Eddie got into her face so closely that he could smell her sweat. Without taking his eyes off her, he pointed to Troy. “I respect him. He punched me in the guts, and he got his point across to me, face to face. He didn’t run and tell poison tales. Yes, he’s got problems, but we were working through them, and making sure they didn’t affect his performance at work…” He shrugged. “But now what? What’s going to happen to Troy now you’ve declared him a junkie to Crawford?
He stepped back. “Have you any idea how to handle people? Have you any idea what you’ve done?”
“I’ll tell you what she’s done.”
Everyone turned around, and Kenny strode up the office. He pointed an angry finger at her. “Don’t ever expect me to work with you again, love.”
Nicki sighed, frustration making her growl.
“Fuck’s sake,” shouted Eddie. “Now what?”
“She came with me to the post mortem, and in the middle of the examination I turned around and she wasn’t fucking there!”
“So I don’t like dead bodies,” Nicki said. “I’m okay with them at scenes, but I’d prefer not to engage with them at a PM.”
Eddie laughed. “‘Prefer not to engage with them?’ This is the Major Crime Unit, love – we deal in death every bastard day!”
“I will not back down, Eddie, so stop trying to intimidate me. I had other things to attend to today, Kenny. Better things. I’m sorry, I should have—”
“Piss off,” Kenny shouted. “You’ve been set on getting your feet under the table ever since you came here, and all you’ve done is make waves. You have no idea how to blend in; you have no idea how to treat people! Now leave me the fuck alone. I mean it.” He turned to Eddie. “Don’t shackle me with her again.”
Nicki flushed red, and sweat popped out onto her forehead. “There will be consequences to this—”
“Oh, I can’t stand this.” Sid shrivelled into a ball of angst and rolled out of the office.
“Sid?” Eddie stared at Nicki. “See what you’ve done? There will be consequences, alright; if you’ve upset him—”
“The consequences will affect you, Eddie.” Crawford stood in the doorway. “And they will affect you too, Troy.”
Eddie closed his eyes, shook his head.
“Nicki, are you alright?”
Nicki breathed out and the relief on her face turned it red. There was a tear in the corner of one of her eyes. “Dad, I just can’t—” Nicki planted a hand over her mouth, but it was too late; the horse had not only just bolted, it had set fire to the stables too, and then hurled grenades up and down the paddock. Her eyes flicked around the room, and everyone stared back at her, disbelief on their faces.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Dad?” Eddie said. He looked at Crawford, incredulous. “Fucking Dad?”
Crawford glared at Nicki, lips pursed.
“I’m sorry,” Nicki whimpered.
“I thought necrophilia was illegal.” Kenny barged Eddie out of the way. “So you’ve been greasing the wheels for your daughter to—” He gasped, pointed at Crawford. “You were prepping her to take over this office. Weren’t you?”
Eddie nudged him. “I think you mean nepotism, Kenny.”
“Who gives a flying shit? She’s here to steal your job, for Christ’s sake!”
Eddie stared between Crawford and Nicki. “It would explain why you run to Daddy every time I try to discipline my office.”
“I was merely protecting Troy’s—”
“Leave me out of this, you fucking cow. You used me to get one over on him!” Troy shoved her out of his way and walked down the office to the door, where Crawford grabbed him.
“You dare touch my daughter like that—”
“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie shouted. “You” —he pointed at Crawford— “take your fucking hands off him before I put you in a coma, and you” —he turned to Nicki— “you want this job so much that you’re prepared to hang Troy out to dry? You despicable piece of shit.”
“Collins,” shouted Crawford.
“Shut the fuck up, you.” He looked at Nicki again. “You want the keys to this sinking ship? Is that what you want? Is that why you’ve fawned over me, is that why you’ve reported me? You are sick. Take them, they’re yours.”
“What?”
“You heard. If you want control, fucking take it.” He looked from her to Crawford. “I’ll be fucked if you two clowns think I’m going to constantly bow down to you. Forget it. I’ll send you a thimble.” He smiled. “My way of helping to bail you out. But on one condition: you leave him alone.”
Nicki looked from Troy to her father, her eyes sparkling, and she was filled with nervous energy that would have seen her dancing up and down the office had she been alone. Crawford breathed deeply, relief giving him the higher ground that dignity commands. “I think you’re making the right decision. It would have ended bitterly if we’d taken this through disciplinary.”
“Disciplinary?” asked Eddie. “If anyone should be disciplined, it’s you two.”
“Falsifying a drugs test… Could look very bad for you, Eddie.”
“I’m used to looking bad. I have my own naughty chair in PSD. Them upstairs have been looking for someone like you to come along and force me out for years.”
“You forced yourself out the moment you engineered an illegal drugs test—”
“Listen. Think about it; you’ll ruin that kid’s career for no reason. He was getting back on track, no big brother breathing down his neck, clean record, able to move on. And he has the makings of a bloody good CSI. Is all this worth it? I’ll go, but leave the kid out of it.”
Nicki – lips tight, arms folded – stared at him, shaking her head.
He snorted. “Why would you want to ruin him? Vindictive, perhaps? Selfish? Jealous?” Eddie’s eyebrows rose at that one, and Nicki turned away. “You could have done well for yourself without Daddy’s help. You could have earned your status instead of being handed it – that’s a fucking insult, by the way. And you know what; you know how much trust people have in you now? None. Not a fucking droplet; no one from CID will trust you, and none of your staff will either. That sinking ship I mentioned? You’re just an empty figurehead.”
“Actually, I think I know how to handle staff a damned sight better than—”
“It’s not over yet,” Kenny barked at her. “If he goes, I go.”
“Kenny,” Nicki cooed.
“I mean it. I ain’t working for you, love. And I ain’t having your dad tugging my strings through you, either.” He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair. “So fuck you very much. You’ll find the PM disk in my tray. Upload it yourselves, if you can bear to look at the images.”
Nicki stood resolutely at the end of the office. Her tongue flicked at dry lips, her knuckles were white, shoulders tense. “Kenny, I mean it; this is your last chance.”
“Shove it up your arse.” Kenny barged past Crawford without so much as a look. Troy followed him out of the office.
“Troy! You get back here now. You hear me?”
The door closed behind him.
No one could have blamed Eddie for grinning triumphantly right then. But he felt too hollow. “Look what you’ve done. Your new kingdom consists of… you. Congratulations.”
“Eddie, don’t be hasty.”
Eddie pointed to Troy’s desk, to the evidence bag on it. “There’s a coat in there,” he said. “It belongs to a female, and I don’t think it’s Mrs Watkins, on account of the steak knife Troy found in the inside pocket. You should submit it to the lab; have them check it for wearer DNA. You’ll need to fill out an MG21, okay? DI Benson or DS Khan will be able to help you with possible suspects and where to go from here. Listen to him,” he said to Nicki, “he’ll help you with the paperwork if you need it. And the swabs from the knife—”
“What’s going on?”
Eddie looked up at Weismann, who now stood next to Crawford. He ignored him. “The swabs from the knif
e go on a 21 too. There’ll be scene work if we… there’ll be scene work if he identifies a suspect. There’ll be lots of work, okay, so you’ll need help from division—”
“I said what’s going on?”
Eddie strode down the office, eyes never leaving Weismann’s. “Really?” He said, coming to a halt well inside Weismann’s space. “You have no idea? All this” —he swept an arm at the empty office— “is a complete surprise to you?”
“Yes. It is.” He looked over Eddie’s shoulder to Nicki – who clearly didn’t know whether to preen herself or shit herself, and had settled on something in between – and then across to his boss, Mr Crawford – the man to whom he owed his current position. “Sir?”
Crawford gritted his teeth. “There’s been a development. We need a meeting.”
The office felt cold to Eddie now; strange, foreign, the way it might if he were just a visitor. Behind him was his successor; in front of him, two men in suits who probably had no idea what a crime scene looked like, let alone how to process one. But the scary thing was that these men were in control of the quality of forensic examinations across the region under the umbrella of the Major Crime Unit. It was embarrassing. It was dangerous.
But the worst thing? These people were responsible for bringing justice to victims like Doc Bolton. He pitied Doc; the odds were suddenly in favour of the criminal.
Eddie shook his head, and closed the door on a disaster waiting to happen.
Chapter Forty
Eddie walked down the stairs, the commotion in his old office a thousand light years behind him, unheard. He watched the stairs trickling backwards underneath him, his jacket slung casually over his shoulder, the cigarette lighter in its pocket thumping into his back. And then he was on the ground floor, eyes open but seeing nothing. He was thinking about Doc Bolton, about the scene and about the processing yet to be done. And he was wondering how it would all get done with a monkey and two arseholes in charge.
As he punched through the doors, Troy smashed him in the face.
Eddie fell square on his backside, sunglasses crushed in his back pocket. He looked up at Troy. “If you’ve broken my shades, I’m going to tie you to the gates and then open them.”
Troy panted as though the adrenaline pumping through him was genuine five-star leaded petrol, circling his fists as though ready for another bout. Miss Moneypenny shouted, and there were footfalls on the marble floor as Eddie checked his jaw still worked.
Eddie looked up. Kenny held out his hand.
“Kenny,” Eddie smiled, and gained his feet.
“You fucking sold me out!” Troy shouted, assuming the stance of a nineteenth-century boxer, fists curling through the air.
Eddie was about to offer the case for the defence when Moneypenny barged Troy out of the way. Eddie watched, stunned that she felt the need to do that for him, and stunned that she actually could do that for him.
He was mesmerised, even as Kenny slapped him on the shoulder.
“Why the hell did you let them have it?”
Eddie swivelled to Kenny. He could see his crooked bottom teeth, the grey whiskers on his flabby cheeks, and he could see the hurt in his eyes. And Eddie went cold – he hadn’t considered anyone else when he’d given the mad bitch the keys. He’d made his point, and he’d walked.
The consequences were in front of him now.
“I ain’t working for her, Eddie.”
Eddie looked at Kenny, felt Moneypenny and Troy nearby, and heard footsteps behind him on the stairs; big clodhopping boots, the kind that Sid might wear. And he suddenly felt very hot, and very guilty. He began walking across the foyer.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Troy yelled.
“Eddie, you’re letting everyone down,” Kenny shouted. “Eddie!”
“Eddie,” Moneypenny whispered.
Eddie stopped. Stared at the glass door which was now less than a yard away from his outstretched hand. He held his breath and turned around to see them all staring at him. To their right the security guard – the one with the bent nose that looked as though it had been broken a year or two ago – stared on, arms folded, unmoving. And then the double doors opened and Sid joined them. “What?” Eddie asked them. “You want a fucking miracle?”
“We want answers.”
“Answers? Go and ask them upstairs, Kenny. They have your answers.”
“That it, then? You just gonna shrug and waltz off into the sunset?”
Eddie looked at the floor. He tried to put on his sunglasses but the lenses had fallen out. He threw the frames into the rubber plant and looked at them all. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll call you, Moneypenny.”
DAY 5
Chapter Forty-One
Eddie poured coffee as Charles skulked around the corner. “Cruella leave you high and dry last night, then?”
“Stop being so petty. Her name’s Wendy, and you know it. No, she stayed at her own house last night. Has to be up early this morning,” Charles said. “Doctor’s appointment.”
“Venom top-up?”
“Eddie.”
Eddie laughed, “Sorry, but you’re just so easy.” Eddie stirred his coffee. “Would you like tea?”
“Please.”
“Earl Grey?”
“Eddie!”
“Sorry.” Eddie took the smile away, folded it up and slid it into a drawer for future use, and said, “Toast?”
Charles squinted.
“What? I’m having some – thought you’d like some too.”
“Two slices. Please.”
“Would you be kind enough to get the butter?”
Charles opened the fridge door and bent to reach the butter.
“You know there’s a thumb imprint on the top of your head, don’t you?”
“Get your own bleedin’ butter!” Charles stomped out of the kitchen and Eddie howled with laughter.
“I’m sorry,” he squeaked. And then he laughed again.
* * *
There was always an uncomfortable silence in the lounge whenever Eddie and Charles ate together. Eddie hated sharing mealtimes with anyone – even himself. He couldn’t bear the sound of someone munching or mulching food. It sent him from his usual calm persona into a rage almost instantly. There was probably a medical term for it, but he wasn’t interested enough to find out.
He contemplated turning on the TV just so he could get some relief from the sound of eating, but the shit on TV was even worse, and so he sat with anger stomping across his face in time with his chewing until the toast was gone.
He looked over at his father, watching the jaw working the toast as though it were losing an arm-wrestling match with it.
The giggles in the kitchen forgotten, he said, “What’s the crack with you two?”
“Me and Wendy?”
“No, you and Saddam Hussein.”
Charles sighed and put down his plate. “Why do you have to be so rude all the time?”
“Because there’s nothing more entertaining on the telly.”
“I wish you’d get along with her. She means the world to me.”
Eddie studied Charles’s face for traces of humour, absolutely sure there was a punch line on its way. But no; he was serious. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
Wow. Eddie blinked. Takes all sorts. “She seems… She seems to be a little on the manipulative side to me, that’s all. Don’t you feel that? Don’t you notice how domineering she is?”
“She’s a lovely, warm, and caring woman, Eddie. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be loved.”
“Loved? You and her… you’re in love?”
“Well, I think we’re getting there, yes.”
Eddie bit his lower lip until his eyes watered. “If that’s love, I’d rather shove wasps up my arse.”
“Well, I’m happy. And I’d like you to be happy for me too. I’d like you to be happy with me.” His eyes shone at Eddie. “Why can’t you do that?”
Eddie looke
d at the carpet, shame creeping like a red tide up his neck.
“Can you do that, Eddie? For me?”
Eddie thought about saying if ignorance is bliss, you must be very fucking happy. “Course I can. I’m happy for you, Dad.”
Charles didn’t let his eyes roam; they stayed locked on Eddie. “Are you ashamed of me? Or are you worried for me? With Wendy, I mean? Or perhaps you’re jealous, maybe you don’t want to see me with another woman?”
“Come on, Dad.”
“I mean it! What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m not keen. Okay? On her, I mean; I’m not keen on her. There’s something—”
“Like you’d know!”
Eddie looked away.
“What success have you ever had with women? Eh?”
“Dad—”
“None! No success at all. You had one woman kill herself, and another run away from you!”
Eddie stood. “Dad—”
“Proper Casanova, aren’t you? And you sit there lecturing me!” Charles stood to face him; the eyes were still shiny, but so too were his wrinkled cheeks as the tears tumbled through the white whiskers. “You selfish bastard.”
They stood facing each other perhaps six or eight feet apart. Not since Charles had moved in had they stared at each other with such vehemence, such animosity. Charles’s old fingers crunched into a fist and then someone knocked at the door. Both ignored it; it was like a gunfight without any guns.
“Is it because you think I’m being disrespectful to your mum’s memory? Is that it?”
“What? No, it’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
The door banged again.
“Like I’d fucking know, right? I drive all my women away; not shy of reminding me, are you?”
The Death of Jessica Ripley Page 15
