“I did,” said Gervaise. “We had information that an illegal firearm had been discovered in Erin Doyle’s bedroom at her parents’ house on Laburnum Way. Miss Doyle had remained there in the custody of her father while her mother reported the weapon to us.”
“Admirable.” Chambers jotted something down, then asked Gervaise, “Was there any reason to suspect that anyone in the house was in danger?”
“None,” said Gervaise.
“Or that the firearm was a threat to anyone at all?”
“A loaded firearm is always a threat. But there was no reason for us to assume that either Erin or Patrick Doyle intended to use the weapon, either on each other or on anybody else. They were both aware that the mother, Juliet Doyle, had gone to the police station to report finding it. They were expecting us.”
Chambers scratched the edge of his nose and coughed. “I understand that the daughter was quite upset and angry when the gun was discovered in her room?”
“Naturally,” said Gervaise.
“But you don’t think she was afraid of the consequences, was likely to use the weapon to effect an escape?”
Gervaise took her time before answering. “I don’t think she was even aware of the consequences,” she said finally. “Most people in her position aren’t. They don’t really think they’ve done anything wrong in simply giving house room to a gun, no matter how they came by it. After all, they haven’t used it. I doubt that she even realized she was committing a serious crime. She probably expected to be thanked for keeping it off the streets. If she even knew about it.”
“What do you mean?” Chambers demanded.
“I’m just pointing out that at this stage in our inquiries, we have absolutely no evidence whatsoever that Erin Doyle had any connection with the gun found by her mother on top of her wardrobe.”
“Are you suggesting that someone else put it there?”
“I am simply saying that we don’t know,” said Gervaise. Annie could tell she was holding back her irritation.
“I understand from Sergeant Haggerty on the reception desk that Mrs. Doyle asked to see Detective Chief Inspector Banks?” said Chambers, shooting Annie a sly glance. Annie knew that Chambers and Banks didn’t get on, had crossed swords on more than one occasion since the reorganization, in which Chambers’s department had been relocated to County HQ.
“DCI Banks is one of my best officers,” said Gervaise. “As it happens, he’s on holiday.”
“Gardening leave, is it?” Chambers asked with a smirk. “We all know he’s been off his medication lately.”
“A well-deserved holiday,” said Gervaise, tight-lipped. She looked over at Annie. “According to DI Cabbot, Mrs. Doyle did first ask for DCI Banks, yes. Your point is?”
Chambers turned to Annie. His eyes narrowed. “So it’s true?”
“Yes,” said Annie.
“Any idea why this was?”
“Apparently they used to be neighbors and have remained friends since DCI Banks left the neighborhood.”
“Why do you think she asked for him by name?”
“Because she knew him. I think she expected that he would accompany her back to the house, pick up the gun and bring it in to the station.”
“Rather than follow correct procedure?”
Annie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I think that DCI Banks’s first priority would have been to defuse the situation,” she said, “and to make sure that no harm came to anyone.”
“And our priority—the correct procedure—wasn’t likely to achieve that?”
“With all due respect, it’s not my place to comment on procedure, but I’m certain that whatever DCI Banks would have done would have been well within acceptable bounds.”
“I wish I could share your confidence,” said Chambers, his upper lip curling.
“Well, we’ll never know, will we?” said Annie. “Because he wasn’t here, and it’s all mere speculation.”
“That will do, DI Cabbot,” said Chambers. Annie gave him a contemptuous look.
“So, in fact, what Erin and Patrick Doyle were expecting,” Chambers went on, “was for an old family friend to come knocking at their door, give their daughter a stern talking to, then disappear from their lives forever with the gun? Problem solved.”
“I wouldn’t necessarily say that,” Annie argued. “I don’t know what they were expecting. There are no grounds whatsoever for assuming that DCI Banks would in any way interfere with the law, or try to protect Erin Doyle from prosecution for any offense she might have committed.”
Chambers sneered. “Well, we’ll never know now, will we, DI Cabbot? He wasn’t here.” He had the kind of face that seemed to be wearing a perpetual expression of distaste, Annie had noticed, as if he had just smelled or swallowed something unpleasant. She also felt his eyes undress her every time he looked in her direction. His complexion was like the shiny pink plastic of a child’s doll, and his lips were fleshy, wet and red. Annie felt like sticking her tongue out at him, but she managed to restrain herself. That would be childish. Instead, she gave him a sweet smile and sipped some bitter, tepid coffee.
“This isn’t getting us anywhere, Reg,” cut in McLaughlin, who, Annie suspected, was well aware of Chambers’s shortcomings. “What might have happened under different circumstances isn’t our concern here. Certainly not at this point.”
“No, sir,” said Chambers, with a quick glare at Annie. “Forgive me. I was simply trying to get a general sense of events. Did anyone telephone the Doyle house, try to talk to the father and assess the situation?”
Gervaise paused. “We felt that a telephone call might cause too much consternation, given that Erin’s mother had already told us that her daughter was distraught, and that Erin and her father were expecting DCI Banks to be in touch.”
Chambers raised his eyebrows. “Though that is standard procedure before sending in the cavalry, isn’t it?”
“Let’s move on to the incident itself, Reg,” McLaughlin said.
“By all means.” Chambers turned to the young AFO. “Constable Warburton, would you care to tell us briefly, in your own words, what transpired at Laburnum Way? Just stick to the facts and keep it simple. Don’t embellish.”
“Yes, sir,” said Warburton, sitting to attention, if such a thing was possible. He went on to describe how the team had waited while the local police knocked on the door and announced themselves.
“But no one answered, is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How long would you say transpired between the first officers announcing themselves and your forced entry?”
“It’s hard to say, sir,” said Warburton. “Time can behave very strangely in circumstances like that.”
“I acknowledge that one’s perception of time can be affected by stress,” said Chambers, “but surely you can give me a rough estimate? Seconds? Minutes? Hours?”
“A few minutes at most, sir.”
“Minutes? Very well. A minute can be a long time.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And during that time did you hear anything?”
“Hear anything?”
“Yes, from inside. Any sounds? An argument or anything like that.”
“I thought I heard voices at one point, sir. People talking.”
“Arguing?”
“Impossible to say, sir. They were muffled.”
“But could they have been raised?”
“I suppose they could. I couldn’t tell.”
“Very well. What happened next?”
“When it seemed apparent that no one was going to answer the door, we thought it necessary to force entry. That is, WPC Powell and I did. Anything could have happened since the first reports. The girl could have been holding her father at gunpoint. She could even have shot him.”
“Nobody’s arguing with your judgment, son,” said Chambers. “Though the press might take a slightly more jaundiced view of things.”
“I feel that I a
cted in accordance with the law, sir, and with my training. I’d do the same—”
“Yes, yes. All right. Spare us the self-justification, PC Warburton. What happened when you entered the house? You entered from the front with Constable Nerys Powell, am I correct?” Chambers glanced at PC Powell, and it was clear to Annie, even from such a short look, that he disapproved of the presence of a woman on the team. They both worked at County HQ. Perhaps they had clashed before.
“Yes, sir,” said Warburton. “We entered the building as instructed, WPC Powell and me.”
Nerys Powell gave him a sad smile of encouragement. “What happened next?”
“The hallway was very long and dark. It was daytime, but there was no direct source of light.”
“Did you have a torch?” McLaughlin asked. “Yes, sir, on my belt.”
“Did you switch it on?”
Warburton paused before answering. “No, sir,” he said. “There was just no time. It all happened so quickly. I did flick a light switch on the wall as we entered, but the bulb blew.”
“Tell me what happened next.”
Warburton drank some water and rubbed his face with both hands. “Just as we entered the hall, by the bottom of the stairs, a door at the far end opened, to the right. I knew from my briefing that this was the door to the kitchen, and the kitchen was where the…. where Mr. Doyle and his daughter were said to be waiting. And the loaded firearm. I heard a creaking noise. Then there was a figure in the corridor, just a silhouette, really, and I could swear he was waving a sword or some such weapon at me, about to rush us. Like I said, it was still dark in there. Our eyes hadn’t had a chance to adjust, and we didn’t have time to get out our torches. But we knew there was a loaded weapon on the premises, and I…I just reacted as fast as I could, sir, the way any officer would.”
“So you fired?”
“I discharged my Taser, sir, yes. As we are instructed to do when faced with someone brandishing a sword or a knife.”
“Yet as far as you were concerned, the weapon you were there to recover was a firearm, and it had been found in the possession of Erin Doyle, not her father?”
“That’s correct, sir. But he could have taken possession of it.”
“And just decided to shoot a policeman for the hell of it? Stick to the facts, constable. You mentioned a sword, not a gun. And this sword was actually a walking-stick.”
Warburton swallowed. “Well, yes, sir. Strictly speaking. But I—”
“‘Strictly speaking?’ I’d be interested to know how else you would put it? Were you aware of any reason Mr. Doyle might have had for attacking you with a sword? Or even a walking stick, for that matter?”
“No, sir. We…I…simply reacted to the circumstances, did the right thing, as per training. There was no time to speculate. Perhaps he had decided to try to defend his daughter? Perhaps he’d realized since the mother went off to see the police that the girl would be sent to jail? Perhaps he felt under threat because things hadn’t turned out the way he had expected? I don’t know, sir. I just reacted.”
“Are those the thoughts that passed through your mind at the time, or are they explanations you have thought up since?”
“I can’t say I really had time to think of anything like that, sir. Not at the time. In action, you just sort of fall back on your training. It’s not like thinking, finding reasons. That’s for later.”
“Where did you aim for?”
“For the chest area, sir. The largest body mass. It’s not as if you’d expect a Taser to kill someone.”
“I know that, but it has happened.. Don’t you know it’s now recommended that firearms officers aim Tasers for the arms or legs, not the chest?”
“Sir, it was dark, I felt threatened, and I didn’t want to risk missing.”
Chambers cleared his throat. “Do you have any idea why there was such a long delay inside the house that you were forced to break down the door?”
“No, sir.”
“Were you aware at that time that Mr. Doyle was expecting DCI Banks, an old friend, to turn up and sort things out?”
“No, sir, I wasn’t.”
“Did you know that he was walking with a stick after a recent knee operation?”
“I did not, sir.” Warburton turned to his immediate boss, Firearms Cadre Superintendent Mike Trethowan, who gave him an encouraging nod. Trethowan was an experienced superintendent of about fifty, with compact military bearing and a red complexion that Annie associated with high blood pressure. He always seemed cool enough, though, so she doubted that was the reason. Maybe he just burned easily in the sun. “That information was not in our briefing,” said Warburton.
Chambers turned to Gervaise. “I take it you didn’t know about this, either, Catherine?”
“No,” said Gervaise. “Juliet Doyle neglected to mention that her husband was walking with the aid of a stick. I think she was far too het up about her daughter.”
“Her reasons are irrelevant. This should have been an essential part of the briefing. Essential. You can’t send men into battle on dodgy intelligence. It can mean the difference between life and death.”
Gervaise crossed her arms. Annie was about to make a remark about Tony Blair not being worried about dodgy dossiers when it came to going to war with Iraq, but she decided it wouldn’t go down well at this point. She must be growing up, she thought, not sticking her tongue out, keeping her lips buttoned.
Chambers put his pen on his pad. It was covered in looping, spider-like scrawl, Annie noticed, quite a lot of which appeared to be doodles. “I think we should wrap this up now,” he said. “There are a lot of loose ends, a lot more questions to be asked. This is only the beginning.”
“There is one more thing,” said Gervaise. Chambers raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Gervaise ignored him and looked directly at ACC McLaughlin. “If we might have your permission to interview Erin Doyle, sir? Before the ground gets muddied.”
Chambers spluttered. “I don’t think that’s—”
McLaughlin cut Chambers off, then glanced from him to Gervaise and back. “I do see the problem,” he said. “Clearly the discharge of the Taser is an incident that needs to be investigated by you and your department, Reg. The Independent Police Complaints Commission will no doubt insist on that.”
Chambers nodded in agreement.
“But on the other hand,” McLaughlin went on, “we still have the matter of the firearm itself, the reason the AFO team were at the Doyle house to begin with. I think you’ll agree, Reg, that we’re dealing with a separate investigation here. We need to find out as much as we can about this weapon and where it came from as soon as possible, and I don’t think another force would be any better equipped to deal with that than our own. Do you?”
“But it’s protocol.”
“It’s protocol that someone else investigates the actions of Constables Warburton and Powell and the rest of the AFO team, true, but that same protocol hardly requires an outside force to investigate the firearm we were called to recover in the first place. We have yet to establish any irrefutable link with Erin Doyle.”
“But they’re connected, sir.”
“Of course they’re connected,” said McLaughlin. He turned to Gervaise. “Where is the firearm now?”
“On its way to Forensic Services in Birmingham, sir.” McLaughlin nodded.
“I insist on being present at all interviews connected with this business, and with any members of the AFO team or anyone else connected with the weapon discharge,” demanded Chambers.
“There you are, you see, Reg,” McLaughlin said, allowing himself a flicker of a smile. “You’re already calling it ‘this business.’ To me that simply confuses the issue. We have the matter of the discharge of a Taser by a police officer in the course of his duty, yes, but we also have the discovery of a loaded firearm in a young woman’s bedroom. I would like to know where that weapon came from, what its history is, whether it has ever been used in the commissio
n of a crime, for example, and how it got into Erin Doyle’s bedroom in the first place. Now, I’m aware there’s a connection—the officers were there to pick up the firearm, after all—but as far as I know, the handgun wasn’t used in ‘this business,’ was it? Nobody got a gunshot wound at Laburnum Way, did they? As far as I can gather, the weapon we’re interested in remained wrapped in a tea cloth from the moment it was picked up by Constable Powell to the moment we shipped it off to Birmingham. The chain of evidence is quite clear on this.”
“Let’s face it,” Gervaise said, “as soon as the media get hold of this, they’ll have a field day. We’re all going to be under the microscope—not just for the Taser discharge, but for the loaded gun, too—and things are likely to get even more twisted than they are right now. There’ll be questions in the house, a Home Office inquiry, a government report—”
“Yes, yes,” said McLaughlin, rubbing his forehead. “I’m aware of all that, Catherine. I don’t need reminding, thank you very much. I’m also aware that my opinion cuts very little ice with Superintendent Chambers here. But I’m still in charge, and I can’t see any objection at all to your interviewing Erin Doyle as long as you stick to the matter of the firearm, and she has legal representation present. The sooner, the better.”
“And my request to be present?” cut in Chambers, salvaging as much dignity as he could from the situation.
Before McLaughlin could answer, there came a soft tap at the door. Annie knew that the ACC had specifically asked that they not be interrupted, so she wasn’t surprised when he barked out a gruff “What is it?” A grim-faced Harry Potter opened the door a crack and stuck his head through. “Sorry to disturb the meeting, ma’am,” he said, addressing Gervaise, “but the hospital thought you ought to know. Mr.
Doyle. Patrick Doyle. He died ten minutes ago. Sorry, ma’am.”
WHEN TRACY Banks got home from work at about half past five that evening, she was hot, tired and grumpy. The traffic on Otley Road had been jammed up almost as far back as The Original Oak, and it had taken her bus nearly an hour to crawl the short distance from town. It had been a difficult day at the bookshop, too. They had a big-name crime author coming to do an event that evening, and she had spent most of the day on the phone chasing down his backlist from a variety of recalcitrant publishers, books that had been promised for weeks but still hadn’t arrived. Still, that wasn’t her problem anymore. Bugger it, she thought. Let Shauna, the evening-shift manager, deal with it. After all, she would also get to go out with the writer and his entourage afterward for a slap-up meal and a bunch of free drinks at Maxi’s. All Tracy wanted now was a joint and a bit of peace and quiet. She hoped Erin was still at her parents’ place. Life had been a lot more relaxed without her over the weekend, and the last thing Tracy wanted was another row.
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