Two Little Boys: DI Ted Darling Book II

by L M Krier

  'I never learnt to swim at school. Trev taught me when we got together. It still scares me, but I'll swim if Trev is with me.'

  'I remember Evans' trial, it was big news here. What was it, about ten years ago?'

  'Just over eleven. I'd not long met Trev. I was in firearms then,' Ted told him.

  'Did you testify against him? I didn't know you then, of course, but I don't remember a copper giving evidence.'

  There was a long pause as Ted continued to look down at the ground, as if fascinated by the intricate patterns of the crazy paving under his feet. 'Here's where we come to the part that's the most difficult for me. The part where I have to admit to myself, and to you, that I'm nothing but a coward. I didn't say a thing. I never came forward, never gave evidence, never told anyone. Trev is still the only person, apart from you now, who knows.'

  'Bloody hell, Ted,' Jim exclaimed, and this time there was a hint of anger in his voice. 'No wonder Trev's taking a break. That's a hell of a thing to dump on him and only him. How old was he when you got together, eighteen?'

  'Nineteen,' Ted's tone was slightly defensive.

  ' That's a shitload of baggage for someone who was still a boy to take on board. I'm surprised he hasn't needed to take a break before this. And now you're leading an enquiry which includes Evans as a suspect? I take it you've not told the Ice Queen? Have you any idea how serious this is? You could have compromised the entire investigation.'

  Still not looking at him, Ted replied, 'If you're trying to make me feel bad about myself, Jim, you're on a hiding to nothing. I already loathe and despise myself. I should have come forward, spoken out, gone to court as a witness. My testimony, as a cop, would have carried a lot of weight. I persuaded myself there was enough evidence from the other boys who did come forward, men now, of course. Brave enough to speak out.

  'There was me, a firearms officer, a national long-range rifle champion, black belts in martial arts, and underneath it all I was still a scared little boy, clinging on for dear life to the hand rail in the shallow end.'

  It was Jim's turn to stand up and march around, trying to regain control, but for different reasons. Finally he sat back down and said in a quieter tone, 'Ted, I'm telling you this not only as a good friend but also as a senior officer. You have to get professional help. You can't go on like this, and you certainly can't expect Trev to. And you have to tell the Ice Queen, no matter how hard it is. You need to cover your back and safeguard the enquiry.'

  Ted was silent for a long moment. Then he slowly pulled out his mobile phone, looked for a number and dialled it. It was an answering service, as he expected. He needed to clear his throat a couple of times before he spoke.

  'This is DI Ted Darling at Stockport East. You've recently helped some of my team. I'm hoping you can now help me. Please would you call me so I can make an appointment?'

  CHAPTER Thirty-nine

  There was a timid knock on Ted's door the following morning but no one entered until he called out to them to come in. Young Steve's head appeared round the door hesitantly, as if he was about to enter the lion's den. Ted could have kicked himself to see the young TDC almost back to how wary he was of his boss when he first joined the team.

  'Come in and sit down, Steve,' Ted said, in as encouraging a tone as he could manage. 'I'm really sorry about my grumpy mood yesterday, I just had a lot on my mind. Not that that's any excuse, but I hope it's an explanation.'

  Steve took a seat, looking a bit more confident. 'I found something, or rather someone, I think you might be interested in, sir.'

  He had a sheaf of computer print-outs with him. He spread them out on the desk in front of them for Ted to look at.

  'I've started following someone on Twitter who sounds like he may possibly be able to help,' he began. 'He's not on Facebook, they've got very strict lately about real names only, and he uses a handle on Twitter.'

  He'd already lost Ted at the mention of social media, something which was completely alien to him, but he tried to listen attentively.

  'Anyway, I've started to tweet to him and try to find out a bit more about him. It seems he's an ex-Met officer who did some work on Operation Yewtree and on other ongoing child abuse enquiries. Thing is, sir, he's not much of a fan of the Met, he left them on bad terms, and he's been tweeting a lot of thinly veiled hints about a cover-up of paedos in high places.'

  That part got Ted's full attention and he asked, 'Is he the PIEdpiper?'

  'I don't think so, sir, although he may well supply that site with information. I just thought that perhaps if he could be persuaded to talk to you, he might have some useful leads to pass on.'

  'Good work, Steve,' Ted said, and was relieved to see the young officer visibly start to relax as his boss seemed to be reverting to normal mode. 'Would he talk to us, do you think?'

  'Erm, well, I've already been chatting with him, first by direct message on Twitter, more recently by email, when he got a bit more trusting of me,' Steve told him. 'I've been doing it from home, not on the work computer.'

  'I hope you've not been putting yourself at risk?' Ted asked sternly. 'Remember what I said. I don't want you getting embroiled in anything that might put you in danger.'

  'I think it's fine, sir,' Steve said with just a hint of defiance. 'In fact, it's possible that I'm even safer working from home than in here, with respect, given the leaks that seem to have been happening lately.'

  Ted had to concede that he might be right. Word had quickly got out about what had happened to Ross after his visit to the station, and the team knew already about both the taxi driver and the waiter from the Sorrento.

  'So where do we go from here?' Ted asked. 'It sounds as if I should try to meet this person. Ex- Met, you say?'

  'Yes, sir, he was a sergeant, but it seems he had a lot of trouble, to do with what he was working on. Pressure was being put on him not to be quite so diligent. Shall I email him and say you'd be willing to go to London to meet with him, at a place of his choosing?'

  'Yes, let's do it. See if he can make it the beginning of next week. The sooner I hear what he has to say, the sooner I'll know if it's of any help with our enquiry,' Ted told him.

  'I could email him now, from my mobile, which is what I have been using. If he asks for your phone number, shall I give it to him?'

  'Yes, no problem, let's try to get this fixed up. It may not get us anywhere but every lead is worth following up with this case. Well done, Steve, and sorry again about yesterday.'

  It wasn't long before Ted's mobile phone rang. A voice said, 'I hear you want to talk to me.'

  'I hear you might be able to help me with a current case,' Ted replied evenly.

  'You do know I'm no longer serving? Anything I do tell you, if I choose to, is entirely off the record and I can't back it up with anything concrete.'

  'At this stage of a difficult enquiry, I'll take anything I can get,' Ted told him honestly.

  'Can you come to London on Monday? I could meet you and talk to you. It might not help you at all but at least it will show you that you're not the only who's come up against brick walls in this type of enquiry.'

  'Where and what time?' Ted asked.

  'Midday, Gladstone Park, NW10. Do you know it?'

  'I can find it. How will I know you?'

  'You won't. But I'll know you. Get a coffee when you arrive. Sit outside. I'll phone you and tell you where I am, once I'm happy no one is watching,' the man said.

  'Can I at least know your name?'

  The tone was scathing. 'You don't need to. We're not going on a date.' Then the line went dead.

  Ted decided he had better clear the trip with the Ice Queen, especially if he hoped to put the train fare on expenses. At least he had the feeling more and more that she listened to him, without dismissing his ideas out of hand.

  'It sounds like a very long shot,' she said guardedly.

  'I agree, ma'am, but some of the things he posts online are very interesting. I'll get Steve to copy you in
on everything he showed me. I think it's worth following up, and I think I will get much more out of him face to face than either by email or over the phone. I should be there and back in the day, unless something completely unexpected happens.'

  'Be careful, Inspector. You know what our loss rate is to date for witnesses. Let's not allow it to rise any further.'

  'Just one more thing, ma'am,' Ted said hesitantly. 'I've decided to get a bit of help, personal help, with this case.' He somehow couldn't bring himself to use the word counselling.

  'I'm glad to hear that,' she said. 'Nobody should ever be afraid to seek help, it is never a sign of weakness.'

  Ted had another call to make when he went back to his office. He dialled Willow's number and she answered almost immediately. He was itching to ask about Trev but he forced himself not to. She'd tell him if she had any further news.

  'Sorry to bother you, I just wondered if you could perhaps help me out?' he asked. 'I have to go to London for the day on Monday. At least, I hope it will only be for the day. But just in case I get held up for any reason, I wondered if you could look in on the cats in the evening? Top up their food bowls and such?'

  'I'd love to! You know how much I love the cats. Any excuse to come round and make a fuss of them,' she replied. Willow adored animals, having grown up in the country surrounded by cats, dogs and horses. Her current lifestyle meant any kind of animal was out of the question, so Ted and Trev's cats were her surrogate pets.

  'Do you still have a key?' Trev had given her one when she was getting over a bad relationship, before she met Rupert, so she would always have a bolt-hole if she needed one. 'If it's not too much trouble, are you free to pop round on Sunday evening, so I can show you what needs doing? The cats will all lie to you and demand too much food.'

  She laughed. 'Not sure yet what I have on at the weekend but I'll phone you and let you know. The boys are fine, by the way,' she added, 'having fun, by the sound of it.'

  Ted spent a lot of time at the weekend reading through all the stuff Steve had printed off for him, just to get an idea of what his mysterious contact might be able to tell him. He rewarded himself with some time out at his krav maga club, anxious to keep up with his recent training. The physical activity helped him stay focused more than anything else he had discovered.

  Late on Sunday afternoon, as he was preparing food for the cats, he heard the front door open. He assumed it was Willow, letting herself in, but was surprised she had not telephoned him or rung the doorbell first. But it was Trev who came through into the kitchen and stood for a moment in the doorway looking at him, his expression neutral.

  Ted didn't dare move or speak. He was so afraid of getting it wrong and seeing Trev go away again.

  'Jim phoned me,' Trev told him. 'He told me about your conversation, and said you'd agreed to get help, at last. I thought perhaps you might need me to be around for that.'

  'I'd really like that,' Ted told him. 'I didn't hear the bike when you arrived.'

  'I left it outside.'

  'Does that mean you're not staying?' Ted asked anxiously.

  A slow smile spread over Trev's face, lighting up his blue eyes. 'I'm staying,' he said softly.

  'Put the bike away first, so it doesn't get nicked,' Ted told him, his voice turning husky. 'Then let me show you how much I've missed you.'

  Trev laughed aloud. 'Typical Ted! Always a copper first and a lover second. God, I've missed you.'

  CHAPTER Forty

  Ted caught the first train from Stockport to London in the morning. He had no idea who he was going to meet, so he wanted to be there in plenty of time to check out the meeting place for himself. He intended to get some sleep on the journey down as he'd not slept much the night before. First he took out his mobile to send a text to Jim Baker, saying simply, 'Trev home. Thanks.'

  Ted would normally have walked the short distance from the station to the meeting point but he took a taxi to make sure that he arrived early. It was not a place he knew, and he wanted to check it out carefully with a trained police marksman's eye. He was not comfortable about meeting someone he did not know at all, not even by sight, but who clearly knew enough about him to be able to recognise him.

  Away from the station, he had reverted to what Jim Baker always laughingly called his Mossad agent's uniform. A dark, soft cotton polo neck, black jeans, his old leather jacket - the colour of tobacco leaves - and his Doc Martens boots. He could blend in anywhere like that, and felt comfortable enough to move and to react to danger when necessary.

  He found the café first and checked out the sight lines. He didn't like what he saw, but it would have to do as an initial point of contact. Then he went for a walk round to find what he considered a safer place to talk.

  He returned to order a cappuccino and a Danish, then sat in the spring sunshine to enjoy his late breakfast. He chose a table where he could sit with his back to the wall and see everything that was going on in front of and to the sides of him.

  He checked his watch occasionally. It was well past midday and still no call. He began to wonder if he had come on a wild goose chase. Then his mobile rang. An unknown caller. He picked up the call.

  'Walk down to the duck pond, find an empty bench and wait for me there,' a voice told him.

  Ted finished his breakfast first then got up, made his way down to the lake and sat on the nearest empty bench. He was consumed with curiosity but resisted the urge to keep looking around. Instead he simply sat, looking at the wildfowl on the water.

  A jogger was coming towards him, a well-built black man in a track suit. As he got closer, he clutched at his hamstring and started to limp. He stopped at the end of the bench furthest from Ted and put his foot up on the back to do thigh stretches. He bent forward to take hold of his foot and pull it back towards him, as if easing a cramp.

  Keeping his head down so no one could see he was talking, he said, 'You're the marksman and you've sussed the terrain. Where do you want to talk?'

  Ted coughed and put his hand up to his mouth. 'Football pitch,' he said shortly, behind his hand then got up and walked away, not even looking at the man.

  He didn't like much of the terrain, from a security point of view, but he'd picked out the playing fields as the most likely. Even as a specialised former firearms officer himself, he knew that it was the hardest part of the park in which to get off a shot with any degree of accuracy.

  There was hardly anyone around. Nobody was playing on the fields at lunchtime on a Monday in school term time. The jogger caught him up and stood next to him. He was a lot taller than Ted, but then most men, especially police officers, were.

  'So, what do you think I can help you with?' the man asked.

  'My young TDC has been showing me the sort of posts you make. I'm investigating a paedophile ring on my patch, a young boy raped and strangled, and I think it goes high up, in terms of the people involved.'

  'Steve's a TDC?' the man asked. 'I'm impressed. He's very bright. I can tell you now you're not likely to get far if you hope to go after those at the very top.'

  'I think the Knave of Clubs may have been involved in this case,' Ted said.

  To his surprise, the man laughed. 'Young boy raped and strangled? Wouldn't be the first time. He's known to get a bit carried away. But what makes you think you stand any chance of getting near him, when others have tried and failed?'

  'You for one, I take it? Look, can I call you something, even if it's not your real name?'

  The man shrugged. 'Call me Harry, if it makes you happier. And yes, I tried and failed. I was told from very high up not to stick my nose in where it didn't concern me. I took no notice, then the shit really hit the fan. If you think it's tough being a gay copper …' he broke off at Ted's look. 'Oh yes, I checked you out very thoroughly before I agreed to a meeting. If you think that's hard, try being a black copper in the Met.

  'They hit me with everything they had, even tried to do me for possessing indecent images of children. It was on my
computer at work, evidence in a case I was working on. My house was broken into and ransacked several times. I had to move out and away from my family, for their safety.'

  'I had a break-in too. They killed one of our cats, hanged him in the garden,' Ted told him.

  'Just marking your card, showing you what they're capable of,' Harry said. 'In the end the force just paid me off and got rid of me. I'm still not sure why I didn't finish up under a bus, but maybe that's still to come. These people have eyes and ears everywhere and they all watch each other's backs. It goes high up within the police, too, that's half the problem.'

  'We've currently got a high-ranking officer in our sights,' Ted told him.

  'Let me guess. Simon the PIEman?'

  'You're well informed.'

  'Doesn't take a genius. I've been reading up everything I can find that's been happening on your patch, and I know he's not all that far away. You may get lucky, the ones at the top may throw you a few of the pond-life types lower down the chain,' Harry said. 'But you'll never get anywhere near the Knave, I can guarantee you that much.'

  'Someone broke the news about the upcoming raid on Rory the Raver's place.'

  'Not surprised. He was likely to squeal like a stuck pig once the noose closed around him,' Harry replied. 'They effectively silenced him forever. Where did he go, the Philippines, was it? He can never come back, so he doesn't need to do a deal with you. That means whatever he knows stays with him. You seem to have lost a few witnesses already, from what I've read and put together. I'd prepare yourself to lose a few more, to stop you getting at the truth.

  'I'd be surprised if you were allowed to get near the PIEman, but there's always a first. He's in bed with his local MP. They scratch each other's backs. If you've got senior officers who will back you, you might have a sporting chance. Especially as you're not black and not in the Met.' There was dry humour in his voice.