No Spoken Word

by David Menon

  ‘You’d rather be at home than here wouldn’t you sir?’ said Louisa in a quiet moment with Barton whilst the others were continuing with the regaling of stories and anecdotes.

  ‘You’re a very perceptive young woman’ said Barton. The SOCO’s had cleared the scene of crime and they had plenty to get on with but none of it could be done overnight. So they could all take some time out to relax but Barton could never be fully relaxed.

  ‘Did I speak out of turn?’

  ‘No, not at all’ said Barton, smiling. ‘It’s just that being a single Dad … well the guilt can come in bucket loads when you’re out enjoying yourself. It’s not that bad tonight. But I will be glad to get home and that’s not saying anything about the company I’m keeping I can assure you’.

  ‘Really sir, you’ll make a lady like me blush’.

  ‘I can still do it then’.

  ‘Oh you can still do it alright’ said Louisa who wouldn’t mind experiencing where Barton slept. He was one of those sexy too deep to capture kind of guys who would be a lot of hard work to begin with. He would probably get easier as time went on but the initial grab would be like trying to get hold of an electric eel with wet hands. And she didn’t need all that. His wife had died so unexpectedly and she could see that he wasn’t seeing the light at the end of the tunnel of that yet. It was all very well fancying the chinos off someone with all that baggage when you already had more than enough of your own. Then her good sense catapulted her back to before she’d had that fourth glass of red wine when all she could see was a good boss who was easy on the eye. ‘I’m cheeky, I know. It’s just how I am. It’s just another way of saying I’m honest because to some it can come across as being cheeky’.

  ‘I don’t think you’re cheeky, Louisa’.

  ‘You don’t?’

  ‘No, I don’t’ said Barton who’d like nothing more than to spend a night in the veins of Louisa. She was attractive and she had that dangerous look in her bright blue eyes but he’d never used a woman purely for sex and he wasn’t about to start now. He’d been kidding himself lately. Ever since his conversation with the pathologist Dr. June Hawkins about his relationship with the Australian detective Collette Ryan, he hadn’t been able to think much about anything except Collette. He’d been trying his best not to think about her but he couldn’t help himself. It was a curse and a blessing at the same time. So what was that all about? Was it about love? Was it about something else? He was missing her and it was starting to feel like an ache deep inside his heart. He’d once been told when he was much younger that he fell too deep and too quick and he’d worked through all that by the time he’d met his wife Lillie Mae. But then she’d been taken from him and his emotions had been thrown back into disarray again. So what was he supposed to do now? Collette had been the first woman since Lillie Mae’s death to show him that he could feel happiness without feeling guilty. But the fact of the matter was that he’d deleted her mobile number from his phone and deleted her name from his email contacts list. But he also knew that either of them could get in touch with the other and he wondered if she was on the other side of the world thinking of him like he was thinking of her right now.

  ‘Do you have a boyfriend, Louisa?’

  ‘No’ she answered, blushing. ‘I’d like one. But, I don’t want it to be just anyone, you know? I want to be with the right man for me. I don’t want to just settle for someone just for the sake of having someone in my life’.

  ‘I can understand that’ said Barton before downing the remains of his pint. ‘You stick to your guns, girl. Don’t even think of settling for anything less than you deserve. But I’d better get off. I’ve got a mini me waiting for me at home and I like to kiss him goodnight whenever I can’.

  ‘Aw’ said Louisa. ‘That’s so sweet’.

  Barton smiled. ‘That’s as may be’ he said. ‘But I’ll see you in the morning. And I’m really glad you’re with us, Louisa. You’re going to add something really good to what we do and how we do it. As well as being very nice to be with’.

  And then there were three. Louisa was flanked at the table on the far side of the bar by DS Adrian Bradshaw on one side and DC Joe Alexander on the other. DI Ollie Wright had already gone home by the time DSI Barton decided to leave them to it. Louisa liked Adrian. She could see why so many of the girls at the station did. He had those Hollywood matinee idol looks that did make a girl’s head turn, including hers. But Adrian looked like a deep one. A bit like the boss. A man who was made up of all the four seasons and yet probably leaned more towards the melancholy of autumn. Joe seemed like more of a sunny day with a light breeze kind of guy. Shame he was the only one who was spoken for. Still, it was nice for a girl to be working with three men who were all good looking in their own way.

  Adrian had gone onto diet coke on account that he had to drive home to Saddleworth which was a rare distance from where they were along Chester road, and the three of them were laughing their heads off at another one of Joe’s jokes when they all looked up at the figure standing in front of them.

  ‘Erica-Jane!’ Joe greeted, half out of enthusiasm and half out of dread. He stood up and kissed her. She offered her cheek instead of her lips. She wasn’t happy.

  ‘I was expecting you home’ she said through clenched teeth and without looking at Joe directly.

  ‘I’m sorry, babe’ said Joe. He scratched the back of his neck. ‘We were just having a bit of a session with our new girl, Louisa’.

  Louisa stood up and held out her hand. ‘I’m Louisa’.

  Erica-Jane ignored Louisa’s overture. Her hair was tied back severely and she was wearing short length black boots, the shortest of black leather skirts Louisa had ever seen, a white t-shirt with a slit down the front to show off her more than ample cleavage and a light blue denim jacket. Louisa could tell she’d slapped on a lot of make-up and if she treated her like that again she’d need a lot more to cover up the slap Louisa would give her. How come poor old Joe had been unlucky enough to fall for her absent charms.

  ‘I’ve come on’ Erica-Jane announced as if everyone would be interested.

  Joe tried to put his arms round her but she resisted. ‘This is so not fair, Joe! It’ll be at least another month now and I can’t stand it’. She started to cry and then let herself fall into Joe’s arms. ‘I want you to go and see a doctor, Joe’.

  ‘What?’ asked a very embarrassed looking Joe. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well I think there must be something wrong with you down there’ she whined.

  Louisa and Adrian had to turn their heads away to stop themselves from laughing out loud.

  Joe was mortified at the scene being played out. ‘Why don’t you go into the ladies and throw some water over your face. I’ll have a drink waiting for you when you come out and then we’ll go home and talk about it’.

  ‘Could we go for a curry? I’m starving’.

  ‘Of course we can’.

  Erica-Jane scraped her boots along to the toilet and Louisa said she’d go after her and make sure she was okay. Once she was inside the ladies it was clear there was nobody else in there except her and little Miss Candy floss so she turned the key in the main door. The pub was fairly busy so she knew she wouldn’t have much time but even so, little Miss Candy floss still managed to get the first word in. She was patting her face dry with a hand towel whilst standing at the wash basin and mirror.

  ‘Now let’s get one ting straight yeah, babes?’ said Erica-Jane. ‘Joe is my man and I repeat he’s my man. Now if you so much as look at him in a way I don’t like then I’ll break your bloody head. Alright?’

  Louisa grabbed Erica-Jane’s ponytail and pushed her down so that her face was immersed in the basin of water and kept her there for a few seconds. She could feel Erica-Jane’s body struggle and twist trying to break free but the stupid little bitch didn’t know who she was dealing with. Then she raised her head free of the water.

  In a gasping and therefore quiet voice Erica-Jan
e said ‘Get off me you fucking mad bitch! I’ll fucking scream if you don’t’.

  ‘Oh believe me sweetheart if you scream you won’t leave here without an injury that’ll take you straight to casualty’.

  ‘What the fuck do you want?’

  ‘Respect’.

  ‘What?’

  ‘If you ever disrespect me again the way you did out there I’ll re-arrange that face of yours until not even your own mother would recognize you’.

  ‘You’re fucking mad’.

  ‘Mad? You think I’m mad? Only I know what I’m capable of so if you push me then you’ll see what mad really does looks like. Understood?’

  Louisa pushed Erica-Jane’s face back under the water for a few seconds to make sure the stupid little bitch did understand that she was serious. Then she lifted it up again.

  ‘I asked you if that was understood?’

  Erica-Jane began to cough but manage to splutter out that yes, she understood.

  ‘Good’ said Louisa who then released her grip on Erica-Jane. She stood up straight and brushed herself down with the palms of her hands. She watched as Erica-Jane brought herself up straight and started to look halfway to normal again. ‘Now keep this little chat of ours between you and me because if we have to have another one it’ll be a lot worse for you because I don’t let brain dead pieces of scum like you get the better of me. Oh and all that paranoid insecurity of yours? It’s really not a good look. Not if you really do want to keep hold of Joe’.

  NO SPOKEN WORD

  EIGHT

  ‘The clock is ticking, Mrs. Matthews’ said Barton in the interview room beside DI Ollie Wright and with Diana Matthews and her solicitor Julian Rankin on the other side. ‘It’s time for you to start talking or else you won’t be helping yourself one little bit’.

  Barton had been trying to get the interview going for at least half an hour and when they’d first convened he thought they might be able to get somewhere. Diana Matthews looked pale and there was a deep redness in her eyes. She clearly hadn’t slept. And if she had then she probably hadn’t been able to get any benefit from it.

  ‘What was the mobile phone doing in your possession, Mrs. Matthews?’

  ‘It wasn’t in my possession’.

  ‘It was found in your house’.

  ‘That’s not the same thing and you know that’.

  Barton rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘So you’re saying someone else put it there?’

  ‘No, I’m not saying that’.

  ‘Well then do yourself a favour and start telling the truth’ said Barton, leaning forward in his chair and then back again. ‘It’s your voice on the recording, Mrs. Matthews. You answered a call to this phone. You must’ve thought you were talking to a particular someone when you said what you did and I want to know who that is’.

  She glared at him as if he was the master of extreme impertinence but her voice was weak. This was one of those moments when a tiny little box deep inside his imagination made Barton wish he was a detective in one of those countries where nobody asked any questions about the methods used in interrogation. But only for the briefest of seconds did something like that cross his mind. He was as upright and decent a copper as any of them. It was just occasionally. His airline pilot brother-in-law Seamus often told him that some of his cabin crew colleagues were driven to almost belting passengers who were being deliberately difficult. It was the same thing. Working with the general public can do that to the most mild mannered of people and fill their heads with unintended wishes that come from unfulfilled provocation.

  ‘What do you mean by the service, Mrs. Matthews?’ asked Barton. He’d already worked out the answer. It hadn’t taken much of his grey matter to see the hands of the British intelligence services all over what was happening in front of him. Well if they thought they could come down from high and piss all over his investigation they could fuck right off. He had two murders to solve and he was going to do it his way despite them.

  ‘No comment’ she replied.

  ‘Why are you implicating your husband in all this too, Mrs. Matthews?’

  ‘I’m doing no such thing’.

  ‘You mentioned him when you spoke to whoever you thought it was who’d called the phone’ said Barton. ‘So that means you’ve implicated him. Are you trying to say now that it was some kind of mistake and you didn’t mean to implicate him? That his name just leapt into your head and straight out of your mouth? Because I don’t believe that anything you say isn’t carefully calculated before it’s aired to whoever are the intended ears’.

  ‘My client has already answered your question, detective’ Rankin interjected.

  ‘I wasn’t asking you, Rankin, so be quiet’.

  Diana wished that her lawyer would keep quiet. He certainly wasn’t helping her to fight this predicament she was in. But then who could? Nothing about her past had prepared her for this day. Nothing about all those clandestine meetings and phone calls would’ve given her any indication that she’d end up in a Manchester police station being asked questions about things she wasn’t supposed to know anything about. It was like all those official dinners she and James hosted back in the day when her husband had seemed more influential in promoting British influence in Moscow than the ambassador himself. Then there were the lunches that were supposed to be light and informal, albeit of a fairly salubrious nature, that had all been absolute hell to prepare for because every word to every person there had to be chosen so carefully so that the right message would be carried to the right government. She often wondered how many agents met with their death as a result of what had been said over her dinner table. How many of them had suffered interrogation that went beyond the limits of basic human endurance. How many faithful men and women were condemned between the main course and dessert during those lunches and dinners. The fate of refugees decided whilst someone is on their second gin and tonic and alliances between countries bought and sold with an Anglo-Soviet twist. Then there were the times when her husband James hadn’t accounted for his movements except for a load of knowing looks passed between his officials but with no spoken word to betray what was going on inside their heads. There were always so many questions that had gone unanswered. She’d lost count of all those long, long nights of not being able to sleep because her emotions were all so pent up inside her she felt like she could burst. They’d done it and they’d done it willingly because they’d both been true patriots but were they really going to be hung out to dry now? Had what they’d done meant nothing? Had they taken all of those risks and walked along the sharpest of knife edges just to be hung out to dry now?

  ‘I couldn’t think of what else to do’ said Diana quietly and with her head down. ‘My husband and I have been a team in every sense of the word for so many years that it’s hard sometimes for me to think separately before consulting him’.

  ‘Wait a minute ... ‘Rankin warned.

  ‘... no, Julian’ said Diana. ‘There are things I need to say and I’m going to say them. Mouths have been kept closed when they really shouldn’t have been’.

  Rankin wasn’t at all pleased with his client. They’d been through it all before the interview began and the people Rankin was connected with wouldn’t be pleased with Diana if she was about to spill any amount of beans. And that list would start with her husband James.

  ‘The calls to and from that mobile involved Tony Ward’ Diana revealed. ‘Maria was confiding in Tony because she knew that Sylvia was having an affair and of course, Tony would know the signs because Sylvia had an affair with Maria when she was married to Tony’.

  ‘You’re drawing up a scenario which cannot be verified by either party because they’re both dead, Mrs. Matthews’.

  ‘I’m telling you the truth’ Diana insisted. ‘It’s time that all of this came out. Tony and Maria were good friends and that’s why she was confiding in him. The reason why they kept it secret with that one mobile phone was because Maria thought that was all she had left. Some d
egree of privacy as her life was being pulled away from her by invisible hands. She didn’t know who Sylvia was having her affair with. That’s something I just can’t tell you’.

  ‘Tony Ward must’ve been one hell of a man to have become best friends with the woman who stole his wife off him?’

  ‘It’s called acting like a grown up, detective’ said Diana. ‘With all due respect I don’t expect you to understand’.

  Barton decided to ignore the prejudicial middle class broadside. How dare she sit there making assumptions when she knew absolutely nothing about his life? She knew nothing about the kind of rainbow coalition that made up his inner circle. His gay housekeeper and nanny to his son, his gay brother who was now married to his husband Seamus, his gay nephew Kyle, his sister who’d been born of an affair between his father and another woman. Then there were his racist parents who still refused to accept that he’d married a Chinese girl and that his son was mixed race. He felt especially aggrieved about his mother who’d forgiven his father for having an affair but who couldn’t accept her son marrying someone of a different race and couldn’t bring herself to be Grandma to Toby when he could really do with her in his life. Jesus his parents were a twisted pair of bastards. But this Diana Matthews was the most twisted of them all. She thought she knew all about him and yet she knew nothing. She’d got a nerve to point her venomous finger at him. She’d got a nerve to assume that he couldn’t embrace difference and diversity.

  ‘Well with all due respect I don’t think you’ve told us the whole story yet, Mrs. Matthews’.

  ‘And you’d be right to say that because I haven’t’ Diana declared.

  Julian Rankin felt about as helpless as a man who was in the midst of being taken by a crocodile. The more he screamed and yelled and begged for help the more nobody would dare to throw him a lifeline in case they either got caught up in the crocodile’s jaws themselves or one of the crocodile’s mates would come and see what they could grab too. He’d recently returned from a trip to Australia where he’d seen both freshwater and saltwater crocodiles in action in the Northern Territory. He’d fancy his chances against one of those merciless prehistoric beasts more than he would against some of the enemies that Diana would awaken if she did say what he suspected she was about to. Not to mention what DSI Barton would end up having to shield himself from.