by L M Krier
‘A caller asking for the Chief Inspector. I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch the name, although I asked him to repeat it. Mr Mac-something, I think.’
‘Serious Crime,’ Ted said, his tone neutral, as the call was put through.
A man’s voice with a slightly nasal intonation and an accent Ted couldn’t place spoke in his ear.
‘I want to speak to DCI Darling. My name’s David Mercado. I write ...’
‘I’m DCI Darling. I know who you are and what you do, Mr Mercado, and I have nothing at all to say to you. The correct procedure is for you to phone our Press Office at Central Park, as I’m sure you’re aware. You’ll find the number on the website ...’
‘It might be in your best interests if you spoke to me directly, Mr Darling.’
Ted’s voice was always quiet, polite, measured. Now his tone turned glacial.
‘Are you threatening me in some way, Mr Mercado? I wouldn’t recommend you do that.’
Mercado tried to cut in to say something but Ted wished him good evening and put the phone down. Hard.
Then he did something he hadn’t done for some time. He went back to his office and kicked seven bells out of his waste-paper basket until it was a mangled wreck. After that, to save her the hassle, Ted pre-empted the reproachful note from his long-term cleaning lady by writing one of his own and leaving it in the middle of his desk for her to see.
‘Mrs Skinner. Sorry. It was either the basket or me on an assault charge. Please sort out a replacement and I’ll pay for it. Thank you.’
Trev was laying the table in the kitchen when Ted got home. He’d sent a text ahead to let his partner know he should arrive back in time to eat something. Trev gave him a brief hug then went to start putting the meal together.
‘I sorted out my credit card statements for you. They’re a bit scary, but I promise to get things back on an even keel as soon as I can. First, though, I wanted to ask if you would mind if I take Eirian away for a few days over half term.’
‘Eirian?’ Ted queried, stooping to stroke each of the cats in turn, although Adam was at the front of the queue as usual.
‘Ted, you are hopeless sometimes,’ Trev rolled his eyes theatrically. ‘I did tell you, but you clearly weren’t listening. Shewee doesn’t like her nickname any more and as she currently hates her mother more than usual, she doesn’t want to use her Irish name, Siobhan. Like me, she has an Irish name and a Welsh one. So as she currently hates her father slightly less than her mother, she’s now using the Welsh one. Eirian.’
Despite sharing the same parents as his sister, Trev refused to acknowledge them as such if he could avoid it. The bitterness he felt at having been disowned by them when he came out ran too deep.
‘Sorry, you did say and I forgot. Of course I don’t mind, but when is half term? Is it near Valentine’s Day? Only I’m always letting you down and promising to make it up to you. So I thought I’d book that day off. It’s on a Saturday this year so we could perhaps even have a weekend away somewhere, if you like.’
‘That would be perfect. Half-term starts on the Monday and we can’t go before then because Eirian is competing at the weekend.’ Trev’s face fell for a minute as he went on, ‘I had promised to go and watch her, then take her to Paris. And don’t look like that. It will be a budget trip. Laurence has a flat there which we can use so we won’t have hotel bills to pay or anything.’
‘Will Laurence be there?’ Ted asked, trying to sound casual.
Trev laughed, giving Ted’s hand a squeeze as he sat down at the table, putting food in front of each of them.
‘I do love it when you get jealous. You have remembered that Laurence is female? And that even if she wasn’t and was the fittest bloke in the world, I wouldn’t be interested. Anyway, she won’t be there until the Friday and we’re planning to fly back on the Saturday, to get Eirian back to school.’
‘I don’t know why you even put up with me, when I forget what you tell me from one day to the next. Look, here’s an idea. Why don’t we both go down to the West Country for that weekend? Spend time together in the evening and in the day time we can go and watch She … Eirian competing. As long as we get some quality time together over a nice meal, there’s no reason why we can’t do both.’
‘Ted, you’ll be bored witless at horsey events all day. You know you will. But it’s really kind of you to offer. Can you even guarantee getting the time off?’
‘Irene reminded me the other day that I’ve got an excellent DI and two first-rate DSs. And I know I have. So there’s no reason why I don’t pull back occasionally and let them get on with it. I won’t be bored, honestly. I may not know much about it but I like watching the horses, now I know which end is which. And you know me – I’m a people watcher. You find us somewhere nice online and I’ll book it. You’d better rest your credit card, by the sound of it.’
‘That’s fabulous, thank you. Oh, and not long after that half-term, I’ll have to be grown-up and sensible and work longer hours. Geoff’s got to go into hospital for an operation. Minor, he said, although I didn’t ask the details in case it was something a bit personal. So I’ll be in charge of everything at work while he’s away. I’ve not got the definite dates yet. He’s still waiting for confirmation.’
The prison officer with the group in the chapel kept glancing at her watch in anticipation. Val Johnson was looking forward to handing over to the night shift and knocking off. Which she couldn’t do until all her charges were back in their respective cells and locked up for the night. She hoped her partner had the kids sorted out by the time she got back home. Homework done, clothes put ready for school the next day. She hoped, too, that there would be something to eat when she finally did get back. It seemed a long time since her last meal break and she could eat a scabby donkey by now.
It sometimes felt like she spent all day looking after kids, with the prisoners. Big ones, but still in need of constant watching. At least this lot were seldom any trouble. To even be considered as Listeners to support other prisoners they needed to be trusted and to have kept their noses clean. Warren was the only lifer amongst them and he was generally polite, well-behaved and no real trouble. The only query hanging over him was those occasional episodes of his. Even the medics couldn’t say for sure which ones were genuine and which weren’t, so they couldn’t be ignored.
‘Can you wind things up now, father, please? Only it’s nearly bang-up time so we need to go.’
The chaplain glanced guiltily at his watch and said, ‘I’m so sorry, Ms Johnson, I hadn’t realised how late it had got. Well, thank you everyone, for your presence here this evening. And a special thanks to Mr Warren. From listening to him, I hope you all now have a much clearer idea of what is involved in taking on a Listener role for fellow inmates, and that each one of you will go ahead and become one yourself. Thank you again.’
‘Right, come on, you lot, let’s be having you. Line up ready to go.’
The officer was already on the radio to the control room, giving her call sign and requesting permission to move twelve prisoners from the chapel back to their wing. Control would check that corridors were clear to avoid any possible confrontations, before giving the go-ahead to make the transfer.
‘You too, Warren,’ she said, above the noise of the other prisoners standing up, pushing chairs back, starting to talk to one another as they shuffled towards the door. Warren had gone over to the chaplain to say a few words.
‘I’m just coming, Ms Johnson. I just wanted to thank the padre …’
‘Now, Warren, and I mean it. It’s not up to you to decide.’
She was speaking into her radio again, confirming with Control that they were just about to leave the chapel, her eyes on Warren and the chaplain. With the call still connected she suddenly said, half under her breath, ‘Oh, bloody bollocks, Warren, not now, for god’s sake.’
Warren had turned to look at her and gone rigid. Then he slowly crumpled to the floor as his knees buckled. His eyes rolled back into h
is head, his jaws were clenched and his body started to twitch and convulse on the wooden floor.
‘Oh, fuck,’ the officer said, raising a laugh from IC Comms. Then she moved rapidly to take control of the situation. ‘Everyone stand still, shut up, and wait for further instructions.’
She spoke again into the radio, requesting Healthcare response for a Level One medical emergency. Then she made her way across the chapel to where Warren continued to writhe on the floor. The chaplain was hovering over him in evident panic.
‘What’s happening? Is he all right? Should we try to put something between his teeth in case he bites his tongue?’
‘No, don’t touch him, father. No physical contact. Help is on its way and should be here in minutes. If you could just move some of those chairs back a bit so he doesn’t bang his head on them.
‘The rest of you stay there and don’t move!’ she barked sternly as she saw a couple of the prisoners making to come over to them to see what was happening. She turned her attention to Warren who was still squirming and shaking on the floor. She spoke through gritted teeth, almost under her breath. ‘This better be a genuine one, Warren. I won’t be amused if you make me late clocking off for no good reason.’
The chaplain was bobbing about on the spot. Clearly worried. Not knowing what to do.
‘Is it a seizure? Does he have epilepsy? Should I pray for him?’
Val was trying to stay calm and polite when she could happily have slapped the pair of them. Warren if, as she suspected, this was one of his Oscar-winning false attack performances. The chaplain for flapping about like a useless budgie.
‘I can’t discuss a prisoner’s medical condition with you, father, and certainly not when there are others present. Assistance will be here very soon now, but if it would help you to pray, then please go ahead.’
‘Will he know that we’re here? It must be very worrying for him. Should I speak to him? Or just pray?’
‘Oh, I’m sure he knows we’re here, so perhaps the sound of you praying would be reassuring for a man of his faith.’ Then, under her breath, ‘Thank fuck for that,’ as she heard the door of the chapel open and the Healthcare responder arrived, medical bag in hand, accompanied by more officers. Reinforcements were sent as routine to a Level One, in case it was a diversionary tactic for something about to happen. One of them exchanged a glance with Val.
‘I thought he’d settled down. Seems a long time since the last one. Are you good to go now?’
‘Evening, father,’ the medic said politely, crouching down to assess the patient. Then, to Val, he asked, ‘Our friend Warren, I see. How long’s he been down?’
‘Less than five minutes.’
‘Okay. Warren? Can you hear me? You’re quite safe now. I’m just going to move you gently into a safer position, but you’re fine.’
Val spoke quietly again so the other prisoners couldn’t hear her.
‘If you’re planning on shoving Valium up his bum can I at least get the others out of here first and get off home? I’ve not had my tea yet and I think that sight might just rob me of my appetite.’
The other officer grinned at her. ‘Yes, we’re fine here. It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with him like this. And I don’t think we’ll be needing the suppository.’
‘I’m quite happy to stay and help in any way I can,’ the chaplain told him. ‘I don’t know if I could be of any use, but I’d be glad to stay on and I’ll do anything that’s required, if you tell me what to do.’
Val straightened up, back on the radio, checking she still had clearance to move the prisoners back to their cells. By the time she’d got them all safely back in the right place and written up this little lot, it was going to be much later than she’d hoped before she got home.
Warren’s convulsions were starting to diminish as the other prisoners filed out of the chapel, being shepherded back to their cells. The medic was leaning over him to monitor his condition.
‘All right now, Warren. Are you back with us yet?’
Warren’s eyelids flickered a few times, then opened. His eyes still looked a little bleary, unfocused.
‘Do you feel you could sit up now?’
The chaplain moved swiftly, reaching out a comforting arm towards the prisoner, moving to support him as he slowly seemed to regain his faculties and struggled to sit up.
‘Best not, chaplain. No physical contact. How are you doing, Warren?’
The prisoner was looking around him, seemingly bewildered. ‘What happened?’
‘Nothing to worry about. Here, let me give you a hand onto your feet and we’ll get you back to your bed. A good night’s sleep and you should be fine. Your kecks are clean and dry, at least. Do you think you can stand up?’
Warren looked up at them plaintively. ‘Could you give me a hand, please? I feel a bit woozy.’
The chaplain was hovering again, eager as a puppy to be doing something useful.
The officer nodded. ‘All right, Warren. Bend your knees up so your feet are on the floor. Chaplain, you and I will take one of his arms each. Put your foot there to block his – like I’m doing, look – then on three. One. Two. Three.’
They hoisted the prisoner with no effort. The officer let go of him immediately. The chaplain kept hold of his arm for longer.
‘Do you think you’ll be all right to walk back to the wing now, Warren?’
‘Yes, Mr Smith, I’m sure I will. Thank you. I’m sorry for the inconvenience I’ve caused.’
‘I can come with you, if you like? If I can be of further help? It’s really no trouble.’
‘It’s fine, chaplain, thanks. We’ll be all right from here, I’m sure. Won’t we, Warren? You’ll need to tidy up and lock up, I imagine. Don’t let us delay you.’
As the officer was collecting his bag, Warren turned back to the chaplain. ‘Thank you so much for your help and kindness, padre.’ Then he dropped his voice so it was barely audible as he said, ‘And for the soft gentleness of your touch. As ever.’
Chapter Five
‘All right, Ted? Have you got a minute?’
Ted was surprised that DC Maurice Brown was the first team member into work the next morning. Maurice had many good qualities. Punctuality was not normally one of them. Ted hoped it wasn’t going to be anything serious about the impending birth of Maurice’s second set of twins.
‘Yes, come in, Maurice. Take a seat. What can I do for you?’
‘You know Owain and Killian are due to arrive at the end of the week, and I’ve booked leave? Well, as soon as I can nip out and leave Megan with them for an hour or so, I was going to put some money behind the bar at The Grapes and come and join everyone for a swift one. And I got to thinking.
‘Rob and Sally have been talking about getting married for ages. But Sally’s been considering stopping work, or going restricted part-time, because as you know they’re down to foster or adopt a child. She wants to have more time if they do get given one. Which means money’s tight, so they’ve put the wedding plans on hold.
‘I just thought that if we’re having a bit of a booze-up for the twins’ arrival, why don’t we make it other halves too and have a whip-round so it can be like a reception for the two of them, at the same time? It won’t be the same, like, but it would show them we care about them.’
‘You’re a good man, Maurice.’
‘Aye, well, we all know what it’s like to want to do something and not have the cash to do it. Shall I organise it?’
‘I should think you’ve got enough on your plate already, getting ready for the little ones. Why not ask Jezza? She’s good at persuading people and you know she’ll keep it quiet. I’ll have a word with Trev, see if he might like to do some baking for it. He loves any excuse to cook.’
The rest of the team were filing in now. Ted was a stickler for timekeeping so it was rare for any of them to be late. Certainly not without a good excuse.
Ted wanted to kick off with an update. There had been an email from
Bizzie Nelson waiting for him in his inbox when he’d got in. It made him realise with a guilty start that in discussing Valentine’s Day and half-term with Trev, he’d completely forgotten to tell him about the handfasting. Which left him still a bit in the dark as to exactly what it involved.
‘Right, team, settle down,’ he began in his customary way. ‘Latest info from pathology is that all the body parts are from a male. Probably all from the same one, although that’s a qualified probability at the moment. And the likely age range is forty to fifty, although again, that’s still guarded and subject to further testing.
‘There’s also confirmation of the early suggestion that the parts had been stored in a domestic deep freeze. The time-frame for that is now provisionally put at three to six months. So that might help with identification. It rules out any more recent disappearances, but let’s leave a wider margin to allow for error. Who’s on Mispers?’
‘Me and Steve, boss, and that should certainly help us narrow things down a bit,’ Maurice told him. ‘We’ve not really been able to do much without a lot to go on. We’ve just eliminated any very young ones, because of the leg size. We’ve concentrated on adults. Bit depressing how many there are. We can crack on a bit now, though.’
‘And a bit more info from Professor Nelson. She’s been experimenting with various tools with her students and can confirm that the saw used was a chainsaw and the cutters were tree loppers. Both fairly hefty design. Professional standard, she put it. So, Steve, back to your theory of someone travelling round to work in different places. It could still be correct. We just need to think a bit broader about the type of work involved.’
‘It could still be site maintenance, boss,’ Jo put in. ‘There might be a need on some sites to keep vegetation under control. Road safety, perhaps?’
‘Could be a landscape gardener,’ Jezza suggested.
‘Tree surgeon, sir,’ Steve put in.
‘Good. Useful suggestions to keep in mind, if and when we find out who the body parts belong to. We need an ID before we can make much progress, so let me know when we have something. Where are we up to with the arson?’