by L M Krier
'Oh my God, you look and smell good,' Ted told him admiringly, moving closer for a hug. 'Are you sure you want to go out tonight?'
Trev laughed and pushed him gently but firmly away. 'Down, boy. I'm going out, and you're going to eat with your mother. And you needn't look so worried, I'm not going out on the pull.'
It was not worry over Trev's faithfulness that made Ted anxious. It was his own insecurities. Whatever he was wearing, Trev was quite simply stunning. Now, with his jet black hair still damp from his shower and curling more wildly than ever, he was sensational. Even casually dressed in good jeans, an open shirt and tailored jacket, it was easy to see how he had been offered modelling work on a trip to Berlin with Rupert.
As if reading his thoughts, Trev gave a throaty chuckle and said, 'Surely this morning was enough to convince you I've no need to look elsewhere? Now, I knew you'd be on the last minute, which is why I grabbed a shower and got ready. I'll go and pick up Annie, you get yourself ready.
'Fish pie and sticky toffee pudding in the fridge ready for you, away from thieving cats. Just heat them up, make sure they're hot right through. And there's clotted cream for the pud. Now give me the car keys and go and get ready. I'll fetch your mother then leave you to it, as soon as Rupert and Willow swing by to pick me up.'
Ted enjoyed his evening more than he thought he might. His mother was ridiculously proud to hear, from Trev, of his promotion. Ted would never have dreamt of mentioning it. He told her little of his police work. There was not much he could tell her. Most of it was too shocking. He did want to touch on the current case, in broad detail, though. He didn't for a moment imagine his mother might be suddenly tempted to start dating. After all, she had stayed single ever since she had left Ted and his father more than thirty years ago. But he was anxious to warn her about the kind of scams people got sucked into, which could end up costing them thousands of pounds.
After a pleasant evening, Ted drove her home, then settled down to clear some of the routine paperwork he'd brought home with him. He imagined Trev would be late back and he didn't want to be found waiting up for him like an anxious parent, so once he'd made some progress, he went upstairs with a book. Not a great reader, he did sometimes indulge in some Ian Rankin crime fiction, always wondering, whenever he did, how John Rebus kept his driving licence, never mind his job.
He must have dozed off, the open book still on his chest, his reading glasses slowly slipping off his nose, when he heard noises downstairs. He slid out of bed, pulled on sweats, and went quietly downstairs.
Trev was busily making toast, grinning widely, humming happily and totally tunelessly to himself. He started when he sensed Ted pad quietly into the kitchen behind him.
'Oh, sorry, did I wake you? I'm making toast. I want toast, with honey. D'you want toast?'
He only just managed to catch the slices as they popped out of the toaster, then set about spreading honey liberally, though not entirely accurately, over them.
Ted smiled indulgently. He was pleased his partner had clearly had such a good time.
'No toast, thanks, I've no room after that supper you made us. Did you have a good time?'
'Wonderful!' Trev beamed owlishly. 'Brilliant! Have some toast.'
Ted shook his head. 'No toast. And you're all right?' he asked pointedly.
'Wonderful!' Trev repeated. 'I may just be a little bit squiffy, and maybe a teeny bit stoned, but I am all right.'
'You haven't brought anything back with you?' Ted hated having to ask, but he needed to be sure. Like most coppers, he could selectively ignore knowing that someone occasionally shared a spliff at a party, but possession of drugs was something different altogether.
Trev lifted his arms up and held them out at shoulder height, honey dripping everywhere from his bitten piece of toast.
'Nary a thing, officer. But you might have to strip-search me to be sure.'
Ted was smiling, despite himself. 'I'm sorry, but you know I have to ask. I'm a policeman.'
'I know, I've seen your truncheon,' Trev told him and collapsed into helpless giggles.
Patiently, Ted set about cleaning up the honey, much of which had run up the sleeve of Trev's good jacket. Then he ran him a tall glass of cold water and held it out to him.
'Drink that, before you come to bed. It'll dilute the wine a bit and reduce the hangover.' Then, aware he really did sound like Trev's father, he added softly, 'I'm glad you had fun. You deserve to.'
Ted had warned Trev that he intended to go into the office again the next day. He hadn't yet finished going through everything Océane had recovered from the laptop and phone and he wanted to do that before Monday morning's briefing with the full team. He had a gut feeling there was something there which might point them in the right direction.
He got up later than usual for a work day, finished off clearing up downstairs, then took tea up to Trev. It was, as ever, strong enough to trot a mouse across, with just a suggestion of milk.
Trev was still sleeping like a baby, spread-eagled across most of the bed. Ted put the mug down on the shelf next to him, perched lightly on the edge of the bed and gently shook his shoulder. One brilliant blue eye opened reluctantly, looked at him, then a lazy, suggestive smile spread over Trev's face as he rolled slowly onto his back.
'You're not going out just yet, are you? Stay a bit longer.'
Ted shook his head regretfully. 'I'd love to, I really would. But I need to get on top of this case. So far, we've only got one victim. I really don't want to risk our man striking again before we've made any progress. I'll be back as soon as I can, promise. I'll text you. Drink your tea.'
'You can send me a sext, if you like.'
Ted was still smiling at the thought as he drove out of the cul-de-sac where they lived and headed for the station. Steve and Jezza were in again, and Ted knew that Maurice would be looking after Jezza's brother, Tom. Maurice was brilliant with children. Even the often difficult Tommy loved going to spend time with him, and managed to cope with Maurice's often lively twin daughters. Steve and Jezza would take days off in lieu in the week, so there was always someone on call, every day. It was how the team always worked, with a serious case ongoing.
The three of them exchanged greetings, then Ted asked if they had anything new for him.
'Sir, can you take a look at this, on the CCTV?' Steve asked him, looking for the relevant bit to show to the boss.
Ted pulled Océane's chair across and sat next to Steve, looking at the screen. He could see straight away that it was from the camera nearest to the pub where Waters' first two meet-ups had been arranged. The images were, as usual, grainy, but he knew that, with enhancement techniques, it would be possible to get greater detail on anyone they wanted to study.
He noticed that Steve had selected a time shortly before six on Monday evening, more than half an hour before Mrs Angus had said she was due to meet Waters. Few people went into the pub that early in the evening. One of them was a man who was reading a newspaper as he walked.
Steve let the tape run a few moments then looked at the boss expectantly.
'Tell me what you see, Steve, and I'll tell you if I see the same thing.'
'Well, sir, as the man comes into camera shot, he's just taking his paper out from under his arm and starting to look at the back page as he walks towards the pub. That wouldn't look unusual, of itself. But I think the height he's holding the paper looks wrong.'
'Wrong in what way?' Ted asked, impressed that Steve was voicing exactly what he was thinking himself.
'Well, sir,' he said again, 'usually if you're walking along reading a paper, you sort of have it folded over, so you don't block your own view completely.' He reached for a red top on his desk and held it up to show what he meant. 'His isn't folded, and he's holding it quite high up.'
'He could be short-sighted,' Ted suggested, playing devil's advocate.
'He could be,' Steve conceded. 'He could also be very aware that there are CCTV cameras there. The way
he's holding the paper not only masks most of his face, it also hides the front of the fleece jacket he's wearing. And if you remember, we've got witness statements of a man in the pub, wearing a fleece with a logo, who left shortly after the victim.'
Ted nodded. 'I agree with you, Steve, that's a strong possibility. Well spotted. We need to find out more about logo-man. We'll need to go back to the pub and press the bar staff for any detail at all about what that logo is. It may be nothing, just a brand label, but there's an outside chance it's work clothing, with a company name on it. Anything else?'
Steve was flushed with pride at the praise. 'Yes, sir,' he said, fast-forwarding through the tape. 'Not much more than five minutes later, we have our Mr Waters, going into the pub, here. Then just before six-thirty, Mrs Angus going in, just as she and the witnesses said.'
'And leaving?'
'Exactly as Mrs Angus said, sir. Waters left just before seven-thirty, followed shortly afterwards by logo-man,' he was speeding through it again as he spoke. 'Acting just the same way with his newspaper. Then we've got Mrs Angus leaving quite a bit later on, as she said.'
'Good work, Steve. Jezza, anything from your side so far?'
'I've run out of mind bleach, reading this stuff, boss,' she told him. 'I think there is something, but I'm not sure, so I really would like your take on it as well. I've started on the Linda Lovelace stuff now, so would you mind reading through it yourself and telling me if anything strikes you about it?'
'That's what I was planning to do this morning. In the meantime - and with my limited experience, I don't even know if this is possible - I'm hoping between the two of you, you can compile something for me. I want some sort of a profile of the type of person Waters was contacting, then the same for Snooky, Anne Angus and Linda. Then trickling down from there, if you follow me. A way to look for links, target words and phrases, that sort of thing. Is this making any sense?'
'Perfectly, boss,' Steve beamed happily. It was the sort of thing which was right up his street. 'For example, let's assume that Mr Waters really was interested in lap-dogs, which seems improbable. Was he searching on people with a similar sort of interest? Is that the sort of thing you mean, sir?'
'Steve, you're a genius,' Ted told him. 'You even know what I mean when I don't know myself. Right, I'm going to shut myself away to read the steamy stuff so you can't see me blush with embarrassment.'
Ted read carefully through everything, twice over. He saw what Jezza was getting at. He hadn't realised how much the morning had got away from him until Jezza tapped on his door and stuck her head round.
'Me and Steve want to treat you to lunch today, boss, as you bought ours yesterday. Smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel?' she asked.
Ted laughed. 'Am I as predictable as that? Yes, please, and it's kind of you both. I'll get the kettle on.'
Ted was a rarity amongst officers of his rank for his willingness to spend down-time with his team members. Some senior officers argued that it reduced respect to be too matey. Ted thought the opposite. His team members thought the world of him but they knew that he could, and would, still kick backsides if anyone was out of line. He didn't believe in disciplinaries. He preferred to deal with matters himself, in his own way.
When they'd finished eating and were enjoying a drink together, Jezza asked, 'So did anything strike you, boss? About the Linda stuff?'
'It did. It reminded me of scenes of crime I've been to which have been staged. Where a killer who thinks he's a bit clever has set things up to be what he thinks it should look like, or what he's seen on television. The Linda stuff just doesn't quite ring true to me. I hasten to add that it's definitely not my area of experience, but I'm just not buying it. It comes across all wrong.'
'Exactly what I thought, boss!' Jezza sounded pleased that they were both on the same wavelength. 'It's like when you read a book. Like all that crime fiction trash I had to read recently. When it's written by a woman trying to sound like a man, or vice versa, and getting it horribly wrong, so it just sounds cheesy.'
'It just wasn't authentic to me, somehow,' Ted said, aware that he was getting himself into an uncomfortable situation which was likely to have Steve going bright red and he himself squirming a bit. 'It really isn't something I'm familiar with, for obvious reasons. But I read it several times and compared it to what Snooky wrote. It wasn't the same.'
'It was like someone writing what they thought sounded right, not what actually was,' Jezza agreed. 'Know what I think, boss? I think our Linda is definitely a man. I think she may be logo-man on the CCTV and if that's the case, I think he's the killer. He waited in the bar for Waters to come along, followed him to his next meeting. Waited and watched, followed him back to the hotel, with Snooky, if that's who it was. Waited again for them to finish, then went in and killed him.'
'It's possible,' Ted said guardedly. 'But we don't want to get ahead of ourselves. It's all conjecture and supposition at this point. We need an ID of logo-man for a start. Steve, is it possible to find out who else Linda Lovelace is talking to on these sites? Just in case we can get any idea of who else they may possibly be targeting?
'Depends on privacy settings a lot of the time, sir, but I'll see what I can find out. If I can't do it, Océane will be able to.'
Ted stood up and cleared away the remnants of lunch. He gathered up routine paperwork to put in his briefcase as he said, 'Right, I'm going to leave the two of you to get on and I'm going home to try and spend a bit of time with Trev. See you both tomorrow.'
Trev was ironing in front of the television when he got home, not needing to look at subtitles to follow the foreign film. He spoke several languages fluently, having lived and been educated in a few different countries. Ted greeted him with a hug and a kiss.
'You're back at a decent time. Was I totally outrageous last night?' Trev asked.
'Amusing, rather than outrageous,' Ted smiled. 'Do you fancy going out for a bit of a blow somewhere, while I've got the time and there's some daylight left? Are you all right to drive the bike, or do you want me to?'
Trev laughed. 'I wasn't that bad, officer. I'll be well under the limit by now. Just promise me you won't breathe a word to Shewee. It would ruin my credibility as the big brother trying to keep her on the straight and narrow if she ever found out I came home tiddly and slightly stoned.'
'Give me five minutes to change and let's head up to the High Peak. Might as well make the most of it, before I find myself with another murder on my hands.'
Chapter Eleven
Reluctantly, Ted had to abandon pretence and revert to wearing the suit he hated for work. He really could no longer use the excuse of bandaging on his arm. It was visibly so much better. The scarring was still impressive, although he was assured it would improve, and he already had most of the use back. He was told that if he kept up the exercises, he would regain at least ninety per cent of normal function.
The team had two solid days of steady, plodding, routine police work which individually didn't seem to amount to much, but by the Wednesday morning briefing, there were some signs of progress.
'Boss, we've still not got a definite ID on Snooky,' Rob began, 'but we found one or two bar staff who reckoned to have seen her. One knows her as Snooks but one woman said she thought her real name might be Suki.'
'Suki's an unusual name, so that might give us a lead,' Megan Jennings suggested. 'If we can pin her age down as much as we can from the descriptions, do you want me to try ringing round local schools, to see if any of them had a pupil called Suki at the right time? Especially the school Océane already highlighted? It might be a complete dead-end, but you never know. I might just get lucky.'
'Anything's worth a try while we're still waiting on tracing her through her email and mobile phone,' Ted agreed. He liked Megan's enthusiasm. Before he could say anything further, he was interrupted by his mobile phone. Jim Baker calling.
'Morning, Super.'
'Morning, Darling.' The two men never tired of the ol
d joke. 'Looks like your man may have done it again, Ted. I need you and some of your team to get over to South Manchester, as soon as possible. Your old pal Cyril Foster's patch.
'Foster and his DS are already on the scene, with SOCO. You and some of yours swing by the nick first, introduce yourself, take some of his team, then head for the hotel. I'll arrange visitors' passes to be ready for you at the front desk of the station. It seems like exactly the same MO, from the early reports I've had. Amazingly, someone has clearly read circulating emails, for once, and made the connection, so I got an early shout.
'I'm tied up in meetings at the moment, but I'll try to get over there to join you later if I can. I know there's history between you and Foster, and I know what he's like.'
Ted groaned. He had certainly butted heads with the man a few times, not least because of Foster's sexist and homophobic attitude. It was not a coincidence that his team was almost always exclusively white and male. In Ted's opinion, he was the worst type of old-school copper, who thought anything went, as long as it brought results. Foster had been subject to more than one investigation by Complaints because of his attitude, but no one ever felt brave enough to testify against him, so he somehow kept getting away with it.
'You don't need me to tell you not to take any crap from Foster or any of his team. Your main priority is the killer, of course, especially if it is the same person. But if you were able to deliver any of their heads on a platter to Complaints at the same time, it would certainly bring you a few extra Brownie points.'
Ted laughed. 'No pressure, then? Right, boss, I'll see you there at some point in the day.'
The team members were looking expectantly at him as he ended the call, wondering if it might be a shout for the new team. It had clearly been the old Big Boss calling.
'Right, everyone, the A Team is go. Another body; sounds like the same MO. Another hotel, this time South Manchester, so we're mobile. SOCO are on site, with the local DI and DS. We just have to swing by their nick first before joining them, compare notes quickly, bring everyone up to speed.
