Power Games

by Judith Cutler

  Cold. The central heating must have switched itself off. But she’d better go to the bathroom before she could risk the stairs.

  It smelt of lavender. Her soap. And was immaculately clean. The only sign that someone had used it was a corner of towel sticking coyly from the linen basket.

  The same was true of the kitchen. The washing-machine and tumble-dryer doors were ajar. Someone had used but washed up a mug, a plate and a knife.

  There was a note on the kitchen table:

  Dear Kate

  Sorry, I was really hungry so I had some bread and cheese. Oh, you need some fresh milk – yours is going off.

  Hope you’ll soon feel better.

  Love

  Simon. XXX

  What a nice kid. And she’d thought him capable of – no, she hadn’t seriously thought it. But why was her handbag open? Well, she couldn’t in all honesty blame him if he’d helped himself to a few quid – he’d have lost a lot of sales by bringing her home. Ah! Another note.

  Your keys are in your porch-thing. Thought I’d better lock you in.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The last person Kate expected to see on her doorstep at nine-thirty on Saturday morning was Sue Rowley, clutching a carton of milk.

  ‘It was behind that tub of yours,’ she said, stepping inside purposefully. ‘Time you turfed out those poor winter pansies and started your early summer flowers. Hm, that coffee smells good.’

  Kate bowed to the inevitable. ‘Would you like some, ma’am?’

  ‘Sue, at this time of day. Please.’ She darted a head into the dining room and moved into the living room. ‘Hey, you’ve got this place looking nice. Is it true what Graham was saying, that you had no water or heating when you arrived?’

  ‘Nor all that many floors, either, actually.’ They were now in the kitchen. ‘And this work-surface took for ever to arrive.’

  ‘So no hob, no sink. How on earth did you survive? Well, it’s looking lovely now. Oh, I like your table – nice wood.’ Stroking it, she sat down. ‘I never see ours these days, for homework. A level and GCSE respectively, this summer. Thanks.’ Rowley took the mug of coffee Kate was offering and stirred in milk. ‘No sugar, thanks. I’ve put on half a stone since I joined the squad. I’ve got these sweeteners. Now, sit down and tell me about your fingerprints.’

  Kate did as she was told. ‘It seems almost a point of honour for players not to use the bins for things like ball-tubes and drinks cans and bottles. I mean, the bins are right by the nets. But come mornings I can pick up five or six things – and that’s just off my court. I suppose the bottle with my prints must be one of those I retrieved last Tuesday.’

  ‘“Retrieved?” Where do people put them, then?’

  ‘There are these heavy green curtains at the backs of the courts. They’re to deaden the sound and also to absorb the impact of the balls. Some of the balls get under the curtains so when my coach and I are gathering them up, I bin the bottles at the same time.’

  ‘Did you notice anything odd about any of the bottles last Tuesday?’

  Kate shook her head.

  ‘But there must have been something odd, surely, for SOCO to notice it?’

  ‘Someone said they were sniffing the contents of each – to see if they’d ever held a grapefruit juice cocktail.’

  ‘With knobs on! So what does that tell us about the bottle?’ Rowley had fished a notebook from her pocket and started to scribble.

  ‘That it had been wiped. So inadvertently I retrieved not just any bottle but what turns out to have been a suspicious bottle.’

  ‘Which I now trust is at the lab. And what else does your find tell us, Kate?’

  ‘That Rosemary was probably playing on the court I was on. Or the adjacent one.’

  ‘Only one adjacent one?’ Rowley cocked her head.

  ‘The balls tend to stay more or less on your own court – there are heavy nets to stop them going on to the next. And I was playing on the court nearest the door. Jason – that’s my coach – and I don’t see why we should walk any further than we have to when we’re the only ones on court. The important thing is, it should help us work out whom Rosemary was playing with.’

  ‘So why haven’t you told Nigel all this?’

  ‘Because he slung me out of the squad – and then out of his office – before I could say anything.’

  ‘I heard words like threatening behaviour and dumb insolence being bandied around.’

  The bastard. The absolute bastard. Then it dawned on her: ‘But you didn’t believe them or you wouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Possibly. So now what?’

  ‘What indeed? I know I made a balls-up of interviewing Doctor Parsons yesterday—’

  ‘There were two of you present?’ Sue asked.

  ‘Yes, but Mark—’

  ‘Is an experienced constable – despite his taste in loud shirts. OK.’

  ‘There were lots of things someone else said about Rosemary I should have picked up. You see, she was friends with that guy out there at the bottom of the garden.’

  ‘Bottom of the garden?’

  ‘He’s the archaeologist who’s after my buttons.’

  ‘Not a fairy, then?’ Sue rolled her eyes.

  ‘Not as far as I know!’

  By this time both women were giggling.

  ‘You’d better ask Colin for an expert opinion,’ Sue guffawed. ‘Oh dear, thank God I didn’t say that at work. Such a nice young man, as my mother would have said. Wasted on another man.’

  ‘Certainly wasted on his present man – poor Colin’s going through a really rough patch.’

  They were sober again.

  ‘Anyway, this archaeologist who’s excavating my site knew Rosemary. Quite well, I suspect. He’s out there now, bristling with potential leads, and I can’t even talk to him.’

  ‘No, but I can. Oh, Kate, the sooner we’ve got this wretched business sorted the better.’ Sue pushed herself to her feet.

  ‘How did you hear about it all?’ Kate asked, opening the back door for Sue to step into the garden.

  ‘This is between you and me. Rod phoned Graham – asked him what he should do, basically.’

  ‘Eh? A super asking a DCI for advice?’

  ‘Well, I would have in his place. Heavens, Kate, it’s a delicate one – an inexperienced DI inveigling himself into the MIT and then cocking up something shocking.’

  ‘“Inveigling”?’

  ‘Forget you heard that. Oh, all right. But I haven’t said this either, mind. The word is that someone high up phoned Personnel, who then put pressure on Rod. Who seems to think I’m some sort of Mother Confessor, for all I’m only a couple of years older than him. Hey, what’s that?’ She patted a mini-wheelie bin by the back door.

  ‘My wormery.’

  ‘Worms? God bless us all!’

  ‘I had these problems with maggots, you see. And had to have therapy. I mean, someone in my job not coping with maggots! So – just to prove I could – I bought this. You put worms in the bottom and rubbish on top. The result is high quality organic compost.’

  Eyes dancing, Sue started to giggle again. ‘Jesus, that sounds like a parable of our times. Oh, dear. Oh, dear!’

  ‘The difference is that my compost is good, healthy stuff. Or will be. Oh, Sue!’ Kate wailed, doubling in laughter.

  The older woman made a visible effort. ‘The trouble is, should we protect Crowther’s ego or yours? What I shall recommend to Graham and Rod is that it’s put about that you’re on sick leave – Mark said you’d got a migraine or something.’

  ‘The jungle drums haven’t half been beating,’ Kate observed.

  ‘Mark was on the phone to Graham before Rod was, as it happens. So with a bit of luck you can go back in after a discreet break—’

  ‘Break!’

  ‘Oh, say, tomorrow, if I can fix it with Rod. Monday, anyway. And no one’ll say anything more about it. What do you think?’

  Kate pulled a face. ‘Are yo
u sure I wouldn’t be better off back with you and Fatima sorting out those warehouse fires?’

  ‘Well, Fatima’s on sick leave. She tried to interrupt some bar brawl and got two lovely black eyes for her pains. So, God help us, we’ve got a MIT on the fires. Bloody crazy – you know all about them and you get plucked off the case and shoved in another MIT. Bloody administrators. Now, lead me to this fairy.’

  The garden path being as short as it was, there was very little leading. In fact, Kate was afraid that Stephen, despite the radio beside him playing classical music, might have heard Sue’s suggestion. If he had, he gave no sign of it, and he jumped authentically when Kate spoke.

  ‘Let me get this straight, Stephen,’ Sue said, in a tone suggesting that she was exercising the greatest self-control. ‘Correct me if I’ve misheard you or got anything wrong. OK?’

  Small boy in a corner, Stephen nodded.

  Sue counted on her fingers. ‘One. Rosemary was afraid that she was being followed. Two. She was sufficiently convinced to go to a police station and ask for advice.’

  The air was buzzing with suppressed exclamation marks. Not for one minute would Sue spell out that she thought he’d been criminally irresponsible not to tell someone all this. But he was getting the message, no doubt about that.

  ‘And was sent off with a proverbial flea,’ Stephen confirmed, lifting his chin.

  ‘Any idea which police station?’ Kate asked, forgetting she shouldn’t.

  ‘No. But Kings Heath would be the logical one, given where she lived. Wouldn’t someone have kept some sort of record?’

  Sue made a non-committal noise.

  ‘Well, they should have done!’ he said, on the offensive at last. ‘She was making a serious allegation!’

  ‘An allegation like that has to be against someone before we can act. You’ve no idea, Stephen, the number of nutters who’re convinced that MI5 are tailing them. So have you any idea whom she alleged was stalking her?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘You’re quite sure? Even the longest of shots?’ Sue prompted him.

  He shrugged angrily: ‘The sort of enemies she’d made wouldn’t tail anyone themselves.’

  ‘Enemies? That’s a very strong word. Come on, Stephen. What enemies?’

  ‘How do I know? You’re the police!’

  ‘What enemies?’ Sue pursued.

  ‘Look, I said all this to that bloke the other night, when I was showing him Rosemary’s house. Tried to. I should have told him something else, if he’d listened.’

  Kate asked, ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Oh, I said – it was a joke, really – I said if she was worried she should write everything down and send it in a letter to her bank. Look, I would have told that guy the other night.’ He turned to Kate, hostile. Probably with guilt. ‘You said the bloke in charge was the best. Some best, not to take any notice of what I was saying.’

  ‘DI Crowther wasn’t involved in the investigation at that point—’ Sue began.

  And in any case Kate had meant Rod. So why had Sue mentioned Crowther?

  ‘Which must mean he is now. So why doesn’t he get his sodding finger out?’ Stephen turned his back on them, and fiddled ostentatiously with a peg and a measuring tape.

  ‘Which organisations had Rosemary annoyed?’

  Stephen straightened and turned. ‘Well, I offered that guy a sight of all the Lodge Preservation Committee records, but he didn’t seem interested.’

  ‘I am. Very interested,’ Sue said. ‘In fact, I’ll take you home now, to pick them up.’

  He dug in the pocket of a donkey jacket hung on one of the few remaining fence posts. ‘I don’t want to leave this site. I’m working in my own time, as Kate knows. And Kate also knows she wants her garden! So why don’t you go and pick them up? You and Kate. You’re policewomen, after all. This is the front door key – right? And this little chap’s my filing cabinet key – the one on the right of my office. Don’t bother about the other one – just rubbish. Oh, and the burglar alarm code’s the date of the Battle of Waterloo.’

  Kate raised her hands in despair. He knew this was urgent and yet he was still prepared to fart around.

  ‘Ah. 1815,’ Sue said crisply.

  ‘I suppose it could have been a more obvious date,’ Sue said, unfastening her seat-belt. She peered upwards. ‘Are you sure this is the place? It’s huge!’

  ‘Obvious?’

  ‘It’s obvious if you have kids doing that particular era of history, anyway.’

  ‘I didn’t think schools bothered with such trivia as dates,’ Kate said. And she’d been too ignorant to be able to talk sensibly to Graham about the Victorian Army and its buttons.

  ‘I do. So my kids learn them, syllabuses or not.’ Sue set her jaw.

  Kate had no difficulty believing her. ‘Maybe Stephen lives up there.’ She pointed to a coach house, cheek by jowl with an enormous Victorian pile, still a family house by the look of it. ‘He said he’d hate my house because it was overlooked. He wouldn’t be overlooked there. And probably he’d get a corner of what is no doubt a huge garden for his own use.’

  ‘Let’s try, anyway. Oh, isn’t that obliging of him.’ Sue pointed to a neatly printed name above his doorbell. And then at some jemmy marks. ‘And isn’t obliging of someone else, to spare us having to use these keys?’

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘Burgled! Why should anyone want to burgle my flat? Well, you’ve seen! There’s nothing worth nicking!’ Stephen sat down heavily at Kate’s kitchen table.

  ‘There isn’t now, certainly,’ Kate said. ‘Especially not in your filing cabinets. Either of them.’ She heaped sugar into a mug of tea, and passed it to him.

  Stephen drowned in a long slow flush. As the colour receded, he was left so pale she was afraid he might faint.

  ‘Head down. Right down. Long deep breaths,’ Sue Rowley said. ‘Better? Right, now, Stephen, we’ll get on to this straight away. But it’d be a big help if you could tell us precisely what’s missing. So I suggest you come back to the flat and have a quick look round and tell us. You know, just routine.’

  ‘It isn’t just routine, is it? You don’t get a detective inspector and a detective sergeant every time a yob nicks your telly. You’re tying this up with Rosemary, aren’t you? And with what happened to Rosemary?’

  ‘They could be connected,’ Sue said mildly. ‘It’d help my colleagues if you could remember the names of the other Lodge Protection Committee members—’

  ‘My God, yes! We need to warn them!’

  Kate passed him paper and a pencil; he started to scribble.

  ‘One thing, Stephen – whom do we need to warn them against? Come on, stop playing games with me!’ Sue leaned forward so the tip of her finger was almost touching his nose. ‘You’re on the committee. You’re the big cheese. You know whom you’ve annoyed.’

  He licked his lips. ‘I don’t know any names. Honestly.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ Kate said flatly. ‘You know you should have given us this information as soon as you’d identified Rosemary.’

  Sue pulled back an inch or two. ‘I’d very much like to know why you didn’t.’

  ‘I didn’t because I wasn’t asked. That’s why. I mean, you don’t tell policemen like Crowther how to do his job, do you? And at the time everyone assumed it was “natural causes”!’ He mimicked an official-sounding voice. He assumed a bit of self-righteous anger. ‘What I’d like to know is why I wasn’t questioned earlier. Kate—’

  ‘Was ill yesterday. I’ll check out the rest of what you said later. Meanwhile, Stephen, the names, please. Come on, if you don’t want to protect your own skin, you might think about others’. What about committee members with kids? Don’t they need a bit of consideration?’ she added, her voice rough, not with anger, Kate thought, but with anguish. Having kids changed things, didn’t it?

  ‘The obvious conclusion,’ Kate put in, ‘is that it’s the people who own the land round the r
eservoir. Who’s that?’

  He laughed mirthlessly. ‘That? Oh, that’s you and me. The city council. Apart from the bit the house stands on. That belongs to some big girls’ school.’

  No guesses for which. She’d bet her pension it was the Seward Foundation. But she wouldn’t interrupt.

  ‘So why should anyone be trying to knock down the Lodge?’ Sue demanded. ‘They should be trying to preserve it! And surely the council would want to preserve it.’

  Stephen shrugged. ‘Don’t be so bloody naïve! The city council can’t preserve everything old. Not while there are kids who need schools.’

  ‘OK. So how would it benefit the council to pull it down?’

  ‘Not at all. The benefit lies in what goes up in its place. The poor old Lodge brings in nothing, because it’s derelict. A spanking new development would bring in loads of jobs. Need I go on?’

  ‘You’ve made your point, Stephen. So who wants to develop the site – and what do they want to put on it, just as a matter of interest?’

  ‘There are two main contenders. Behn Developments, and something called Hodge Associates.’

  Sue wrote them down. Kate sat on her hands: which MIT needed this information more? Rod’s or the one investigating the arson? If she was right and the Lodge was indeed on Seward Foundation land, they’d need it equally. And ought to be working together.

  ‘That was what I call an interesting morning’s work,’ Sue said, as they watched Stephen out of sight. Abandoning his work on the button workshop, he’d gone back to his flat, which he’d find watched over by a uniformed officer. On Sue’s firm instructions he was to come up with a list of what was missing. ‘What was he hiding, do you think?’ she continued.

  ‘God knows. My instinct would be to say porn, maybe paedophile porn, but people don’t keep that sort of thing in ordinary filing cabinets, do they?’

  ‘Not if they’ve got any sense,’ Sue said, popping her notepad into her bag and standing up. ‘Right, time I wasn’t here.’

  ‘Gaffer’ – Kate could hear the pleading in her voice – ‘how long do you reckon it’ll be before I can get back into harness?’