Baby's Got Blue Eyes: Introducing DI Ted Darling

by L M Krier

  'Ted! Trev! Perfectly lovely to see you both,' Roger called, as soon as the two men walked into the bar. 'Ted, I think you've already met …' again the deliberate pause while he mentally searched for a name, 'Willow, haven't you? Willow, this is Ted's perfectly gorgeous partner, Trevor. What are you drinking?'

  'Nothing for me before we play, thanks, Roger,' Ted shook his head. Trev did the same and added, 'You can buy us a bottle of bubbly when we thrash you again, Roger.'

  Hard G laughed amiably. It was true that he had never managed to beat the two men, despite a string of different partners, some of them very good players indeed. The fact that Ted and Trev knew each other so well and anticipated each other's every move gave them an edge that was hard to beat. They hadn't played against Willow before and none of them, it seemed, knew what she could bring to the match.

  'How's it going, Ted? Any more progress since Thursday?' Roger asked. 'Did I hear on the grapevine that you had someone in for questioning?'

  'Expensive country club, a bit of badminton, few drinks, maybe a nice meal. Does that sound like a typical day at the nick to you, Roger?' Ted asked dryly.

  The Professor laughed. 'Point taken, old boy. No shop talk for now.'

  'Do you play, Willow? Trev asked her.

  Roger interrupted with a lewd laugh. His hand strayed to Willow's behind which he squeezed, hard. 'Careful how you ask, Trev,' he said. 'You might find yourself with an entirely different après match foursome to what you perhaps had in mind.'

  Trev saw the pained look that passed over the blonde's face and wondered if Ted would arrest him if he followed his instincts and karate kicked the crap out of the lecherous Hard G. Exercising all his self-control, he ignored the Professor and gently drew Willow aside by the arm so the two of them could talk without interruption.

  Hard G laughed again, mockingly. 'Don't they make the perfect couple?' he sneered.

  'Roger,' Ted said affably. 'One day you really will go too far and Trev will lamp you. Don't be deceived by those baby blue eyes.'

  An emotion Ted found hard to read flashed briefly across the Professor's face, his eyes clouding. Then he laughed again and said, 'Quite right, of course, dear boy. You know how much I love to tease. I just hope neither of you takes me seriously for a moment.' He drained his glass. 'Shall we all go and change? The court is ours whenever we want it.'

  As they strolled along an impressive wood-panelled corridor towards the sports complex at the rear of the club, Trev slipped an arm around Ted's waist. He leaned close to say in a low voice, 'The payback rate has just doubled. No, trebled. That is, if you want me to promise not to kill him.'

  Once changed, they assembled at their appointed court. Willow looked absolutely stunning in pink skort and polo top, clearly expensive, top-of-the-range wear. Her outfit was totally in contravention of the club's strict whites only rule but she looked so sensational that even the anal sports secretary was unlikely to object. She certainly looked the part, and her warm-up routine of jogging and stretching was professionally executed.

  Ted and Trev took most of their sports seriously, though none quite so much as their martial arts. They liked to make a little joke of their badminton warm up, including a few karate movements in their stretching. They called it their personal haka, designed to intimidate the opposition.

  They paired off, Ted and Trev at one end of the court, Hard G and Willow at the other, and began play. It was obvious right from the start that Willow was an extremely good player, possibly tournament standard. It was equally obvious that Hard G was set on doing everything he possibly could to humiliate her.

  Although she clearly outclassed him and was certainly going to stretch both Ted and Trev, Hard G constantly leapt about the court taking shot after shot she could easily have taken and making a worse job of it than she would have done. His repeated interference gave Ted and Trev an easy victory in the first game when it was obvious that, had Willow been allowed to play unhindered, they would have had a much harder job of it.

  Willow kept calling out to her partner to let her take the shot, but he either totally ignored her or blundered across her, preventing her from taking it and usually fluffing it himself. When he almost shoulder-charged her out of the way for one stroke which she could easily have taken with her deadly backhand, which had already proved too much for both Ted and Trev, she whirled round in fury and launched her racquet at him, before storming out of the court.

  Hard G had his own racquet in his right hand but somehow managed to bring his left up to execute a deft catch of the flying racquet, before it made contact with his face. He laughed coarsely. 'Oh, dear, women's troubles, eh? Someone is clearly feeling a little pre-menstrual.'

  Trev carefully put his own racquet down at the side of the court and sprinted out in pursuit of Willow. Ted walked round the net and up to Hard G, head and shoulders taller than him and still smirking mockingly. Ted's tone was low and measured but would immediately have sent his whole team, the DCI included, scurrying for cover.

  'Roger, you really are a complete and utter piece of shit. And one day, someone is going to give you a short sharp lesson in manners around women,' he said conversationally. 'On that day, Roger, whether I am on duty or not, I strongly suspect I will be looking the other way.'

  He collected up his, Trev's and Willow's belongings and made to leave the court. 'Please don't be a bore, old boy,' Hard G called after him. 'I only do it so I don't have to dump them, so they leave me. So much less messy. I've already been test-driving the latest model for a few weeks now and she has much better handling and manoeuvring skills, not to mention more thrust, if you know what I mean.'

  'Goodbye Roger,' Ted said through gritted teeth, without even turning back.

  'But what about our meal? I've booked a table,' Hard G said to his departing back.

  'I hope you'll enjoy it. Bon appetit,' Ted said and only just restrained himself from slamming the door on his way out.

  He found Trev and Willow outside the door to the women's changing rooms. Trev had his arms around the blonde, who matched his height perfectly. She was moulded to him, every inch of their bodies in contact. As she sobbed on his shoulder, Trev's hand gently stroked her long, fine, blonde hair as he murmured soothingly, 'Please don't cry, angel. He's such a piece of shit, he doesn't deserve you. You're so beautiful and you play so superbly. He's not worthy to be on the same court. Please don't cry, my sweet.'

  He made eye contact with Ted over the top of her head and gave a little moue of apology. Ted nodded his understanding as Trev said, 'Willow is coming back with us today, and staying the night. I'll make a meal; she needs to be with people who appreciate her,' which made the tall blonde sob even more.

  On the short drive home, while Ted drove, Trev sat with Willow in the back seat and kept up his low, soothing murmur until Willow's sobs finally stopped and she was patting her eyes and blowing her nose, apologising profusely for her outburst and thanking them both for their kindness and understanding.

  Once inside the warm and welcoming kitchen, surrounded by purring cats, Willow squealed with delight and said, 'Ooooh, cats! I adore cats! Roger hates all animals – unless he's dissecting them,' she added, with a shudder.

  She scooped up a particularly friendly Russian Blue, with striking green eyes, whose purring immediately doubled in intensity and volume.

  'That's Mercury,' Trev told her, then asked 'Why on earth do you stay with Hard G?'

  She smiled at the nickname. 'No more,' she said. 'That was the last straw. I could have wiped the floor with the two of you single handedly. No offence,' she smiled. 'But I'm a whore to my career – literally,' she continued. 'Being seen in all the best places on Roger's arm worked wonders for my modelling bookings. I almost convinced myself it was worth the price I had to pay.' She squirmed in disgust. 'But it wasn't, nothing is.'

  'Honey, it's going to take me a little while to put together something edible for us. Ted will show you the bathroom, go and have a nice long soak. You ca
n borrow my bath robe, it's the fluffy one on the door. And Ted will sort the spare room for you for tonight,' Trev told her as he started opening fridge and cupboards.

  When Ted came back down, Trev said, 'How can anyone treat another person that badly? What kind of a piece of shit is Hard G really?'

  'Don't worry, I told him exactly what a piece of shit he is,' Ted replied. 'It's going to make our next professional meeting a rather interesting one.'

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ted's first incoming phone call of the day when he got into work really surprised him. It was Hard G and he seemed genuinely contrite.

  'Ted, I just wanted to apologise for yesterday,' he began. 'Utterly unforgivable of me. I should have sorted out dumping Willow in private rather than subject you and Trevor to such a show of bad manners. Please, accept my sincere apologies.'

  Ted was so gobsmacked he hardly knew what to say so he contented himself with, 'Thank you, Roger. I'll pass your comments on to Trev. And to Willow.'

  'Ah, yes. The poor girl is so much better off without me. How is she?' Hard G asked.

  'Relieved, Roger,' Ted said, acerbically. 'She spent the night with us. Good food, cat cuddles, hugs from Trev, a long hot bath, and she's on her way with her self-esteem higher than it's clearly been in a long time.'

  Hard G sounded surprisingly subdued as he said goodbye and hung up.

  Ted's next call was the DCI, summoning him to his office. Ted took the precaution of taking his freshly brewed green tea with honey with him, to save him from the mud-like coffee.

  'Come in, Ted, sit down. You won't like it,' the DCI warned. 'Press conference, later this afternoon, hoping to hit the six o'clock national news. We need help with ID-ing the second victim and getting any leads on the first. I want you in on it.'

  Ted made a face. He disliked any sort of what he called fuss and appearing in front of the television cameras was definitely in that category, in his book. But he could see the sense of it in this case. Two bodies, only one ID and no suspects in the frame at all. They needed the public's help, and soon.

  'Vicki Carr's parents are coming in,' the DCI told him. 'They're going to make an appeal, try to prick someone's conscience to come forward with any information they may have, even suspicions.'

  'It's going to open the floodgates to the crank callers, malicious hoaxes and vengeance calls,' Ted warned.

  'Of course, inevitably, and it's going to make more work for you and your team sifting through them,' the DCI agreed. 'But someone, somewhere out there knows something. There's no way this killer can be doing what he is doing without someone knowing or suspecting something. We need to prise that information out of them.'

  'You don't want me to say anything do you?' Ted asked with a pained expression, as if the Big Boss had suggested he cross naked along a tightrope over Mersey Square on a unicycle, balancing a long pole and carrying a parasol.

  'Press office will prepare you a brief of what to say and what not to say. Just stick to the brief, don't deviate from it at all,' the DCI told him. 'And don't answer any questions, no matter how leading they are. Leave all those to me. We'll have a photo-quality artist's impression of the second victim, see if anyone recognises that. If we can at least ID her out of it then it will be worth it.

  'Oh, and Ted,' he looked at his DI, comfortable in his habitual get up of dark jeans and polo neck, Doc Martens and dark leather jacket. 'Go home and change, please. Suit, shirt, tie, proper copper gear. We need the public's help so we can't afford to have you sitting there looking like a Mossad agent.'

  The prospect of the ordeal to come meant Ted was rather brusque in briefing his team. Those who had been with him for any length of time knew exactly what the cause was, once he mentioned the press conference. DS Hallam was already starting to know enough about him to understand.

  Even before they got an ID on the second victim, whom Tina was calling Annabel, they were trying to look for any link at all, no matter how tenuous, between the two victims. So far, apart from the causes of death, they seemed to have little in common.

  Vicki Carr was from a reasonably well-off family, in work, living in a flat and with no indication of any significant drug use, other than possibly sharing a bit of blow with her flatmate.

  Annabel, they were presuming, was a runaway, possibly living rough, certainly a drug user, probably funding her habit by prostitution. That opened up the possibility that her killer had simply picked her up on a street corner, offering cash for sexual favours.

  Ted was still troubled by the location in which Annabel was dumped. It was the first time in his career that a killer he was investigating had gone on to strike a second time, with him being no nearer to finding them. He was worried that it was becoming personal, that the killer knew he was leading the enquiry and was sending him a clear, direct message.

  Appearing live on national television later that day may possibly increase the risk of it becoming even more personal between him and the killer. It would not be the first time on record that it had become a battle of wills between two individuals, with victims paying the cost.

  Ted decided to go home early on to change into the hated court clothes. He wanted to be sure he was back in plenty of time to greet Vicki Carr's parents in person. He could only begin to imagine what they were going through. It made him even more determined to catch the bastard who was doing this to these girls.

  He took the time when he got back to walk through the ginnel to see if any progress was being made on the site where the victim's body was dumped. Uniform were still fingertip searching the area, looking for a murder weapon or the missing personal effects, so far with no results at all.

  His team's house to house enquiries had similarly had no success. The only progress to date was that there were now two fewer fighting dogs and their owners loose on his patch. It was not enough. Ted didn't want killers of any description on his manor, he had too much respect for all life.

  When he saw the state of Vicki Carr's parents as they turned up for the press conference, Ted felt ashamed that his first thought had been an objection to wearing a suit and tie. Her mother was ashen-faced, barely staying upright. The father was tight-lipped, only just in control.

  Ted went across to introduce himself to them. The father's accusatory opening words were, 'Why haven't you caught this monster yet? Why did you let him go on to kill again?'

  Having shaken the other man's hand, Ted held it a little longer and looked at him, frankly and honestly, straight in the eyes. 'I promise you, Mr Carr, I am doing everything I can possibly do to bring justice for Vicki, and for you and your wife. I will get him, you have my personal assurance on that.'

  Carr obviously saw and heard what he needed to. He nodded his head, shook Ted's hand once more, then turned, supporting his wife, and they went to their appointed seats.

  The DCI opened the press conference, outlining in a calm and matter of fact way all the information they had to date and asking for the public's help in identifying the second victim. He also asked for reports of any sightings of either young woman or of anyone behaving suspiciously in the locations involved or anywhere else on the crucial dates.

  Mr Carr made an impassioned plea, to which his wife added a few brief words before she broke down completely in wracking sobs and her husband had to lead her from the room.

  Then the DCI handed over to Ted, who said exactly what he had been told to say and, through supreme self-control, managed not to react to any of the hard questioning of him personally which followed, when the conference was thrown open to the floor.

  Ted had already sent Trev a text to tell him he would be home late. He intended to watch the broadcast go out with the DCI in his office and then be available if any calls came in. DS Hallam had had to go to take his mother-in-law to another appointment but Sal and Virgil, Rob and young Steve were also at their desks manning the phones, ready to note any information at all that came in.

  Ted was surprised at the speed with which the first cal
l came through. The DCI answered his phone, said, 'Yes, he's here,' then handed it to Ted. 'Someone asking to speak to you and no one else.'

  'DI Darling,' Ted said, as he took the phone. There was a long pause, then a hesitant voice said, 'Hello. It's Oliver.'

  A call from Oliver Burdon, the strange but seemingly harmless porter from the hospital, wasn't what Ted was hoping for. Although he had told the man to call him if he needed help, he hoped he was not going to be wasting his time when he could be following up important leads.

  'Hello, Oliver, nice to hear from you,' he said patiently. 'How are things with you?'

  'Very good, thank you,' came the reply. 'I thought I was going to get the sack after that trouble. But when I went back to the hospital, they said you had spoken to someone and I could still have my job. They sent someone from Human 'Sources to talk to me and they're going to help me.'

  'That's excellent news, Oliver, I'm pleased to hear it,' Ted said. 'I'm just a little bit busy right now, so could we perhaps talk again, at another time?'

  'I want to help you,' the man said. 'You helped me, so I want to help you. I saw you just now, on the telly.'

  Ted threw a loaded look at the DCI and put the phone onto loudspeaker.

  'Oliver, are you telling me you have information concerning the murder enquiry?' he asked, mentally crossing his fingers that the hospital porter was not just a people-pleaser, trying to repay a kindness.

  'Yes I do,' came the prompt and delighted response. 'I know who that young girl is.'

  Ted and the DCI exchanged another look, not daring to hope that they might have a lead so early on.

  'So who is she, Oliver?' Ted asked, trying to keep his voice as patient and neutral as he could.

  'Well, on Saturdays, I go and help out at a place that makes food for homeless people, it's near the hospital. I go because they let me have my dinner there,' Oliver began, while Ted did his best to control his mounting impatience. 'That girl goes there. She's one of the homeless. She … ' he broke off and there was an awkward pause.