A Siege of Bitterns

by Steve Burrows

  The stir among the media was not one of approval. Surely, Jejeune hadn’t brought them all the way out here just to announce something most of them had already picked up from tittle-tattle in the station canteen. There were a few cursory looks across toward Christian, subdued between two officers, but he barely acknowledged his name, or the attention being focused on him. He was scanning the crowd desperately, looking for someone in the sea of faces.

  “Inquiries made subsequent to this arrest suggested a link between this crime and the murder of Peter Largemount on August 29. A few moments ago, the police made an arrest in connection with this crime. A charge of murder has now been brought against Ms. Beverly Joanne Brennan of Saltmarsh, MP for Norfolk North East.”

  The chaos that followed the announcement took on a life of its own. Several journalists shouted out questions simultaneously, repeatedly calling Jejeune’s name in order to get his eyes to fall on them. Others reached for their mobiles, texting, calling, spinning around frantically to locate a stronger signal. Reporters jostled one another for position, thrusting microphones in the direction of the chief inspector, Christian, constables, anybody who might have a contribution to make, a headline to offer. Jejeune ignored them all. He had said all he had to say.

  A scuffle broke out to the side of the podium, where Christian was trying to break free of the officers holding his arms.

  “No,” he shouted. “No, it’s not true. I was with her that night. I swear it.”

  Finally Christian found her in the crowd, off to one side, arms pinned between two female officers. Brennan looked frail, small, not at all the finished, polished article the public was used to. Beneath the makeup her complexion was pale, almost a deathly white. A strand of hair had fallen across her face.

  “I was with her,” repeated Christian. “I’ll swear to it. We were together, at my place. Tell ’em Beverly. Tell ’em they’ve got it wrong.”

  “No, Archie,” said Jejeune flatly. “You were nowhere in sight. Beverly Brennan was here alone when she emptied that shotgun into Peter Largemount’s face.”

  It was a comment Jejeune regretted immediately, and more so over the following days as it was played again and again on a seemingly never-ending loop in the media.

  Beverly Brennan looked at Christian. Tears had made wavy tracks through the makeup on her cheeks, but she wasn’t crying now. She bit her lips and her voice wavered as she spoke. “I’m sorry, Archie, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t let him …”

  “Don’t you say another word, Beverly. Please. Not till you get lawyered up. Not another word, my lovely. We’ll get this sorted. I promise.”

  The police constables moved each of the detainees off and eased them toward separate waiting cars with special care, as if aware that the media might be scrutinizing their every move. The scrum continued, following them to the cars in a jostling, jousting procession that threatened to erupt into disorder at any moment.

  Maik watched Jejeune closely as he stood on the steps, his eyes moving everywhere as usual, taking it all in, surveying the chaos he had set in motion. He looked unmoved, unaffected by the commotion going on all around him. Nothing, thought Maik. No elation, no relief, no sense of satisfaction. It means nothing to him. Job done, that’s all. Shame, really, with all the work he put in, that he wasn’t able to take anything away from a stunning success like this. Did it really mean so little to him, or was it just a way of protecting himself? Maik didn’t know, but it wasn’t really his business, anyway. Jejeune had gotten them their killer; he had closed their cases for them. In the end, that was all they had ever asked of him, and all he had ever promised to do.

  DCS Shepherd stood in stunned silence on the edge of the forecourt, watching the remnants of the media horde as they wrapped up their cables and packed away their lights. It was just another headline to them, with plenty of backstory for them to pursue. It would run for days. For her, it would run forever. She moved off swiftly, hunched against the calls of the reporters, avoiding eye contact, until she reached the sanctity of her car. She drove away without a backward glance.

  Tony Holland sidled over to Maik. “Well, he certainly knows how to put on a show, I’ll give him that. The DCS must be over the moon. I told you, though, Archie Christian, front and centre, and not a bird list in sight. How did Jejeune get on to Brennan, anyway?”

  Maik looked up at the Rooks milling around in the beeches above all the frenzied action in the area of the forecourt below them. “Those trees you were standing under, with Christian. Did Inspector Jejeune ask you to stand there?”

  Holland nodded. “Very specific, he was. Stand here and listen. ‘To what?’ I says. But he just says listen. But there was nothing to listen to, not until Archie had his strop.”

  Maik nodded. “Apparently some birds, Crows, Rooks, like that, they can recognize faces. And they have long memories for anybody who poses a threat. They’re not afraid of showing it either. Jejeune must have remembered the ruckus they caused when Brennan met him here, the day after Largemount was murdered. The birds obviously recognized her as the one who fired the gun and destroyed the nests.”

  Holland looked skeptical. “All this rumbled by a few birds. You’re having a laugh.”

  “You remember he was out here again with his girl a few days later. Same blond hair, same build. If there had been no reaction from the Rooks …” Maik gave a slight tilt of his head. “It wouldn’t have been enough on its own, of course, but it would have set him off in the right direction. And once he started looking, well, between Brennan and Christian there could only be one connection that made any sense, really. True love, Constable, about the only place we didn’t think to look.”

  “Brennan up for a bit of rough? Didn’t see that one coming, I have to admit. Still, stranger things, I suppose. Like Largemount helping himself to a bit of Shepherd’s pie now and again, for example.”

  Maik held up a gentle hand. “That’s enough. Too many people have been hurt by this business already. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”

  Holland shrugged. “See you down The Boatman’s tonight? Should be drinks all round, I’d imagine. DCS’s shout, though, probably. I doubt Jejeune will be putting his hand in his pocket.”

  Maik watched Holland’s retreating form until he had gotten into his car, which was parked beneath the beeches. Only the slightest stirring of the Rooks accompanied the sounds of the car door closing and the ignition coughing to life. A couple of birds lifted off and described languid arcs in the air before settling again into the leafy branches. To the untrained eye, their landing spot was chosen at random, but according to the articles Maik had been reading, their places would have been carefully predetermined by their position in the hierarchy of the roost.

  “Complex social structure?” he asked the birds aloud. “I wonder what that must be like.”

  49

  DCS Shepherd was standing by the window when Jejeune entered her office.

  “The chief constable has been on the phone. I understand there have been congratulations from the highest level.”

  Jejeune said nothing. It had not hurt that Brennan’s arrest had opened up a parliamentary seat formerly held by a member of the opposition, but perhaps there were other reasons the case had caught the attention of the Home Office.

  “The CC himself didn’t sound overly impressed with the way we’ve handled things, but professional standards and our own legal team seem to agree that we did nothing wrong. So you never had any intention of charging Malcolm Brae? It wouldn’t have hurt to let someone in on your suspicions about Beverly. I could have been trusted, you know, despite our friendship. Or what I took to be our friendship, anyway.”

  “I wasn’t sure,” said Jejeune. “Not until …”

  “Not until that little pantomime with Archie Christian? Tell me, was it necessary to haul him over to Peter’s to make the announcement? His arrest was properly processed, by the way, so we’re in the clear there.” She turned from the window and looked at Jejeune.
“In case you were wondering.”

  He wasn’t. There was no anger in her voice, not about any of it, the secrecy, the breaches of protocol. But it was clear that whatever congratulations had come down from on high, DCS Shepherd wasn’t feeling moved to add her own to them.

  “I didn’t know if Christian was with Brennan on the night of the shooting. If he was, we would have had no way of proving which one of them shot Largemount. I told him I was going to charge her. I gave him the chance to provide her with an alibi, if he agreed to attend the press conference.”

  “As long as he signed the waiver.” Shepherd nodded slowly. “And of course, when you brought Christian there, you had him wait near the beech trees, right next to the rookery.”

  “There was no reaction from the birds at all. Christian wasn’t there that night.”

  She said nothing. She was remembering the way Jejeune had stared at her when she had gotten out of her car and made that same walk under the beech trees. Had he been watching her, or was he watching those birds?

  “I first met Beverly at uni, you know. I’ve known her for a very long time. I wonder, does that really mean anything, to say you know someone? Obviously, I knew nothing about her affair with Christian. Or what she might be capable of.” She stood up and walked to the window again, resuming her study of the parking lot. She spoke with her back to Jejeune. Some things were easier to ask without eye contact. “And Peter’s role in all this?”

  “As soon as Brae and Alwyn went to him about the contamination, he must have realized Christian was the real source. One of the major water sources from Christian’s land runs right into Largemount’s property. Perhaps he even knew beforehand. He also knew about Christian’s relationship with Brennan, somehow. He offered to keep quiet about it, and even take the blame for the contamination, in exchange for Brennan’s support for his wind farm project.” Jejeune seemed to hesitate. “Whether or not Christian forced her into it, in some way, we’re not sure.”

  Was there ever, even in a matter like this, degrees of guilt? The DCS shook her head emphatically. “Beverly was stronger than that. No, she did this, all of it, because she wanted to. She was a willing participant.”

  Jejeune continued. “Once Brae had uncovered the contamination, Largemount realized that whoever was the actual source would have had a strong motive for his murder. And he was already on record with Miles Alwyn as having claimed responsibility for the spill. He must have confronted Christian and told him he was going to tell Alwyn the truth about the contamination, that he wasn’t responsible. He would simply have been looking to remove himself from suspicion in Brae’s death. But Brennan knew it wouldn’t take a man of Alwyn’s abilities long to trace the real contamination back to Christian, once he knew it wasn’t coming from Largemount’s property. A third conviction, even one on a hazardous materials count, and Archie Christian was facing a long prison sentence. Brennan simply couldn’t allow that.”

  DCS Shepherd looked outside again. Below her, in the parking lot, life was going on with its ever-present comings and goings.

  “Peter would have trusted her,” said Shepherd to her reflection in the window. “Even with all of this. It would have been no more than a straightforward business transaction for him, a simple quid pro quo. My silence for your support. Seeing Beverly, even holding a gun, it would never have occurred to him. He would have gone right over to her. Walked right into …”

  She turned around suddenly, arms hugging herself tightly about the waist, eyes searching the room for something to focus on.

  “Two men dead,” she said shaking her head. “And almost a third.”

  “Brennan needed to be sure Largemount hadn’t already talked to Alwyn, so she went to see him. With Brae and Largemount both dead, there was no need for Alwyn to hide his suspicions any longer, so he told her that, despite Largemount’s claims, he was convinced that any pollution at Lesser Marsh was coming from another source. It was all she needed to hear. Ironically, it was probably our protection detail on Alwyn that prevented her from getting close enough to kill him, after she failed at the university that night.”

  “Really? So we actually managed to get something right in all this, even if it was by accident? I suppose that’s one positive to take to the chief constable. Are there any others, Domenic? If there are, perhaps you could point them out for me. Because from where I’m standing it’s just a little bit bloody difficult to see them at the moment. A celebrity suicide and an MP on a murder charge. Not exactly the public relations coup we were hoping for, is it? This case has carved a swathe right through the heart of Saltmarsh society, Domenic. I realize not all of this is your fault, but it’s not going to make your job any easier going forward.”

  Jejeune hadn’t really been looking for a public relations coup. Or anything else, for that matter. And as for not all of it being his fault, on another day he might have inquired just exactly which parts were his fault. But today he let it go.

  Jejeune looked at the DCS, at the still-fresh redness around her eyes. In his expansive post-interview mood, Alwyn had been damning in his assessment of Peter Largemount: “Not guilty in Cameron’s death, Inspector? Then hardly innocent either. There are those in these parts who will see Largemount’s death as a settling of accounts for his many past environmental sins.” Jejeune looked at the DCS again, at the desolation in her red-rimmed eyes, and thought about the professor’s final comment before he had been led away: “Really, Inspector, I expect few tears will be shed for Peter Largemount.”

  Shepherd resumed her seat behind the desk, drawing a set of papers toward her, ready to start studying them when she had dismissed Jejeune. She drew a breath to compose herself. “Well, I suppose you’d better write it up for me. Don’t leave anything out.”

  He was almost to the door when she spoke again. “By the way, how is Sergeant Maik? I’ve been hearing rumours….”

  Jejeune’s expression was impenetrable.

  “You haven’t forgotten the conversation we had, when I first assigned him to you. Any signs, anything at all suggesting he is no longer fit for the job?” She waved a flimsy sheet in his direction. Jejeune supposed it was his incident report from the night of the raid on Earth Front’s headquarters. “Wishy-washy comments about incapacities sustained during the course of an arrest barely warrant a mention in his file. It’s practically indistinguishable from the reports about the injuries the other team members received.”

  “Nothing has come to my attention that suggests Sergeant Maik is unfit for duty.”

  “Have you even tried to find out? You can hardly keep abreast of the situation if you wait for the information to fall on your desk, can you?”

  “No, I don’t suppose I can.”

  “And what was this business at the marsh? Maik rescued Alwyn, I understand, but there seems to be some discrepancy as to exactly what went on beforehand.”

  “Alwyn was in obvious distress.”

  “But what was Maik doing in the water in the first place? That seems to be the question. According to Alwyn he was already there, next to him, when he went under.”

  “The sergeant obviously anticipated the problem beforehand.”

  Jejeune’s stare was frank and unflinching. It’s the only solution, his gaze seemed to say, unless you care to come up with another reason why a police sergeant might want to go wading through knee-high water in his suit and loafers. A flicker of something flashed across Shepherd’s features, but it was gone too quickly for anyone, perhaps even Shepherd herself, to register what it might have signified.

  “Yes, well,” she said uncertainly, “keep an eye on him. One loose cannon on my team is more than enough, thank you very much.”

  She brought her attention back to the matter at hand, the mass of paperwork on her desk.

  “One more thing, before you go. Would you mind having a look at this?” She held out a sheet of paper, and Jejeune returned to her desk to retrieve it. “A statement for the nationals.” She looked at Jejeune. �
��The CC feels this one might be better without any theatrics, so I’ll be handling it myself.”

  Jejeune skipped through the facts to the final paragraph, the DCS’s exit lines. This would be the impact statement. This was what she wanted to leave them with:

  This terrible tragedy has shocked our entire community. Our deepest sympathies go out to the families of all victims in this tragic case, and indeed to all those who have been harmed by the actions of some of our most respected citizens. It will take Saltmarsh a long time to recover from this series of tragedies, but we are a strong community, a resilient community, and we will heal from these tragedies in time. The process of healing begins today.

  Too many tragedies, thought Jejeune. But he simply nodded and set the paper down on Shepherd’s desk. She hadn’t picked it up by the time he left.

  50

  The process of healing begins today.

  Jejeune leaned on the railing of the walkway, looking out over the marsh. A glassy blue sky offered the water a brittle light to reflect. A brace of Mallards dabbled in the weeds near shore, while farther out, on a raised mud bank, a pair of Curlews probed for food.

  “It’s still beautiful, Dom,” said Lindy, joining him at the railing. “For all that crap that Archie Christian has been dumping into the water, the marsh doesn’t look any different.” She put her forearms on the railing and leaned forward, looking down into the dark water.

  “Not yet.”

  A generation. Alwyn’s projections were that it would take an entire human generation for the wetland to recover, before the contamination could leach out completely and the marsh could restore itself to health. Leave it for the next generation. Not quite what you had in mind, was it, Marsh Man?