The Devil's Interval

by J. J. Salkeld

‘How did it go, boss?’ asked his driver, as he drove them slowly down the farm track.

  ‘No problem at all. Business as usual. Tell you what though, I’m bloody starving. Is there somewhere we can stop on the way back?’

  ‘I’m way ahead of you, boss. That place we used a while back, you know, the one with the home-made black pudding. I gave them a ring, and they’re opening special. Just for us, like.’

  ‘Good job. Right then, don’t hang about. I’ve worked up quite an appetite this morning, I can tell you that for nowt.’

  The ACC Ops lookedsurprised to see Pepper Wilson in the Maxwell arrest review meeting, and glanced quickly across at Superintendent Clark as Pepper walked in and sat down. But he didn’t comment, and for the next two hours the senior officers present carefully and thoroughly satisfied themselves that, whatever had actually happened, their arses were satisfactorily covered. PC Abla Khan would be subject to a disciplinary hearing, despite the lengthy protestations of the only two officers in the meeting who were actually present at the incident, Inspector Henderson and Pepper Wilson. Henderson made it clear that he would make an unequivocal statement to the effect that Abla Khan was acting upon, and within, his devolved authority. The ACC replied, in a very roundabout fashion, that such a statement would make sod all difference to the final outcome.

  Pepper had gone into the meeting knowing that her father was still alive, drifting in and out of consciousness, and that his chances of survival were around 25 percent, but his prospect of making anything approaching a full recovery were the square root of bugger all. And, despite the fact that her contribution to the outcome of the session could only have been less significant if she’d made it in whale song, Pepper had resisted the admittedly modest urge to check her email.

  But after the meeting she bowed to the inevitable, and drove straight to the hospital. She abandoned her car in one of the staff bays, having first driven round the public car park twice, and made her way to the ICU. She knew the PC sitting outside, who said he was sorry about her dad. She said she wasn’t, and went and found the nurse. Pepper asked whether or not Jeff Wilson was fit to be interviewed.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I was under the impression that you were his daughter?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Oh, right. And you understand the seriousness of the situation? It has been explained to you?’

  ‘That he probably won’t survive the day. Yes, I know.’

  The nurse looked at Pepper, and frowned. ‘Shock does funny things, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I expect it does. Look, love, sorry and everything, but I haven’t got all day. Now is he fit to be interviewed, or not?’

  ‘Of course not. I’ll get the doctor to come and explain that to you. I thought you wanted to see him, that’s all.’

  ‘Can I? See him, I mean?’

  ‘As his daughter yes, of course. But not as a police officer.’

  ‘OK, fine. Can I go in now?’

  ‘On your own, yes, and just for a minute or two.’

  Pepper expected to feel something when she saw her father lying there with all those machines, unnameable and electric, and she did. But it wasn’t pity or sorrow. It was something like acceptance, or recognition, as if this was the inevitable conclusion of a story that she half remembered from childhood. She walked to the bed, and sat down next to it. Her father’s hands had tubes going into them, but she felt no desire to touch him, anyway.

  ‘Dad’ she said, a little more loudly than she’d intended. ‘It’s me, Pepper. Samantha.’

  He didn’t stir, and Pepper looked around the bare room. There weren’t any flowers, but why would there be? She said his name a couple of times more, then sat in silence. She found herself thinking about the year it had snowed hard, it must have been in the late eighties, and they’d all gone sledging in Bitts Park. Her dad had bought them a little red plastic sledge, or maybe he’d borrowed or nicked it, and he’d spent half an hour, maybe more, helping her and her sister up to the top of the slope, and chasing after them when they tumbled off half way down. And when they’d finished he’d picked her up, taken off her wellies one at a time, and shaken out the melting snow. Pepper could almost feel it, cold round her ankles. And then she did cry. But she didn’t look down at him once.

  ‘Pull yourself together’ she said, out loud, and started to get up. But she glanced down at her father and saw that his eyes were wide open. And all she saw was pain and fear. Human being becoming a terrified animal, and absolutely nothing more. She thought that he was going to die, in that second, and she hoped that he would. Get it over and done with. But then he’d never done anything that she’d really wanted.

  ‘Samantha’ he whispered, and she moved closer. ‘I’m sorry. I did it for you, and your sister. The money is hidden…’

  ‘Don’t tell me, dad. The search teams will find it, I dare say. And don’t waste your breath apologising to me, or anyone else. But what made you drive a bloody car? You haven’t owned one in years, and you can barely see where you’re going these days. I’m surprised you can still drive at all.’

  ‘Drive themselves, these modern wagons do. And I was asked, special, like.’

  ‘By Dai Young?’

  ‘Can this be used against me, like?’

  ‘No. I’m here as your daughter, not as a copper.’

  ‘Then aye, it was Dai. He said that you were in on it, like. Like father, like daughter, he said. He said you’d asked for the job to come my way, particular, like.’

  ‘And you believed that shit?’

  ‘He said you’d been planning this together, all these years. Since you were kids, like. He said the way you were with me, that was all an act, and that you were sorry. And he showed me these pictures, of you with…’

  Pepper waited for him to finish, but not for long, and she wanted to reach over and shake her father immediately. He was still breathing, after all. But she was worried that she might set off an alarm or something if she did.

  ‘What pictures? Dad, what pictures? What pictures?’

  When the nurse rushed in, looking shocked more than angry, Pepper realised that she’d been shouting in his face.

  ‘What kind of daughter are you? Get out of here. Now.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m going. And don’t worry, I won’t be back. Not in this bloody lifetime.’

  The PC outside was on his feet when Pepper came out.

  ‘Are you all right, sarge?’

  ‘Aye, fine. If they say he’s fit to make a statement let me know, would you, and I’ll send a couple of DCs down. Not that it matters much, either way. Either he’ll die here, on remand, or in prison. It won’t make much odds.’

  ‘He’s been asking for you, every time he’s come round, like. He kept saying something about his dad’s old shed. I couldn’t make it out, not clearly, like.’

  ‘His dad’s allotment shed, he must have meant. My old man was always too bloody lazy to cook a carrot, let alone grow one. I wonder why he was thinking about that?’

  ‘No idea. Did you go there as a kid, something like that?’

  ‘Aye, I must have. I do remember it vaguely, actually. It was dark and it smelt of mud, and my gran-dad’s roll ups, that’s all I remember. He was a fireman, you know, my dad’s dad. Bloody Trumpton, I ask you. Christ knows how my old man turned out the way he did, like. His old man was brave, and he was always grafting. Even at the bloody allotment, I expect.’

  The PC shrugged. ‘It takes all sort, like.’

  ‘You should have been a philosopher, Derek, with a mind like that.’

  The PC laughed, briefly, and Pepper Wilson walked away down the corridor. He watched her go, but she didn’t look back, even when the alarms started sounding from her father’s room. He shook his head, and held the door open for the two doctors who rushed past him. ‘Like I said, it takes all sorts.’

  Pepper didn’t often think about how she was feeling, let alone why, but as she drove back to work she thought about both. She fe
lt fine, and she knew why. In fact, if anything, she had to suppress a smile. And it was Ben she was thinking about. Because now, as he grew up to be a man, she wouldn’t have to worry about her dad talking cobblers to the boy after school, or when Ben was out with his mates. The old bastard had tried that once already, only weeks before, claiming that he wanted to give the lad a few quid, because he’d been earning.

  ‘Earning?’ she’d said to him, when she’d found out and gone round to his freezing flat. ‘That’s what proper grown-up people do, dad. What you do is take, that’s all. You’ve never done a hand’s turn in your whole bloody life.’

  ‘I always tried, Pepper, but there’s been nothing about. And I’m over sixty now…’

  ‘Bollocks, dad. When I was at primary school every single kid in my class had a working dad. At the tyre factory, the brewery, or on the biscuit job, or even as a bloody traffic warden. Something, anything. Every single one, except you. You’ve lived your pathetic life the way you chose. You’ve achieved nowt, and you add up to nowt. I don’t want Ben to know you, and I don’t want him to see you without me. Not ever. You hear me?’

  She ran the conversation back in her head, and wondered if she’d change any of it now. It was all true, so no, she decided, she wouldn’t. As she crawled through the traffic the sun came out, and for a moment the far side of the street was drenched in gold. She was looking forward to getting back to the office, and to making another statement in support of Abla Khan. There was no way that the lass could possibly have known that her old man couldn’t drive properly, and he would have probably crashed of his own accord, even if Abla hadn’t even touched him.

  As she walked through the station’s foyer, past the rest room and up the stairs to the CID suite, Pepper made a point of exchanging a few words with all of the coppers she met. A couple asked about her dad, and she told them all the same thing: that she was much more worried about Abla. It was the truth, and the cops who’d known her dad - which was all of the older ones - didn’t look remotely surprised. One shitbag was much like another, and the cops never really thought about them having children. Not ones that you’d actually know, anyway.

  She called her two DCs into her office, and Henry looked as if he had a valedictory speech prepared. She wasn’t surprised. He’d always seemed like the type. So she held up her hand to stop him.

  ‘Look, lads,’ she said, ‘my old fella won’t make it, and, if I’m honest, that’s the best outcome from where we’re at, like. If he lives he’s going to be severely disabled, and he’ll cost the taxpayer a bloody fortune to keep in prison. And he certainly won’t live long enough to see the outside again, either way. So he might as well die now, as later.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Pepper,’ interrupted Henry, ‘but your dad has died. That’s what I was trying to tell you. They’ve been trying to reach you.’

  ‘Shit, I forgot to turn my phone back on. Bollocks. Well, there you are, then. Nothing we can do except try to nick everyone else involved in last night’s bloody shambles. So let’s make a start with Alan Farmer, shall we? Where is that two-faced bastard?’

  ‘We’re on it already’ said Copeland. ‘I’ve already been to his house, the wife hasn’t seen him in days, and his mobile phone’s inactive. No email activity since yesterday. Car hasn’t popped up on ANPR either.’

  ‘Bank cards?’

  ‘Just getting that set up now. And me and Henry are off on the rounds of his KAs.’

  ‘Right, give me five minutes, and I’ll be with you. Rex, you spilt them up between us, but I’ll take John Porter. I really want to hear what he has to say. Tell you what; Henry, you come with me on that one.’

  He nodded, and looked pleased to be asked.

  ‘All right, let’s get on with it. I’ll be five minutes, tops, so Henry, you find out if Porter is at home for us, OK?’

  Pepper turned on her mobile, and listened to the message from the hospital. Judging from the message’s time her dad must have been dead before she’d even reached her car. She sat quietly for a moment, while her computer booted up, and then glanced through her emails. She only replied to one, telling the traffic superintendent handling Abla Khan’s disciplinary that she wanted to attend in person, as she had additional comments to make. Then she phoned Henderson, and told him that she was intending to turn up at the hearing.

  ‘Me too’, he said. ‘It’s an absolute nonsense, Pepper, and I’ll bloody tell them so. Maxwell isn’t some tearaway who just nicked a car, he’s a vicious nutter who had to be caught at any price. They need to understand that. But listen, how’s your dad?’

  ‘Dead.’

  ‘Shit, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be.’

  ‘Well, I am. I lost my dad last year, and it still hurts like hell. But let me ask you one thing. What was your old man doing driving that thing? I expected some sort of latter-day Jackie Stewart, not someone who’s about the same age as the real thing.’

  Pepper laughed. ‘I spoke to him, just before he died, and he told me that Dai recruited him specially.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To get at me, to send a message, something like that. I don’t know. Maybe he knew that this would happen all along. Maybe he ratted out his own operation. Fuck knows.’

  ‘Aye, perhaps he just wanted a bad driver because he wanted to make sure that Maxwell got nicked. The thought had crossed my mind.’

  ‘Makes sense, I suppose, but why would he do that? Screw up his own operation, I mean. The only good thing to come out of this whole bloody mess is that Dai Young is bound to have incurred the displeasure of the sort of people you really don’t want to piss off.’

  When she’d rung off Pepper got up, opened her office door, and told Armstrong that she’d be another two minutes, tops. Then she dialled Dr. Collier’s number, and was surprised to get straight through to him.

  ‘I’m not due to be seeing you today, am I, Pepper?’

  ‘No, doc, you’re not. And I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be coming back.’

  ‘I see. Well, thanks for letting me know.’

  ‘Don’t you want to know why?’

  ‘Of course, if you’d like to tell me.’

  ‘I know what I need to change, doc. About myself, about work, everything. I always did. I’m bruised, but I’m not broken, and there’s a big difference. I’m going to think less about myself, and more about the people that matter to me. Maybe find some new people to matter to me, if I can. And I’m going to talk less, and do more. No offence, doc, but talking’s what I do when I should be listening.’

  ‘None taken. As I explained, your continued attendance was purely voluntary, as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘I know, and thanks. It was interesting.’

  ‘Interesting?’

  Pepper laughed. ‘Sorry, I mean helpful. Of course you’ve been helpful. I guess I’m not really the talking kind, that’s all.’

  There was a silence at the other end of the line. ‘You know, don’t you?’ said Pepper, eventually.

  ‘About your father? Yes, Mary Clark called me a while ago to let me know. She thought that you might need help. He’s badly injured, I understand.’

  ‘He’d dead. But don’t worry, I’m fine. It was for the best, for everyone, like.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Well, you know where I am, if you need me.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘And you’re at work now, are you?’

  ‘Aye. Where else would I be?’

  Henry Armstrong didn’t say much as he drove to John Porter’s house, and Pepper was grateful. There’d been no reply from either his house or his office phone.

  ‘So what does it mean, Pepper?’ asked Armstrong, finally. ‘Was it Porter who was moving Maxwell, do you reckon? Maybe he’s gone to ground because of it.’

  ‘Has to be a possibility, I suppose. But before my old man died he told me it was Young who’d hired him, not Porter.’

  ‘Well then’, said Armstrong quickly, ‘t
hat must be what happened, mustn’t it? Sorry, Pepper, I didn’t know.’

  Pepper laughed. It was a natural, happy laugh, and Armstrong glanced round at her in surprise.

  ‘Take no notice of me, Henry, but my dad wasn’t like yours. You see, what honest folk don’t realise is that people like my old man don’t just lie to the cops, they lie to everyone, all the time. As a matter of principle, like. And that includes their families. We were my dad’s main victims when I was growing up, and that’s a fact. His whole shitty life, no matter who he stole from or conned, it was us he came back to. And then he did all the same shit to us. He lied, he stole, he conned us, right up to the end. So, to tell you the truth, the only thing that makes me doubt that Dai Young was actually involved in all this is the fact that my dad said that he was. Does that make sense?’

  Armstrong thought about it for a moment. ‘Got you. So maybe it was Porter, after all. But we’ll be there in a bit, and you can ask him yourself.’

  But the house was deserted, and after she’d walked round the whole place Pepper stood in front of the door and waved up at the CCTV camera. Then she took a pad from her bag, wrote her mobile number on it, and held it up to the camera. She waited for a minute or so, then walked back to the car.

  ‘Look on the bright side’ Armstrong said, as he was driving back to Carlisle. ‘If Porter and his people have made a run for it then at least that’s few less villains for us to deal with.’

  ‘Hardly, Henry. Because it’s the lads that they’ve run away from that we should really be worrying about.’ Pepper was going to go on, and instruct Henry on the life-cycle of the criminal mayfly, and how his moment in the sun was invariably terminated by the last swallow of summer. But her phone rang, and she answered it immediately.

  ‘Mr. Porter. Thanks for calling back so quickly. Keeping an eye on the old place, then?’