by L M Krier
He said it with a degree of irony. He didn’t want to throw cold water on her idea from the start, but he did want to make sure she had thought of all the implications. He was sure she would have. She was a thorough and a competent officer.
‘I’ve thought of that, boss. I’d need to change lifestyle quite a bit, but it would be worth it, if I did succeed in mopping up this lot, surely?’
‘Can we not simply ID them from the videos, round them up that way?’
‘We’d get some of them by doing that, for sure, but not all of them. And I can see them closing ranks and keeping quiet, so some would slip through the net and just go on to do the same thing somewhere else. I also highly doubt the victims would tell us anything, and certainly would refuse to testify in court against their attackers. You know we don’t have the resources to watch them full-time. It shouldn’t take me long, just by hanging round with them, to find out who’s who, then we can round up as many as possible.’
‘And what about Tommy, if you’re going undercover?’
Jezza lived with her autistic younger brother. Any change in his usual routine always risked trouble as it could provoke a total meltdown in his behaviour. He had been getting better lately, as he gradually got to know other members of the team his sister had joined. He was now usually comfortable in having some of them to look after him when Jezza was working. He was also slowly coming to accept that his sister was seeing someone, Nathan. It was developing into a steady relationship and most of the time, he was fine with that.
‘I’d have to stay away for a bit, but that would be no problem now. Tommy gets on really well with Maurice and Steve. They’re on board for staying over with him. And Nat spends a lot more time at my flat these days. Tommy even likes him and gets on with him.’
‘So you’ve discussed this with your boyfriend and with two team members before even putting the idea to me?’
‘I knew you’d want a proper written report, boss, so I had to find out if it was remotely feasible before I brought it up,’ she countered.
‘You’re going to need a controller. And preferably someone who stands at least a chance of controlling you in the field.’
‘Thought of that, too. It should be you, and we have the perfect cover to meet up every week. Keeping in mind that I’m going to be looking like a teenager, fifteen, sixteen at most, I can join your kids’ self-defence group. That gives me a valid reason to see you every Wednesday evening, and I’m sure we can find time, either before or after the session, for a catch-up. We can even do some sparring. That should be interesting.’
She was grinning triumphantly at him now. She’d clearly been giving the idea a lot of thought.
‘Accommodation?’
‘ What about one of the safe houses? A flat, basically. I know some of them can be a bit of a doss, and that would be even better. Perfect cover. And it would keep your budget down.’
Ted leaned back in his chair and studied her. Once Jezza had the bit between her teeth, there was no stopping her. Something like this would need clearance from the Super and possibly even higher up. But it might work. He just never liked putting one of his officers at risk.
‘And you’re sure Tommy would be all right with it? If we commit to an operation like this, we can’t risk it being aborted if you have to drop everything and go back to see to him.’
‘Obviously I won’t be able to have my own phone with me undercover, but I could keep it, or a throwaway, at the safe house, with essential contacts. That way I could phone him whenever I get chance, touch base with him, at least. And you know we’re all one big happy family now. Maurice is seeing Megan, and Tommy gets on with her and her son, too.’
Ted wasn’t usually keen on relationships between team members. They could sometimes spill over into the workplace and cause problems. There were currently two. Divorcé DC Maurice Brown was seeing single mum DC Megan Jennings. Maurice had twin daughters, who lived with their mother but saw him most weekends. Megan had a son, Felix. They were keeping their relationship away from the work setting so Ted was happy enough to let it ride for now.
Young Steve was spending rather a lot of his off-duty time with their computer expert, Océane, and not just because of their shared love of World of Warcraft. And Jezza herself was in a recent but steady relationship with Nathan Cowley, who’d been a witness in two previous cases. So far, they were all being professional and it was posing no problems to the dynamics of the team. It did give Jezza, who was great friends with Maurice and Steve, an extended childcare circle to help her out with Tommy when necessary.
‘And I’d need to keep contact with at least one of the team, someone I could pass off easily as someone other than a police officer. Virgil is the obvious choice, and we’ve worked out the perfect cover story between us, for if I have to call him up.’
‘Is there anyone you haven’t talked to about this, before discussing it with me?’ Ted asked dryly. ‘I will consider it, Jezza. And I will put your proposal to the Super, as soon as you’ve finished it and given me a copy. In the meantime, you do absolutely nothing to start on this until you get my authorisation. And that includes not discussing it with anyone else until then.’
Ted’s mobile interrupted them. He looked at the screen and saw that it was one of his two immediate bosses, Detective Superintendent Jim Baker calling.
‘I need to take this, it’s the Big Boss. Are we absolutely clear on that, DC Vine?’
‘As crystal, boss,’ Jezza told him pleasantly as she left his office.
‘Ted, I’m on my way over to you. We need a meeting about this joint operation with Wilmslow. Just the basics, nothing heavy, so can we meet in The Grapes in half an hour?’
Ted had been planning on working through lunchtime with a sandwich at his desk. But he would need a catch up with the Big Boss about the new case, so it might as well be over a drink at the nearby pub the team liked to frequent. He cleared his desk of what he’d started then walked the short distance and ordered a Gunner while he waited for Jim. He didn’t drink alcohol, sticking to his preferred mix of ginger beer, ginger ale and lime.
He stayed at the bar, chatting to Dave, the landlord. A quiet, somewhat timid voice from behind him asked, ‘Chief Inspector Darling?’
He turned, warily, not recognising the voice and wondering who would know him by sight. He was confronted by a young woman with a thin, earnest face, framed by long mousy hair, with large, purple-framed glasses, their thick lenses slightly magnifying anxious-looking pale blue eyes.
‘Erm, I’m Penny. Penny Hunter. Alastair’s replacement.’
Seeing Ted’s blank look, she went on, flushing slightly, ‘From the local paper. I just wanted to introduce myself. Alastair said you used to come in here together sometimes so I’ve looking out for you, so I could introduce myself.’
She thrust a hand towards him and Ted shook it. It was limp and moist in his grip. It concerned him that someone had come up behind him without his being aware. His martial arts training was usually more effective than that.
‘Yes, of course, sorry, Penny, I was a bit distracted there. Was there something I can help you with, in particular?’
‘No, no, nothing, really. I just, erm, wanted to say hello. Alastair said you’d always had such a good working relationship, so I just wanted to say how much I’m looking forward to taking over.’
‘Can I offer you a drink? I’m just waiting for my boss to join me but ...’
‘No, thank you, but no. I just wanted to say hi. So now I’ll be going. Bye for now, then.’
She scuttled off towards the door and Ted heard Dave chuckle from behind the bar.
‘Well, she’s certainly a change from Pocket Billiards. She doesn’t look like she’d say boo to a goose. I wonder what sort of a newshound she’s going to turn out to be.’
‘Well, as long as her table manners are slightly better than Pocket Billiards’ were, that will be something,’ Ted laughed, just as Jim Baker walked in.
Ted
got him a drink and they went and sat down in a quiet corner of the bar, Ted with his back to the wall, facing the door.
‘Right, now we know you’re taking a part in this case, have you got anyone round to search the victim’s house, yet?’ Jim asked.
‘Got some of the team on it now. I didn’t want to start until I knew we were involved. I know what you and the Ice Queen get like with hours and budgets. I got Rob O’Connell’s fiancée Sally to send the RSPCA in yesterday to collect the cat. The neighbour has keys, but they couldn’t take it in, they’re allergic to cat hair.’
‘Bloody typical of you, make sure the cat is all right first. You and your bloody moggies, Ted,’ the Big Boss growled, but it was good-natured. ‘Right, so hopefully we should soon have something to go on. Her computer, perhaps. Then you can turn that over to your CFI and see if we can find out where this cock and bull story of a police undercover investigation came from.’
‘It’s my feeling we won’t find a computer there, unless she had a desktop. With a sophisticated scam like this seems to have been, I’d guess she would have been told to take her laptop with her, if she had one, to the meeting place where she was supposed to hand over the watch. I imagine that she was told it would need to be forensically examined to catch the scammers. And she, of course, wouldn’t have known it was the scammers themselves she was dealing with, not the police at all.’
‘Do the public really fall for things like this, though? Surely people are getting more aware of this kind of thing. I know we don’t know much about it yet but surely the victim would have been wary of the whole thing, of being asked to help police in this way? It sounds so far-fetched.’
‘We don’t know who we’re dealing with, but if it was a sophisticated operation, with authentic-looking warrant cards and the whole works, then yes, I think people can and do fall for such things. We’ve both heard often enough of these phone scams where the victim is given a number to call back to check credentials, but it’s actually the scammer who stays on the line the whole time.’
Jim drained his pint and stood up to go.
‘Are you not staying to eat?’ Ted asked him.
‘No time. I’m on my way to a meeting, so I just thought I’d swing by for a catch-up. We’ll need to have a proper team briefing tomorrow at some point, with you and someone from Wilmslow, but I’ll fix that up. Might be simpler for us all to meet here in Stockport. What about the victim? What do we know about her? And is there anything from the post-mortem yet?’
‘All we know so far is that she was a widow, living alone. Bizzie Nelson will be doing the PM but they’re backed up there at the moment, so she can’t fit it in until tomorrow at the earliest.’
‘Right, well, keep me updated on anything your team find, and I’ll see you tomorrow, at some point. This sounds like an interesting one, and something which needs stamping on, swiftly.’
Ted was right about the computer. His team turned over the victim, Freda Ashworth’s, house carefully from top to bottom but they didn’t find a computer anywhere. Mike Hallam, who was leading the search, phoned him from the house.
‘She clearly had a laptop, boss. There’s a desk here with a mouse and keyboard, connected to a USB hub which had obviously been plugged into one, from the way things are positioned, but there isn’t one here. No laptop, no mobile phone, nothing like that.
‘We did find a very detailed hand-written diary though. The last entry mentions going to buy the watch, and then meeting one of this Inspector Galton’s officers to hand it over. I’ve only glanced at it for now. I’ll bring it in and get someone to go through it in detail and transcribe it for us, perhaps.’
‘I might have left when you get back, Mike. I want to go up to Marple to check on Bill. He’s off sick and that’s not like him. He’s on his own so I just want to go and make sure he’s all right and has everything he needs. I’m on the mobile if you need me for anything, though. If not I’ll catch up with you in the morning.’
Ted had known Bill since he’d first started at Stockport. They went for the odd drink together from time to time. Bill was a widower whose wife had died young. There’d never been anyone else and he was a lonely man. He lived for his work, his only company an irascible sulphur-crested cockatoo called Father Jack, which swore horribly, like his namesake in the old television series.
Ted stopped on the way to buy a bottle of ginger wine. He knew Bill liked the odd whisky mac. He would be bound to have Scotch in, but perhaps not the ginger. He parked outside the small terraced cottage in Marple Bridge.
The sergeant was some time coming to the door and Ted could hear his hacking cough as he moved slowly down the hallway.
‘I was going to ask how you were, Bill, but you sound dreadful. I’m sorry to drag you to the door, but I just wanted to see if you needed anything. I brought you this.’
Bill was breathless and wheezing.
‘Come in, Ted. Nice of you to come, thanks. Come through to the kitchen. You can make us both a brew.’
As soon as Father Jack heard a visitor, he started shouting, ‘Feck! Arse!’ at the top of his voice. Ted had visited many times and was used to the bird.
‘Hello, Jack, and the same to you.’
He stayed long enough to make them both a cup of tea and listen to Bill’s unconvincing claims that he was all right. He saw himself out, after impressing on Bill to phone him at any time, day or night, if he needed him for anything.
Ted was, as ever, driving carefully within the speed limit as he came up the hill into Marple. He noticed that he had a black car tailgating him, but there was no way it could overtake, even if the traffic had been lighter. It was an annoyance but, for the moment, nothing more.
As he started to head down Dan Bank towards the traffic lights, although there was oncoming traffic, the black car suddenly pulled out and started to overtake him, squeezing him close to the edge of the road. It stayed parallel to him, cutting him up, forcing him to take defensive action. An oncoming vehicle was flashing its lights and sounding its horn in warning as the black car cut in, almost touching the side of Ted’s Renault.
Ted had done advanced driving courses, back in his uniform days, with the odd refresher since. Without those skills, he was sure he would have been run off the road to roll down the bank. As it was, he just managed to keep his car on a straight course, although the passenger side scraped up against a tree or two, making a tortured screeching sound, until he succeeded in bringing it to a halt.
The black car continued on its way, driving far too fast, running the lights at Dooley Lane just as they were turning to red, then speeding away out of sight. Ted stood no chance of getting a number. He couldn’t tell anything other than that the car was a black VW Golf. He had a feeling he’d seen it somewhere, recently, but he couldn’t bring to mind where.
The car behind him also pulled in to the side and stopped, its four-way flashers coming on, and the driver jumped out, running to Ted’s door, shouting anxiously, ‘Are you all right, mate? What a bleeding nutter. He could have killed you.’
Ted switched the engine off and took the keys out, then got out of his car to check on the damage, hoping it would still be drivable.
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ Ted assured the other man as he walked round to the passenger side of his battered vehicle. The bodywork was deeply scratched, a bit bent in places, but nothing which should interfere with its ability to be driven.
‘I don’t suppose, by any chance, you happened to get the other driver’s registration number? I was too busy trying to avoid rolling down the bank.’
‘Sorry, mate, no, it all happened very quickly. I was watching your car, hoping you’d be all right. Are you going to call the cops? Not that they’d come, probably, useless bastards.’
Ted sighed as he took out his warrant card.
‘I am a police officer, actually. I wonder if I could take your details, please? A witness statement would be useful. It’s damage only, so I don’t need to call anyone out, as
long as I report it. So, your name, please?’
Chapter Four
Ted decided he would drive by his usual garage, the people who had sold him the Renault, to see how soon they could fix it up for him. He was a good customer, especially as his bad luck with cars kept him going back for replacements and repairs, so they told him to leave it with them. They promised to sort it out for him as soon as they could, but they were just closing for the day. They locked it away safely and said they’d let him know when it was ready.
For the time being, he’d have to rely on his official car, but for this evening, he’d either get a lift home with one of the team, or jump on a bus. If he had time, he might even walk. He liked walking; it helped him to think, although the persistent drizzle wasn’t very inviting.
He stopped by the front desk to report the incident involving his car and the black VW, and to mention his visit to see Bill.
‘I’ll make sure someone calls round there every day, sir, just to keep an eye on him,’ Bill’s stand-in, Sergeant Wheeler, assured him. ‘You really don’t have much luck with your vehicles, do you? Is there much damage to yours?’
‘A bit of panel-beating and a respray, I imagine, but at least it was still drivable. It may have been just bad driving, boy racer, that sort of thing. But I had the feeling I’ve seen the car before somewhere. It felt personal, if you know what I mean. Like the driver was trying to run me off the road rather than just being in a tearing hurry to get somewhere.’
‘With an arrest record like yours, you’re bound to have made a few enemies, sir. Watch your back, and mind how you go, now.’
The team members were just winding up for the day when Ted went back up to the main office. He told them what had happened to his car, and said he’d need dropping off that evening and picking up in the morning. He didn’t want to take his official car home with him. There’d be no room for it in the small garage with Trev’s precious motorbike in there and he didn’t dare leave it parked outside because of some of the neighbours near where he lived. He knew their records.
