Songbird

by Peter Grainger

  Waters’ geography wasn’t as good as his history but he knew this was important. He called Serena from his car as he drove back to the station.

  ‘Dunstable West. I’m guessing that’s on Dunstable Downs, right?’

  Serena said, ‘Yes, it’s a major tower south of Luton. It takes a lot of Luton’s mobile traffic. You should know I’m putting myself at considerable personal risk getting this sort of information.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I’ve explained this before. Every time I call Martina for stuff like this, she thinks it’s an excuse. She invited me for another game of squash this morning. If I’m alone with her in the showers, anything could happen.’

  Dunstable Downs, south of Luton. Why would someone make a call to Michelle Simms early on a Thursday evening, on a pay-as-you-go mobile through that particular mast? Why was it the first time she’d ever been called by that number, as far as they could tell? Michelle was a businesswoman, with established family and social circles – or at least that’s a fair assumption. That sort of phone is used by youngsters, by people with little money, by gangs, and by people who think they have something to hide.

  Serena said, ‘Sir? I think me getting unofficial info about mobile phones should involve a risk assessment in future.’

  ‘OK, I’d agree to that. But I think you should also be open to new experiences. Remember what DC used to say about life’s rich tapestry?’

  Serena could remember, apparently, and she said she could suggest a few new experiences that her sergeant might want to open himself up to, to enrich the tapestry of his own private life. Waters thanked her and asked whether she had done anything about tracing the sale of the pay-as-you-go mobile. It was a long shot but you don’t become a better sniper by not taking on those occasionally.

  Serena said, ‘You didn’t actually ask me to do that. We just talked about it, didn’t we?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But I did, though. Ford has just given me a list of Luton retailers. I’m about to start fitting it in between the other calls to people on the caravan site.’

  ‘How are those going? Just so I know in case the DI is waiting for me at the back entrance.’

  ‘Complete waste of time so far. How long will you be? Terek is poking his head around the door every ten minutes.’

  Something must have intervened because it was at least twenty minutes after Waters was back at his desk before the detective inspector appeared in the main office and beckoned to him. They met in the doorway and then Terek turned away into the corridor, like a schoolteacher taking a naughty pupil out of the classroom. Waters followed, surprised at his own feeling of annoyance – he was no longer a novice at this and what’s the point of having some authority if you have no freedom to exercise it? But he kept quiet and waited, because this might be about something else altogether.

  Terek said, ‘Detective Constable Butler tells me you went out for lunch, Chris.’

  ‘Sir – though that isn’t strictly accurate.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I went out at lunchtime, but it wasn’t with the purpose of going to lunch.’

  The fact he had then consumed half a bacon sandwich and a piece of home-made flapjack didn’t make this untrue in any way.

  ‘I see. What was the purpose, then? If you don’t mind me asking.’

  He did mind, a lot. It might be no coincidence that for the first time in several months he had just spent an hour in the company of a man who had, when the situation required it, fought the system every inch of the way. There had been times – and not a few of them – when Waters had thought, why doesn’t he let that go, why go out on a limb for something trivial, for some small point of principle? But there’s no such thing as a small point of principle. Principles are big things. If principles aren’t worth fighting for, what else is? What else matters?

  Waters said, ‘I went out to speak to someone as part of the investigation, sir.’

  ‘Really? The Simms investigation?’

  ‘Sir.’

  Terek was staring up at him with a look of considerable surprise. O’Leary walked by, edging past them and then moving away slowly, hoping to catch something of what was being said. Terek waited until he was far enough away before saying, ‘I see. Has there been some development that I’m unaware of?’

  How does one answer that when one doesn’t know what someone else is aware of? The fact that Waters didn’t know, of course, was the crux of the matter; we’re back to those missing informal meetings, the gossip in the canteen that is impossible now because they took the canteen away and replaced it with a vending machine. The thought suddenly occurred to Waters that this was Terek’s philosophy of policing, the vending machine philosophy. You put in certain tokens, press a sequence of buttons and out come pre-packaged, uniformly-processed solutions.

  But the thought had taken too long, and Terek said, ‘I’ll assume the answer is no, then. But I cannot imagine why any of us has the need to have secret meetings – and I’m not going to ask who this was with – in a case like this one. You’ve heard me say this a hundred times, Chris – there’s no ‘i’ in team, and…’

  Maybe not, but there are at least three of them in ‘investigation’. How much more time is he going to waste on this? Waters tuned out most of what was said until ‘… to let you know that DCI Freeman is standing in for DCI Reeve.’

  When he asked why, Terek told him it was for personal reasons, nothing to do with the course of the investigation. Waters stood and waited for more, and it didn’t come. Terek said he hoped the phone calls to the Pinehills guests could be completed by the end of the day, and then he stood blinking behind the steel-rimmed spectacles until Waters turned away and walked back into the office.

  Serena hadn’t heard about Reeve. She thought about it deeply for three seconds before she said to Waters, ‘You should go and make sure she’s alright,’ and then for Ford’s benefit she added, ‘sir.’

  ‘You’ve seen her this morning?’

  ‘Yes,’ Serena said, ‘she was about earlier on.’

  One cannot be friends with a senior officer for all the obvious reasons but both of them, Waters and Serena Butler, had reasons to be grateful to DCI Alison Reeve. She had been their DI when they joined the force at Kings Lake Central, and they soon became aware of the history between Reeve and Smith – that she had been a detective constable when he had been Detective Chief Inspector Smith. The two of them had worked together for years and there was considerable mutual respect. As junior officers you learn to respect that respect because it doesn’t materialise out of thin air.

  Waters stood up. He said to Serena, ‘Make a start ringing those phone shops,’ and then left the office, went right along the corridor until he reached the stairs and took them three at a time. He’d noticed things, hadn’t he, over the past couple of weeks? He just hadn’t put them together, too busy. But SIOs do not relinquish cases willingly, ever. It’s a matter of pride as much as anything else.

  He slowed his walk as he approached Reeve’s office, intending to go past it and glance in. If she was with someone, this could wait. When he looked in, he saw her at the desk, reading her screen, and there was nothing obviously wrong – this was exactly how he would expect to find her on a normal day. He was in half a mind to keep walking by but she’d seen him, putting up a hand and inviting him into her room.

  She said, ‘Hello. I was wondering if you’d show up.’

  He asked her why, and she said Detective Inspector Terek had mentioned to her that one of his sergeants had gone missing. Waters thought, why do that? Why tell a senior officer something as trivial as that? The only possible answer was that for Terek, it wasn’t trivial.

  Alison Reeve read his face and said, ‘Or was there something else?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. DI Terek just told me that DCI Freeman is standing in for you on the Simms investigation. I came to see if you’re alright.’

  Her eyes faltered away from his own and ended up b
ack on the screen of the laptop. Seconds ago, he’d thought to himself that there was nothing obviously wrong but there was. Waters looked away from her, not wanting to stare as she dealt with something internal, something emotional. Through the window, Kings Lake shimmered a little in the haze of dusty sunlight and fumes. The drought was official now, the weathermen had declared it with a sense of professional satisfaction. No more baths, take a shower with a friend! Serena would be delighted…

  When he looked back, the detective chief inspector’s face was pale, as if she was cold, but there was an odd smile too. She seemed to have found something amusing, either on the screen or in his words of concern for her.

  She said, ‘Thank you, Chris. Thank you for taking the trouble to ask.’

  ‘And Serena, ma’am. We were just talking about it, and thought it best to come and find out directly. If there’s anything we can do?’

  Reeve’s right hand was busy making a few clicks on the trackpad of the laptop. She said, ‘Yes, as you say, find out directly. Avoid the speculation. I’m just debating whether I should share this with you. I don’t think it’s going to make your day. At least, I hope not!’

  The wan smile again. He had a bad feeling about this now.

  She came to a decision, nodded to herself and said, ‘Alright. It’s going to be out there soon, one way or another. At least this way I get control of it, don’t I? The DCS will probably disapprove but that won’t come back on you. Come around the desk and have a look.’

  The web page had “N-HL” in bold letters across the top. His first thought was he was seeing the website of a delivery company but that lasted only a fraction of a second because underneath were images of doctors, nurses and research laboratories. He didn’t read any detail – he looked back at Alison Reeve for an explanation.

  She said, ‘I was told a couple of days ago that this is what I have. “N-HL” is non-Hodgkin lymphoma. Basically, it’s cancer of the white blood cells. There are lots of different varieties. I’m still waiting for some results to show which one I’ve got.’

  Nothing in life can prepare you for the first time you are told such a thing. Reeve’s gaze was back on the screen – she didn’t want to embarrass him. He didn’t know how old she was but he was sure she wasn’t yet forty. Maybe ten or twelve years older than he was. His head seemed to be full of questions, from ‘Are you sure?’ to ‘How long?’, but he found himself unable to say a word.

  ‘So, there we are – mystery solved. I haven’t been feeling great for a while, and finally I know why. In a funny way, it’s a relief. Now I just need to get treated.’

  Waters said, ‘What does that involve? If you don’t want to talk about this, ma’am, I understand. I just…’

  ‘Don’t know what to say? I know the feeling. I was dumbstruck as well, when she told me. She’s my consultant. Anyway, the most likely treatment is some sort of chemotherapy, which is a lot better than it used to be but still worse than the early symptoms of the illness. Something to look forward to… But on the bright side, the five-year survival rate is not bad for most forms. The consultant has ordered all the tests but she doesn’t think it will have progressed too far, based on what she’s seen up to now. That’s what I was looking at when you came by.’

  She had Googled her own chances of living for five more years. That’s what we do now, with everything. People here in Central, some of them, seemed to think he, Waters, had a mystical gift for understanding the digital universe but he had simply grown up with it, that was all. From knowing nothing of non-Hodgkin lymphoma five minutes ago, he could sit at this laptop now and within half an hour produce for you a seven-hundred-word document summarising risk factors, symptoms, diagnostic procedures, treatments and prognoses, all beautifully presented, with sub-headings and a couple of graphs and charts if you asked for them. And none of that was of the slightest use when you were confronted with someone you liked and admired who had just told you they had such an awful disease.

  He said, ‘Well, I’m very sorry to hear it, ma’am. If there is anything, anything at all-’

  ‘There is, just one thing. Give DCI Freeman your full support, and make sure everyone else does.’

  ‘I will do that.’

  ‘I know. They’re sending me off on medical leave, today’s my last one for a while. To be honest, I could stay here and do something but they won’t have it. And when you’re told something like this, it does get into your head. A big investigation needs someone’s full attention. DCI Freeman has already been very supportive. All this was supposed to trickle down the chain of command – I shouldn’t really have told you.’

  ‘Have you told anyone else?’

  ‘I’m seeing my parents tomorrow.’

  Waters paused, imagining that, before he said, ‘What about DC?’

  ‘No! I’m sure he still has enough problems of his own.’

  Waters was quiet, and she looked up at him from her seat, studying his lack of obvious reaction to what she had just said.

  ‘What about you, Chris? Have you seen him recently?’

  ‘Yes. He’s doing very well.’

  And if she had pursued it at all, he would have told her there and then he’d had lunch with the man in question only an hour ago, but she only shook her head again.

  He said, ‘He’ll get to hear of it, ma’am. I’m sure his network is still very much intact.’

  The implication was clear enough, and she didn’t say he was not to tell Smith the news about her illness. She closed the laptop, and said instead, ‘Oliver Salmon?’

  It would be wise not to repeat Smith’s description of the case as “ridiculous” – Reeve was asking for a professional judgement, which isn’t always the same as one’s opinion. Waters didn’t answer immediately, however, and she told him he could sit down if it was going to take a while. He declined but said, ‘I don’t think it’s straightforward, ma’am.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She knew that it wasn’t; she wanted to see if his reasons for thinking so were the same as her own.

  ‘The forensics point strongly towards someone who in several other respects is a poor fit. And I understand that the family have the resources to put up a fight. As DC would have said, this one could get messy.’

  Reeve said, ‘It isn’t just the forensics. Oliver’s own words at the interview clearly show he knows something about what happened. He knew she was dead. It’s all on the video, and that’s going to take some explaining away.’

  She leaned back and swivelled a little in the chair. It was odd. She had a life-threatening illness, was facing months of difficult treatment, she had to tell her parents tomorrow, and yet she was here weighing up the arguments for and against a murder charge, working out the probabilities of getting a conviction.

  Waters said, ‘The CPS have told us we can charge but we haven’t. That’s sending a sort of message to everyone, ma’am. If you don’t mind me saying so.’

  She did a surprising thing then. She reached out and touched his left arm as she said, ‘Of course I don’t! That’s your job as a detective sergeant, to tell me what the troops are thinking. It’s a job you’re doing very well, just in case you’re having any doubts.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

  He was, but this was hardly the moment to go into all that.

  ‘But as for the delay in charging Oliver Salmon, I’ll bring you up to speed. The decision stands. What they’re waiting for is somewhere to put him when he’s on remand. Naturally he cannot go onto a wing in Norwich or Peterborough. There is the secure hospital at Great Mossingham, and as soon as a place becomes available, the intention is to proceed with the charge and place him there.’

  Under normal circumstances he might have protested to Reeve, but circumstances more abnormal than these he couldn’t picture at that moment. The unit at Mossingham was for the severely mentally ill, the suicidal and potentially dangerous individuals who have come to the end of the line. Oliver Salmon didn’t belong in such a place
but surely if you left him in there long enough, he might. There would be no open doors, no loving aunt sitting outside his room ready to reassure him that everything would be alright soon. It was a shocking thought, but he said none of this to Reeve.

  She said to him, ‘Chris, what I’ve told you – about me, I mean – isn’t in confidence, so don’t make it a burden. It will all go public in the next day or two. If there are people you need to tell, go ahead and do so.’

  It was his intention to tell Serena straight away but when he walked back into the main office, she was watching for him and stood up. This meant that something had happened, something significant while he had been out of the room. The question was on his face before he reached her, and she said in response to it, ‘We must be on a roll! I found it on the second bloody call!’

  Richard Ford was watching and listening. How much had she already explained to him? Waters said, ‘The mobile? The pay-as-you-go?’

  ‘Bought at LU1 Mobiles – should be fairly obvious where that is. Guess when, though.’

  She was pleased with herself, and so the date must be important to them in some way. Waters didn’t hurry his answer – he worked it out.

  ‘On or around the 27th?’

  ‘The same day, at 17.53. The mobile that called her last on the 27th was still in its box in her home town twenty-one minutes earlier. That’s a bit strange, if you ask me.’

  Waters sat down and looked at the two of them. Then he said to Ford, ‘How far have we got with the list of Pinehills guests? Have DS Wilson or DI Terek been in to check?’