by L M Krier
‘It’s just that there’s been another posting on social media. I’m seriously worried it’s going to escalate ...’
‘I hear your concerns, Jezza. Pass what details you have to Inspector Turner and see if Uniform, particularly the CSOs, can ID anyone in the footage. That’s all I can promise you for now. And of course we can’t make the suspects’ images public because of the likelihood that they’re young offenders.’
Seeing her open her mouth to continue, Ted said firmly, ‘That’s all on that topic for now, thank you, DC Vine. Anything else, anyone?’
‘Boss, a possible breakthrough,’ Océane began. ‘I finally found something posted on social media which I assume, from the dateline and the delightful racist vitriol, to be the assault on your mother. Clearly you, or someone who knows her by sight, needs to ID her from the film.’
Ted had been perching on a desk as usual. At her words, he shot to his feet and moved over to her work station.
‘Er, it’s just that, I found it quite distressing to watch, boss, and it’s not someone I’m related to,’ she said as tactfully as she could.
‘I’m a police officer first, before being a relative of the victim,’ Ted retorted, more sharply than he meant to. ‘Show me, please.’
Whoever was filming had clearly started as soon as the attacker began to shout. Ted saw his mother talking in Welsh on her mobile phone and heard a loud and aggressive voice shouting at her. She’d clearly given him the edited highlights of what was said as there was a lot of swearing. Most of it centred around the assumption that she was speaking Polish and telling her to go back to her own f-ing country. He could see how shocked and upset she was at the words and it tore at his heart to see his own mother like that.
The person filming panned out so the attacker came into clear view. He was a big man, towering over Ted’s mother, who was now looking terrified and trying to back away. The man shoved her hard, in the chest, a couple of times, shouting all the time, before she overbalanced and fell heavily on to her side. Her cheek smashed against the hard surface of the pavement, causing tears to start to her eyes.
Ted could see that as she had said, other people were also filming, some of them laughing, none of them going to help her. He decided not to watch any more. He was not sure he could retain control of himself in front of the team if he had to watch the man stamp on her wrist and break it.
‘Send it to me, please,’ he told Océane, his voice ominously quiet. ‘Have you sent it to Inspector Turner yet?’
‘I only just found it, shortly before the briefing started, boss. I’ll do that now. I’m so sorry. Your poor mother. It must have been dreadful for her.’
Ted nodded his thanks but didn’t trust himself to speak further. He let the team go then went back to his office. He desperately wanted to go to his Krava Maga club and spend some time attempting to kick the crap out of someone. Instead he contented himself with writing off yet another waste-paper basket by kicking it all round the room. Then he finished up the paperwork on his desk and headed home. He put his head round Kevin Turner’s door on the way but he’d already gone. He’d catch up tomorrow for news of his mother’s attacker, now Océane had the footage.
He found Trev and Annie sitting companionably side by side on the sofa, feet up on the rests, purring cats piled on top of them. Trev had a protective arm lightly around her shoulders and they were both engrossed in an old black and white film. Trev was clearly not long home, his hair still damp from a shower. Ted leaned over the back of the sofa to kiss each of them on the cheek then went and sat in the armchair, watching them together. It made the day feel marginally better.
Trev picked up the remote and lowered the volume. He could see straight away that Ted had had a hard day. He looked weary.
‘Popeth yn iawn?’ Trev asked him, then, seeing Ted’s look of surprise, he laughed. ‘I thought I’d learn Welsh. Annie’s been helping me.’
Trev was like a sponge for languages. He seemed to absorb them effortlessly through some sort of osmosis. Even the complexities of the Welsh language were unlikely to pose him any problems.
‘I was so proud, watching you on telly, Teddy bach,’ his mother told him. ‘You looked so handsome. I can tell all my friends when I go home to Wales about my policeman son. And I’ve decided to go soon. On Sunday, in fact.’
‘So soon? But how will you manage, with your arm in plaster?’
‘I’m going to stay with Aldwyth. The plaster is part of the reason, bach. You’ve both been so kind, but I need help, with things like having a shower, and I’m sure it would be awkward for all of us for me to have to ask either of you to help.’
‘I can get a carer to come in, mam. I’m sorry, I should have thought of that. I’ll get someone. Don’t worry. I’ll pay for them.’
‘It’s not just that, Teddy. It’s the hiraeth. It’s time for me to go home.’
Ted remembered the Welsh word for which there was no real English translation. So much more than homesickness; a physical longing for the homeland.
‘But how will you get there? I’m working this weekend, otherwise I’d happily take you.’
‘I’ve got to work tomorrow for at least part of the day, after skiving off a bit this week,’ Trev put in. ‘Leave me the car and you take the bike, so you’re mobile. I can run Annie up to her house tomorrow to get whatever she needs, then I’ll take her on Sunday and come back the same day.’
Again, Ted felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite identify that his mother and Trev had clearly discussed it all in detail before they told him. He knew he was being unreasonable. He wasn’t there enough for them to include him in the plans. It seemed to be happening so fast and he felt powerless to do anything about it.
‘Is everything all right at work?’ Trev asked him, when they were finally alone together in their bedroom. ‘I know you’re having a hard time with your new boss, but is there more to it than that?’
‘I’m feeling guilty that I’ve not been able to do more for my mother. She seems closer to you than she is to me. She certainly seems more at ease with you helping her in the bathroom than me. I had to interview a man in a wheelchair today and it brought it all back a bit. I was a useless son to my father and now I feel I’m letting my mother down, too.
‘And it’s just the same old stuff at work as usual – a hard case and not much progress.’
‘Ted, you’re an absolutely rubbish liar. That’s one of the reasons I know you would never cheat on me. You’d never be able to keep it a secret. And stop beating yourself up all the time about your parents. You’ve always done whatever you could within the constraints of the job. There must be more to it than that.’
‘I wouldn’t cheat anyway. Why would I?’ Then, seeing that Trev was not going to let it drop, ‘I saw a black VW again today. Like the boy racer who ran me off the road. It might have been a coincidence. I’m getting it checked out. It’s nothing to worry about.’
‘I always start worrying most when you tell me there’s nothing to worry about. And Annie was right. You did look handsome on television. And more than a little sexy. By now, she will be spark out after her painkillers, so ...’
Afterwards, Trev found deep and peaceful sleep as soon as they turned the light out. Ted was condemned to a night of fitful tossing and turning, what little sleep he did manage to find punctuated by vivid dreams from the past.
Ted was perched on a barstool, sinking his third pint. Or possibly his fourth. He’d rather lost count. He was in a good mood. He was through to the finals of the rifle championships the following day and he was enjoying the company of fellow coppers, some of whom he only saw on occasions like this.
His boss moved up quietly behind him, put a hand on his shoulder and leaned close, speaking directly into Ted’s ear.
‘Ted, your dad needs you.’
Ted turned his head, his eyes taking slightly longer than they should have to come back into focus as he changed position. He’d left his dad at a table on the o
ther side of the room, talking to Arthur. They’d met before. Arthur was a retired Firearms officer, the one who’d trained Ted at Claytonbrook, who always turned out to support his former colleagues. It gave him a valid excuse not to be digging the allotment his wife had insisted he get after he left the force, and which didn’t hold his interest.
‘He’s fine. He likes talking to Arthur.’
Inspector Matt Bryan was a tough boss; hard to please, but fair. Ted would normally have picked up that the remark was an instruction, but he was feeling pleasantly relaxed.
Bryan took hold of one of Ted’s arms in an iron grip, took the glass from his other hand and put it on the bar. Then he forcibly pulled Ted off the stool to stand upright. He moved his face even closer so Ted could feel the warmth of his breath, smell the perfume of a gin and tonic and the strong aroma of cigarette smoke.
‘Listen to me carefully, sergeant. He is not fine. He’s pissed himself and he’s crying. Arthur didn’t know what to do so he called me over. It should have been you but you haven’t even glanced at them. Now you get your arse over there and you sort your father out. Then sort yourself out. You’re half cut already and you’ve got the finals tomorrow.
‘There’s no place on my team for a pisshead. If you’re not in a proper state to at least shoot straight tomorrow, but preferably to bring home at least one trophy, you’ll be off back to a desk job by Monday morning. Are we clear on that, sergeant?’
‘Clear, sir.’
Chapter Ten
Ted was in early on Saturday morning. He’d taken his mother up a cup of tea, with just a cloud of milk, as she liked it, before he left. There was seldom any point trying to wake Trev at that hour, except in an emergency. Ted was under strict instructions to try to get home at a decent time so they could all enjoy an evening meal together before his mother left for Wales the following day. It could be the last one for some time.
He knew none of the team members working that day would be late. Rob O’Connell had organised things well, allocating available bodies where they were most needed. He’d put himself and Sal down to go over to Wilmslow to catch up with Magnus Pierson and see what help they could offer there.
Ted hoped for some quiet, uninterrupted desk time to try and get on top of things, but he promised himself he would find the time to at least phone both Jim and Bill, to see how they were doing. As instructed, he’d left the car for Trev and come in on the bike. His leathers were hanging on the coat rack behind the door.
He looked up in surprise when his office door opened without a knock and Marston strode in. Ted rose slowly to his feet. He still stood for women and for senior officers, even though both practices were rapidly going out of fashion of late. He did it even when he had barely an ounce of respect for the ranking officer. He indicated the spare chair and Marston sat down without preamble.
‘Right, I want to see all the paperwork on this case. Notes, logs, statements, anything you have. I want to find out at first hand why there’s been no progress at all on it to date.’
‘No problem, sir, that’s exactly what I’m working on today. It’s all up to date and in order.’
Ted was thankful that he was always meticulous about paperwork. He’d been paranoid about it on this case, knowing Marston would jump on any chance to fault him for the slightest procedural error, no matter how insignificant to the case.
‘What’s your direction for now? Why have there been no leads of any description so far?’
‘We have a new line of enquiry now, sir. A witness who saw the deceased’s car being driven away. Two of my officers have gone over to Wilmslow today to work with Inspector Pierson, to see if we can get any sort of a description of the driver. Or any additional CCTV footage, now we at least know what direction the car was driven away in.’
‘And where is the car? Why hasn’t that been found?’
Marston made it sound as if it was Ted’s personal responsibility that the Peugeot had dropped off the radar and not been seen anywhere after the last fleeting sighting.
‘The most likely explanation is that the plates were switched as soon as it was practical to do so. I’ve now asked for all sightings of any dark blue Peugeots, not just based on the number plate registered to Mrs Ashworth as the owner.’
Marston didn’t appear to be listening to him. His head was down, over the paperwork, and he was scanning through it rapidly, clearly ready to pounce on the slightest discrepancy.
The partition walls of his office were paper-thin so Ted could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. The first of his team arriving in to work, he assumed. He was surprised when, once again, his door opened without a knock. This time it was his own Super who swept in. She was tall, taller than both men, and she looked even taller than usual dressed as she was in her Kevlars. She was another biker, who rode a Ducati 999. She had her helmet under her arm and dumped it on a corner of the desk. Once again Ted half-rose before she waved him back down.
‘Gentlemen,’ she greeted them, unzipping her jacket and hanging it on the rack next to Ted’s leathers, revealing a close-fitting turtle-neck underneath.
‘I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning, ma’am,’ Ted told her, finding the spare chair for her and putting it next to the Chief Super.
She eyed up his casual attire; comfortable walking trousers, a long-sleeved polo.
‘Evidently,’ she said, irony in her tone. ‘Sir, everything which happens in my station is my responsibility, naturally. When I was informed just now that you were paying an unscheduled visit,’ there was a note of reproach in her voice, ‘I thought I’d better come in and see if my presence was required. I was just taking the Ducati out for a spin, which is why I’m dressed like this. I was about to come in anyway for a quick check on things when I received the call.’
‘Your presence really is not necessary, Debra. I just wanted to catch up with Darling to see if we can’t move this enquiry along as it seems to be going nowhere at the moment. To check we’re making the most profitable use of everyone’s time.’
She was making no move to leave. On the contrary, she seemed to be making herself comfortable in her seat, reaching up to adjust the band which was holding her long black hair in a doubled-over pony tail. Ted couldn’t ever remember feeling more grateful for the presence of his stiffly-formal boss. He knew her being there was infuriating Marston. But he would know that summoning her had nothing to do with Ted. He hadn’t had the opportunity. He wondered who had tipped her off. Whoever it was, he owed them a pint.
‘I’m sure that will be the case, sir. I have every confidence in DCI Darling.’
‘But what about this?’ Marston jabbed an aggressive finger at a sheet of paper he was looking at. ‘You went in person to interview the victim’s friend? That’s a job for a DC. A DS at most. It’s a complete waste of costly time for someone of your rank to be out doing mundane jobs like this.’
‘I beg to differ, sir, with the greatest possible respect. DCI Darling is extremely good at talking to people. It’s one of his greatest assets. If he felt it worth his time to go and talk to this person, I’m happy with his decision. Most of his hours come out of my budget anyway, even on this case. I’m more than willing to bear the cost of an hour of his time, if he felt doing this interview himself would advance the enquiry in some way.’
Ted was fascinated, watching the Super fighting his corner for him.
‘And has it?’ Marston asked testily. ‘Did it give you some sort of a breakthrough?’
‘Actually, sir, it gave me an idea which I was going to run past you. Mr Worrall confirmed for me what we had already been led to believe, that Mrs Ashworth was nobody’s fool. Hard to deceive. Superintendent Williams already mentioned at the initial briefing that the quality of the forged warrant card Kateb was using would have been high. So have we traced the maker?’
He could see straight away that it hadn’t yet been followed up, so he pressed home his advantage.
‘Once Kateb had met Mrs Ashworth
himself, he would know she wasn’t a pushover. She’d want to see a badge from his supposed officer who was going to pick up the watch from her. And that would mean one as convincing as his own. Clearly, even if we do succeed in finding the forger, there’s no guarantee they’ll talk and they may not have the real name of the other bogus officer. But we might just get lucky, if we can track down the maker and perhaps even find a photo, which would be the first concrete lead to date to the killer’s identity.
‘Some of my team have good street contacts and they’re asking around, but I don’t know offhand of a forger of this standard on our patch. I would imagine it would be one for Fraud or City. Shall I contact them or will you, sir?’
Marston’s face was turning an alarming shade of deep red, his expression dangerous. Ted held his gaze levelly, until he pushed back his chair and stood up. Ted did the same, getting ready to show him out.
‘I’ll pass that on. It’s a start, but just make sure you come up with something a bit more than that. Preferably the murder weapon at least, if not the suspect.’
As he shut the door behind Marston, Ted turned to the Ice Queen with a smile and said, ‘I know you once said never even to propose a high five in your presence but could I at least offer a virtual one in thanks for your support there?’
To his amazement, she returned his smile and held up a hand, palm outwards. He tapped it cautiously with his own.
‘Now, I think I’ve earned some of your green tea, don’t you?’ she asked him.
As Ted went to put the kettle on, she continued, ‘You’ll be wondering why I was called in. The Uniform branch here think highly of you. As much as anything, because of your kindness and concern for Bill, especially while he’s off sick. As soon as Mr Marston arrived unannounced, asking for you and clearly spoiling for a fight, I was called by the front desk.
‘I was going to drop in briefly before I went out for the day so I came straight here. I appreciate all you’ve said about the situation between the two of you and I know you can look after yourself. But I deplore bullying in any form. I simply will not have it directed at one of my officers.
