Small Mercies

by Small Mercies (epub)

  ‘Dwyer’s a decent cop, as far as I know. Ambitious sort, so he’ll want this on his CV. We’ll get this toerag soon enough.’

  ‘I just hope that really is soon enough,’ Sheena said. ‘Before he has another go.’

  ‘Amen to that.’ Annie could sense that Sheena was looking for reassurance, even if she was reluctant to say so. ‘He can’t stay hidden for long. Either we’ll pin him down through CCTV or someone will shop him.’

  ‘You reckon it’s a he?’ Sheena asked.

  ‘This kind usually are. But, no, I’m not assuming that. There’s no practical reason why it couldn’t be a woman.’

  Sheena placed the lid back on the cast-iron casserole dish, then lifted it back into the oven of the Aga. ‘Another half-hour or so.’

  Annie topped up their wine, and they made their way back through to the spacious lounge. Sheena lowered herself on to the sofa, stretching herself its full length. She was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, as she invariably was at home. Her working image, by contrast, was carefully cultivated, as she’d explained to Annie – smart enough to be taken seriously by her more antediluvian colleagues, but not so smart that she seemed intimidating or elitist to her constituents.

  ‘You wouldn’t even have to think about that stuff if you were a man,’ Annie had pointed out. She sometimes wondered how long Sheena would be able to put up with it. But she’d gradually realised how resilient Sheena was, and how determined she was to make Parliament work in the interests of her constituents. She was perhaps fighting a losing battle, but Annie knew she wouldn’t give up easily. Even after a day like today.

  Annie sat herself on the carpet beside Sheena and took her hand. ‘What about you, though? How are you doing?’

  ‘A bit shaken. Yesterday was bad enough, but today…’ She’d closed her eyes, as if trying to block out the world. ‘I don’t like the thought that someone is actively targeting me.’

  ‘I’m not keen on the idea either, funnily enough.’ She squeezed Sheena’s hand. ‘I wish we could provide more protection for you.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’d want it, to be honest. I’d feel bad if too much resource was being diverted to looking after me. You lot have enough on your plates.’

  ‘You have to stop being so bloody selfless, you know. It doesn’t help anything if someone in your position gets hurt.’ For a moment, Annie found herself almost growing irritated with Sheena’s apparent stubbornness. But she knew this was just Sheena’s way of coping, of not allowing herself to be ground down by anxiety.

  Sheena smiled. Her eyes were still closed but it was as if she’d read Annie’s thoughts. ‘Don’t get me wrong. Just at the moment, I’m happy to accept whatever help you can provide. But having banged on about policing cuts for the last four years, it wouldn’t be right for me to get special treatment. The guy who came today reckoned our security here was pretty decent already, and they’re getting me this personal security device that connects directly to 999. There are a few more things they can do. Including installing some panic buttons and some more security lighting and cameras outside. Should be done in the next day or two.’

  ‘And no doubt the Daily Mail will complain about you claiming it on expenses.’

  ‘No doubt. Just this once, I reckon I can live with that. That’s what really angers me about this. We’ve been playing with fire for years on this stuff. The tabloid press. Some of my less responsible colleagues. Even some of them on our side of the House. Stirring up anger and resentment. You’d think one death would have been enough to warn them, but even that got brushed under the carpet.’ She pulled her mobile phone from the pocket of her jeans. ‘You’ve seen the kind of stuff I get on social media. They’ve even been at it today.’

  ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘Do I look like I’m joking? I mean, I’ve had loads of supportive messages, which is great. But plenty of abuse, even some threats. Unbelievable stuff.’

  ‘You’ve told Dwyer’s people?’

  ‘They’re monitoring the relevant feeds. Partly in case it gives them any leads into who was involved yesterday and today, and partly just for general nastiness.’

  ‘Let’s hope that one or two of the fuckwits out there get a bit of a shock when the police come calling,’ Annie said. ‘It’s incredible that people can carry on spewing out that stuff after what happened today.’

  ‘Amazing but true,’ Sheena said. ‘And apparently it should all be in a day’s work for a conscientious MP.’

  ‘You’re sure you want to go on with this, Shee?’ It was the question that Annie had been wanting to ask since the previous day’s incident. It was a question that, in truth, she’d been asking since even before Sheena had been elected. ‘Being an MP, I mean. After what’s happened.’

  ‘What else would I do?’ It was her standard semi-serious response to Annie’s recurrent question. She’d been a university lecturer in politics prior to her election. Her academic career had been relatively successful, and she’d been in increasing demand as a commentator and pundit. But Sheena had never been sure if it was a life she wanted to return to now she’d experienced politics on the front line.

  ‘There’s loads of stuff you could do,’ Annie said. ‘I know you feel you’re doing something worthwhile as an MP, but there are roles where you could do even more.’

  ‘Are there? Maybe there are. But I’m not sure I fancy sitting behind a desk driving some charity or campaigning group, however worthy they might be.’ She eased herself up on the sofa and took another sip of wine. ‘Anyway, it’s academic. I’m not going to be driven out of the job by something like this. If and when I decide to move on, it’ll be my own decision, not because I’ve been intimidated into it.’

  Annie hadn’t seriously expected her to say anything else. She knew she’d feel the same if their positions were reversed. ‘Just take care, then, won’t you?’

  ‘I always do. As much as the job allows, anyway.’

  ‘That’s what worries me.’

  Sheena pushed herself fully upright on the sofa. ‘I know you think I’m a bit reckless sometimes, but I’m really not. I take as much care as I can. But if I lock myself away completely, I might as well not be doing the job. Shall we get some food?’

  ‘By which you mean: will you just shut up about this? Fair enough. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re reckless. I just worry about you.’

  Sheena nodded and then grinned. ‘I know that. And I know you mean well. Now, will you just shut up about this?’

  * * *

  They ate at the kitchen table. Generally, even after dark, they left the kitchen blinds open, untroubled by any thoughts of an intruder in the garden. Tonight, Annie noticed that Sheena had already lowered the blinds, as if she wanted to exclude as much of the outside world as possible. She seemed calm enough, Annie thought, but it was impossible to know what thoughts or emotions might be churning through her brain. Annie knew there was no point in pushing the issue further than she already had. She knew Sheena well enough to know she’d talk when she was ready to, if at all, and not before.

  After supper, they returned to the living room. Without any open acknowledgement of what they were doing, both women returned immediately to work, sitting opposite each other with their laptops open on their knees. Annie had accessed the force’s secure network and was checking her emails from the day. The vast majority were just routine administration that she could either ignore completely or at least disregard until some notional time when she was less busy. There were a few messages from various members of the team updating her and Jennings on various aspects of the enquiry, including a report on the second crime scene from the Senior CSI and a couple of long-shot leads relating to vehicles caught on traffic cameras in the areas surrounding the two killings. She dutifully ploughed through the material, sending responses where appropriate, knowing it would be one less task for the following day.

  Sheena, opposite her, was working her way through her constituency emails. Annie ha
d risked further wrath by asking whether she wouldn’t be better taking a break at least for that evening. Sheena, in response, had gestured towards Annie’s own laptop. ‘I don’t see you taking a break.’

  ‘I’ve not been in hospital.’

  ‘I was only in for observation. It’s not as if I’ve been ill.’

  ‘No, you’ve just been shot at. Twice. Some people might think you deserved a break.’

  ‘Some people haven’t seen the rate at which my constituency emails pile up.’

  ‘That’s because your constituents all know you’re a soft touch.’

  ‘Too ready to help them deal with unsympathetic government departments, dodgy landlords and the general problems of poverty and homelessness, just to take a few examples from today’s mailbag. Is that what you mean?’

  ‘You’re just a do-gooder, that’s your trouble.’ It was an old joke between them, but tonight there was a slight edge to the banter.

  ‘I guess it is. Anyway, if I don’t deal with these tonight, they’ll just keep coming. In fairness, the vast majority of today’s are just messages of support, same as on the social media accounts. Interspersed with the odd bout of unimaginative abuse, obviously.’

  ‘The police aren’t monitoring the email account, presumably?’

  ‘It’s a secure account and a lot of constituents write in confidence about personal issues, so I can’t give anyone else open access to it. But I’ve agreed to forward them any serious-sounding abuse, along with anything that might be pertinent to what happened yesterday at the protest.’

  ‘You had anything of that sort?’

  ‘Not since yesterday. When I originally made that statement about Mo Henley—’

  ‘Our friend Bulldog.’

  ‘That’s the one. He really does think it makes him sound Churchillian. Anyway, at that point I got a load of stuff from those kind of groups. Britain Alone. England for the English. Even one who called themselves the Sons of Robin Hood, would you believe? But there’s been a deathly silence since. I thought at least one of them might try to claim responsibility just to get a few inches in the local press, but nothing so far. Just the usual personal abuse from people without two brain cells to rub together.’

  ‘Even the brainless stuff is probably worth forwarding on,’ Annie said. ‘It doesn’t sound as if any of the people you were dealing with yesterday would exactly be Mastermind contenders.’

  Sheena was still tapping at her keyboard. ‘I normally resent wasting even a moment’s thought on some of these numpties, but you’re right. I suppose any of these might provide a lead—’ She stopped suddenly, staring at the screen. ‘Shit.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ve just opened an email. Sent tonight. About an hour ago. Usual abuse. But then it says: “Saw your dyke partner arrive back around eight tonight. Then the police car drive away. So I guess you’re both alone in there.” There’s a photo attached. Of the cottage. Looks like it was taken this evening.’ She looked up at Annie. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think I call it in,’ Annie said. ‘And we get backup round here straight away. Then we have to make some decisions. It’s probably just some arsehole trying to put the wind up us, but after today I’m taking no chances.’

  It took Annie a few minutes to get through to the force enquiry desk. The call handlers had clearly been alerted to Sheena’s case, so no lengthy explanations were required. She was told that a squad car would be there as soon as possible. They had moved back to the kitchen, pacing or absent-mindedly tidying, neither able to sit at ease.

  ‘I’ll feel such a fool if no one’s out there,’ Sheena said, when Annie had ended the call.

  ‘Steel yourself then, because there probably won’t be. If someone just wanted to kill you, they probably wouldn’t announce the fact by email.’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind. Very reassuring.’ Sheena’s defiant spark wasn’t evident now. Instead of laughing she was quiet and, Annie thought, more than a little scared.

  Annie went to her and put her arms around her partner in a loose embrace, touching her head to Sheena’s. ‘Sorry. I’m a bit shaken by this. What I mean is, it looks to me like whoever sent that email is mainly intending to scare you. At least for the moment.’

  ‘You’re not making this any better, you know.’

  ‘I’m not sure sensitivity’s my strong point. Not at a moment like this, anyway. I just shift into police mode.’

  ‘I know. I’ve seen it enough times. I’m just joking. Well, kind of joking. Making light of it to avoid admitting how shit-scared I am. That kind of joking.’

  ‘The point I was clumsily trying to make is that this person is playing with us. They may or may not want to kill you. They may or may not be the same person who shot at you today and yesterday. It might well just be some local fuckwit who thinks they’re being funny. Whichever it is, they’ll have made themselves scarce as soon as they sent that email. They’re not going to hang around till the boys in blue show up.’

  ‘So we’re wasting police time?’ Sheena stepped out of Annie’s arms and leaned against the kitchen counter with her arms folded.

  Annie sighed. ‘Shee, just try to put your liberal conscience on hold for once and think about your own well-being. If there’s the smallest chance there actually is someone still out there, we need to get that checked out. If nothing else, we need to get this incident formally recorded so the powers-that-be know there’s a genuine and continuing threat. Nobody’s going to begrudge taking a couple of uniformed officers off patrol to check it out. That’s what they’re there for. Take it from me, we’re far more pissed off if something like this is ignored and we end up with a full-blown murder investigation on our hands.’ She stopped as she realised the insensitivity of the remark. ‘Sorry…’

  ‘I suppose that’s reassuring in its own way.’

  ‘I do my best. The immediate question here is how this person got hold of our address.’

  Sheena shook her head. ‘I’ve always felt guilty at keeping it confidential. Now I’m glad I did.’

  ‘You can probably blame or thank me for that,’ Annie said. ‘If I recall, I was the one who insisted on it.’ Shortly before Sheena had been elected to Parliament, the law had been changed to allow prospective candidates to keep their domestic addresses confidential. In the wake of the MPs’ expenses scandal, this had been a controversial move and a number of Sheena’s fellow candidates had chosen to be open with the information. Annie had felt that the combination of her own and Sheena’s roles potentially created an above-average security risk.

  ‘As always, you were right,’ Sheena said. ‘Mind you, I think most of my colleagues agree with you these days. It feels different even from when I was first elected. So how could they have got hold of it?’

  ‘I suppose it wouldn’t be that difficult if you really wanted to find out,’ Annie said. ‘The media always seem to manage it. And, like I say, it might mean that our friend is based locally. I’m guessing our presence isn’t exactly unnoticed in the local community.’

  ‘Everybody knows everything in a place like this,’ Sheena agreed. ‘And they’re usually only too happy to gossip about it.’

  From somewhere in the distance, they could already hear the sound of a police siren. ‘Even if our friend was still out there,’ Annie said, ‘they’ll be off now my colleagues have announced their impending arrival. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think they did it on purpose to avoid meeting any trouble.’ She smiled at Sheena. ‘Come on, then. Let’s go and waste some police time.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘I hope you’ve found the evening useful, Clive.’

  They were standing outside the front door of the farmhouse. Rowan Wiseman and Charlie were already heading for the car, with Greg Wardle close behind them. Robin Kennedy had held Clive Bamford back in a characteristically proprietorial manner.

  ‘Very much so. Thank you, Robin. And thank you for the loan of these.’ He held up a large
hemp shoulder bag that Eric Nolan, at Kennedy’s request, had filled with a selection of books, pamphlets and other documents.

  ‘As I said, you’re welcome to keep most of them. A couple of the older books are rather rare and, to be honest, potentially valuable, so I’d be grateful if you could return those in due course. But not until you’ve finished with them, obviously.’

  ‘I’ll go through it all as quickly as I can. I’m really very grateful for all your help in this.’ Clive was conscious he was on the edge of sounding obsequious. ‘I hope I can do it all justice.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re just the man for that, Clive. We have every confidence in you.’

  Clive had found the evening disconcerting. Kennedy had been consistently warm and welcoming, and had continued to be effusive about Clive’s journalistic skills. Clive knew full well that he was being flattered and perhaps even seduced. He didn’t particularly mind that, and for the moment he was quite happy to reciprocate if it helped him gain access to these people. He was confident that, when it mattered, he’d have sufficient independence to write fairly and objectively.

  At the same time, Kennedy’s charisma and charm were undeniable. If he paid attention to you, he had the knack of making you feel special, Clive thought, as if you were the only one who really counted. As if you were the only one who really deserved to be admitted into his inner circle. He made you want to try to please him, to sustain his respect and admiration.

  But there was also something about Kennedy’s manner that left Clive feeling uncomfortable. In the course of the evening, he had felt himself being drawn in, played off against Greg, whom Kennedy had continued to treat with some disdain. Clive had felt uneasy with that, even as he’d found himself helplessly playing along.

  That was only part of the picture, though. For all Kennedy’s charm and apparent openness, Clive still felt they weren’t being given the full story. On reflection, this was what had left him feeling wrong-footed. Kennedy had continued to talk about the movement in broad abstract terms, but Clive had found himself unable to form any clear views about what its followers actually believed or practised. Whenever he felt he was drawing near to some kind of understanding, it would disappear into a cloud of Kennedy’s verbiage.