Slow Slicing (DI Bliss Book 7)

by Tony J. Forder

  ‘And you reckon Freddy would?’

  ‘I think the likes of Freddy Swift are capable of just about anything.’

  Bliss cracked the book open. It was a hardcover, not light, and there was no name written inside. But there was an unexpected barcode strip. And the strip told him something interesting. ‘May I borrow this?’ he asked.

  ‘I suppose so. To be honest, I’d be glad to see it out of the house.’ She shuddered involuntarily.

  They left her to get off to work. As Bliss drove back towards Sawtry, the A1 stretching out not far beyond the village, he was quiet, and grateful to have a partner who knew him well enough to leave him to his thoughts until he was ready to speak. He turned the fresh evidence inside and out, getting a feel for it.

  ‘She doesn’t have a clue what happened to her old man, does she?’ he said eventually.

  Chandler grunted. ‘I don’t think so, no. On the other hand, she is definitely beside herself with worry. She knows there’s every chance his past came back to bite him.’

  ‘I think she knows he’s not coming back. He’s been gone for a fortnight, and not contacted her once. I think she believes he’s dead.’

  ‘And what do you believe?’

  ‘I believe the chunk of flesh sitting in a freezer at the city mortuary belongs to Ben Carlisle. Forensics will have taken DNA samples during the original missing persons investigation by Huntingdon CID, so we can match them to our evidence. My guess is he’s dead, but I’m as certain as I can be that he’s our victim.’

  ‘And what was with the book? Your eyes lit up like a bonfire. What did you find inside when you opened it up?’

  ‘A barcode strip. One that didn’t come with the book when it was published.’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘Because it was marked with a name. It’s a library book, Pen.’

  ‘A library book?’

  ‘Yes. A library is a big place with loads of books inside, which they loan out to people who can read.’

  Chandler flipped him her usual two-fingered sign of defiance. ‘I know that, boss. I’m just surprised you do.’

  They reached the outskirts of the city, and as Bliss pulled onto the slip road, Chandler’s phone pinged with a message. Moments later, her head jerked up from the screen. ‘Oh, shit!’ she said. ‘Oh, shit, bugger, and balls!’

  About to make a crack about his DS not visiting those kind of websites if she was going to be offended by them, Bliss noticed how rigid she had become. ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Breaking news on the Daily Express website. Gul sent me a link.’

  ‘And?’ he said, gesturing in a rolling motion with his hand.

  ‘They ran a piece naming Harrison as our third victim. They also mentioned Ben Carlisle in connection with the first.’

  ‘What!?’ Bliss smashed a hand down on the steering wheel. A second later he drove his elbow into the side window, accompanied by a slew of swear words. ‘How the hell do they have that?’

  ‘It says “from a well-placed source inside the joint task force”. And it doesn’t end there, I’m afraid. They’re also suggesting a connection between our body parts and the Geraldine Price murder.’

  Bliss ground his teeth together and growled like a wild animal. He clenched one fist and left it raised in the gap between them. ‘I’ll have their bloody Jacobs for this. I’ll hunt them down, I’ll find them, I’ll clip their knackers off, and stuff them down their bloody throat.’

  Chandler made no reply at first. After a few seconds had passed, she said, ‘And if it’s a female officer?’

  His lips curled into a sneer. ‘I’ll do whatever the female equivalent is.’

  ‘I’m not sure there is one, boss. Not unless you’re contemplating feeding them their own ovaries?’

  Bliss realised what she was doing. He took a few deep breaths, gathering his wits. The next time he spoke his voice was even, though he felt tremors running the length of his body. ‘Man or woman, whatever their rank, they’d better watch their back. I’ll have him or her for this, Pen. I’ll bloody well crush them.’

  ‘I understand your anger, Jimmy, but we were releasing most of this information later today anyway. Is it such a big deal if somebody beat us to it?’

  ‘Yes! It’s a bloody massive deal. It tells us we have a leak, which can never be a good thing. And yes, while most of the information was in the formal statement due to go out later, not all of it was, by any means. The intention was to rattle a few cages, not destroy them completely. I especially wanted a lid kept on the Ben Carlisle connection, because he’s not on anybody’s radar as yet.’

  ‘Other than Lois Lane’s.’ Chandler stared pointedly at him.

  Shaking his head, Bliss said, ‘Not a chance. Sandra wanted this story for herself. There’s not a snowball in hell’s chance of her turning it over to a rag like the Express.’

  ‘What about the assistant you mentioned?’

  ‘I don’t see it. If he sticks with Sandra, he gets a byline credit on her story. This way he gets bunged a few quid. Anyhow, there are details in this story that Bannister didn’t have. Remember, Harrison hasn’t officially been named yet – not until the Express got a hold of it. Bloody hell, Pen. The timing is awful, and I’m not going to let whoever is responsible get away with it.’

  ‘I’m with you all the way, boss. Just one thing?’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Is this a good time for me to tell you not to call me Pen?’

  ‘Penny?’ he said, turning his head towards her.

  ‘Yes, boss?’

  ‘Do bugger off.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  Twenty-Three

  Upon their return to Thorpe Wood, Bliss spotted a uniform standing in the doorway leading into the custody area. Her name was Swanson, and she’d been at the station so long she was considered part of the fixtures and fittings. Bliss told Chandler to go on without him. He caught the uniform’s attention and jerked his head, indicating he wanted a chat.

  ‘What can I do for you, Inspector Bliss?’ she asked. About his age, Swanson was thick-set and looked as if she could still handle herself if any of the more bullish idiots in custody decided to take out their aggression on her. She held a blue belt in judo, and until recently had taken part in national police tournaments.

  ‘I just wondered if you’d had any word on Grealish recently?’ Poor health had forced the long-serving sergeant to retire, and although he and Bliss had never exactly struck up a friendship, each had earned the other’s respect. The look in Swanson’s eyes told Bliss it wasn’t good news.

  ‘You heard he’d gone out to Cyprus to stay with his daughter?’

  ‘Yeah. Inspector Kaplan told me.’

  Swanson grimaced. ‘Poor sod only lasted three weeks. Went in his sleep, at least.’

  ‘Ah, shit. I never heard about a collection or anything.’

  ‘He never wanted one. His daughter said he thought everybody here ought to keep their hard-earned money and raise a glass to him at some point.’

  ‘He could be a bit of an arse at times, but I’ll raise more than one.’

  ‘You can be a bit of arse at times yourself, but you’re welcome to raise them with me later if you like.’ She must have caught the change in his expression, because she laughed and shook her head. ‘No, I’m not trying to pull. A few of us are going for a couple after work, and rest assured my husband will be joining us.’

  Bliss grinned. ‘Shame – thought I was in there! If I get done early I might see you there. The Woodman?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Bliss trudged up the stairs. He and Grealish had clashed on more than one occasion, but had finally reached a point where they could tolerate each other. He’d wished the man a long and happy retirement, knowing it was unlikely but having no idea it wo
uld be cut quite so short. He didn’t know how to feel, other than sympathetic for Grealish’s family. He was surprised there had been no mention of it around the station, but maybe that’s how it was. You walked away with people’s best wishes ringing in your ears, and a couple of weeks later you were forgotten about. His mind was drawn to the labrador lying beneath his porch, and he wondered why he wasn’t able to shake it off.

  Before he made it into the squad room, Bliss’s mobile went off and he was summoned to a senior leadership meeting, during which he brought Detective Superintendent Fletcher and DCI Warburton up to speed on what was now officially known as Operation Limestone; a handful of wags around the squad room were already calling it ‘Tombstone’. After the short meeting was over, Fletcher asked him to stay behind. He eyed her warily, trying to recall if he had done anything recently to warrant a bollocking.

  Marion Fletcher wore one of her better suits: a navy-blue skirt and jacket, with a fine pinstripe. Her blouse was shiny – silk, he thought. Always smart and neat, today she had taken greater care with her appearance; makeup applied with a deft touch, hair distressed to perfection. Bliss wondered if the rumours about her were true. She cleared her throat before speaking, hands placed flat on the desk in front of her.

  ‘I won’t keep you from your duties too much longer, Inspector. And it’s nothing to concern yourself about. All I wanted to know was how you were coping with the JTFO. Unofficially.’

  ‘Fine, ma’am – on or off the record. Unless you’ve heard otherwise.’

  ‘Only positive things so far. And how would you say your team are shaping up?’

  ‘Very well. I’ve always considered myself lucky to have strong detectives at the rank of sergeant. DC Hunt has no real desire to move on or up, content with the job he does and the level of responsibility that comes with it – every unit needs somebody like that. Gratton is destined for greater things, I’d say. And Gul Ansari will push hard for sergeant any time soon.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. And those fine sergeants you mention?’

  ‘Out of Bishop and Chandler, Bish is the one I fear losing most. By the way, he’s still feeling the strain and I’m giving him a couple of weeks off after this case. His ambition is what bothers me, though. Penny is happy with her lot, no yearning there to step up. I’d say Bish is caught between wanting DI and needing the extra money that would come with a promotion, and the desire to remain where he is in the team, doing the job he loves.’

  ‘I can’t say I blame him. It’s not always a straightforward decision to make. He has a family and he wants to do what’s right for them. Equally, he still has a long career ahead of him; he must look to the future and wonder if he can possibly enjoy any of it if he moves up through the ranks.’

  ‘I also think he doesn’t want to let the rest of us down by moving on. He may be thinking of sticking with it until Gul is ready to make her first step up.’

  ‘Losing Mia left a big hole in the team, didn’t it?’

  DS Mia Short had been gunned down on duty, losing her life and that of the baby she carried inside her. ‘She was small, but she was mighty,’ Bliss said wistfully. ‘People say I’m a DCI in all but name, stuck in a DI’s role, but Mia was a DI trapped as a DS and about to emerge from that stage of her career. Nobody is irreplaceable, ma’am, but Mia came pretty damn close.’

  Fletcher looked up. ‘You think you’re not irreplaceable, Jimmy?’

  Her use of his given name created a spark of alarm inside Bliss’s head; he wondered where this conversation was going. ‘I know I’m not,’ he replied. ‘Let’s be straight, I’m no example to my team. Not in today’s modern police service, at least. I’d love to think of somebody from my squad stepping into my shoes when I finally quit, but we both know the brass will take the opportunity to bring in a completely different kind of broom.’

  ‘I can’t speak for others, but that would not be my choice.’ She gave herself a moment to filter what she wanted to say. ‘Jimmy, at times you’ve tested even my patience, but nobody can argue with your intent. Nor your results. Major Crimes will be all the poorer for you not leading it.’

  Bliss immediately pictured himself as an old hound lying beneath a porch, having perhaps been put out to pasture ahead of his time, no longer feeling attached to anyone or anything. His wrinkled, tired, and sagging face permanently forlorn. ‘Have you heard something, ma’am?’ he asked. ‘Am I on my way out and you’re trying to tell me without saying the words?’

  Fletcher frowned, shaking her head abruptly. ‘No, not at all. Nothing of the kind, Jimmy. Stop being so bloody paranoid. But having brought it up, when do you see yourself bowing out?’

  Bliss didn’t have to think about it. ‘With the change in retirement rules, I have just under seven years before I have to step away. If my health holds up, I intend using up every single year of my time right here.’

  ‘You’ll end up as old and crusty as the cheese sandwiches in the canteen.’

  ‘I’d rather be crusty than stale, ma’am. If that day comes, believe me – nobody will have to push me towards the exit door.’

  ‘Have you thought about what you’ll do afterwards?’

  ‘Not as such. Wiltshire interests me. As a place to retire to, I mean.’ Bliss paused, a question perched on his tongue. He decided to go for it. ‘Permission to speak freely, ma’am?’

  Fletcher raised an eyebrow. ‘Since when did you feel the need to ask, Inspector?’

  ‘Since it became personal.’

  ‘Please, go ahead.’

  ‘Ma’am, your desire to move on has not escaped our attention. Onwards and upwards, to be precise. So, given where this conversation has led us, I have to say you deserve it. Chief Super will be an excellent fit for you, no matter where you land. When the post came up for grabs here recently, we were hoping you would go for it. I will be disappointed, of course, because I’ve come to rely on your sound judgement and common sense. And I do worry about the cohesion of the place with you gone.’

  The glimmer in her eye told Bliss he was right. The DSI was considering moving on, and was keenly aware of the impact her leaving would have on the team. ‘No matter what happens to me, Jimmy, your new Chief Super will remain in position. That’s where our leadership stems from.’

  ‘With respect, ma’am, we both know that’s not true. It may be early days, but he comes across as a results man. It’s you who decides how we achieve them; you are the one DCI Edwards and Warburton look to for guidance. So what I want to mention is this: if you have a say in who replaces you, please do your best to make it somebody as much like you as possible.’

  Fletcher regarded him curiously. ‘That almost sounded like a compliment, Inspector.’

  ‘It was meant to, ma’am.’

  After a moment, she continued. ‘I can’t deny it, Jimmy. I am evaluating my position. I’m meeting with the Chief Super and Assistant Chief Constable later today, to examine my options. Clearly the jungle drums have been beating, but all I can say right now is that I haven’t made up my mind about anything. In some ways, I’m like DS Bishop: caught between two schools of thought. The one thing I won’t do is make a hasty decision. As for who takes my place, while I have no control over such matters, I will of course do my best to ensure this section gets the best DSI possible.’

  A sharp rap on the door prevented Bliss from taking the conversation any further. Without pause, the new Detective Chief Superintendent, Sam Feeley, entered the room. He nodded at Fletcher. ‘Sorry for barging in like this,’ he said, his rich Lancastrian voice low but clear. ‘I know we’re due to meet later over at Hinchingbrooke, but I was in the area and I wanted a word with your Inspector here.’

  Bliss was immediately concerned, wondering if Feeley had overheard any part of his conversation with Fletcher. He risked a sidelong glance at her, and her puzzled frown increased his anxiety; a Chief Superintendent never merely passe
d by an area’s primary station.

  The new man remained on his feet, but moved across to stand by Fletcher’s desk, facing Bliss. Small in stature and ineffectual-looking, Feeley came with a reputation for commanding respect by being firm and forthright. This was the first time Bliss had laid eyes on him. In his early fifties, his hair appeared unnaturally dark, and his frameless spectacles were virtually invisible. Rumour had him down as a person not to be taken lightly based on first appearances.

  ‘Unfortunate turn of events, this Express article,’ Feeley said. He kept his hands behind his back, and Bliss wondered if it was to stop him gesticulating as he spoke. ‘I don’t suppose you happen to know who this “well-placed source” is, do you, Inspector Bliss?’

  ‘Not yet, sir. I’ve not long been back in the office, so I haven’t had time to discuss it with my team.’

  ‘You think that wise? Discussing it with your team, I mean. After all, this unnamed source could well be one of them.’

  Bliss bit down on his instinctive retort and settled for a glare. ‘With respect, sir, what you’re suggesting is not possible. I know my team, and talking to the press is not a game any of them play.’

  ‘I imagine all bosses say similar things about their own team, Bliss. But some of them have to be wrong.’

  ‘Well, it’s not me. I can’t vouch for the teams down in London or at Gablecross, but I can and will speak up for our own people. There is no way they shared this information with a reporter.’

  Feeley pursed his lips. ‘Time will tell, I imagine. And speaking of sharing information, I wanted to ask you about that, too. As you might imagine, Inspector, a major case like this, involving a joint task force between three large areas, requires a great deal of oversight. As such, I have my own people going over the case file updates and compiling reports for my attention. We wouldn’t want anything falling through the cracks, am I right?’

  Bliss kept his breathing in check, trying to work out where this was headed. ‘I would agree, sir. It’s the exact same principle we always work to.’