Up Close and Personal

by Alan Fisher

“Ok, let’s have half a dozen of each then. We need to think how best to identify them. Any suggestions?”

  “A couple of obvious thoughts come to mind” said Debbie as Paul returned to his keyboard and started scrolling with the mouse”.

  “What?” asked Oliver as he moved back to his desk to let Paul get on with his printing.

  “The housekeeper at Robertson’s home, she may have come across them before. And Tom Campbell. Remember he said he’d known McMillan for years, it’s possible he may have come across one of them in political dealings. There’s also McMillan’s wife of course, but from the look of Robertson on the photo, it may have been before she and McMillan got together. But it could be worth a shot”.

  “Good thinking, I know the way out to Corbridge. I could go and see Mrs Wallace this afternoon, return the photographs, and ask her if she recognises anyone in the main picture”.

  “Steady on Oliver, your brief from the DCI was to find out what it was that made you want to borrow the photographs, not to go off asking questions”.

  “The Chief often lets me run with things though, especially when I think there’s something in it” offered Oliver in his defence.

  “I know, but maybe not this time. This is a time to do as you’re asked and wait for the next instruction. If the DCI wants to give you free licence, I’m sure he’ll let you know. He’ll be back later so in the meantime can I suggest that you concentrate on something else”.

  “Like staring at the board for hours, you mean?” he said in frustration at knowing she was right.

  “No, although you can if you want to. I was going to suggest that you focus on whatever it is that you wanted to consult Dr Wilson about. Whatever is on your mind is clearly not going to be confirmed by him. The DCI said that both he and Dr Wilson think you have it within you to make your own judgements. I suggest you go over your concerns and make that call; the DCI will expect to hear it at some point”.

  “You’re right, as usual” Oliver admitted.

  “No need to sound so surprised, and if it helps, you can always bounce any thoughts you have off me”.

  “I know, and I am grateful, even though I don’t always give that impression”.

  “Ever give that impression you mean. Right, I shall return to my boring financial investigations, you, get your thinking cap on”.

  Oliver returned to his desk, but he had itchy feet. There were answers on the horizon and he felt frustrated at not being able to chase them down. He had no idea where the identification of the people in the photograph would lead but he knew they would be a step closer. Someone in the photo knew something, he was convinced of it.

  After half an hour of chewing over his frustrations in his head, Paul delivered the blown-up copies of the faces. It did nothing to temper his mood. He put them on the end of his desk and went to look at the incident board, taking his notebook with him containing the list of concerns he’d written down days ago.

  He looked at the list to remind himself of what his initial thinking had been;

  McMillan

  2 mobile phones, 1 for exclusive use of coded texts, the other missing

  Jack of Diamonds in mouth of dead body

  Moved from original place of stabbing

  Wrapped in plastic AND rug

  Dumped IN a bin

  No financial issues

  Ring on finger

  Late clandestine meetings not unusual

  Who invited him to meeting – lover?

  Campbell sensitive info on him?

  Media has sensitive info before team briefings

  McMillan killed Sunday night, found Monday morning. Media report Wednesday morning.

  Robertson killed Tuesday night, found Wednesday morning, media report Thursday morning everything except his identity?

  Justice Robertson

  Wrapped in plastic AND rug ***

  Dumped IN a bin ***

  He studied the list for a while and decided that he should add a couple of lines under Robertson as things had moved on since he first made notes. He added;

  Lives with housekeeper

  Kind and generous man

  Photo of card school, McMillan not evident

  Phone missing ***

  Murdered at Lumley Castle Hotel ***

  Moved from original place of stabbing ***

  Jack of Hearts in mouth of dead body ***

  Finally he wrote down the conclusion that he’d known for some time

  Same process, same killer

  Chapter 39

  It was after 6.30 in the evening when Jack finally arrived back at headquarters, it came as no surprise to see that there was only one other car still inn his section of the car park.

  He could have gone straight home from Lumley Castle, in many ways it would have been easier for him to do so. But he wanted to check back in, to reflect at the end of what had been a very long week, not without its problems.

  He’d missed having Colin alongside him throughout the week. Although not the greatest detective he’d ever come across, he was thorough, willing, and knew his limitations. He did a lot of the leg work and was particularly adept at managing the limited resources at their disposal. Most importantly, he gave Jack the freedom to prod and poke until the answers came, whilst holding everything on track. The team respected him, even liked him. He was going to be extremely difficult to replace when the time came, and the public knowledge of his future intentions brought about another problem.

  Those very thoughts were still clouding his head when he walked into the almost deserted office.

  “Evening sir” said Debbie Swan.

  “Evening. I was surprised to see your car still in the car park when I got here” he said pleasantly as he took off his coat.

  “You were expecting Oliver” replied Debbie, sure of her observations.

  “Actually no, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here to be honest. What keeps you so late?”

  “Financial records sir, I’ve had to do them all myself because Alan had to go to Durham with DS Glover”.

  “I’m sorry about that, but DS Glover is following a possible lead and he really did need someone to help with the investigation”.

  “I understand and I’m not complaining, it just means I’m a bit behind that’s all”.

  Jack was still standing by Debbie’s desk with his coat in his hand and Debbie started to wonder if she should brief him on what Oliver had been looking at whilst he was out at Lumley Castle. But Jack put his coat down on a nearby table and sat on the desk opposite her.

  “Leave that for the moment, I want to talk to you about a couple of things, seems like now would be a good opportunity”.

  Debbie closed her files and put down her pen. She was confused; in five years of working with DCI Jack Collier, he’d never sat down with her to have a conversation other than at her appraisal. She sat back in her chair, wondering what was coming next.

  “Update me on what’s been happening this afternoon first” said Jack.

  “Ok. Erm, after you left with Robbie. Oliver and I were looking at the photographs”.

  “Oliver said you’d given him, what was it, a fresh angle to look at?” interrupted Jack.

  “Ah, yes, well…”

  “I know it wasn’t you that gave him the idea, don’t worry about that for now, just fill me in on what you found, if anything” said Jack quietly.

  Debbie realised that there was no point in trying to cloud over the situation, Jack Collier liked things crystal clear; and he could see right through anything that wasn’t.

  “Right. Oliver and I narrowed down the photographs to just one that might be of interest. I asked him why he’d chosen it and he had no idea. Later I was telling him over lunch about an article I’d read on how the subconscious works and naturally, he didn’t believe a word of it. Then Robbie came in looking for you. He said he’d found the hotel where Robertson was murdered, and he needed to speak with you urgently. I thought you might still be in with Superinte
ndent Fox, but Oliver thought it would be ok if you were interrupted. I think that the distraction took Oliver’s mind off the photos and when we were leaving the canteen, something must have triggered in his mind. He’d seen a tiny white blemish showing underneath the arm of Justice Robertson. Anyway, Paul scanned it onto the computer and managed to enlarge the area until we could see what it was”.

  “And?”

  Debbie got up from her chair and crossed the room to pick up the papers from the corner of Oliver’s desk. She handed the top copy to Jack as she sat back down.

  “Bugger me” exclaimed Jack.

  “Oliver thinks this photo was taken when some game of cards was being played, maybe a competition or a card school or something. It looks like it might have been happening in a hotel or maybe a private home somewhere. He’s convinced that someone in that photo, or perhaps whoever took the photo, knows something about the murders. He says it has to be connected”.

  “Do you think he’s right?”

  “I don’t know sir. All I would say is, he’s not often wrong is he”.

  “No he isn’t. Did anyone have any idea who these people in the photo might be, if Oliver is so sure one of them knows something?”

  “Not yet sir”.

  “So why isn’t Oliver chasing around the area looking for someone who might be able to identify them? Or is that actually what he is doing right now?”

  “He did think about it, but he looked at other things and then decided to go home. He said he could think better when there was less distraction around him”.

  Jack looked at Debbie. She was relaxed but Jack knew without needing to be told what had really happened.

  “So you persuaded Oliver to reign it in a bit and look at other aspects of the case until you advised him to go home so he could concentrate better”.

  Debbie thought hard. She wasn’t going to lie to Jack, there was no point. But he had made it out to be more than what it was.

  “It wasn’t really like that. Yes Oliver wanted to run off and see Mrs Wallace and Tom Campbell to see if either of them could identify any of the faces. And, yes, I did suggest to him that he might not have your authority to fly off on his own on this one. I know in past cases, he has done. But not on this one, not yet anyway. But I also knew that he had something on his mind that meant he wanted to talk to Dr Wilson about. You said he could manage that on his own and I just thought he needed some time and space to think. Oliver does listen if you explain you rationale sir”.

  “Well he does listen to you Debbie, that’s for certain. Why did you think he wouldn’t have my authority? Or was there another reason?”

  “On previous cases sir, we’ve all known what was happening and more often than not Oliver is flying solo on something. We all know it’s not a routine piece of work, but we also know it’s important. Oliver’s schedule this week has been dictated by DS Glover sir, the same as everyone else here”.

  “And? Come on, get it off your chest, I want to hear what you think” said Jack gently.

  “Well sir. DS Glover has been treating Oliver like everyone else, and Oliver just isn’t like everyone else”.

  “Meaning?”

  Debbie thought for a second, then decided to go for broke.

  “Sorry sir, but I think it’s a waste of Oliver’s time to go around asking people if they recognise some face on a photograph sir when there are still more complex issues to resolve. Anyone could do that, even Kevin could ask simple questions. Oliver can do things other people can’t, so why waste his talents on things that anyone can do”.

  “Like looking at CCTV footage of the traffic on Shields Road when he should be looking at solving the coded text messages on McMillan’s mobile phone”.

  Debbie realised suddenly what the throwaway line had meant when she’d last spoken with Jack, if only Sergeant Glover could see what you saw, and felt a little guilty that she’d missed it at the time.

  “Exactly sir, I should have known you’d be aware. You said something a couple of days ago, but I didn’t grasp it”.

  “I know. Things will sort themselves out soon, have no fear. You’re fond of Oliver aren’t you?”

  “Working with Oliver is like having a clever younger brother hanging around. He gets bored with the mundane, but he comes alive with the complex. He can make some of us feel like donkeys sometimes when he sees things we can’t, but he doesn’t think of it that way. And, God he infuriates me sometimes because he has no interest in praise or kudos. He could earn it in bucketloads if he wanted to, but he gives others hints and information so they can have the credit. All he’s interested in is solving the puzzle and, yes, I am fond of him”.

  “As am I. And there’s no doubt, he is a one off. Do you think he’ll make DCI one day?”

  “I think the question is when, rather than if, isn’t it sir?”

  “Possibly, but he has to make Sergeant first”.

  “Well he’ll have smashed the exams, that’s a given. But I’m not sure the duties of a Sergeant will be to his liking, and I’m not sure it will do him any good either sir”.

  “I would tend to agree with you, and it’s good to see we’re on the same page on this one. But I have an idea I’m working on with that. What about you though Debbie, what ambitions do you have?”

  “Not a lot sir. Happy to do my job as well as I can. But if you’re asking me if I want to follow in Oliver’s footsteps, forget it. There’s only one Oliver, as we both know”.

  “True. But when he becomes a DCI, he’s going to need one hell of a DS to keep him in check and make sure all the I’s are dotted and t’s crossed. That might be a year or two away yet, but maybe you should have a think about that over the next few months”.

  Jack was smiling and Debbie realised the message he was trying to get across to her. She felt flattered and flustered at the same time and perhaps the fact she was giving off that signal made Jack get off the desk.

  “Well it was good to talk to you Debbie, I’m off home now, you have a good week-end and don’t stay too late will you”.

  “Yes sir” she croaked.

  Jack picked up copies of the printed faces from the photo and put them in his pocket before picking up his cap and coat.

  “I’m pleased we had a chat Debbie,” he smiled as he pulled his cap on before heading out of the office.

  Chapter 40

  Oliver spent most of the week-end at home, reflecting on what, by any standards, had been a strange week. An awkward appraisal with Jack, two murders, a temporary DS brought in to replace DS Davis, kept on the fringes of the case, and finally being called in for an opinion but telling his DCI that he’d rather stay at headquarters than visit a suspected crime scene.

  He’d tried on Saturday to take his mind off his concerns about the case, but the list in his notebook kept interrupting his thoughts, even to the extent that he’d talked it through with his mother on Saturday evening when he’d had his weekly on-line chat with her.

  She’d listened of course, but she had not been able to offer any insight into what was causing him so much concern. Oliver hadn’t really expected her too, he just needed someone to listen and to understand why something so insignificant, and yet so important he felt, was troubling him

  The chat had been good for him, his mother always had a way of bolstering his fragile confidence, even though she knew nothing of police work.

  And on Sunday afternoon, during a relaxed walk from his apartment in Monkseaton, through the empty streets of Whitley Bay and along the promenade towards St Mary’s Lighthouse before returning home, he’d had a breakthrough. One of the many restaurants in the area had been throwing some black plastic bin bags into a skip at the back of the restaurant and something clicked. He’d been thinking about the killer and the way the victims had been murdered, trying to piece together the strands of evidence that would help him to see through what was bugging him. Dr Wilson would have helped him, he was sure. But watching the staff throw bin bags into the skip had ans
wered the question for him, and he was certain.

  The effect had been so dramatic that he’d foregone his usual pit-stop for a coffee and a warm cheese scone, and headed straight back to his apartment to go through the list again.

  He slept well that night knowing he’d taken a step forward, and awoke ready for Monday morning and the next part of the case.

  Monday morning brought a sharp frost to the North of England and, although extremely cold, Oliver was grateful that he had at least half a chance of remaining dry when he headed to his car after breakfast.

  But by the time he arrived in the car park at headquarters, the heavens had opened, and the frost had been washed away within seconds. Such was the downpour that Oliver was drenched even though he’d ran from his car to the front door of the building.

  He shook the rain off his coat and headed upstairs. Robbie, Paul, and Debbie were already hard at it at their desks, Kevin was looking aimlessly at a computer screen, but there was no sign of either Jack or DS Glover.

  “Morning everyone” said Oliver as he entered the office.

  “Morning” said Paul, “you look cheerful, good week-end?”

  “Ok thanks, you?”

  “Quiet. Any idea where the DCI and Glover are?”

  “The DCI has just pulled into the car park” said Debbie, who had moved from her desk to the table by the window. “And DS Glover is still on that lead he started on Friday, as is Alan” she said with some disdain.

  “Anybody any idea what’s on today? Are we having a briefing if Glover is still AWOL?” said Robbie, who was stretching his back as if he’d been at work all day already.

  “Expect we’ll find out in a few minutes when the Chief gets here” said Paul.

  Oliver hung his wet coat over the back of his chair, thought about going for a coffee, but decided against it until he heard if Jack was going to do a briefing. He didn’t have long to wait as Jack appeared in the doorway a few seconds later. He looked soaked through.