Walk On By: DI Ted Darling Book 7

by L M Krier

  ‘Even if Kateb had been pulled in for questioning, at that early stage, the operation was fully set up and would almost certainly have gone ahead without him. And without the victim’s mobile phone and computer, which would have been removed from the scene, there would be absolutely nothing to link him to the killing, which almost certainly shouldn’t have happened. The gang just got careless with who they chose to carry out the pick-up.

  ‘Kateb will no doubt have been using throwaway SIM cards for his contact with the victim, so there will be no link to him that way. The surveillance which was carried out shows him arriving to meet the target a few days before the incident. There was no CCTV at or near the café where they met – it will have been specially selected for that reason – and it was impossible for the surveillance team to get a photo of them together. Kateb deliberately chose a table right at the back of the tea room, which was not in clear sight of the team outside. We just have a few shots of the woman entering the café, one of several to do so, shortly after Kateb had been photographed entering the premises. He was careful always to keep his face out of sight of anyone watching him. We now know that it was the victim whom he met because of the distinctive red coat and from a passport photo of her which DCI Darling’s team found during the house search.

  ‘Finally, sir, can I just say that before anyone starts asking how can anyone fall for a line about an undercover operation or anything like that, this is a very polished, professional scam. Kateb will have had a forged warrant card which could well have fooled some of us in here, even on close inspection. His cover story will have been flawless, more than enough to convince this unfortunate woman, intelligent though she might have been, to believe him and trust him completely. That’s what makes him and his gang so dangerous. The only thing which is different here is that it escalated into violence. That leads us to think that they were using someone new and untried, or at least not tried in difficult circumstances, who lost control of the situation and pulled a knife.

  ‘It’s also our belief that he won’t be around for us to find or to question in the future. He will simply disappear. Whether that’s alive or dead is anyone’s guess, until and unless we find a body.’

  ‘Thank you, Don. So, Chief Inspector Darling, all you and your team have to do is find who it was who did kill Mrs Ashworth and make sure they’re brought to book. That should be a stroll in the park for someone with your track record. Please tell us now what progress you have made thus far on that angle.’

  ‘Sir, no phone or computer were found at Mrs Ashworth’s house but we’ve recovered a hand-written diary which the victim kept from there, which will hopefully give us details about how she became involved in this affair. One of my officers is working to transcribe it now and I’ll ensure that the relevant contents are circulated as soon as possible.’

  ‘I would have thought you’d have been able to give us at least the bare bones of it by now, Darling. I think you might have to start prodding your team into a bit more action, to keep pace with an enquiry of this magnitude.

  ‘Remember, too, everyone, that it is just possible, because of the complexities of this operation, that we may have to allow some of this gang to remain at liberty, under close surveillance, properly carried out this time, until we wrap up the case. But Darling, I want you and your team to get the killer out of the picture as soon as possible. By that I mean identified and placed under reliable round-the-clock surveillance until I give the word to arrest them. We can’t risk another incident like the previous disaster. That is unless you can establish definitively that they have been removed by the gang themselves.

  ‘I just want to impress upon everyone here that this operation, Operation Croesus, takes priority over everything else. Everything. And that includes your private lives. Tell your husbands and wives, your girlfriends and boyfriends ...’ he let his gaze linger slightly longer than necessary on Ted as he said it, ‘to forget about seeing much of you for the foreseeable future, until this case is wrapped up, including all the loose ends.

  ‘Be aware, too, that I will, as and when necessary, be calling briefings, which will all take place here at Central Park, at any time of the day or night, as necessary. I expect you all to attend, when summoned, and to be in a fit state to take part.’

  He went on to assign tasks and lay out the roles and responsibilities of each of them. Then he handed round written details of who was in charge of what aspect of the case. He was a good administrator, Ted had to concede to himself. His personnel management skills could certainly have done with some work.

  As Marston broke up the briefing, he added, ‘You can all go now and get on with your individual assignments. Darling, I want a word with you. You wait behind.’

  The look the Ice Queen gave Ted was one of concern. It was glaringly obvious to all present that there was something going on between Marston and Ted of which they didn’t have the full picture. As Ted’s boss gathered up her coat and bag, she told him that she and Kevin Turner would wait for him in the car.

  As soon as the door closed behind them, Marston turned to Ted.

  ‘You and I need to sort out a few basic ground rules. I don’t reckon you at all, not as a copper, nor as anything else. I think you’re a cocky little sod who just got lucky on a few cases. I think all this PC crap gives us positive discrimination. I know you have friends in high places watching your back. But I think that’s because you’re the token queer of any rank in the force and they don’t want the bad PR of having to get rid of you.’

  ‘Sir, you’ve just made discriminatory reference to my height and to my sexuality. I think you might be well advised to think carefully about what you’re saying.’

  ‘Why, what are you going to do about it?’ Marston’s voice was a sneer. ‘Run and tell teacher? You’ve done that before. But there’s just you and me now, so I can say what I like and I tell you now, I’ll be watching you, the whole time. And the first slip-up you make, and you will make one, I’ll have you, Darling.’

  ‘You might perhaps need to be careful of how that sounds, sir. And you might also want to consider that I could be recording this conversation on my mobile.’

  The other man’s eyes narrowed as he tried to work out if Ted was bluffing. Ted was surprised at the intensity of the hate in them. Then Marston held out his hand.

  ‘Give me your phone.’

  ‘Not going to happen, sir.’

  ‘I’m your superior officer, and I’m ordering you to hand over your phone. You know you can’t make covert recordings and expect to use them.’

  ‘You may be my senior officer, sir,’ Ted put heavy emphasis on the word and its distinction, ‘but you don’t have reasonable grounds to order me to.’

  Marston fell quiet for a moment. It was a similar stand-off to the time before, only this time Ted had no intention of calling anyone else. They needed to sort this between them. Now. Marston fired his parting shot.

  ‘Like I said. I’ll be watching you. And the first chance I get, I’m taking you down.’

  ‘Then I’d better be absolutely sure I don’t give you that opportunity,’ Ted said levelly, then left a pregnant pause before he said, ‘sir.’

  Once they got back to Stockport, the Ice Queen asked to see Ted in her office. She switched her coffee machine on as soon as they walked through the door. What had been on offer at Central Park had been lukewarm and indifferent.

  ‘I take it there is history between you and the Chief Superintendent, and not in a good way? Is it something I should know about?’ she asked him as they sat down.

  Ted shrugged dismissively.

  ‘You know how it can be, with people who know nothing about Firearms, trying to tell those of us who do how to run an operation. It’s a long time in the past.’

  She was looking at him shrewdly.

  ‘But I’m sensing that he hasn’t forgotten it, and perhaps doesn’t consider it as unfinished business between you?’

  ‘It’s fine. I’m sure we’ll all
have enough to do without letting old, historical niggles get in the way. I would really like to get away in time to go to the dojo tonight, though. A bit of time spent throwing Trev round the mat is always good for me, after a day like today.’

  Ted made light of it, but the Super was astute enough to see that it was what he needed to do.

  ‘None of us is indispensable. You need to do what is necessary to get you through this case. Please also promise me that if you encounter any form of discrimination, intimidation or bullying of any kind, you will inform me.’

  She saw Ted’s expression and insisted.

  ‘You know that we cannot allow any such thing to go on. I’m well aware that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself. But if we turn a blind eye to it happening at your level, we’re condoning it going on, perhaps directed at others not as strong as you are.’

  ‘Hard day at the office, dear?’ Trev laughed as he slid into the passenger seat of the courtesy car Ted’s garage had lent him. The bodywork job on his own car was not yet finished and Ted hated not being independently mobile, especially with Marston’s reputation for calling briefings in the middle of the night.

  Trev had found himself on the mat more times than he cared to count during judo training with Ted. He was taller and heavier than his partner but Ted outdid him every time on speed, timing and technical ability. Ted would usually head to his Krav Maga club when he was as wound up as he currently was, but he hadn’t the time to go there. He’d missed the juniors’ self-defence but had driven to the gym near Davenport in time for his own training session.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said tersely. ‘I’m a bit under pressure. Ghosts from the past, that sort of thing. Jim’s replacement on this big enquiry wouldn’t have been my first choice and I’m certainly not his favourite copper. It’s just stirred up a few memories, that’s all.’

  Trev laid a concerned hand on Ted’s arm as he drove.

  ‘If the stress is getting to you, promise me you won’t bottle it up like you usually do. Go and see Carol for more counselling if you need to. Please, Ted.’

  ‘Snakebite for you, Skipper?’

  Ted was the last of the team to arrive at the pub. The others had already changed out of uniform and headed straight there. Ted had stopped for a shower. He felt he needed it. It was he who had taken the killing shot. It was his job but it still left him feeling tainted.

  ‘Here, get that down your neck, Skip. You earned it today.’

  One of his team mates handed Ted the brimming pint of strong cider mixed with lager. He needed no second bidding. His first big swallow made a sizeable dent in his drink.

  The team members were in high spirits. The operation had gone like clockwork. A man was dead, true, but that death had probably saved several other lives and that was what mattered for them all. An operational success.

  ‘Good job today, Ted. Don’t forget you need to a day or so off, then see the shrink and get yourself cleared as fit to come back to the team.’

  It was Ted’s boss who spoke, leaning against the bar and tossing back single malt as if it was water which was in scarce supply.

  ‘I’m fine, boss. Just a job. No need for any of that.’

  The other man drained his glass and set it on the bar. He’d got the first round in, as was his custom at the end of a successful job, but he wouldn’t linger. His lads didn’t need him cramping their style if they got a bit lively later on. He couldn’t blame them, after a day like that.

  ‘You know it’s the regulation. So you also know that it’s not a suggestion, it’s an order. See you do it. I’ll see you when you’re back afterwards.’

  He went on his way, nodding to his team as he left them to it. They were already starting to get noisy as glasses were drained.

  Ted had lost track of how many snakebites he’d had. He knew he should get going. His dad would be waiting for him. He suspected he’d have done his usual trick of sending the carer packing too early. He’d be needing help getting changed and ready for bed. The prospect appealed a lot less than another snakebite.

  When he was finally ready to leave, Ted wisely opted to leave his car behind in Openshaw. He could easily get a bus part way back then walk home. In fact, he felt like a run. It would help clear his head, focus his mind after a gruelling day with the prospect of more to come.

  He found his father on the floor. He could see that he’d pissed himself and from the smell, that wasn’t all. An empty Scotch bottle lay beside him and he was crying, tears and snot running down his face as he lay whimpering.

  ‘Dad, for God’s sake, you’ve got to stop doing this.’

  Ted tried to keep the anger out of his voice as he bent down beside his father, pulling the wheelchair close.

  ‘Put your arms round my neck. Let’s get you up and into the bathroom.’

  His father wasn’t a big man but, paralysed as he was, it was a dead lift, and an awkward one.

  ‘I really don’t need this today, dad. Why didn’t you let the carer get you changed and ready for bed at least?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ted, I’m sorry. I’m a burden to you, son, I know that.’

  ‘You’re not a burden. You’re my dad. Just ...’ Ted sighed, before he continued, ‘I had to shoot a man today, dad. I just don’t need this.’

  ‘Why don’t you shoot me, Ted? I don’t want to live like this any more. Just bring your gun home and leave it for me. I don’t want to be a nuisance. I just want to die, Ted. I just want to die.’

  ‘Shut up, dad! Shut up!’

  It was only when he shot bolt upright in bed, scattering disgruntled cats, that Ted realised he had shouted the last words of his dream out loud. Even Trev, who could normally sleep through anything, stirred sleepily and reached out an arm to see what was wrong.

  ‘It’s fine, don’t worry, Just a bad dream. Sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.’

  ‘Counselling, Ted. Promise me. If the nightmares are starting again, go back for more counselling.’

  Chapter Six

  Ted gave up on trying to sleep and went in to work. He needed to come up with some solid lines of enquiry to get Marston off his back so he might let him get on with his job. His work was one of the few aspects of his life that Ted was usually confident about. He knew he was good at it, even if he had occasional wobbles about his ability to do it. That was normal. It was what drove him on to do better. He always shunned any sort of fuss but he had been recommended for various commendations, which he always refused to accept. It wasn’t a case of getting lucky or being shielded by the top brass, he knew that. He was a good copper.

  The cheap jibe about positive discrimination had really rankled. Although the force had officially cleaned up its act, when Ted had first joined he’d had a hard time of it, being short, gay and called Darling. He doubted he would have stuck it out without his martial arts training. On one memorable occasion it had saved him from getting his head flushed down a toilet.

  Megan Jennings had done a good job of transcribing their murder victim’s diary. She’d not been exaggerating when she said she typed fast. Ted had circulated what she had already done via Marston for Operation Croesus, as well as within his own team.

  He’d brought back from the briefing a list of Samir Kateb’s known associates and had put Jo on to getting them checked out, although none of them were from their patch. The gang was based in Central Manchester but operated over a wide area. That checking would have to be done quietly and discreetly. Marston had made it clear he didn’t want Kateb or the rest of the gang spooked unduly before the team were in a strong position to pull them all in with the hope of a solid conviction. They were likely to be wary for the moment, with the way their operation had gone so badly wrong on this occasion.

  Ted would need to talk to Magnus Pierson at some point in the morning. He’d asked him to put his officers on to checking CCTV all round where the stabbing took place, to try to pick up any trace of who the attacker might be. They now had the details of their victim�
��s car, which had disappeared from the scene. It had been picked up on a couple of cameras, arriving in then later leaving Wilmslow, but there had been no further sightings of it anywhere since. Ted guessed it would have been quickly whisked away to have the plates changed and may well already have been sold on or otherwise disposed of.

  Ted’s mobile rang. Magnus Pierson. Another early bird.

  ‘Morning, Ted. I know you’ll want a catch-up at some point today but I wanted to try to grab you at a quiet moment to ask what was that all about, between you and the Chief Super yesterday? I hope I’m not disturbing your breakfast, by the way.’

  ‘I’m at my desk already, as I assume you are. Nothing to worry about, yesterday. Just Marston flexing his muscles. We’ve got a bit of history, although it’s nothing that need concern anyone else. But you and I are both going to have to push our respective teams a bit on this one. In a sense we have the hardest part, a suspect with no ID in an operation with no previous history of violence. Shouldn’t take us more than a day or two.’

  ‘I wish I’d got a slightly easier one to start with. I’ve begun by sending my officers out asking more questions at the shop where she bought the watch and the ones nearby, to see if we can get any hint if someone was watching or following her there. Then we’ll work back from there to where she was stabbed. I hope that’s right? Unfortunately, the only footage we have of her car doesn’t really give us anything on who was driving it as it was leaving, only that it was a single occupant.’

  ‘You’re doing fine, Magnus. Don’t worry. Any flak is likely to head my way if there are any slip-ups from our end. I’m just going through her diary now, to see if there’s anything there of use to you and I’ll let you know if there is. Unfortunately, although there’s a lot about Kateb, she only talks about being told to buy the watch, go back to the car and wait for this supposed officer, who would identify themselves with a warrant card. And equally unfortunately, it doesn’t tell us if said person was going to be a man or a woman.’