The Doll's House

by Tania Carver

  ‘Your protégé, is he?’ said Phil, feeling the anger well up once again. ‘That it? You’re moulding him, grooming him for greater things?’

  ‘He’s a good lad, like I said. The kind of copper we need on the force. Here. In our city.’

  ‘Right.’ The traffic was backing up in front of Phil. He wanted to pull away, drive as fast as he could to match his quickening heart rate. Instead he slowed down, joined the queue. Kept his foot off the accelerator, but poised. ‘What do you mean? He didn’t have an easy start?’

  ‘His old man was a copper,’ said Sperring, weighing his words. ‘Back in the day. He put up with all manner of shit. Not just from the kids on the street, but from other officers. Paki. Wog. The lot. And he worked through it. Twice as hard as anyone else. He was hard, tough. He won respect.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  Sperring paused before answering. ‘The job claimed him. But he was a good man, before that. I was proud to know him then. And now I’m proud to know his son.’

  ‘Very touching,’ said Phil, still staring ahead.

  Sperring turned to him. ‘You know, you’ve come here with a lot of attitude. Plenty to say about how we do things wrong and how you’d do them different. How we don’t respond in the same way as your team would respond. How we’re not as good. All of that. We’ve put up with a lot from you. I’ve put up with a lot from you. You think I’m an old reactionary. A dinosaur. Don’t you?’

  Honesty time, thought Phil. Good. About time the air was cleared. ‘Truth? Yeah. I think you are. But also, like I said, you’re pissed off because I got the job you wanted. And you can’t bear it. Every time I say something or give an order, you think it should be you. Isn’t that right?’

  Sperring glared at him. ‘The traffic’s moving. Turn right at the next roundabout.’

  ‘I know,’ said Phil. ‘I know where I am now.’

  The traffic eased. The car moved forward. Band of Horses sang about the slow cruel hands of time.

  They reached the station in silence.

  46

  E

  verything in Maddy’s house was looking suddenly better. Everything in Maddy’s life was looking suddenly better. And she knew why. Ben.

  It was only hours since he had left and already he had made a difference. Just thinking about him, how positive he had been, the way he had gently rubbed her injured wrist, the sincerity in his eyes. The flowers hadn’t hurt either. A huge bouquet, lilies and gladioli and some tall, thick-stalked things with beautiful open petals that she didn’t know the name of but that looked lovely. There wasn’t a vase big enough in the house, so she had used an old rusting watering can she had found in the back garden. Now they were taking up most of her dressing table, and she had to say they looked gorgeous.

  The card was standing next to them. Thank you for a wonderful time. Can’t wait to see you again. Ben. And some kisses.

  No one had bought her flowers before. Not even a tongue-tied teenage boyfriend spending his pocket money on things that grown-ups would buy to impress a girl. She’d never had one of them. She’d never had a boyfriend at all. Not a proper one. Not really. There had been boys during her teens, but they had mainly been friends. A few kisses and an exploratory furtive fumble after a school disco one night, but that was it. Nothing more than that. Not before she had come to university.

  Not before Hugo Gwilym.

  Talk about in at the deep end.

  She smiled. Hugo would have hated to hear her use such an obvious cliché. Maybe she should use them more often. As a tiny act of revenge. Her own little way of getting back at him.

  But there were better ways. What was that about living well being the best revenge? Was that another cliché? Probably. In fact, definitely. But did it matter? She looked at the flowers once more. And smiled. No. It didn’t.

  Living well. Just twenty-four hours ago she hadn’t wanted to be living at all. And she had the slashes on her wrist to prove it. But miraculously, in such a short space of time Ben had changed all that.

  She took a shower, her head whirling, struggling to process everything that had happened. She was happy. She knew that much. She must be: even the normally scuzzy, freezing, mildewed bathroom didn’t seem too off-putting to her.

  Ben had come along at just the right time. Her knight in shining armour. Cliché alert! She smiled. Hugo seemed to recede further into the distance. How had she ever fallen for him? Because he was impressive. That was why. For one thing he was older than her, and because of her background she had always had unresolved father issues.

  Her mother came from a good family, a good home. But she had a rebellious streak. When she was sixteen she had tired of the stifling family environment and the Cornish resort they lived in and ran off with her older surfer boyfriend. The rebellion didn’t last long and she soon returned home. Broken and pregnant. The boyfriend disappeared.

  It was hard for Maddy growing up knowing that she had been a mistake, an unwanted child.. Her mother had done her best, constantly reassuring her that even though she was unplanned, having her in her life had turned into a blessing. Rebellion over, her mother had settled down, trained as a teacher and married a local vet. Her stepfather took her in and gave her his surname. Maddy never liked him. She found him creepy and pervy. Looking at her in an unhealthy way once her body started to bud and grow. Her mother evidently agreed, as they subsequently split up. She was teaching at the local secondary school by this time and had become involved with another teacher. He was a kind, decent man and clearly loved Maddy’s mother. He asked them to move in with him. They did so. Her mother was happy, Maddy was stable. She still had her stepfather’s surname, but that wasn’t a problem. It was just what she had become used to being called. She should have felt secure there, but something still gnawed at her.

  She saw how happy her mother was, how she tried to make Maddy happy, and she tried to ignore it, but that didn’t work. Just that one thought, one seed. It built and built, worming its way into her head, rattling round her brain, then bedding itself down, where it spat out its poison, setting off causal chains of events. One thought, one seed.

  I’m not wanted.

  As a baby, and now as a teenager, with her mother happy for once in her life. And from there the feeling grew, triggering ever deeper and darker spirals. That was when she was diagnosed with depression. When the antidepressants started. She was still struggling with it, still taking them at university. That was how she ended up studying psychology.

  That was why she was fair game for Hugo Gwilym.

  He had dazzled her, transfixed her with his radiance. She had thought he was the most wonderful person she had ever met. Tall, dark, handsome, intelligent, funny, charming. A media personality, no less. A celebrity. And best of all, he seemed interested in her.

  She couldn’t believe it at first, thought she must be imagining things. But no. It was really happening. He would bump into her in the corridor, remember her name. They had coffee, he asked her opinions on certain aspects of the course, what they were studying, and didn’t laugh, didn’t ignore her when she replied. He really listened.

  Maddy Mingella, the unwanted child from Newquay, was smitten.

  At first it had been brilliant. Drinks and meals out in bars and restaurants that she would not only have been unable to afford, but wouldn’t have had the confidence to enter on her own. Hugo bought her clothes, gave her encouragement. She blossomed. On every level.

  She had been a virgin the first time she and Hugo made love. And it was making love. Tender, slow and incredibly moving. Maddy had cried after she came, the emotion so overwhelming. Her life had become almost unreal, like something out of a fairy tale. It seemed like it couldn’t get any better.

  It didn’t.

  Hugo changed. They no longer went out as much. And when they did, he didn’t bother to compliment her on the way she looked. He didn’t listen to her opinions either, just seemed irritated that she had them. The sex changed too. Lovema
king was out. Sex was in. As rough as possible.

  The alcohol increased. Drugs were added to the mix. Maddy hated the cocaine, what it did to her. Made her head spin, her heart palpitate like it was going to vibrate out of her ribcage. The vomiting afterwards wasn’t pleasant either.

  And then there was the missed period.

  Hugo had stopped using protection. He didn’t like it, he said. Just got in the way. We’ll do without. And Maddy, taken by surprise at the suddenness and forcefulness of his attentions, hadn’t been able to take precautions. Result: one unwanted pregnancy and history repeating itself.

  She had collapsed. Unable to cope, in pieces. And totally dependent on Hugo now. He had dropped her off at the clinic, given her money. Told her to get rid of it. She had done.

  And then – nothing. No calls, no visits. No invitations to dinner or even for drinks. Like he had never met her. Maddy had never felt so unwanted, so alone. So bereft.

  But that phase was all over. It would be like Hugo had never existed. Because Ben was here.

  Yes, maybe he seemed a bit vague about who he knew, but she couldn’t hold that against him. In the space of one night he had proved himself to her. And now the flowers. She was, she didn’t mind admitting, smitten.

  She finished washing herself. Checked her fingers. No blood. She smiled.

  She got out of the shower, towelled herself dry.

  Getting ready to meet Ben.

  Getting ready to move forward.

  47

  T

  he light was starting to fade. The daylight streaking through the windows of the MIU office, weak and dirt-filtered at the best of times, was slipping away. The overhead fluorescents were taking over.

  Phil arrived at the office in a bad mood. Marina, Gwilym and Sperring couldn’t have given him a worse day if they had got together and conspired against him. He wished he could have just gone home, spent some time with his wife and daughter. Relaxed. Enjoyed life. He remembered the way Marina had been when he left. He doubted that would happen.

  Elli was waiting for him.

  ‘Got the list,’ she said, smiling.

  He stared at her, mind still on the past, not yet on the present. ‘List?’

  ‘Local deviants. Cross-referenced and checked, like I said I would. Yeah?’

  Phil shook his head, tried to dislodge his memories, bring himself back into the present. ‘Right. The list. Yes.’ He rubbed his face, his eyes. ‘Sorry. Been a long day. A long few days.’

  He looked at her. Noticed dark circles beneath her bloodshot eyes. Naturally brown skin turned pale. He knew she would have been staring at the screen all day, pulling down leads.

  ‘For everyone.’

  She nodded. ‘You’re not wrong there. So, you want it? I’ve broken it down geographically to make it easier for the assigned teams to work on.’

  ‘Yeah. Thanks.’ He took the proffered printout. Elli was still standing there, staring at him. She looked about ready to drop. Phil glanced at the printout. There was a lot of work there. Good work too, by the looks of it. He knew what she was waiting for. He didn’t blame her. ‘You’ve done a great job,’ he said. ‘Really. Great job. Appreciate it.’

  She gave a small smile. ‘Let’s hope it works,’ she said, nodding, taking the offered praise.

  ‘You been doing this all day?’

  ‘Mostly. Imani – DC Oliver – and me have been going through the DVDs. What larks.’

  Phil clocked the look that passed over her face. The dark things flitting behind her eyes. ‘Find anything?’

  ‘Apart from the fact that he was a grade A sexual deviant? A few things. May take a bit of finessing to make them into something.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Well, the acts are bad enough. I mean, some of them. Some of them aren’t too bad. You know. Fifty Shades, and all that. Open mind, consenting adults. Not a crime.’

  Phil looked at her. Was she blushing? She had looked away from him. ‘Right. Was there something else?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, not quite making eye contact. ‘I think so. I don’t know. Well…’

  Phil waited.

  She looked up at him. ‘I’ve got an idea. Just… an idea.’

  ‘Do tell.’

  She began to look uncomfortable. ‘I’m not sure I should. Like I said, it’s just an idea. Something I want to work up from the films we’ve been watching. I don’t want to tell you what it is yet in case I’m wrong and I get your hopes up. And I wouldn’t want that. No.’

  Phil smiled. ‘OK. You do what you feel you have to.’

  ‘Thank you, boss.’

  She looked uncomfortable once more, as if she’d found the physical interaction taxing and overwhelming. ‘I’d better…’

  ‘Don’t let me stop you. Look forward to hearing from you.’

  ‘Yes. Right. Oh,’ she said, nodding at the printout in his hands. ‘The teams.’

  ‘My next job.’

  ‘Right.’ She nodded, gave an embarrassed smile and disappeared.

  Phil turned. Cotter was standing there grinning.

  ‘What?’ said Phil.

  ‘Elli’s a one off,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you’re discovering that.’

  ‘Every office has one, I think.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘She’s got a hunch she wants to work through. But she won’t tell me about it until she’s got results.’

  ‘That’s Elli,’ said Cotter. ‘She’s good, though. Her hunches are usually right too.’

  ‘I look forward to it.’

  Cotter glanced round before speaking again. ‘How is everything?’

  Phil’s eyes narrowed. ‘How d’you mean?’

  ‘The case. The team. How are you settling in now we’re in the middle of a big investigation?’

  ‘Fine,’ he said, aiming for circumspection.

  ‘No conflict?’

  ‘A few feathers ruffled,’ he said, ‘but nothing I can’t handle. We’ll see how it turns out.’

  Cotter nodded. ‘We’ll see.’

  They both stood there, silence speaking volumes between them.

  ‘Right,’ said Phil. He looked at the papers in his hands. ‘I’m off to organise the teams.’

  He turned and left. Feeling Cotter’s eyes on him, watching him go.

  Judging him still.

  48

  P

  hil didn’t get far. DC Imani Oliver waited until he reached his desk before crossing over to him.

  ‘Sir,’ she said. ‘Could I have a word?’

  ‘Course you can,’ he said, and sat down. DC Oliver pulled up a chair at the opposite side of the desk. ‘Hear you’ve had a fun time watching home movies,’ said Phil.

  Imani shuddered. ‘Not the best way to spend a Saturday afternoon,’ she said. ‘But it could be worse. I could have been watching the Villa.’

  Phil thought he was just going to smile at her joke but found himself actually laughing. And it felt good. Imani Oliver saw his reaction, smiled.

  ‘Long day, boss, and it’s only lunchtime. Anything’s funny.’

  He noticed for the first time a bundle of papers in her hand. ‘What you got there?’

  She put them on the desk. ‘I’ve been going through the letting agency agreement for the house Glenn McGowan rented,’ she said. ‘And there’s something not right about it.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well, you’d expect the house to have been rented out to McGowan personally. Or even the company he worked for. That’s what usually happens in these kinds of cases. Or there’s an agency that sorts out property on behalf of the company for its employees to stay in.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘Nothing like that here. Glenn McGowan was doing this on his own. Not through his work. So it should be in his name.’

  ‘And it’s not?’

  Imani Oliver shook her head. ‘It’s in a company name. Seems to be a holding company, from what I can gather. An umbrella. And guess who one of
the directors is?’

  Phil shrugged. ‘Surprise me.’

  ‘Ron Parsons.’

  Phil leaned forward. ‘I’m interested now.’

  Imani Oliver smiled. ‘Thought you might be.’

  Any further discussion was suddenly curtailed. The office, chugging along on coffee and overtime, burst into life. Something had happened. Sperring put the phone down, almost ran to Phil.

  Phil stood up. Imani Oliver stayed sitting. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Murder,’ said Sperring. ‘Another one. One of the posh houses in Edgbaston. Two people dead. Very nasty, apparently.’

  ‘They all are.’

  Sperring shrugged, looked down at Oliver, not bothering to hide his distaste, then back at Phil. ‘You’re the senior officer here. You’d better get going.’

  ‘Had I?’

  Sperring’s eyes were hard and bright. ‘Unless you need someone to show you the way.’

  Once again Phil wanted to punch him. Instead he swallowed his anger down. Tried to react calmly. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I won’t need that.’

  ‘You know the way, then?’ asked Sperring, unable, or unwilling, to keep the sneer from his voice.

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Phil. ‘I’m not going.’

  Sperring frowned.

  ‘No. I’m not going,’ Phil reiterated. ‘Know why? You are.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Suspicion creased Sperring’s features.

  ‘You’re a detective sergeant, that’s a high enough rank; why don’t you do it? I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of running a murder investigation.’

  Sperring stepped in close to Phil so no one else could hear. ‘What you doing? Eh? What you playing at?’

  ‘Me? Nothing,’ said Phil. ‘Does this conflict with anything you’re doing?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then the case is yours. Go to it.’

  Sperring stepped back, looked at him. Sizing him up, playing down his suspicions for the time being, but letting Phil know he was on to him. Phil didn’t care what Sperring thought.

  ‘I want to take Khan.’