by Pete Adams
Thirty-One
Jack knew and greeted the Vice officers, ‘Peewee.’ Peewee was DCI Pete Girdlestone, a tall man, good looking, mid-forties, dark, you might be tempted to call him suave but there was a brutal edge. In the past Jack had called him many names, including brick corsets, but settled on Peewee, as did everyone else, of course.
Mandy shook Peewee’s hand, ‘It’s okay Jane, Peewee and I know each other,’ shook the other officer’s hand, ‘Chillyarse,’ she said. DI Dave Winterbottom was not one who could lump the nickname, given by Jack, but unfortunately for him he had to; there was barely concealed animosity. Jack’s defence, “If it is said in a Mexican accent, it has a cache, and Chillyarse should chill out,” did not help.
Chilly stepped across Jack to Mandy, shook her hand and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Mandy was shocked, and Jack held himself in check, recognising a ploy to wind him up.
‘Mandy, good to see you. We should get together and maybe investigate a social agenda?’
Mandy’s fires were stoked, ‘Superintendent, to you Chillyarse, and I’m very happy to investigate a social agenda, and when I have that agenda I will roll it up and shove it up your chilly fucking arse. Now, have a seat,’ a genteel smile that Jack recognised as definite trouble, as she directed Peewee and Chilly to the psychological chairs.
‘Sad news, Biscuit,’ Jack said, distracting Peewee, who was staring daggers at Chillyarse, which could not possibly compete with Mandy’s refined, shark infested, look. Chillyarse had slicked back thinning hair on a turnip face, a seedy large frame and a persona that made your skin crawl, wearing a tired suit, brought out for this meeting Jack imagined; vice generally dressed casual. Jack knew Chilly was married, but had never met his wife, had kids apparently; no accounting for tastes, and again he marvelled at the stomachs of women.
‘Chillyarse,’ Jack said in a Mexican accent that only Jo-Jums did better, ‘wife and kids, underlay?’ Mandy chuckled and eased back in her chair, she liked his Italian accent.
‘Divorced, why I thought Mandy might like my company out-on-the-town,’ Chilly replied.
‘Out on your ear, Chillyarse,’ a passable Mexican accent from Mandy.
With placatory hand gestures, Peewee defused the escalating steam generation, aware there was no Martin to calm Jack. ‘Sorry about Martin. You we all hate, but Martin’s a lovely dog, how’s he doing?’
‘Thanks, Peewee, he’s recovering. There’ll be a ceremony soon to appoint him official Police Dog. Mandy, Peewee can come, can’t he?’
‘Absolutely, I’ll send you an invitation etched on a bone,’ and Mandy gave Jack the dangerous syrupy look.
‘I look forward to that, now what do you want from us? We did think we might take the investigation, but Paolo said it was yours.’ Peewee was relaxing, ‘Paolo’s guys picked up Biscuit’s office computer, Chilly went to get his home one and you’d already collected it.’
‘First rule of comedy Spike,’ Jack said. One of Jack’s more obscure phrases that Mandy thought meant naturellament. She also thought he’s handling this well and would let him run with it. ‘Not much on it, porn of course, bet you got a lot on yours, Chilly.’
Mandy thought too soon, and jolted a reply, ‘We wanted to chat through the usual, what he was working on, did he come up with anything might cause someone to want to kill him?’
Chilly artificially calmed, ‘We deal with serious stuff.’
‘Anything significant?’ Mandy chipped, ‘had to be pretty substantial. We were wondering if he discussed it, after all, it’s what I would do, you Jane?’
‘Absolutely,’ Jack replied, knowing Mandy would be looking to see if his nose grew, ‘did he talk to you Chilly?’
Chilly leaned, riled, ‘Bit of a loner, you knew him, Jane?’
Finally Chilly had gotten around to using Jack’s nickname, something not quite right here Mandy thought, he’s nervous, and Jack knew Biscuit?
‘Was he Chilly? I had a number of chats about his work, some interesting correlations. Why I suggested he come to CP,’ Jack smarmed.
‘Corra what?’ Chilly demonstrated his general ignorance, and compensating, used aggression instead of acknowledging a failing.
Jack pushed, ‘Some interesting links with what we have going, is what I meant, Chilly, we have a special team set up.’ Jack allowed his head to convey a relaxed, confident attitude, ‘Frankie, you know, and she’s teamed up with Confucius, whom I’m sure you’ve all heard of, down from the Met to plug some juice into the computers, and getting brilliant feedback, which, I might add, is why we wanted you to come in, Chilly.’
Mandy knew Jack’s nose would grow any minute and the game would be up.
‘What d'you mean, "you wanted me in"?’ Chilly rasped.
‘You’ve heard of Confucius, and her work at the Met?’
‘Well, yeah, so what?’
Got him, Jack thought. Peewee was interested, sat upright, flicked a glance to Mandy. She responded with a tip of the nose; now she knew how to do it, Jack thought, and not coitus interruptus, Jack thought, not even had any coit to interrupt, leastways, not that he could remember. ‘She’s uncovered some interesting stuff from Biscuit’s office computer, and is on the home one as we speak, encrypted, as you know, Chilly, a damn good encryption as well, as you would expect. Still, she has it sorted, then she would, wouldn’t she?’
‘Why?’ Chilly was aggressive, leaning forward in his psychologically challenged chair, fists balled on his knees, coiled, ready to spring.
‘Did you never think Biscuit a bit were?’ and Jack waggled his hand, indicating a sharp cookie, laughed at the biscuit, cookie, reference, which was misinterpreted by Chilly.
‘Biscuit, were?’ and Chilly relaxed a fist to waggle his hand, ‘looked a dope, to me.’
‘Chilly... how unperceptive,’ and Jack put his best Mexican patronising head to one side as if to say, never pegged you for a stupid hombre.
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Ever felt the need to look over your shoulder, Chilly?’
Crikey, Mandy thought, where is Jack going?
Chilly, looking at Peewee, shifting forward on his seat, ‘I’m leaving. Came for a civilised chat and feel like I’m being interrogated.’
Before Pewee could answer, Jack was in Chilly’s face, ‘That’s because you are.’
That did shake Mandy, but she nodded sagely to Peewee.
Chilly shrank from Jack’s intrusion into his personal space and singular stare, ‘You never asked me to come?’
Jack followed on, hardly time for a breath, ‘But we expected you.’
Shit Mandy thought, he’s winging again, but Chilly reacted. ‘Listen you one eyed, old aged pensioner, dick-shit, if you have something, say it, if not, I’m off,’ and struggled in his chairs; they were difficult to get out of, low, and the backs sloped.
Peewee pressed Chilly’s shoulder, ‘Sit down,’ and looked to Jack. ‘Jack when you say look over your shoulder, d'you mean what I think you mean, and is this tied to the Met?’
Jack looked at Peewee in a knowing way, ‘Biscuit and I have had an investigation going for some time, and he was a little more than you thought.’
‘You’ve said enough; eyes and ears?’ Pewee said.
‘Eyes and ears,’ Mandy said to Peewee, not wishing to be left out, but Chilly was reacting.
‘Eyes and fucking ears; bollocks?’ and Chilly challenged the chair.
‘Chilly, calm yourself.’
Chilly looked back to Peewee as he slid his backside forward so it would be easier to get off the chair next attempt, ‘Calm myself? I came to help, and find myself a prime suspect.’
‘Do you Chilly?’ Mandy asked.
‘Do you?’ Jack enjoined.
‘I’ve had enough of this, I’m off.’
‘Sit, Chilly, and that’s an order.’
‘Well, fuck your orders,’ and this time Chilly did push himself off the chair and stomped to the door, yanked, left, and slammed it behind h
im.
Jack looked at Mandy, then Peewee. There was a piercing and continuous scream. Jack leapt from his chair calling out, ‘Meeeeeeesh,’ barged through the door to see Jackie with Meesh, rigid on the stair landing, screaming and pointing at Chilly, who, in return, was shouting at the little girl, telling her to "shut the fuck-up".
Chilly grabbed Meesh. Jack reacted, scrabbled around the front of Chilly’s jacket, gripped the lapel and pulled with all his might, and Chilly, an equally hefty man, spun unsteadily on his heels and began to topple towards Jack, the lapel tore. Chilly regained his balance and Jack lunged, Meesh still screaming, Mandy shouting, but Jack’s mist was up. The CP room had emptied and was backed up along the corridor, Frankie pulling Jackie, who was tugging Meesh; a tiny mite, but the girl stood her ground, and shouted for Jack.
In his berserking state he heard her call, stopped, and looked. Chilly took the opportunity, a solid punch into Jack's solar plexus, he folded, toppled backwards to the stairs, falling. Mandy screamed. Jack stretched to grasp Chilly’s jacket, and as he fell, he pulled. Chilly spun, down the staircase first. Jack fell on top of him, rolled, his head cracked on the concrete half landing. Remarkably, Jack was immediately up on a knee, and in his berserking state, began raining blows on Chilly.
Hissing Sid, with previously unknown strength, pulled Jack off, ‘Enough, Jane, enough.’
A moment of utter silence, no movement. Meesh slipped from Jackie’s sweating grip and made a run for Jack. Chilly raised himself, snatched Meesh, pushed Sid and Jack aside, and ran down the stairs, the girl screaming and struggling under his arm. Mandy took off like a lioness pursuing her prey, flew past a dazed Jack, and Sid followed. Chilly went through the main reception doors as Mandy was just entering the vestibule. She saw Meesh’s head strike one of the doors as it closed, heard her howl. Jack was up, still dazed, but followed Sid and Peewee out to the car park, halted, stunned, an erotic moment, he admitted to himself, but he had just taken a bang on his head, so was excused. Mandy had Chilly in a half-nelson, her legs up and around one side, a knee in his back, Meesh beside her, clobbering. Chilly was raging, Mandy was breaking his arm, then his back, but she did not stop, neither did Meesh. Jack's eyes wide open, the crack on the back of his head forgotten; Mandy’s skirt had risen to her hips, she wore stockings; it was a vision.
Sid cuffed Chilly as a number of uniforms arrived. Meesh was cuddling and hugging Mandy, and curiously, neither were crying. Mandy would say later had it been Jack he would have been blubbing and Meesh soothing him. Mandy hugged the tiny girl, hand to the side of her head she felt warm, sticky blood, signalled to Sid with her bloody hand and mouthed, ‘Ambulance’.
‘I presume you have him fingered for Biscuit’s murder?’ Peewee said to Jack, observing the spectacle.
‘And a bit more, Peewee,’ Jack said, looking at the writhing Chilly; Mandy had unfortunately secured her skirt. ‘Tip of the iceberg, something is happening, and I’m going to find out what.’
‘Whatever you want from us, you will have. Didn’t like the bloke, but you never think something like this, do you?’
‘No, you don’t,’ and Jack called out to Sid, ‘get the police Doctor to the bastard over.’
‘Will do, what about you?’
‘Me?’
‘You've a cut on the back of your head, bleeding down your back.’
Jack looked to the heavens, ‘Blimey another shirt ruined, and look at these round the houses,' Jack smoothed his trousers, 'Christ, I hate shopping.’
The paramedics put a dressing on Meesh’s head wound. Jack sidled up and put his arm around Mandy and Meesh and whispered into Mandy’s ear, ‘Stockings?’
For his ear only, she replied, ‘For you gobshite.’ He felt her hot breath and enjoyed an involuntary shiver. Meesh hugged them both; Jack was crying; naturellament.
‘Let’s get you to hospital, little lady,’ the paramedic said.
‘Can they come with me?’ Meesh pleaded.
‘Well he certainly is, that will need a few stitches.’
‘You clumsy oaf,’ Mandy said to Jack, and Meesh giggled and snuggled into Mandy, easing her into the ambulance; she was not letting this girl go.
Jack followed, ‘I know the rules mate, but we need to be together.’
‘Your granddaughter?’
Jack smiled, Meesh and Mandy giggled.
‘Calm before the storm, luv,’ Jack said, prophetic, who knew, but Meesh had certainly calmed in the back of the ambulance, allowing the paramedic to do the observations.
‘What, if this is calm, keep me clear of stormy seas, Jack,’ Mandy thought she had whispered.
‘I mean, this is just the start,’ Jack did whisper, shook his head and some blood flicked onto Mandy’s hand.
‘Jack, your head.’
The ambulance technician passed a gauze pad. ‘Hold that on it until I can get to you.’
‘You got no loo roll and sellotape?’ Jack asked, which got a warm smile from Mandy, otherwise the wisecrack fell on stony ground.
‘Tell me later,’ Mandy responded, and Jack resolved to do just that, but how much should he say, and just how much can he involve this woman he loved. The prospect of the next few weeks looked grim, and he had only begun to scratch the surface. So many dimensions; red herrings? Jack thought not, and father Mike’s sense this was a devious conspiracy being played out in Portsmouth, and with him as the catalyst, was becoming more of a reality. He wanted this woman, yet ironically, for her own safety, he wanted distance from her. And what of the military, what is that all about? Pugwash, a bit of fun, but Jack sensed a malevolent streak in the martinet chairman of the community police committee. A barrier he needed to break down and he had some ideas, but for now, casualty.
Tomorrow was another day, and he will seek his enemy in earnest.
Part Two
...and EFFECT
Know Thine Enemy
Thirty-Two
Casualty was busy for a Monday afternoon. This’ll get worse, the NHS safe with the Tories, bollocks, Jack thought to himself, ‘Tut Tut,’ Meesh, mimicking Dolly.
‘You’re spot on, mate,’ a pressured ambulance technician rejoined.
‘Did I?’ Mandy nodded.
Mandy walked like Long John Silver, sans parrot, dragging a dead leg that had the elfin girl’s gangly arms and tiny hands grasping a thigh, her head squashed into Mandy’s waist, blood oozing from her temporary dressing and spotting the waistband of her skirt. Mandy’s phone rang.
‘No mobiles.’
Mandy acknowledged the Jobsworth, and down on her haunches, whispered sweetly to Meesh, ‘Sweetheart, go with Jack, I’ll just take this call.’
Meesh was ominously showing little emotion as Jack peeled her from Mandy’s leg, the fringe benefits of which he had to set aside as his own headache could not be ignored, aware he should be moaning if he was to milk any symphony at all, ‘Your legs, okay?’
‘Just grazed, you may have to buy me more stockings though.’ The accompanying radiant smile warmed him, as did the erotic memory. Meesh tugged Jack back to reality with a tut. This little girl has to be related to Dolly he thought as they were greeted at the nurse station by the senior triage nurse.
‘Fallen off your bike again?’ he announced, and Meesh put her hand to her mouth and giggled, still no sign of distress.
‘Had an argument with a staircase,’ Jack replied, and the nurse made a note. ‘What’s that you’ve written?’
‘We might need to check your coordination, at your age it can sometimes happen your mind is in front or behind your body.’
‘Sounds about right,’ Mandy had returned, and Meesh promptly detached herself from Jack’s tree trunk and suckered onto Mandy’s more elegant and shapely thigh; lucky cow, Jack selfishly thought.
‘We may have to keep you in since you had a bad reaction to your previous concussion.’
‘Not on your Nelly, mate.’
‘Tut,’ Meesh.
‘Jack, I have to get ba
ck to the press conference...’ she paused, and in a hushed tone, ‘...message from Connie, things are a bit hectic on Operation Jane’s bike, what d‘you want to do?’
Mandy crouched, ‘I have to go Meesh, Jackie will be here soon, okay?’
‘Yes.’
Mandy craned her neck to look up at Jack but spoke to Meesh, ‘Good girl,’ Mandy nodded; Jack was fixated on her legs. ‘Earth to Jack, what do you want to do?’
He shook his head, stirring the stars before his eye, ‘Jo-Jums can run the op until I get back in a minute.’
‘I don’t think so, Sir, we will want to keep you in.’
‘Please no,’ Meesh chastising before Jack had time to cuss.
He held her chin, gently turned her face towards him and looked into her eyes, ‘There is someone I want you to meet, her name is Dolly.’
She looked immediately excited, ‘Oh good, I haven’t got any dollies,’ and with a noticeable intake of breath, Jack and Mandy exchanged a glance, it dawned on them this kid had lost her mum, and had nothing, no family that they knew of, not even an old teddy.
‘Get going Amanda, we’ll watch you on the telly; eh Meesh?’ The little girl offered no response, and Jack turned to the triage nurse, ‘you’d better get stitching, we have bad guys to catch, and telly to watch.’
‘On your head be it,’ the nurse was also a comedian.
‘And hers as well,’ and Jack pulled a funny face, Meesh giggled and robotically followed a nurse into a treatment bay. Jackie Phillips went straight past the agitated triage nurse with just a glance that would freeze Beelzebub in the middle of Hades; a woman on a mission, as she swept and swirled through the exam bay curtains and joined Meesh, brushing Jack aside; he was used to this.
They cleaned Meesh’s wound, cutting just a little of her hair away from the side of her forehead and used butterfly tapes to bond the gash. She would have a very neat scar and Jack was pleased, sensing this girl would need as much going for her as possible, growing up. She would have more than enough emotional baggage, when she remembers that is.