will at least call you for a comment.'

  Scorpion petting was higher on Ted's list of preferred activities than meeting Alastair, but he knew that her point was valid. He didn't think he would ever be best friends with the press, but of late there were signs of a working relationship slowly starting to build. It was probably worth quarter of an hour of his time and the price of a pint.

  'So, what have you got for me, Ted?' the journalist asked, after he had downed nearly half his pint of lager top without pausing for breath.

  Ted took a few swallows of his Gunner before replying. He didn't drink alcohol. The ginger beer, ginger ale and fresh lime mixture was the closest he came. He even insisted that the Angostura bitters of the original recipe were left out of his.

  'Nothing concrete just yet, Alastair. I just wanted to thank you for your help in putting the warning out to women drivers. Also to say that if there's anything you need help with, a quote or anything, at any time, just give me a call. I'll always try to make sure you get something no one else gets.'

  It was purely flannel but it seemed to satisfy the reporter and he went on his way happily enough. Ted hoped he'd done enough to prevent any bad publicity they could well do without.

  Before the team left for the day, Ted called Jezza into his office to run an idea past her.

  'I've been wondering if we should try talking further to the victims,' he began. 'And I wondered if you would be interested in doing victim support training, with that in mind?'

  'Permission to speak frankly, boss?' Jezza asked, her tone ironic.

  Ted smiled at her. 'Considering you once pushed me face down into a puddle and sat on me, with no repercussions, I would hope that by now you know I'm a reasonable sort of person. By all means speak frankly; I would expect no less of you.'

  'Is this just tokenism? I mean, as the only female on the team, I'm the one to send for the training?' she asked.

  Ted looked at her, surprised. 'I must say I'm disappointed, Jezza. I would have thought that you knew I don't go in for gender stereotyping, certainly not intentionally. Nor do I approve of any kind of discrimination, and that includes positive discrimination.

  'Is there some other reason, perhaps a practical one, why you don't want to do the course? If you're worried about getting someone to look after Tommy, it's a day course, not residential.'

  Ted knew that Jezza often had trouble with childcare for her younger brother, who lived with her.

  'Is this training compulsory?' she asked. 'It's just that, I'm not really the tea and sympathy sort.'

  'Not compulsory at all, that's not how I work. I just thought it might be something which would interest you, and might be useful on your CV. If you don't want to do it, it's fine, and thank you for being honest.'

  'No worries, boss,' she said as she got up to leave. 'Oh, nice specs, by the way.'

  He had forgotten he had them on and felt slightly embarrassed at her comment. He was still disappointed by her response, though, and wondered if there was more to it than she had told him to date.

  Although he was flat out on the sex attacks case, as well overseeing a few others, Ted had found time to go and see his bank manager, as he had promised Trev. He was delighted to find that his loan application went through swiftly and more easily than he had feared.

  His excellent credit rating went in his favour. He was never overdrawn, always living well within his means. He had a morbid fear of being in debt. Trev was always teasing him about how frugal he was. He would never have dreamt of taking on a loan for himself, but he was determined to help his partner buy into the business, if he possibly could. He knew he owed a lot to Trev. Their solid relationship helped Ted get through the toughest times at work. A lot of his friends and colleagues had been far less lucky in theirs.

  'We'll have to tighten our belts,' he warned Trev when he got home for supper, after he'd been to the bank and signed the forms for the loan.

  Trev laughed and hugged him. 'Ted, if we tighten them any more, we'll end up eating the cats. You're not exactly one to splash the cash. A two week self-catering holiday in Italy in the last - how many years? - is hardly extravagant living.

  'But thank you so much for doing this for me. I promise you I'm going to be grown up and sensible and really make a go of it. I'll be able to pay towards the loan, too. I'll be on more money soon. And I've got lots of ideas for bringing in more business, especially now I have a financial incentive to do so.'

  'No more duvet days, if you're going to be a partner,' Ted warned him. 'Why not invite Geoff and Wendy round for dinner one evening soon, let them know the good news, then we can celebrate properly? I'll try to make a point of being here. It would be nice to have something to raise a glass about, with this case going nowhere fast.'

  Chapter Six

  It was an unprepossessing suite above a small shop, not far from the Merseyway Shopping Centre. Up a flight of uncarpeted stairs to a dismal landing, with other doors opening off it, and just a small brass plaque to show Ted which was the right door. No receptionist, simply a bell to ring by the outer door to announce their arrival, then a cramped, dark waiting room with no windows.

  The usual assorted pile of tattered motoring and gossip magazines, plus the obligatory and much out of date torn editions of National Geographic, were scattered haphazardly on a low occasional table in one corner of the room. Ted and Maurice were the only people there. They took a seat, but were not kept waiting for long before the inner door opened.

  'Inspector Darling?' the woman who came out asked, looking expectantly from one to the other of them.

  Both men rose and Ted made the introductions.

  'Please come in,' she said, and led the way into her office, which was tiny and a little claustrophobic. The only window, which had clearly not been cleaned in a long time, looked directly on to a blank brick wall at the opposite side of the pedestrian walkway outside.

  The woman moved round to her own side of the desk, gesturing to a chair and pulling out another spare one, before sitting down herself.

  She was, Ted, guessed, in her late forties, average height, well built. She had a round, open face, accentuated by the mousy hair pulled back into a French plait. It was the sort of face people may have found it easy to talk to. In the cramped confines of the stuffy office, Ted knew he would only ever be able to talk about official business.

  'Thank you for agreeing to see us, Dr Cooper,' Ted began. 'As I'm sure you will be aware from the news reports, we are currently investigating a series of sexual assaults. The public have been coming forward to help us with our enquiries, which is encouraging. However, we have also been contacted by someone in respect of a historical rape allegation.'

  The woman had steepled her hands in front of her mouth and was nodding encouragingly at him to continue.

  'I must stress that I appreciate that neither of us can discuss any individual because of confidentiality issues which bind us both. But in light of what this person told me, I wanted to ask you about various techniques used to help people to recover memories, and how reliable they are as a general rule.'

  Maurice was doing a good job of sticking to his brief and saying nothing, just being a solid, silent presence. The routine was, as Ted had wanted, not so much good cop, bad cop as talkative cop, ominously quiet cop. The woman was looking shrewdly from one to another of them.

  'Am I to understand that you have reason to disbelieve what this person has told you, Inspector?' she asked.

  'I don't really wish to go into any details of this individual case, Doctor. I'm just really asking you, in broad terms, if, in principle, it can happen that someone remembers something during a therapy session, perhaps believes it completely, yet it's late
r proved to be completely untrue.'

  She leaned forward slightly as she asked, 'And you're asking me, specifically, because …?'

  'Because I understand that you are someone in this town who offers some of the types of therapy which can be used to help recover memories,' Ted said smoothly.

  Now she leaned back slightly in her seat, keeping one hand by her face, an index finger to her cheek, thumb supporting her chin, while the other hand picked up a pen and began absent-mindedly to tap it on her notebook.

  'It's true that I have been successful in using certain types of hypnosis, and other techniques, in helping people to discover things from their past. Memories which they may have kept buried because they were too painful to confront. These techniques are scientifically recognised and well proven. And, as with all things in my profession, their application is strictly regulated.

  'But how reliable are they? Can it happen that the memory which is recovered is not accurate?' Ted persisted.

  Maurice moved his bulk slightly in his chair and for a moment, the woman's eyes left Ted's face and moved to him. Then she looked back as she said, 'Nothing about the human mind is ever one hundred per cent certain, Inspector. I assume you're talking about False Memory Syndrome? It has happened; that much is well documented. My personal belief is that it rarely, if ever, happens with someone experienced, using recognised techniques and following carefully laid down procedure.'

  'Someone like yourself, Doctor?' Ted asked evenly.

  She studied him hard for a moment before replying, 'I believe so, yes. It is an area in which I have had some degree of success. In fact, I've written a book about some of my more interesting cases. The identities of the people involved are, of course, concealed, but I have written in depth about some of the results of my work.'

  She swivelled her chair round, took a book from the shelves behind her, turned back and placed it on her desk, the title turned towards Ted and Maurice, so they could read it. Behind the Barbed Wire, Dr Heather Cooper.

  'I called it that because sometimes, when memories are particularly painful, the human mind has a way of burying them deeply, hiding them away. I liken it to the rolls of barbed wire on top of a wall, to prevent anyone from getting in or out.

  'Using various techniques, including different forms of hypnosis, it is sometimes possible to break through these defences. One can sometimes succeed in unlocking the hidden memory, and can then begin the process of helping the person towards recovery.

  'But I'm not entirely sure that I see how this line of questioning is going to be of benefit to you in your current investigation, Inspector.'

  It was time for Ted to deploy his secret weapon. He threw her his most disarming, boyish grin and said apologetically, 'Nor do I really, Doctor. I'm just trying to get my head round a few things, to see what lines of enquiry I need to follow up urgently and which I can possibly set aside for the moment.

  'So, without going into specific details, could you tell me the kind of cases in which you've used these techniques successfully?'

  'Well, considering your current enquiry, it's worth mentioning that one of the cases, one I go into in detail in the book, involved a historical rape allegation. The techniques I use can be very useful for that type of thing as it's often violence, particularly sexual violence, which can be buried the deepest.'

  'And do you find generally that victims who are helped to remember such acts of violence are then motivated to go to the police about what has happened to them?' Ted asked.

  Her voice was suddenly more guarded as she replied, 'Sometimes.'

  'And have you ever had personal experience of memory recovery which has turned out to be false? Am I right in thinking that sometimes a history of drug or alcohol abuse, as well as other factors, can lead to false memories?'

  'You're well informed, Inspector. You've clearly been doing your research. Are you implying that someone I have treated in the past has been shown to have had false memories?'

  'I'm just talking in the broadest possible terms at the moment, Doctor, not in specifics. What you've told me is very helpful,' Ted said, turning on the charm once more. 'Are there any other times when you've had particular success with hypnosis?'

  'Hypnosis is traditionally useful in tackling issues like smoking and weight problems. The techniques I use are particularly helpful at dealing with the factors which lead people to become addicted to tobacco, or indeed to food. I have also personally had a lot of success in helping people, especially impressionable young people, with misguided notions about their sexuality.'

  Maurice straightened up in his chair and looked instantly alert, watching the boss's reaction. He could almost feel the suddenly charged atmosphere in the room.

  'What do you mean by that?' Ted asked quietly, all hint of boyish charm gone, his normally warm hazel eyes suddenly flashing like shards of bottle-green glass.

  She gave a small laugh. 'You know that sometimes, young people get a strange notion in their heads. They may, for some reason, start to think they may be gay, or bisexual, for example. It's often to do with peer pressure, and it seems to be getting more frequent. It seems to be increasingly the fashion for them to want to 'come out', as they call it.

  'Under hypnosis, it may be possible to help them to realise that these ideas are unfounded, to guide them to a better understanding of who they really are. To help them to be comfortable with themselves as they are, without feeling the need to change.'

  Maurice made to rise awkwardly. 'Thank you, Doctor, that's very helpful. We need to get going now, boss,' he said pointedly. 'Don't forget we have that other appointment to get to.'

  Ted didn't move. His voice now was terse.

  'Are you saying that when young vulnerable people entrust themselves to your care, you use hypnosis to try to influence their sexuality?' he asked coldly.

  The woman gave a short laugh.

  'That's really over-simplifying the issue, Inspector. Here, let me give you some leaflets about the sort of thing which can be done to help. It's nothing invasive, I assure you. I most certainly don't go in for the electric shock treatment you hear of in some countries.'

  She shuffled some leaflets on her desk, took out two or three and slid them across the polished surface towards Ted.

  Maurice had known the boss long enough to be getting seriously worried, seeing the tension showing along his jawline. It was time to stop playing strong, silent cop and get Ted out of there, quickly, before he completely lost it, which was looking increasingly likely. He stood up.

  'Boss, really, we must go, we're running late for the next appointment. Thank you for all your help, Doctor.'

  He gathered up the leaflets and put them in his pocket then attempted to take Ted by the arm. Ted's movement to shake his hand off was as fast as a whip-crack and Maurice could see the sudden alarm on the doctor's face.

  'By what right are you even attempting to coerce young people into changing their sexuality?' Ted began, his voice still quiet but the tone now glacial.

  Dr Cooper stood up abruptly, pushing her chair back first, putting more distance between her and Ted.

  'I don't like your tone of voice at all, Inspector. Your attitude is becoming hostile and I would like you to leave, now. You've clearly come here with a hidden agenda, which is totally unacceptable, and I will be making a phone call of complaint to your superior officer.'

  'Boss, we need to leave. Now,' Maurice said pointedly. 'I'm sorry we've disturbed you, Doctor. Thanks again for your help. Come on, boss.'

  Maurice hadn't a clue what he was going to do if the boss refused to leave. He'd never seen him so close to losing control and he was desperate to get him out of there before he did. He was relieved when Ted finally ground out, 'Thank you, and good day,' before turning and marching out of the room.

  Maurice hurried after him and caught him up as he strode outside. Ted glared at him and said warningly, 'Not one word, Maurice. Whatever you're about to say, just don't.'

  Maurice m
oved to plant his not inconsiderable bulk directly in front of Ted, preventing him from walking away.

  'With respect, boss, shut up and listen. You can't go anywhere, wound up like that, certainly not back to the nick. You're no use to man nor beast. There's a decent café just near here. I'm going to take you for a cuppa and then, when you've calmed down a bit, we can go back and face the music. I don't think she was kidding. I bet she's already on the phone to the Ice Queen.'

  For a moment, Maurice wasn't sure whether the boss was going to walk away or thump him one. Even Ted seemed unsure. Then he relaxed visibly and gave an embarrassed grin.

  'Yes, Maurice,' he said meekly, and fell into step with him, heading for the café.

  Ted obediently took a seat while Maurice went to get their drinks. He came back with a steaming mug, topped with whipped cream, which he put down in front of him. Ted eyed it suspiciously.

  'Hot chocolate,' Maurice told him. 'It works miracles. It's what I always get for my girls when they're upset about anything.'

  Ted took a cautious sip, surprised at how good it tasted.

  'Maurice, look, that should never have happened. I can only apologise. It's just …'

  'Boss,' Maurice interrupted him, then went on, 'Ted. Look, I know how hard that must have been for you. But losing it like that? That's not like you. If the doctor does phone the Ice Queen, she's going to go ballistic.'

  Maurice was the only one of the team who had known Ted long enough to slip into first-name informality on rare occasions. Ted was so mortified by his own behaviour, he didn't even bother to pull him up on his lack of respect for their senior officer.

  Just then the sound of Freddie Mercury singing Barcelona announced to Ted that he had an incoming call on his mobile. He looked at the caller identity on the screen and groaned.

  'Speak of the devil,' he said, as he took the call.