A Half Remembered Life (The Lakeland Murders Book 9)

by J. J. Salkeld

  ‘You did win in the end, didn’t you?’ he said, when he sat back down.

  ‘The mine didn’t go ahead, that’s right, but I’m not sure we had much to do with it.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Not really. The demand for coal was starting to fall back by then, what with the dash for gas and all that shit, and that’s what did for the plan, I reckon. We were just a bit of a nuisance along the way, that’s all. Not that it felt that way at the time, I can tell you. It was like a war, sometimes.’

  ‘I’ll bet.’ Grace was starting to wriggle for England now, and Hall knew that his coffee break was almost over. ‘Do you still see any of the people from the protest?’

  ‘Only Alice, really. It’s where we met. Most of the rest moved on. But then there’s always a battle to be fought somewhere, isn’t there, mate?’

  The atmosphere was sombre in the Kendal CID office, and the jokes had dried up. And whenever she made a mental list of the pros and cons of coppering there were far too many things that DI Jane Francis found she hated about the job; the bureaucracy, the waste, the lack of focus on what really mattered. It was enough to make anyone quit, and she probably would have, years before, if it wasn’t for those occasional sustaining moments of success, like shafts of sunlight in the gloom. The trouble was, she thought as she waited for Ian Mann to complete the slow, solemn march from his desk to her office, those moments were becoming fewer and further between.

  Mann knocked, opened the door, and even after all these years in the job he still had to resist the urge to march in. But he didn’t sit down, and he didn’t look at Jane as he stood.

  ‘Don’t be a dick, Ian’, she said, and he took the hint and sat. ‘I’m sorry, mate’, she said, when he finally made eye contact, ‘but I’ve got no choice. I’ve got to suspend you, pending a review of the Paul Macrae arrest today.’

  ‘I showed restraint, Jane.’

  ‘I’m sure you did, right up until the moment you punched that stupid little waste of space straight through a bloody door.’

  ‘It was made of matchwood, Jane. Honest.’

  ‘Christ, Ian, is that the best you can do? Really? The door was a bit shit? Oh, well, let’s arrest the bloke at B&Q who sold it, shall we?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  Jane shook her head, and smiled wanly. It was absolutely the best she could manage. She felt queasy, and tired, but this still had to be done.

  ‘I know it’s not what you meant, and I’m sorry, mate. They tell me that there are twenty two officers ahead of you in the bloody queue for a disciplinary, so this one won’t be resolved for months, by the looks. And I’ve got no chance of getting a stand-in for you, not even some useless, grass-green young DC who actually believes that we’re still winning. We’re going to bloody collapse under the workload with you away, and we’ll miss out on Christ knows how many collars. You’ve given the Kendal cons an early Christmas present this year, Ian, you really have.’

  ‘He did go for me, love, and I let him have a free pop, like. Didn’t react at all, and that’s the truth. But then he had another try.’

  ‘So you belted him?’

  ‘Then I subdued him, and arrested him. What else was I supposed to do? Let the little creep warm up on me, and then use Maggie as his personal punch bag, the second I’d gone?’

  ‘No, of course not. Macrae’s a nasty, stupid little shit and he fully deserves a slap. Of course he does. The only trouble is that you’re not allowed to administer it. And you do know that it’ll happen exactly like you just said anyway, don’t you? Macrae will be bailed, he’ll go home, get pissed up, then it’ll all kick off with Maggie, and she’ll be left counting the bruises, or worse. Bastards like him only stop when they go away, or the wife gets away. We can’t stop tossers like him when they’ve got the taste, we both know that.’

  ‘I know, aye, I do. But I didn’t have a choice, honest. I did the job right. I acted within the law. Well within it, love.’

  Jane nodded. ‘I do believe you, mate, of course I do. I’m just pissed off about the whole bloody mess. I shouldn’t take it out on you though, especially with you ending up in the shit like this. But the real trouble here is that you’ve got too much previous, Ian. It shouldn’t matter, but it probably will. They’ll be gunning for you mate, we both know that. They need to get more coppers off the strength to save money, and if they sack you they save all that redundancy, don’t they? So make bloody sure that the union rep is there when they take your statement, and you know I’ll be behind you all the way, don’t you? It would be a total bloody disaster for this nick if the bosses managed to get you out.’

  ‘Cheers, love, I appreciate it.’

  They sat in silence for a moment, Mann wondering what his life would be like without the job, and Jane wondering how she’d do hers without him.

  ‘So it seems like your leave is starting early, anyway. Ian. So what will you do?’

  Mann shrugged. ‘Sort out my old fella’s garden, and a couple of his neighbours’ too, I shouldn’t wonder. I hate plants, and grass and all, but I do like everything…’

  ‘Squared away?’

  They both laughed, because it was one of his favourite phrases.

  ‘Aye, exactly. Squared away. It can be right bloody untidy, can nature. I like the wilderness, don’t get me wrong, but gardens are nowt but plants out of their proper place, aren’t they?’

  ‘Thank you, Alan Titchmarsh.’ Her smile faded. ‘You know how this all works from here, Ian. That clueless tosser from personnel will be here in a bit, and you’ll give him your Warrant Card and listen politely while he goes through all the usual bullshit.’

  ‘Aye, OK.’

  ‘And you will resist the urge to chuck him through the window?’

  ‘Aye. That was just a phase, was that.’

  He smiled, but Jane just looked worried.

  ‘And you won’t have any contact with the Macraes, you promise me? Even if she phones you in the middle of the night, screaming, and says that Paul’s got a carving knife to her throat?’ Mann nodded, but Jane didn’t believe him. ‘Christ, Ian, you’d wade straight back in again wouldn’t you? Even though, right now, Maggie is signing a statement backing that little twat up, and saying that you went for him for no reason whasoever.’

  ‘Aye, well. He’s forcing her to say that, isn’t he?’

  Jane shook her head.

  ‘Blimey, mate, all you need now is a white horse and a bloody lance. You’re worse than our Andy, and that’s saying something. A con’s a con, love, and they all want nicking, whether it’s a man or a woman. But you listen to me, Ian. You keep your nose clean while this gets sorted, OK? Even the wankers in professional standards won’t take Paul bloody Macrae’s word against yours, not when it comes down to it.’

  Mann stood up. It had played out pretty much in the way that he’d expected.

  ‘Are you sure about that, Jane? I’m just a dinosaur of an old DS. I bet they can’t wait to get shot of me.’

  DI Jane Francis stood too, walked round the desk and hugged Mann. He was so surprised that he didn’t hug her back.

  ‘Of course I’m sure, love. It’ll be reet, you just wait and see. You’re too bloody ugly to sack. Because you’d have them on discrimination then, wouldn’t you? So just try to stay out of trouble until it’s all sorted, yeah?’

  It was almost eight before Jane finally got home, and Hall’s signature dish, his tuna pasta bake, was as dry as papyrus. Hall had been snacking since Grace had finally settled down, so he pushed his food round his plate and sipped at his wine. But Jane was hungry, so she chewed womanfully on and used the wine to try to soften each mouthful. It didn’t really work, but she kept at it. It was her own fault, after all. Hall wasn’t mentioning the fact that she hadn’t texted him to let him know that she’d be late, but the knowledge hung in the air between them like a fart at a christening.

  When her jaw needed a rest she told Hall about what had happened to Ian Mann.
He didn’t look remotely surprised, but his expression wouldn’t have altered if Jane had told him that Mann was actually an alien, and that a small green head had appeared through his shirt. He’d probably already considered the possibility, at some point. suddenly

  ‘What will happen to him?’ he asked.

  ‘In this climate? Written warning, minimum. But I bet they’ll sack him, if they think they can get away with it. They’ll do anything to make sure that everyone else’s job goes before theirs do, and bugger what that means to actual policing. It’s the least of the bosses worries, is that.’

  ‘And it won’t make any difference to them that Paul Macrae is a well known waste of skin with a record that includes numerous arrests for assaulting his wife? I think I nicked him once, actually, years ago.’

  ‘He’s never been convicted for that though, has he? And Ian Mann has killed two cons, so he’s not exactly Mother Theresa.’

  ‘That happened in the line of duty, while protecting other officers, me included.’

  ‘He still chucked one of them forty foot off a roof, Andy.’

  ‘The bloke fell. Look, love, you know me. There’s no place for violence in a civilised society, and we have to set the standard.’ Hall smiled, and quickly corrected himself. ‘I mean that the police have to set the standard. But, even so, Ian just isn’t an aggressive man. And I’ll be honest, it makes me feel better, knowing that he’s alongside you when things kick off.’

  ‘That’s sweet, Andy, but we both know that he doesn’t mind a bit of argy bargy, to say the least. And the bosses will probably have access to his military files too, love. God only knows what tales of derring do they contain. You know how reticent he always is about those days. I bet he was involved in some truly scary shit.’

  ‘Exactly, Jane, which proves that he’s moved on. Everyone tries to pigeon-hole Ian, but he knows he’s not in the military now, and we play by different rules. And he’s mellowed too, love, honestly he has. He’s a totally different bloke these days.’

  Jane risked another mouthful of Andy’s rubbery pasta. The sauce seemed to be congealing as well now, but she’d started, so she’d have to finish. Eventually she was able to speak again.

  ‘So you’ve seen Ian recently, have you, love?’

  ‘No, I haven’t, you know that. He’s not exactly fond of babies, is he?’

  ‘I’m not sure I am, sometimes.’

  Hall laughed. ‘You and me both. Grace was a right little bugger today. I pushed her miles, trying to get her off this afternoon.’

  ‘It’ll do you good. Can I have a drop more of that wine, if it’s going?’

  Hall poured, and put down his fork. He wondered, briefly, how difficult the plates would be to scrape before he put them in the dishwasher.

  ‘Did you go to playgroup this morning, though?’

  ‘I did. Grace slept through the whole bloody thing. But I did go for a coffee with someone afterwards, so it wasn’t a total washout.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Andy. You’re not getting all approachable in your old age, are you?’

  ‘I’m very friendly, always have been. It’s just that most of those women are half my age, that’s all. We’ve got nothing in common beside having young kids. No, it was that older dad, Pete, who I went for a brew with.’

  ‘Oh, aye, he’s a fireman isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. How did you know?’

  ‘I am a cop, Andy. Plus, and you can trust me on this, when a bloke’s a fireman, women tend to remember.’

  ‘But I used to be a copper. No-one remembers that, it seems. And I had a uniform too, love.’

  Jane laughed hard, and Hall enjoyed it. She’d been looking tense and tired when she’d got home, and it would do her good.

  ‘No, love, it’s not quite the same thing, I’m afraid. Anyway, what’s he like, this Pete? Any danger that you might invite him over for a play date?’

  ‘No way. His sprog’s an absolute bloody monster, honestly. And he’s a bit of a hippy too.’

  ‘That explains the clothes. His partner’s the same. Stud in her nose, always see her round town in floaty dresses, even when it’s pissing down. What’s her name again?’

  ‘Alice. He used to be an environmental activist. They both did, by the sounds of it. They were over at St. Bees, around millennium time, protesting against that open cast coal mine.’

  ‘Oh, aye? That was all over about the time I arrived up here. They won, didn’t they?’

  ‘It didn’t happen, that’s right.’

  ‘So, he’s an eco-warrior, or was. Bloody hell.’

  Jane took a sip of her wine, then grinned at Hall over the rim. ‘So I bet you two had loads to talk about, didn’t you?’

  ‘You can mock, but I’m environmentally aware, aren’t I? I’m scrupulous about our recycling bin, for a start. And we are going out for a drink, me and Pete, actually. Next week, when you’re off duty.’

  ‘That’s nice, love. It’s good for you to make a few friends outside the job. Even if they are loonies, anarchists and hippies, like.’

  Wednesday, 3rd September

  The Great House, St. Bees, 11.50am

  Vinny Battersby was in the long border, dead-heading, when the dusty, black MPV pulled up the drive. He took off his gloves, and laid them with the secateurs on the edge of the grass, alongside his sweater. He jogged across the lawn, then out onto the drive and back towards the house.

  ‘Can I help you with your gear?’ he called out, as he approached the car. The bloke was lop-sided under the weight of his camera and the tripod, and the girl seemed to be struggling too.

  ‘Mr. Battersby?’ she said, holding out her free hand. ‘I’m Trish Blake.’

  ‘I know. I’ve seen you on the news. And call me Vinny. Everyone does.’ He wasn’t sure if it was acceptable to say that she looked prettier in the flesh than she did on the TV, so he decided against. You couldn’t be too careful, not these days.

  ‘Can I offer you two a drink? We’ve got some home-made lemonade.’

  ‘Ace. But let’s get set up first, shall we? Where were you thinking, Tony?’

  The cameraman stopped for a moment, and looked around.

  ‘Outside, maybe?’

  ‘Fine with me’, said Battersby. ‘What do you need, a nice bit of shade with the house in the background, maybe?’

  ‘Aye, that would be great.’

  Battersby left the crew and returned to the house. Mrs. Walker, the housekeeper, offered to bring out the tray of drinks but Battersby said no, so firmly that she looked at him in surprise. Then he carried it all out, and poured a glass for each of them.

  ‘We’ll need a couple of garden chairs’, said the cameraman, and Battersby went and brought a couple round from the patio himself. He hoped that he wasn’t sweating visibly when he sat down. But he needn’t have worried, because it was another five minutes before the little red light on the camera finally came on, and the cameraman gave Trish a thumbs up.

  ‘So, Mr. Battersby, Vinny, tell me about these new apprenticeships for school-leavers from the village, here in St. Bees. What are they all about, exactly?’

  ‘We like to call them technical apprenticeships, Trish, because they’re about developing commercially relevant IT skills in our youngsters. That way they’ll be able to live and work here, in the most beautiful corner of England, and bring up their own families. They won’t have to go off to Carlisle, even, let alone Manchester or Newcastle. Not that I’ve got anything those fine cities of course, but we believe that it’s right to put our effort into helping local kids. After all, I was born in a little terraced cottage not a mile from here, and I’ve not done badly, all things considered.’

  The young woman smiled, and asked him the usual questions about his green energy business, like how many jobs it had created, and he tried to do everything that the media trainer had taught him. Not to smile in that weird way, and to keep his answers short and his enthusiasm levels high. That last bit was easy, because he absolutely
believed in what he was doing, and as he talked on he was pretty sure that the big, blank black eye of the camera lens was picking it all up. It was going really well, Vinny decided, as he hit point after point from the checklist that he’d memorised.

  But something was wrong, even so. Trish looked a bit bored, somehow, and he was wondering what he could do about that when she abruptly changed the subject.

  ‘We’re sitting here in this lovely English country garden, Vinny, and of course if it wasn’t for you it wouldn’t exist any more, would it?’

  ‘That’s right,Trish. If things had gone a different way quite a lot of years ago then, right now, this lovely old house would be completely gone. And not just that, because in fact the ground level would be a hundred feet below where we’re sitting, and we’d be right in the middle of a massive open-cast mine. It’s hard to imagine, I know, but it’s true.’

  ‘I see. Amazing. And you played your part in stopping it, this mine?’

  ‘Me and a hell of a lot of others. But aye, I did play my part, that’s true enough. I did my bit, like. The proudest achievement of my life, it was. Or at least the proudest moment so far. God willing I hope to go on and do a lot more for this community, if I can. And myself too, of course. I’ll not deny that’s a motivation too.’

  Vinny Battersby smiled again and held it, wondering if he was coming over as too cocky now. People round here did not like that. They did not like that at all. ‘Not that I should say something like that’, he added, quickly. ‘Because that’s for others to judge, isn’t it?’

  Trish smiled away his question. She was onside again now, he could just feel it.