[Knight and Culverhouse 09] - In Plain Sight

by Adam Croft

  Chrissie let out a full belly laugh. ‘I wondered how long it was going to take you to ask that. I could see the look on your face when Emily mentioned it god-knows how long ago.’

  Jack took the ribbing like a gentleman, then cocked his head. ‘And?’

  ‘And it’d be unprofessional of me to confirm or deny those rumours.’

  ‘I looked her up on the school website. She’s a bit of a sort, ain’t she? Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if the caretaker had fancied a piece.’

  ‘Like I said to Emily, it was a vicious rumour. These things tend to fly around in high schools.’

  ‘Yeah, a bit like STDs.’

  Chrissie chuckled. ‘They’re called STIs now, actually.’

  ‘Who caught them?’

  ‘The STIs?’

  ‘No, Miss Thompson and the caretaker.’

  Chrissie opened her mouth to answer the question, then stopped herself.

  ‘Got you!’ Jack said. ‘You were about to tell me.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘You were. Don’t forget it’s my job to spot people who are lying to me.’

  ‘And it’s my job to help children grow up,’ Chrissie replied, winking.

  ‘Alright,’ Jack said, raising his hand in a mock scout’s salute. ‘I promise I won’t tell anyone about Miss Thompson shagging the caretaker.’

  Chrissie smiled and shook her head, before taking a mouthful of wine.

  ‘And what about you?’ Jack asked.

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘Have you ever had any romantic liaisons with a co-worker? Either in the stationery store or not.’

  ‘Definitely not. Very cramped in there,’ she replied, smirking.

  ‘But otherwise?’

  ‘It would be highly inappropriate for a headteacher to be romantically or otherwise involved with a teacher at the school,’ she said, with a heavy emphasis on her job title.

  Jack thought about this for a moment. ‘So not while you’ve been headteacher, then?’

  ‘Like I said, that would be highly inappropriate.’

  ‘But before you became head?’

  ‘I plead the fifth, Detective Chief Inspector.’

  ‘You can’t. We’re not in America. Come on. Spill.’

  Chrissie shrugged coyly. ‘I’ve been in the job a long time. Never married. Plenty of male colleagues. We’re around each other for ten hours a day. You know how it is.’

  ‘I promise you I don’t. You haven’t met my colleagues,’ Jack replied, visions of a sweating, naked Steve Wing running through his mind.

  ‘There might have been one or two brief flings. Let’s leave it at that.’

  Jack could see from the look on Chrissie’s face that she wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable with the conversation. If anything, she seemed to enjoy teasing him.

  ‘Alright. I’ll get you drunk later and ask you again.’

  ‘Ask me all you like, Detective Chief Inspector. A lady never kisses and tells. What about you?’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘Have you never been tempted to cop off with someone at work? Pardon the pun.’

  The vision of Steve returned. ‘No. Not in a million years.’

  ‘So what’s your dirty secret then?’

  ‘I don’t have one.’

  ‘Oh, come on. I’ve told you mine.’

  ‘No you haven’t. You fluttered your eyelashes a bit and told me you didn’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Alright. Three.’

  ‘Three?’

  ‘Three colleagues. Your turn.’

  Jack looked at her for a few moments. The way in which she’d casually revealed that information was both unexpected and strangely erotic.

  He thought for a second or two, trying to work out if he could come back with something equally playful, but he couldn’t. In any case, there was something he needed to tell Chrissie and this seemed like a better time than any.

  As he opened his mouth to tell her, he decided against it. At some stage she’d have a right to know he wasn’t actually divorced, and that his wife had proven almost impossible to track down. He wanted to tell her. But at the same time he knew he couldn’t risk wrecking what he and Chrissie had. She was the first woman who’d taken any interest in him in years. Although he knew she’d likely be absolutely fine with the situation, he wasn’t going to take any risks. In any case, things were still fairly casual between them and it wasn’t as if they were lining up their own white wedding any time soon.

  ‘I almost got a criminal record when I was younger,’ he replied. ‘I got caught nicking sweets from the local corner shop. Twice.’

  ‘Twice? Wow. A proper little gangster, weren’t you?’ Chrissie said, laughing.

  ‘You laugh, but I was fifteen. First time they let me go, second time the owner marched me down to the police station. Fortunately they couldn’t be arsed with the paperwork, but I was lucky.’

  ‘Would it have stopped you going into the police force?’

  ‘To be honest, I don’t know. I kind of put it behind me after it happened. These days I think you’re stuffed if you’ve ever been given a sentence for anything, or cautioned in the last five years. I tend to try and avoid the recruitment side of things though, so I’m a bit rusty. Too many spotty kids for my liking.’

  ‘You were one once.’

  ‘Yeah. I was. And I got knocked into shape pretty bloody quickly.’

  Jack thought briefly about his early days in the police force. He’d certainly been a different officer to the one he was now. He’d been wetter behind the ears, full of promise and optimism. It was strange how the police force managed to squash that out of everyone pretty quickly, even back then.

  ‘Listen,’ he said, a combination of reminiscing and a bottle of wine leading him to other thoughts. ‘Why don’t you come over for dinner one night with me and Emily?’

  Chrissie looked at him for a moment. ‘Honestly? Will she be okay with that? I mean, I know she’s doing a great job of pretending this isn’t happening, but wouldn’t that be a bit much for her?’

  Jack shrugged. ‘She’ll have to deal with it, won’t she? I didn’t know you were her headteacher. And anyway, she’ll be out of school within a year or so.’

  ‘I was kind of hoping she’d stay on for sixth form.’

  ‘Me too, but I’ve learned not to try and predict anything Emily’s going to do.’ His mind’s eye wandered to the cuts he’d seen on his daughter’s forearms. The ones he’d chosen to ignore.

  Chrissie looked at him and smiled. ‘Alright then. I’d like that.’

  23

  Jack felt fortunate that he was due to start work later than usual that morning. One bottle of wine had turned into two, and then three. He didn’t often get hangovers, but his body was certainly doing its best to help him regret the previous night’s excesses.

  He squeezed his eyes hard shut and stretched the muscles in his face as he tried to get the blood flowing to his head, hoping that might go some way to relieving the pounding headache, then got up and sauntered across the landing towards the bathroom.

  As he opened the door, the smell of vomit hit him like a tonne of bricks. It was enough to make him feel queasy at the best of times, but his delicate stomach almost lost control as the sharp, acrid smell lodged itself in his lungs.

  Holding his breath, he leaned across and opened the window, swinging it open on its hinges before leaving the bathroom and closing the door. It seemed he hadn’t been the only one drinking to excess last night.

  He’d often wondered if Emily had been experimenting with drink and drugs while she was out with friends, but he knew from his job that there really was no use in worrying about it. The more pressure parents put on their kids, the more likely they were to rebel. They’d all experiment at some point, and all he could do was make sure she was relatively safe.

  He got dressed, then went downstairs for breakfast. He figured he’d use the downstairs loo for now. Brushing his teeth could w
ait until the smell had dissipated upstairs.

  When he reached the kitchen, Emily was already sitting at the table in her dressing gown, her hair looking like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards, eyes down and concentration entirely on whatever social media website she was browsing on her phone.

  ‘Morning,’ he said, alarmed at how gruff his own voice sounded — even by his own standards.

  ‘Hi,’ came the delicate reply.

  ‘Good night last night?’ he said, trying not to sound too cocky for fear of being questioned about his own alcohol consumption.

  ‘Yeah, was okay.’

  ‘What time did you get in?’

  Emily shrugged, barely perceptibly. ‘Dunno. Elevenish.’

  Jack knew that wasn’t true, as he was still up at ten to midnight himself. He knew when to pick his battles, though, and simply nodded.

  ‘I remember when I was about your age, I went out with some mates and we drank whisky in the park. Seemed like a great idea at the time, but when I got up to go home I realised I could barely walk,’ he said, chuckling. ‘For some reason I was convinced I couldn’t chuck up in the street somewhere. God knows why. So I somehow managed to get all the way home. Held onto my stomach that whole way, then opened the door and chucked up in my dad’s shoes.’

  He looked over at Emily, who was still buried in her phone and not listening to a word he was saying.

  ‘Made me laugh, anyway,’ he said. ‘More than can be said for my old dad.’

  ‘Yeah,’ came the reply from Emily, whose brain had clearly told her she needed to add something to the conversation without actually taking any notice of what had been said.

  ‘I was speaking to Chrissie last night about having dinner together at some point. The three of us,’ he said. ‘What do you reckon?’

  ‘Yeah, that’d be good.’

  ‘You think? You alright with that?’ he asked, still not convinced she was listening to him.

  ‘Yeah, fine.’

  ‘Em? What’s up?’

  At the sound of her name, she finally looked up, her eyes slightly bloodshot and clearly tired. ‘Nothing. I said it’s fine. Just one condition, though.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I get to choose where we go. You’ll only choose that shitty Italian dungeon.’ She turned back to her phone, her thumbs swiftly tapping away at a text message of some sort.

  Jack hoped she wasn’t texting a boy. She was at the age where it was unavoidable, he knew, but he was also well aware of the sorts of lads that came from Mildenheath and knew a couple of the circles she’d moved in. He recalled her brief involvement with Ethan Turner, a lad Jack had discovered had a criminal record for violent behaviour, and whose family were well known to the police. He’d had a quiet word with Turner a couple of years ago and made it perfectly clear he wasn’t welcome around Emily. Fortunately, it seemed to have worked.

  ‘Nothing wrong with Alessandro’s. It wouldn’t have lasted forty-odd years otherwise.’

  ‘Yeah, well unfortunately the wallpaper’s lasted forty-odd years too. And the carpet.’

  ‘What are your plans for today then?’ he asked, keen to change the subject. ‘Having a lazy one?’

  ‘Just going to meet some friends. Probably see a film or something.’

  ‘Sounds good. Who’re you going with?’

  ‘You wouldn’t know them.’

  ‘Not if you don’t tell me about them, no.’

  ‘Not sure yet. Depends who can make it. Are you okay with me going out?’ she said, looking up at him again.

  Jack forced a smile. ‘Yeah. Course. No problem at all.’

  24

  It was a general rule in policing that if you thought things were going alright, the shit was about to hit the fan. There were many things it was unacceptable to say in a police station, and none was more taboo than ‘It’s a bit quiet today, isn’t it?’

  Although Jack hadn’t said as much, he’d dared to think it, and he was made to regret it the moment the Chief Constable, Charles Hawes, walked into his office.

  ‘Jack, have you got a couple of minutes? The Andrews woman is in and wants to go through a few things.’

  Their dislike of Penny Andrews, the county’s elected Police and Crime Commissioner, was mutual. Both disliked the idea of PCCs at the best of times, seeing they tended to be career politicians rather than people with any experience of policing. Penny Andrews wasn’t even from the local area; she’d spotted a relatively easy seat to win in a relatively conservative area and had coasted to victory at the recent election. The fact that just under fourteen percent of the electorate bothered to turn up to elect her said it all. That this was one of the highest PCC election turnouts in the country said even more about the failed system.

  It had always seemed barmy to mix policing and politics, but at least the PCC system didn’t try to hide it. Candidates stood on a party ticket, with their party name and logo emblazoned next to their own name on the ballot paper. Jack felt almost certain that Andrews would throw her hat into the ring to be the next Member of Parliament for the local constituency once the longstanding local MP decided he’d had enough.

  ‘If she’s on the warpath, it’ll take more than a couple of minutes,’ Jack said.

  Hawes shrugged. ‘She’s technically my boss.’

  ‘She’s technically a cunt.’

  ‘Be polite, Jack.’

  ‘That was polite.’

  ‘I’ll give you a minute to grab a coffee and some composure. Meet me up in my office. I’ll keep her quiet for a couple of minutes.’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ Jack mumbled, watching the Chief Constable leave.

  Regardless, he did as he was told and poured himself a quick cup of instant coffee from the machine in the office, wincing at the strong aroma of cat piss as he tried to think only of the caffeine content.

  Barely three minutes later, he was in Hawes’s office, telling himself he’d play the game and listen to what she had to say. He’d nod and smile and say all the right things, then get back to his real job and forget the woman even existed. That seemed to be the real purpose of Police and Crime Commissioners. A steal at eighty-five grand a year.

  ‘Thank you for joining us, Jack,’ Andrews said, declining to use his rank even though the pair weren’t altogether acquainted.

  ‘Pleasure, Penny,’ Jack replied, catching a glancing scowl from Hawes.

  ‘I just wanted to have a quick chat as, like all residents of the area, I’m concerned about the spate of robberies we’ve seen recently.’

  Jack held back from pointing out she’d only been a resident of the area for a matter of weeks. ‘Yes. That’s our priority case right now.’

  ‘And I presume it’s being treated with all the seriousness that a murder case would?’

  ‘It is a murder case,’ Jack replied. ‘So yes.’

  ‘Good. And how are you doing for resources? I know the team up at Milton House are more than happy to lend a hand if you’re short.’

  ‘We’re doing just fine. Making good progress.’

  Andrews nodded slowly. ‘You don’t need to worry about them interfering, you know. We all work together here. They want to catch the people responsible just as much as you do.’

  And claim all the credit for it, Jack thought. ‘I know. I’m sure they do. But we’re making excellent progress, as I say.’

  ‘Charles tells me you had someone in custody. Darren King, was it?’

  ‘Damian. He was released on bail earlier this morning.’

  ‘Do we think he was involved?’

  ‘Not at the moment. His alibi seems to match up. We’ll keep digging, though.’

  ‘Anyone else in your crosshairs?’

  Jack swallowed. Even though he didn’t have any desire to mention PC Theo Curwood, correct procedure would have prevented him from doing so — even to higher ranking officers or the PCC.

  He’d put the call in the previous evening before heading home to get chan
ged for his evening out with Chrissie. The whole process had been remarkably odd. They’d listened to the details of what he told them, repeated his statement back to him, then told him they’d take care of it from here and would get back to him in due course. It was now out of his hands, and there was no-one he could talk to about it apart from Wendy, who’d mentioned the concerns to him in the first place.

  ‘One or two,’ Jack said. ‘Investigations are ongoing. I can’t say any more about it at the moment.’

  ‘That’s rather convenient, isn’t it?’ Andrews said.

  ‘Not particularly. Frankly, I’d love to be able to tell you everything but operational procedures mean you’ll just have to trust me.’ He stood up and pushed his chair back. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me I’ve got a lot of work on, and we’re not getting any closer to catching them while I’m sitting in here chatting about it,’ he said, leaving the office before even waiting for a response.

  25

  Theo Curwood had started to develop a bit of a reputation for community policing, and he didn’t mind that one bit. Local business owners had come to rely on him as their point of contact with the police — something which was becoming more necessary every day after the recent spate of armed robberies in and around Mildenheath.

  Although the free local crime prevention surveys and advice had been on offer for quite some time, there had been a marked increase in the number of businesses taking the police up on it. It seemed that more and more local business owners were keen to protect themselves from what had happened to Ian Gumbert, not to mention Elsie Fogg.

  Local business networks were awash with rumours and scare stories, and the town’s Round Table group had recently approached Theo to come and speak to them at their next meeting in an attempt to try to combat the problem head-on. He’d been only too happy to oblige.

  That morning he’d been assigned to visit a local independent betting shop, the owner of which had requested the free crime prevention survey. It was easy work, if truth be told. He had colleagues who were out on the front line, getting beaten up and stabbed while trying to keep the public safe, so he really didn’t mind knocking around a few shops, telling people to lock their doors and keep an ear out for strange noises.