by Ted Tayler
The sex was incredible; as much of it as she could remember, and Zara lost the inhibitions she had with Toby. Everything was always tender and comfortable with her best friend as it had been since that first night when he discovered how innocent she was. But Idris got the shock of his life! Zara took the lead and did things she never dared do with Toby. Zara imagined that he had a big grin on that plain round face of his for days as he tended to his new flock over the Severn Bridge.
She had crept out of his flat at eight o’clock and found her way home to Mary Trueman’s. She never saw or heard from Idris again. Mary hadn’t even asked where she’d been. Mary just wanted to know if she had seen Bob in the garden picking the beans for dinner. Zara had been so hung-over it barely registered. Over the months, Mary’s grasp on reality slackened and Phil and Erica agreed, in the end, it was better for her to be in a care home. Since then Zara had stayed here alone in Mary’s old house.
She took her patched-up evening meal through to the lounge. She encouraged Napoleon and Josephine to budge up so she could, at least, share the sofa. Then decided there wasn’t much point leaving what remained in the bottle. She topped up her glass again.
Zara tried to watch something on the television, but nothing suited the mood she was in, so she switched it off and let her mind wander. The wine took firm control now. She giggled as she remembered going to work the Monday after Idris had left. Phil Hounsell and the team were picking up the threads of yet another domestic abuse case and she had sat across the table from him.
There was always going to be a connection between them. The rest of the team knew their history. Zara couldn’t help looking at her boss that morning and wondering what he would think of how she had behaved last night? Her relationship with Toby Drysdale was common knowledge. So Phil was well aware of the innocent young girl who sat on the bed next to him in that Manchester hotel had disappeared long ago. She wasn’t so innocent now! Just miserable; the job and the people you work with do that to you as the years’ tick past.
In the first few months at Portishead, there had been several gut-wrenching cases to handle. Her promotion to DI following soon after a series of successful prosecutions based on the efforts of her and her team. Zara knew it had been worth the hours they had put in for the poor women and children involved. Sometimes though she wanted to curl up in a ball, have a good cry, and shut the world out.
Zara needed to find someone she could come home to every night and love unreservedly and be loved in return. Not Toby, bless him; he was her best friend, but he wasn’t the one. If only Idris had been at Durham! If her sexual awakening had occurred well before she met Phil Hounsell, then she would have ripped that towel from his body in Manchester and feasted on him there and then; given him a night to remember. Things might have been so different.
God, she was pathetic! She slammed the empty bottle into the recycle bin, stacked her dirty crockery in the sink, and went to bed. She crawled under the duvet, curled up in a ball, and had a good cry.
CHAPTER 6
Monday, November 1st, 2010
Phil Hounsell looked up from the report he was studying.
“Good morning, Zara. Did you have a good weekend?”
“Hello, Phil, not too bad; I did some clothes shopping and Toby and I went to the cinema on Saturday night.”
“What did you watch? Any good?”
“It was ‘Never Let Me Go’; Toby has a thing for Keira Knightley.”
“I guess the rest of the time you did the same as Erica and me; eat, drink and sleep. At least, for as long as the kids allowed us.”
Zara nodded. When the pressure was on, as it had been ever since she set foot here at Portishead, then any time off became precious. Translated that meant you were so mentally tired that precious little got done.
When the rest of the team had gathered, Phil updated their latest case.
“This is our latest victim,” he began, “Laura Barrie is twenty-three years old. The attack began at just after two in the morning last Sunday. Laura and her partner Troy Green, thirty-eight, had returned home from a nightclub in Bristol. An argument broke out on the pavement outside their apartment. He accused his girlfriend of making eye contact with several young men at the club. She denied it; he let his fists continue the discussion. As you can see from these photographs, Green launched a ferocious attack on Laura. She was left with a severely swollen face, chipped teeth, clumps of her hair pulled from her scalp, cuts, bruises, and scratches on her body. Witnesses from the block of flats and passers-by tried to intervene but Green threatened them with violence. Throughout the attack, Laura Barrie begged her partner to stop.”
“This is her statement to the officers who attended,” Phil continued.” I was on the floor, I begged Troy to stop but he just laughed. I was confused. I didn’t really know what was happening. I thought he was going to kill me. Green then dragged her up from the pavement and attempted to get her inside the block of flats to their apartment. Detective Constable Isaac Haynes noted that on arrival Laura was seriously injured and terrified for her life. The quick actions of the members of the public, who contacted us, helped save her. Laura had gone to the hospital and received treatment. When she was fit enough, they interviewed her. At first, she was reluctant to speak out; as she feared reprisals. DC Haynes and a female colleague who specialises in domestic violence cases encouraged her to make a statement and in due course, give testimony against Green in court. The reassurances from the officers certainly helped to sway this girl around to doing the right thing. What worked in our favour too, was that Ms Barrie found out a few things about her partner.”
“This is what she has since added to her first statement,” Phil concluded, “I found out he did it before to other women. They never went to the police. They were too frightened of what he would do to them. This is one brave young lady. We need to make sure she gets the support she needs until the trial.”
“What are we looking at here Sir?” asked one of the Detective Sergeants on the team, Angela Chambers.
“Well, intent to cause grievous bodily harm for a start. If we could persuade other victims to come forward, there might be a stronger case. I don’t think there’ll be much of a problem getting a conviction unless the CPS and the courts screw up matters. Think of a number between five and seven and that should be a reasonable sentence to expect.”
Zara Wheeler leant back in her chair.
“Thoughts Inspector?” asked Phil Hounsell, conscious that this mannerism was usually indicative of a deep and meaningful insight to be shared with the team.
“Just a few, Sir; I’ve only been here at Portishead for a short time, but we seem to have more than our fair share of this type of attack don’t we? Not every one of them turns out as well as this one seems to have done. For us at least, not poor Laura. In September, we had Carole Beech, who had separated not long before from Levi Beech, the father of her six-year-old daughter Daisy. Carole had been in an abusive relationship for five years. Beech reacted by snatching Daisy from school and threatened to kill her if Carole didn’t go back to him. Carole only got her back after two weeks when the courts forced Beech to give custody. They detailed his restricted access to his daughter, but he still continued to press Carole for a total reconciliation. He couldn’t accept that she didn’t want to be with him anymore. Carole Beech was due in court to ask for a permanent residency order on September 15th, which would make sure that Daisy lived with her. Levi Beech entered the family home the evening before and stabbed both Carole and Daisy in the heart. Her sister found the bodies when she arrived at nine o’clock the next morning, to drive them into Bristol.”
Zara looked at her hands folded in her lap and added.
“I talked to her sister Mandy last week.”
Phil looked up. Everyone around the table was familiar with the case. It had been one of the most harrowing scenes those attending officers would ever face. The mood around the office had been sombre for days.
“Did some
thing prompt that meeting Zara? Beech is on remand awaiting trial; everything is squared away isn’t it? I thought that was put to bed weeks ago.”
“I followed up on my own time Sir. Her sister was devastated by the deaths. I promised to keep in touch. Mandy could never understand why Carole was never assessed as high risk even though the neighbourhood police were called out time and time again because of Beech’s volatile behaviour. On seventeen occasions, over five years he had been reported to the police. Concerned neighbours called to report suspected assaults when Carole was seen with cuts and bruises. They reported late-night disturbances and shouting and screaming from both Carole and the daughter. That Beech carried a weapon was common knowledge on the estate. She reckons the authorities failed her.”
“We have to be careful not to get too involved Zara,” her boss said gently. “It will mess with your head if you get too close.”
“I know that Sir, but in a few areas we cover, no systems exist for sharing information on women and children at risk; in those areas that have systems they repeatedly fail. We recorded those seventeen reported incidents in the end, but none of the other related services knew of the dangerous escalation in violence. No doubt you can guess why? Cutbacks have led to a massive backlog of inputting data. Several incidents have been added to our records since Carole and Daisy died.”
“Let’s park this, for now, Zara.” said Phil, “this is a massive subject. I admit it warrants our attention, but we need to concentrate on the cases we have in front of us today. I think you and I should consider the bigger picture at another time. If we need to co-opt anyone from other agencies, then we can do so. Right then, let’s switch our attention to the ram-raid attacks on the jewellers along the M5 this past month. Where are we on that?”
Zara remained seated; she looked at the floor. The ghosts of Carole and Daisy Beech drifted across the carpet. She needed to focus. They did have successes. They did get criminals banged up now and then. It seemed they dealt with a never-ending stream of cases similar to the Beeches. If only it was confined to dysfunctional British families, they might get on top of things. The government seemed powerless to stop the flood of Europeans, Africans, and Asians arriving in the region. That tsunami never showed any sign of stopping; the problems mounted daily. She knew how that little Dutch boy must have felt with his finger in the dyke.
The day’s work ground to a halt, with no real progress being made and the team began to leave the office. Zara stared out of her window as her colleagues left on foot or from the car park. They would scatter across the Avon and Somerset region to rejoin friends and families for a few hours respite.
“Penny for them, Zara?” said Phil, as he stood by her office door, leaning against the door frame.
“Sorry Phil,” she replied, “it’s been a bad day. I was out of order this morning.”
“You need a holiday. Take a break and recharge the batteries. This domestic violence stuff can get to you. Look, Erica and I would love to have you over for dinner one night. The kids love to see you, you know that. Maybe we could fix something up for this weekend?”
“I’m seeing Toby,” Zara said, then added, “look there’s nothing serious with me and Toby. We’re not moving in together or anything. I don’t want to let him down. We’re just going to the rugby. Then out for a beer.”
“Okay, point taken; look, we’re both grateful for you staying at Mary’s place. It was terrific for the two of you until her dementia took hold. You were our babysitter at the end of a phone too which was great. I’m just concerned that you’re there alone a lot these days.”
“I’m fine; I’ve never felt unsafe there. It’s a lovely, quiet spot.”
“Too quiet perhaps; it’s not your security that’s the worry. You’re a young, single woman and you should be amongst people more. Erica and I wouldn’t be upset if you moved into a flat in the centre of Bath or Bristol, even out here on the coast in Portishead. It might do you good to have company on your doorstep, to help take your mind off what you’re dealing with here every day.”
“I’d prefer to stay where I am for now Phil,” said Zara firmly, “the cats and I are happy enough where we are. There are several days holiday owed me, though, and you’re right. I need a break. Perhaps I’ll check something out online tonight when I get home. Can we get together tomorrow to go through my thoughts that I bored you with this morning?”
“Yes, miss,” said Phil, grinning.
Why do I let him do that, Zara thought. He chews me out in front of my colleagues when I go off on a tangent. One minute he tells me he’s concerned for my welfare like a father to a wayward daughter. The next he makes my heart flip with a daft comment and a smile.
They left the car park in convoy and Zara followed Phil back to Bath. She flashed her lights at the back of his Lexus as she turned off towards home. He waved a casual hand and was swallowed up by the traffic.
“Seven nights in Tenerife and I fly from Bristol next Tuesday,” said Zara, poking her head around Phil Hounsell’s door the next morning.
“Happy days,” said Phil. “I wish I was coming with you.”
Zara blushed and pushed her glasses up her nose. Why did she still do that?
“How’s your timetable looking today Sir?” she asked, changing the subject to avoid dreaming of lying on a beach next to her boss.
“Let’s meet up for lunch and then carry on our chat into the early afternoon. I need to be away for three o’clock to meet the Assistant Chief Constable; other than that I’m yours after twelve noon.”
Zara was sure it was deliberate; him teasing her that way. He was in one of the happiest, strongest relationships she had come across in the force. So many marriages fell by the wayside, because of the nature of the work, the unsociable hours, and the stress. Yet Phil and Erica’s marriage had remained rock solid despite everything.
At noon, they joined up in the canteen and found a quiet corner. As they picked at their food, Zara unloaded her thoughts on her boss. Phil realised that Zara had been holding on to a heavy burden for a long while. Letting it out would help her regroup. To find her way back to being the sharp, intelligent, go-getter he had uncovered at Durham.
Phil listened intently and marvelled at the grasp that Zara had of the topic. When he had been in RUH recovering from his ordeal, they had been holding hands when Erica arrived. He had promised Zara that he would make sure they continued to work together. What was it about this quiet, demure little thing that made him so protective? Zara was still only seven stones wringing wet just as she had been the first day he clapped eyes on her. She and Toby had obviously done the deed; that was plain to see on their faces the Monday morning they returned to work even if they imagined they had got away with it. He wasn’t a copper for nothing.
The rumour mill even offered the possibility of a brief fling with Idris Williams too, but Phil didn’t buy into that. It sounded a step too far for Mouse. Phil suddenly recalled their conversation in the hospital. He’d forgotten that. What with being in London for a while, then Portishead; he hadn’t been back to Manvers Street where the lads in the office dubbed him Cat that day because of his giant leap to grab Bailey.
Cat and Mouse had been his and Zara’s moniker when they worked together. Somewhere deep inside did he always see them joined at the hip?
CHAPTER 7
Zara played with her food. She could tell that her boss was distracted. He had asked her what she thought the problems were with the current system for assessing risk. She told him that those people who assessed risk generally had a poor understanding of the factors that contributed to an increased risk. It had always been hard to do accurately and relied to a large extent on the subjective judgement of people who weren’t domestic abuse specialists.
As he stopped daydreaming and came back to her, Zara wiped her mouth with her napkin, sipped at her coffee, and tried again.
“Did you hear of the DASH form that they introduced last year?”
“Naturally. A
lthough it was rushed through before we had things in place to carry it out. There was no time to organise training. So the people at the sharp end didn’t know how to get the best from it. Or even understand what the form told them. But, hey it’s better than what we had before. Which was nothing.”
“The aim of DASH was to get consistency in the identification of risk,” said Zara. “The questions map certain risk triggers. Pregnancy; conflict over access to children, the victim finding the bottle to walk away; these are flashpoints which can cause an abuser to increase the frequency and severity of abuse. A properly completed form will tell us if a woman is in danger.”
“Often the woman withholds pertinent information, though,” added Phil. “they’re scared of losing their kids, with social services hovering.”
“If Carole Beech had been referred to agencies for a protection plan; things might have turned out differently.”
“You don’t have to convince me Zara; I know how damaging domestic abuse is across many areas. Stack up the number of deaths. Add on the estimated fifteen billion pounds cost to the UK economy. Then factor in that a quarter of our violent crime statistics are domestics; it’s a nightmare. God knows how many kids are living in abusive households.”
“Consistency of decision-making is vital,” said Zara. “If we get the risk assessment right and refer the high-risk people, we stand a chance of reducing abuse. I’d want us to be training our front line officers to be more proactive than reactive.”
Phil nodded but sighed.
“Our officers are expected to be a jack-of-all-trades during periods of austerity such as these. Do you know what you get if you’re Jack? You’re a master of none. It’s hard to find the time and resources. Cast your mind back to what you said regarding the complaints records; it was weeks in arrears. We’d attended the funerals for Carole and Daisy Beech before the computer records even caught up to show the hassle that Levi caused them.”