Particular Stupidities (The Romney And Marsh Files Book 5)

by Oliver Tidy

‘Were you in the scouts?’

  ‘Is that a necessary premise for the promise?’

  ‘I think he’s seeing her again.’

  ‘What?! No. He wouldn’t be so… what does he call it? Relationship Stupid? Would he? Are you sure?’

  ‘Not certain. But I saw a message on his phone when he asked me to look for something else that made me think they were on terms again, and he’s on his phone a lot more than usual.’

  ‘Maybe they’re just friends. Christ, I hope so for his sake. For all our sakes.’

  Marsh snorted. ‘Come on. Don’t you know him by now? He can’t have women friends. And I especially can’t imagine him being friends with a woman who jilted him to go on holiday with an ex when he was lying in hospital. He doesn’t even like women. The man is a closet misogynist with the doors open. Worse than that, I don’t even think he’s aware of it. Have you ever heard him mention a woman friend?’

  Grimes thought. ‘No. And I’m not sure he’s had anyone special since Julie. So what would he be doing back with her?’

  ‘Come on, Peter. You’re a man. Why do you think?’

  Grimes let out a long breath. ‘Come to think of it, I never hear him mention male friends either. Maybe it’s not just women he’s not keen on. Maybe it goes deeper than that. Then again, he always was a bit of a loner.’

  ‘There’s a difference between being a loner and a misanthrope.’

  ‘A whatanthrope?’

  ‘Misanthrope. It’s someone who doesn’t like other people – men or women.’

  ‘Sounds like our leader. I wish you hadn’t told me about Julie. I thought you said she was engaged to be married, anyway.’

  ‘She is.’

  ‘And you still think they’re at it? God, that makes it even worse.’

  ‘I never said “at it”.’

  ‘No, but when you factor in that he’s probably only interested in women for sex it stands to reason that he wouldn’t be texting her, someone who once ruled and then broke his heart, just to keep abreast of her wedding plans. Well I do hope you’re wrong about them. He’d be playing with fire. In fact, it would be so wrong on so many fronts that what he’d be doing is juggling with burning clubs – and no one can keep that up for long.’

  ‘He was married, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Twice. Second one didn’t last long. From what he said at the time, I think he views her as a mistake.’

  ‘And the first?’

  ‘That was a good while ago.’

  ‘How long did it last?’

  Grimes thought again. ‘Not that long. Few years. They lived apart for a while when things got rough, then tried again, and then split again. She found someone else in the end. Moved to Maidstone. I think she’s still there.’

  ‘They had a daughter.’

  ‘That’s right. She was the reason they tried again.’

  ‘Maybe that’s where his issues all stem from: losing his kid because of his wife.’

  ‘No. That was one thing Lorna – that’s his ex – was always good about. She never stopped him seeing his daughter. She’s grown up now. The daughter.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Last I heard, at uni.’

  ‘Studying what?’

  ‘He did tell me but I’ve forgotten. She was doing her MA.’

  Marsh whistled. ‘Must have been something in the gene pool.’

  ‘Mother’s side, I think.’

  They laughed.

  ‘What do you think about his plans for tonight?’

  Marsh huffed, looked out of the window and shook her head. ‘I understand why he’s doing it but I just don’t think it’s going to go down well with anyone. It seems a bit…’

  ‘Counter-productive?’

  ‘Yes. Counter-productive is about right. And bearing in mind the reason behind the attendance of Dover police and who is responsible for that, I don’t think he’s going to earn any brownie points at home either. Mark my words, it’ll end in tears. Still, ours is not to reason why, eh?’

  *

  Given the incidents of tyre-slashing that had plagued prior police visits to Aylesham, Grimes left his car parked in a residential side street, tucked in between a couple of other wrecks. Urban camouflage, he called it. It meant that they had to walk a little further but it was another nice day.

  They were buzzed in by an irritable-sounding Betty, who was even more disagreeable in the flesh. ‘What do you want now?’ she said, when they arrived at her counter. She looked Grimes up and down, like he was a disappointing blind date.

  Marsh did not have to pretend to look annoyed at the woman’s tone. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, Betty, we are conducting a murder investigation in which this school remains implicated. And that means everyone who works here is implicated.’ Betty’s sour features tightened up a bit at the obvious rebuke. ‘Detective Grimes and myself would like to have a look around outside. Bearing in mind the school’s policy on not letting potential child molesters wander around the place unsupervised, either you will have to come with us or you’ll have to organise someone.’

  Grimes was feeling a little uncomfortable. He didn’t consider himself a potential child molester and, a bit like quipping at Gatwick airport’s check-in desk that you’ve got a bomb in your hand-luggage, he didn’t think it was very wise to make jokes about being a paedophile when you’re standing in a primary school.

  ‘Don’t you need a warrant or something,’ said Betty, a little spitefully.

  ‘Not if we’re given permission to look,’ said Marsh, suddenly regretting her outburst. ‘We don’t expect the school to have a problem with us looking around.’

  ‘What are you looking for anyway?’

  ‘That’s police business.’ Marsh was starting to understand a little better Romney’s prejudices against these people.

  ‘Well I can’t give that permission,’ said Betty, stiffly.

  With a bit of eye-rolling and through gritted teeth, Marsh said, ‘Then find someone who can.’

  ‘Julie’s in charge.’

  ‘So get her, please.’

  Betty picked up the phone and spoke quietly into it while Grimes and Marsh exchanged unconnected looks.

  Julie Carpenter came through the door looking smart and startled. After they’d all said hello, she said, ‘Tom didn’t mention anyone was coming over.’

  ‘Bit last minute,’ said Marsh. ‘He’s very busy.’

  ‘No problem. What can I help you with?’

  ‘I was just explaining to Betty that we’d like to have a look around outside.’ Marsh could see the questions forming on Julie’s lips. She hurried on before she could give voice to them. ‘We just need your permission for that so that we don’t have to get a search warrant, which no one wants, I’m sure.’

  ‘A search warrant?’ Julie was looking uncertain.

  Marsh remembered whose idea it probably was that Foyle was under suspicion. She took Julie’s arm and guided her out of Betty’s hearing. She said, ‘I can’t say too much, but the DI has a new theory about someone who used to work here. We’re looking for corroborative evidence. OK?’

  Julie Carpenter had looked a little wan, but Marsh’s confidence had the desired effect. Some colour came back into her cheeks as understanding dawned. ‘I understand. Please, go where you like. Do what you must.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Marsh smiled with an energy she didn’t really feel towards Romney’s ex. Marsh believed the worst of this woman – that she was playing dangerous games, something that, when it came out, as such thing always did, stood to have an asteroid-like impact on Dover CID, while Julie Carpenter would doubtless walk away, an innocent female witness corrupted by a senior officer who should have known better. And he bloody well should. Marsh felt a sudden flash of anger towards Romney for what he was involving them all in. And all this while Julie was engaged to be married. Marsh thought Julie Carpenter’s moral compass to be broken and wondered how long it had been that way. She forced herself to smile nicely. ‘Do me a f
avour, will you?’ she whispered. ‘Explain that to Betty.’

  Julie did. The police, it was understood, could go where they liked, without a chaperone. Julie excused herself, citing the presence of a difficult parent in her office.

  Marsh smiled tersely at Betty and said, ‘Before we go outside, perhaps you could show us your stationary cupboard?’

  ‘What on earth for?’ said Betty.

  Marsh just raised her eyebrows. Betty folded and showed them through to the wardrobe-sized cupboard in the staffroom. The cupboard was locked, which the police found odd. Noticing their expressions, Betty said, ‘Leave it open and within a couple of days everything will be gone. Teachers stockpiling in their classrooms, taking stuff home. They’re as bad as the kids sometimes.’

  Betty wasn’t going to leave them alone there, so Marsh had little choice but to investigate the adhesive tape under her watchful eye. Generally, the supplies of pens and sticky notes and pencils and erasers and folders and all the other paraphernalia of a school office supplies cupboard looked rather depleted. But there was more adhesive tape than anything else. Marsh felt it was worth mentioning, given that was what she was looking for.

  Betty said, ‘Someone cleared it all out a couple of months ago. We order it by the box. That’s why there’s a lot there now. Why are you interested in the adhesive tape?’

  ‘What was here before? Was it the same brand as this?’

  ‘I think so, yes. Why?’

  ‘I’ll borrow a roll.’ Marsh put one in her pocket before Betty could protest. Betty looked like she was going to make a fuss. Marsh said, ‘Don’t worry. You’ll get it back.’

  Marsh’s spirits plummeted when the bell sounded for break-time as they were making their way back outside. She hurried to get herself and Grimes out of the way before the children erupted from where they’d been penned in, like innocent lambs breaking out of pre-slaughter enclosures.

  Betty had told them how to find their way to the newly constructed building. It was little more than a converted shed, something that didn’t look like it would have been worth the bother or the expense when the finished space was realised. They looked around the ground for anything that resembled a remnant of the heavy grade blue plastic that Romney had told them to look out for.

  Grimes gave a little laugh when he found some sticking out of the ground at the edge of a concrete slab foundation, just like Romney had predicted. He used his penknife to trim a little off for forensics. If they needed to come back with evidence bags and warrants because things became more serious and more formal then leaving some showing ensured that there would be no problems finding more.

  ‘Job done,’ said Grimes. ‘Where’s this place tonight’s meeting’s being held?’

  ‘Only over the road.’

  ‘Shall we have a look then?’

  ‘There’s a cafe does a nice cup of tea, too.’

  ‘Cake?’

  Marsh raised her eyebrows. They started walking.

  Grimes said, ‘I’m kidding about the cake. Your words and concerns weren’t wasted, Sarge. You’re right. I need to eat more responsibly and less often. I love my family.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it, Peter. I really am.’

  They had to cross the playground. Children still shrieked and tore about in their egocentric, made-up worlds. Others stood alone and miserable on the periphery. Some laughed. Some were angry. Some were blank-faced and silent. Some were tidy. Some were dishevelled. Some were handsome. Some were not and never would be. Some were dressed smartly. Some were wearing worn and grubby hand-me-downs. But one thing that they all had in common was the innocence of their age.

  The prematurely lost innocence of the young had been a constant and depressing feature of Joy’s work with dysfunctional children. And one of the saddest. She knew from bitter personal and professional experience that there was never, ever the possibility of restoring that particular gift when it had been corrupted.

  They hadn’t gone more than a few yards when their paths were blocked by a trio of girls in matching dresses and pigtails. They looked harmless enough but one could never be certain.

  ‘Who are you?’ said the shortest one.

  Grimes said, ‘Who do you think we are?’

  ‘Miss Shale said you’re police, but you don’t look like police. Where are your hats?’

  ‘We’re special police,’ said Grimes. ‘Our hats are invisible. Only bad people can see them.’

  The little girl frowned. ‘Does that mean Miss Shale is a bad person because she saw you out the classroom window and said here come the police?’

  Marsh said, ‘No. It doesn’t mean your teacher is a bad person.’ She gave Grimes a come on and shut up look.

  ‘We’re doing jokes in literacy,’ said the little girl. ‘We have to make up jokes and share them. Can I share my jokes with you?’

  ‘We’re a bit busy, now,’ said Marsh. ‘Why don’t you tell the teacher over there?’ She pointed in the direction of the playground duty teacher talking on her mobile phone.

  ‘She said she’s busy. She said I should tell them to you.’

  Marsh looked over at where the duty teacher stood. She was now shouting at a boy whose hands were rammed in his pockets. He was crying.

  Marsh sighed, ‘Go on then. Quickly.’

  The girl opened the well-thumbed brightly coloured notebook she was carrying. They had to wait while she found the page with her clumsy little fingers. ‘What day of the week do you a catch cold on?’

  Marsh thought about it and said, ‘Don’t know. What day of the week do you catch a cold on?

  ‘Atchoouesday!’

  Grimes actually laughed. ‘That’s pretty good,’ he said. ‘Got any more?’

  Marsh gave him another look.

  ‘What day of the week can you get married on?’

  Grimes shook his head.

  ‘Wednesday.’

  ‘What day of the week do you eat fish and chips?’

  ‘Give up,’ he said.

  ‘Friday.’

  After a promising start they were getting worse.

  ‘What day of the week smells worse than all the others?’

  ‘We don’t know,’ said Marsh. ‘Thursday?

  ‘Saturday.’

  Marsh frowned and said, ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it’s got a turd in it. Sa turd ay. Get it?’

  All the girls and Grimes were laughing. Marsh got it but realised she was missing something else. The funny part.

  A tall unsavoury-looking older boy with spiteful eyes and closely cropped hair had joined the little group. He said, ‘I’ve got a joke for you. My dad told it to me. What’s the difference between a hedgehog and a police car? The hedgehog’s got pricks on the outside.’ He sprinted off laughing.

  The little girl said, ‘I don’t get it. What does he mean? What’s a prick?’

  ‘Never mind,’ said Marsh, taking Grimes’ arm and steering him around them.

  ‘Did you like my jokes?’ called the girl.

  ‘They were great,’ said Grimes over his shoulder. To Marsh he said, ‘The youth of today, eh, Sarge? When I started out as a beat copper no kid would have dared to say something like that to a policeman’s face. He’d have got a clip round the ear, escorted home and then got a good hiding from his old man.’

  ‘You make the good old days sound so wonderful,’ said Marsh. ‘When men were men and kids were terrified. Nothing like a “good hiding” to keep the children in order. And did it work?’

  ‘Mostly, yeah. I think so. Anyway, I’m not sure it was always about “working”,’ said Grimes, ‘but it made you feel better. Examples need to be made and standards upheld or society goes to pot. It’s a slippery slope. No one likes to be gobbed off at. Especially by kids. It’s not right. They should be brought up to respect the law and their elders, not make disrespectful, insulting and rude jokes and get away with it. What sort of message does that send to them? One day they’re gobbing off, the next they’re throwing rock
s.’

  They had stopped walking and were watching the subjects of their conversation in their myriad representations. Marsh surveyed the playground and said, ‘What about respecting their rights to growing up without physical and mental abuse? What about their rights of freedom of speech? What about talking to them and being good non-violent role models?’

  ‘Doesn’t work. Not with kids. Kids are basic animals. They need to be ruled and shown who’s boss. Kids need to feel a bit of fear. Look at schools these days. There’s no control. No respect. Kids do what they like when they like. They have nothing to fear from the consequences of their actions. You can’t lay a finger on them and the worst thing is they know it.’

  ‘You keep saying “fear”. You know what that means, do you? Can you be serious? You really want kids living in fear.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘But that’s what you’re actually saying.’

  ‘All right. Not fear but… something. They need to be encouraged to respect and revere society and its institutions. Institutions, incidentally, that are there to help and protect them. Look at the number of youth offenders there are these days. And then they all re-offend and become our problem.’

  ‘So you see a correlation between little children not being beaten and adult crime stats? Do you hit your kids?’

  ‘Certainly not. But they don’t need it.’

  ‘There you go then, Peter. You prove my point. Children learn what they live. If kids are brought up in a safe, loving, caring environment they are more likely to turn out that way. If they grow up with abuse and violence and angry parents and fear that’s what they’ll believe in; that’s what they’ll turn out like.’

  ‘You sound like you have all the answers, Sarge.’

  ‘I know I don’t, Peter. That’s one of the reasons I’m in no hurry to have kids of my own. I don’t want to be another WMD.’

  ‘Weapon of Mass Destruction?’

  ‘Womb of Mass destruction – an ignorant mother who thinks it’s OK to have a child just because she can. I also know that the biggest problem in society today is the lack of education. People shouldn’t be able to breed until they’ve at least done a course in parenting, if you ask me. Too many parents aren’t fit to own dogs. They have no idea how to bring up kids. From what I’ve seen, children’s biggest barriers to growing up as decent human beings are their parents’ failings.’ She nudged him. ‘I don’t include you and Maureen in that assessment, by the way. Your kids are great and normal. They’re a credit to you both.’