‘And what about the civilians that they’re bringing in now? I heard that there’s a new Inspector up at HQ who used to manage a supermarket. Never done a day’s policing in her life, apparently.’
‘Don’t get me started’ said Mann, leaving Keith in no doubt that he was most definitely getting started. ‘The job’s not really about bloody meetings and targets and PR, is it? It’s about catching cons, and the best people to do that are the ones who come from similar backgrounds. Blue-collar bobbies, that’s what I’m talking about.’
‘Like you and me, you mean?’
‘Aye, like us, lad. We might not have been to university, and our spelling and that might be a bit dodgy, but at least when we sit down with a suspect we speak the same bloody language. I’ve seen the way that some of our regulars look at the likes of Andy and Jane. It’s as if they’re from another planet, it really is.’
‘She’s from Derbyshire though, isn’t she?’ said Keith, helpfully. He didn’t have much on that morning, so it did no harm to get Ian going properly.
‘Exactly, lad, exactly. I bloody ask you. You want coppers from your own community. People who have grown up on the same streets. Not folk who get parachuted in from Christ knows where.’
‘But Andy’s a good copper though, isn’t he? Even though he’s an alien.’
‘He was, lad, he was. A bloody natural detective, and that’s a fact. I’ve never quite worked out how he did it, truth be told.’
‘Did what?’
‘Get inside the cons’ heads the way he always used to. And him as straight as a bloody dye too. He once told me that he never even pinched penny chews from the corner shop when he was a kid. Not natural, isn’t that behaviour in a young lad.’
‘I didn’t do it either.’
‘But your dad was a bobby, wasn’t he? Bound to teach you right from wrong, he was.’
‘Aye, well.’
‘Andy’s dad was a bank manager. Bloody robber in pin-stripes, he’ll have been then, won’t he? But Andy was all right, despite everything. Of course now he’ll just be biding his time and waiting for the pension, and good luck to him, I say. He’s done his bit, has Andy Hall. I’ll say that for him, anyway.’
‘So he took the promotion for the bump in money and pension?’
‘Aye, I expect so. What other reason could he have for getting involved with the gold-braid boys? All piss and wind, the lot of them. He’ll not be enjoying it though, you mark my words.’
They sat in silence for a moment, both contemplating the many aspects of being a Detective Superintendent that were almost certain to be miserable.
‘So you don’t blame Andy from taking that strategy job, or whatever they call it?’
‘Of course not. I’ve only got myself to look after, like, but Andy’s got his kids, an ex-wife, and now he’s got Jane as well. He wants to provide for the whole bloody lot of them. It’s only natural, is that. We’re all bloody hunter-gatherers, aren’t we?’
‘Actually, Ian, there was something I wanted to talk about. As part of my appraisal, or whatever it is you call it.’
‘Oh, aye?’
‘Aye. So long as it’s in confidence, like.’
Mann looked round. The DI’s office was empty, and the lights were off. It was still early, but it seemed that she’d already taken to keeping management hours.
‘Step into my office, lad.’
Mann didn’t turn on the office lights, but he did close the door.
‘And you’ll keep this to yourself, Ian?’
‘I’ve been keeping bloody secrets since a week after me mam died, and people started asking if my old fella was OK. It’s one thing I’m good at, is the secrecy job.’
‘I’ve been offered a job. Outside the job, like.’
‘Fucking hell, lad. You’ve only been in the force five minutes.’
‘Over ten years, actually.’
‘Aye, but that’s still nowt. Get your head down and do your thirty, lad. If only for the bloody pension.’
‘It’s more money. Much more. Better pension too. And it’s back home too, like.’
‘Oh, aye? What’s this wonder job, then? Can’t be as a bloody gigolo, not with your looks, like.’
‘It’s with the atomic police, over at Sellafield.’
‘The CNC? A few of my old mates have joined that lot.’ Mann thought about it for a moment. ‘They do say it’s a bit of a doss, like.’ He sounded almost approving.
‘It’s important work though, mate. My whole family live out on the west coast, and if anything ever happened at Sellafield…. Christ, it doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘Fair enough, but I can’t see you in polished boots, Keith.’
‘I wouldn’t be. It’s a more strategic role.’
‘Oh, is it now?’ Keith smiled. He knew exactly what to expect, and he wasn’t going to be disappointed. ‘So basically you’ll be sitting in an office all day polishing your spreadsheets, and you won’t nick so much as a teenage tearaway from one year’s end to the next. You’d go mad with boredom, mate.’
‘Maybe, but I’d be back home. The hours are regular too.’
‘I bet they are. And that’s how you know that the job will be dead boring.’
‘How do you work that out?’
‘Stands to reason. Any job where you know the hours you’ll be working, weeks and months in advance, it just has to be as dull as shit. Nothing unexpected ever happens, see.’
‘What about work-life balance, and all that?’
‘It’s bollocks, is all that. You’re only properly alive when you never know what’s coming next. Where the next challenge is coming from.’
‘Spoken like a former soldier.’
‘I’m still a soldier, Keith. And you are too. Anyway, don’t you want to follow in your old man’s footsteps?’
‘Not really, now you come to mention it.’
Mann looked keenly at Iredale. ‘Why’s that then?’
‘You know as well as I do, Ian.’
‘You know then? About your dad?’
‘Aye, he told me. I couldn’t believe that he was on the bloody take, the old bastard. All that stuff he told me growing up, about duty and right and wrong and all that shit, and he was at it the whole time.’
‘That’s not fair, Keith, and you know it. He was being blackmailed. That’s what it added up to. And he didn’t take money, did he? Why do you think he wasn’t charged when it all came out?’
‘Because the new Chief didn’t want any more dirty linen being washed in public, Ian. Dad was lucky. Those coppers who got nicked for fraud and bloody sex offences and Christ knows what, they saved his bacon, I reckon. He should have gone down for what he did.’
Mann sat back in Jane’s chair, and it creaked loudly. ’So is that what this is really about, Keith? Your old fella? If so you’re in the wrong fucking office, mate.’
Iredale smiled.
‘I don’t think anyone would mistake you for a psychiatrist, Ian.’
‘They’d have to be fucking mad, like.’
They both laughed.
‘Have you decided then? For definite, I mean?’
‘No, not for definite. I’ve got until the end of the month.’
‘All right. So do me a favour, will you? Don’t let them know your answer until you have to. Don’t even make a decision yet. Let’s talk about it some more, OK?’
Iredale nodded. ‘OK. Like I say, I haven’t decided anyway. Not for certain, like.’
‘Good. So are we done?’
‘Aye. We’re done. Are you still on for a bike ride after work?’
‘You bet. Just don’t leave me behind when we’re going up Longsleddale.’
‘I’ll try not to, mate. But the last time I saw someone going that slow on a bike they were in a circus, and the bike only had one wheel. If I stay in this job you’re going to have to get properly fit.’
‘If you stay I’ll bloody race you to the top of the Kirkstone Pass and back.’
‘Is that a promise?’
‘Aye, lad, it is.’
Not one single car. Not the whole way here. It wouldn’t have been a problem if there had been, mind. Who notices an old pick-up round here anyway? It’s the same colour as the rest too: shit, mud and rust. And I’ve got a good reason for driving down here at this time today. I’ve done it a hundred times before, this last couple of years. But it’s still a bonus that I wasn’t seen, that’s for sure. I’m just lucky, I suppose. Aye, that’s it. Born lucky, I was.
I’ll be suspected, of course I will. I’ll probably be accused too, straight out, to my face. But that means nothing. Knowing and proving are two totally different things. They can threaten and shout all they bloody like. But I know what real fear feels like, what it tastes like, and the cops can’t cause it. Not any more.
None of the neighbours’ vehicles are about, just as I expected. So it’s a go then, isn’t it? I’ll do what I said. Park up, and sit and give it a minute, just to be sure that this is the right thing to do. The only thing that I can do now, as things stand. The way that the cards have fallen, like.
So that’s it then. It’s getting hot in here. Engine off, just the sound of the birdsong and the breeze in the trees. It’ll be the last thing he hears, except for the blast of course. But it’ll be quick, anyway. And that’s better than it is for most of us. No hanging about, trying to think of something to say to the kids.
It’s time to go. Let’s keep the chat to a minimum, but let’s do it inside. So we’ll have to talk, for a minute at least. And I want him to know that it’s me, anyway. If he’s got half a brain he’ll have been half expecting this, all these years. Half a brain? That’s a laugh. The choke’s set wide. And I’ll give him the first one to the chest. Get it over with quick, like. But I should make sure, like I would with a beast. So the second one to the head, whatever happens, and then away. But make sure I look at what I did before I go, though. Aye, take a good long look.
What will he say? Beg, I don’t doubt. Who wouldn’t? Even if you only had an hour to live anyway. By rights he should have another twenty, thirty years ahead of him. But he hasn’t. Not any more. He’s only got as long as it takes a kettle to boil. So long as it’s not too full, like. And it’s all because of me. But what does it matter, really? One body more or less. That’s all. Nothing to see here. Keep back, behind the yellow tape. The coppers will make a bloody big fuss about it all, but I remember what they were like last time. Couldn’t believe their luck, could they? If it hadn’t been for Frankie grassing us up they’d never have nabbed us, the wankers. Even after an almighty fuck-up like that. He’d be late for his own fucking funeral, would Frankie.
Right, it’s time. Check the gun. Put the face mask on first, then open the plastic bag. It’s still cold to the touch, and heavier than I remembered. That’s all fine, though. Good to go. Nice and quick to the door, don’t look round, then straight in. There’s still no-one about, not a soul. If he tries anything, even if he looks as if he might, then pull the trigger, even if the barrel is digging into his guts. It makes no difference really. Nothing does, not when you get right down to it. When you finally see the big picture, as they say.
‘Hello, Frankie’.
‘John. Shit, mate, what’s that? Why are you wearing that get-up?’
‘Let’s go into the living room. The carpet’s not new in there, is it?’
Frankie didn’t turn, but moved slowly backwards into the living room, glancing down at the two black tunnels pointing at him. John closed the front door quietly behind him.
‘Listen, I know why you’re angry, mate. Even after all these years. But I never grassed. They already knew, see. They knew all of it.’
John’s finger tightened on the trigger. He’d had this conversation in his head many times. Thousands, probably. But it always ended the same way. He eased off on the trigger, just for a moment, and said what he usually did.
‘I knew you’d say that, and it’s bollocks. A pathetic excuse. They were just trying it on. Of course they bloody knew it was us, but they couldn’t have proved anything. Without you giving evidence we’d never even have stood trial, and you know it as well as I do.’
‘But I’m not the one who fucked it all up, am I? It wasn’t me who made us late, it wasn’t me who shot the bloody place up. It wasn’t me…..’
John took his left hand off the underside of the stock, and held the palm up, like a bobby stopping the traffic, but with menaces.
‘You’re wasting your final breaths, Frankie. You’ll not talk your way out of this one. But tell me this. Did you ever think about Matt? While you were outside, here in the valley, and he was in that stinking place with me? Dying inside, he was.’
‘Of course I did. All the time. Every day. If I could go back and change things I would, you know that. And what’s the point in killing me now, mate? They’d know it was you, right off like. Only person it could be, like.’
‘No, Frankie, not quite the only one. And this time you won’t be around to grass me up, now will you?’
Frankie’s mouth was open when John pulled the trigger the first time, and he Frankie seemed to look down for a moment, even as he was being propelled backwards into the far wall. And after the second shot he didn’t have very much face at all. John dropped the gun and looked straight down at what he’d done, at what used to be Frankie Foster. It was just as he’d planned to do it, and it was over, so he turned and walked out. His ears were ringing, and his mouth was dry. He couldn’t have said any last words to Frankie Foster, even if he’d wanted to.
As he drove away John tried to identify what he was feeling. Was there anything behind the numbness? Well it wasn’t remorse, and it wasn’t satisfaction, elation or any of the thousand other things that he’d expected to feel, whenever he’d played this moment through in his mind. He really didn’t feel a thing. Just a cold, black nothing as empty as a night sky up there above High Street. His hand was steady on the wheel, and he kept his eyes on the road. What was it they said? That justice delayed is justice denied? ‘Just shows how little they bloody know about justice’ he said to himself, out loud. Ten minutes more, and he’d be home. Then he’d wait for the heavy, demanding knock at the door. It would come, but he wouldn’t fear it. Why should he?
DI Jane Francis was going to ask Keith to slow down, as he hustled her new Audi through the blind bends on the back road from Kendal to Troutbeck, but for some reason she didn’t. It was daft really, because from what the old Sergeant who’d attended the scene had already told her on the radio they wouldn’t need a doctor to tell them that life was extinct, so there was no huge hurry really. An ambulance had attended, followed quickly by another, but the first was to take away the victim’s son, who was speechless with shock, while the second removed a young PC who’d passed out when he saw the scene, and who had hit his head on the way down.
Jane kept hold of the Jesus handle with her left hand, and held the mobile phone in her right. She was speaking to the duty Firearms Inspector, a man who she’d never taken to at all. He liked the guns too much, she thought, and he took too much care over his uniform.
‘So it’s not a suicide then?’
‘Not unless he shot himself twice, and had ten foot long arms.’
‘Six bore?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Messy then.’
‘You could say that.’
‘And no sign of the shooter, or any other weapons or victims?’
‘No, nothing. Two of my lads are at the scene now, so they’ll confirm that the weapon in the room is safe. I’ll tell the rest of the steam to stand to, just in case.’
‘We’ve no reason to suspect that it’s the start of anything, Sandy.’
‘We’ll be taking no chances. Orders. I’m deploying armed teams around the Division now, so we’ll have a five minute response time for the rest of the day. If matey is going on a spree, we’ll be ready. We’ll not get caught out again. Not in this blood
y county.’
Jane rang off, and thought about calling Andy. But she stopped mid-dial. It was just force of habit, she knew that. He couldn’t do anything anyway, because the nearest he got to active policing these days was climbing the stairs to his office two at a time. And she didn’t need him anyway. She was SIO, and so she had all the resources of Cumbria Constabulary to call upon. Whatever she needed, so long as it was within budget. But still, as Keith braked hard as he approached the cordon outside the row of four cottages standing alone in the sunlit lane, she couldn’t help but wonder if it would all be enough. She took a deep breath, waited for her stomach to settle, and then reached for the door handle. She turned, as the door was opening, and looked across at Keith. He seemed a little confused by the delay, concerned even, and she wondered how long they’d actually been sitting there for.
‘We take our time. And we rely on the method, Keith’ she said, as firmly as she could, ‘we rely on the method always. So let’s find the doc, shall we, and get this show on the road?’
They found Doctor Beech at the back of his car, slowly taking off the white rubber boots. The blood dripping from the grooved soles made Jane want to retch. She was certain that she could smell it, even from six feet away.
‘The worst I’ve ever seen’ he said slowly, ‘and I’ve seen some shockers. They’ll need a hose and a bucket, not just a stretcher.’
Jane nodded. ‘But you’ll be able to identify him?’
‘I took prints. Sandy has them. There’s nothing more for me here, and I doubt I’ll be able to tell you much more when I get him on the slab. Or slabs, I should say.’
Beech smiled weakly at his own joke.
‘Time of death?’ asked Jane.
‘Middle of the day. What time did the victim usually get home for lunch?’
Mortal Men (The Lakeland Murders Book 7) Page 2
