Relieved and able to relax for the first time that day, Penny Chandler’s thoughts turned to Bliss. He didn’t look at all well lately. He seemed drawn, had lost a little weight, and appeared distracted. During his suspension from duty he had considered leaving the job, but she had done her best to convince him he was needed. After a while he seemed to come to terms with what had happened, and when he returned to work he was much more outgoing and relaxed than before. The past month or so, however, had seen a change come over him once again. Chandler thought Bliss might be depressed, but so far had resisted raising the issue with him. Last week she thought she had seen him stumble slightly a couple of times, and briefly wondered if he had been drinking more heavily than usual. Yet that just wasn’t him. He’d never allow anything to affect the way he did his job. Jimmy wasn’t one to gush and express his feelings, but the two of them had made a connection and she believed he would tell her in his own time if anything was wrong.
Bliss wasn’t the only one to have been affected by that rotten case, either. One DI had transferred out, Detective Superintendent Sykes had withdrawn into himself upon realising that his career ambitions were in tatters, and she herself had felt empty inside for several weeks.
That damned investigation.
Two separate cases had eventually merged into one, something the media had afterwards dubbed the ‘Fascist Assassin’ inquiry, during which the vile mind of a right-wing fanatic had been responsible for the murder of a whole string of people, including a young boy. The boy’s father, having initially been a suspect, and who was then used by Bliss to trap the killer, manoeuvred himself into a situation where he was able to end both his own life and that of the man who had murdered his son. No one involved had emerged from the case unscathed, but life went on. And so did crime. She’d worked on one murder inquiry since, but this was her first back in the saddle with Bliss.
Jimmy was her boss, and he had put a lot of faith and trust in her, but she would have to keep a wary eye on him all the same. Chandler thought that one more failure might push him right over the edge.
Despite his best attempts at evasion, Bliss had finally found himself cornered by Stuart Sykes, and was instructed to join the superintendent in his office. Bliss refused to be cowed in the super’s presence, but their working relationship was becoming almost impossible to negotiate. Every word the man uttered seemed prolonged and drenched with bile, his contempt for Bliss all too obvious. They each understood that Sykes would seek to undermine Bliss every chance he got and that, in turn, Bliss would continue to overcome all obstacles in order to solve the cases he worked. From Sykes there was true loathing, from Bliss only disdain. The only thing they had in common was a loathing for the other. Bliss had long since decided he could live with that. He wondered if Sykes felt the same.
‘In your absence earlier today, DC Chandler and I managed to have a chat,’ Sykes said tonelessly.
His eyes were large behind rimless spectacles, blinking rapidly as if affected by a tic. He had a long, narrow face shaped like a rugby ball, cheeks hollow in the shadow of prominent bones. Bliss thought Sykes looked malnourished, the downturn of his mouth suggesting discontent. The man had aged six years in as many months, and while some might pity his fall from grace, in Bliss’s opinion the super’s quest for self-advancement had ultimately been his own undoing. There was such a thing as too much ambition.
‘Chandler informed me that you would like a large team working on this,’ Sykes continued. ‘Is that correct?’
‘That’s right,’ Bliss nodded. ‘It’s a major inquiry in my opinion.’
‘But a large team for a murder that may be as much as fifteen or sixteen years old? Given budgetary constraints right now, is that really necessary?’
The two men sat either side of Sykes’s huge glass-topped desk, the super rigid, Bliss slouched. He nodded and said, ‘It’s the very nature of this particular case that warrants a large team. At least in the early stages.’
‘I’ll have to consider the numbers.’
‘I’d also like a search team out around the perimeter of Fletton lake. It’s possible that some bones got left behind when the body was moved.’
Sykes shook his head dismissively. ‘Out of the question.’
Bliss conceded defeat. He’d not expected anything other than refusal.
‘You can have a week on this,’ Sykes said.
‘A week?’ Bliss pulled himself upright. ‘That’s no time at all.’
‘This is hardly a priority case, Inspector. And you know as well as I do how unlikely you are to get a satisfactory resolution.’
Bliss felt aggrieved. Seven days simply wasn’t enough. ‘What if we turn up some solid leads in that first week? Do I get an extension?’
Sykes gave a drawn-out sigh. ‘We’ll see.’
‘But I do get a decent team, right? Everything is so vague at the moment, with no definite dates to go on. We need the manpower to get us started.’
Sykes linked hands and leaned forward to rest them on his desk. Bliss could see his own features reflected in the super’s glasses. He didn’t like what he saw there. Prematurely grey hair cut close to the scalp, receding rapidly. A fleshy face with a doughy complexion, eyes set deep above prominent cheekbones. A stranger in familiar clothes.
‘Which brings me to your use of a civilian in this matter,’ Sykes said beneath a disapproving frown. ‘Exactly how reliable is this woman from Flag Fen?’
‘As reliable as any in her field, I should think. Emily Grant is an expert in both anthropology and archaeology.’
‘She’ll need to be if you are basing your entire line of investigation on her findings.’
Bliss acknowledged this with a dip of his head and a slight shrug. ‘All the usual forensic avenues are also being explored, of course. But these things take time, especially with human remains, and I thought we could do with getting a head start on this one.’
In the small silence that followed, Bliss ran his eyes over the office. Four times the size of his own, it had been redecorated in each of the three years Sykes had occupied it. Two windows peered out over the nearby private golf course, of which Sykes was a member. Subtle lighting illuminated pictures and photographs ranged along one wall. On the desk, next to his telephone, stood a silver-framed photograph of Sykes with his wife and two children. Proof, if ever it was needed, that there was someone for everyone in this life. In one corner of the room, by the door, there were two small leather sofas arranged in the shape of an ‘L’ around a glass and chrome coffee table. The whole office was neat and spotlessly clean, in stark contrast to Bliss’s own. Gloss over substance. Much like the man who used up valuable air in here every day.
‘This is your first murder inquiry since your return from suspension, of course,’ Sykes then commented, showing he had a bite to match his bark. Now, for the first time, their eyes met and held. ‘Are you sure you’re up to the task, Inspector?’
‘Of course.’
‘No doubts? Your ego must have taken quite a bashing. Not easy to get over such a thing.’
Bliss kept both his temper and the level of his voice in check, though he could feel both hands clenching.
‘I don’t see it that way at all. Other people involved may have considered their ego above all else, whereas my overriding concern was for the innocent victims involved. If there is any residue from that investigation, it’s a sense of overwhelming frustration, a good deal of sadness, and more than a little guilt. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.’
Sykes sat back in his chair, lips twisting into a mild pout. ‘I know what you think of me, Inspector. I know, but I don’t care. To me, your opinion is of no consequence. Officers like you should have been put out to pasture years ago. Those who do not wish to move with the times should make way for those who do. Perhaps you ought to consider that.’
‘Resigning, you mean?’ Bliss smiled and shook his head. Six months ago he had given it careful consideration. If he ever did quit, it would
be on his own terms. ‘I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction. No, if I thought I was unable to do my job, then I’d be out of here as quick as a flash. Nothing would hold me back. I admit it’s harder these days, trying to work with one hand tied behind my back with red tape, but provided I can still make a difference I’ll stick it out. You’re just going to have to accept that.’
‘I’ll accept nothing where you are concerned.’ The man’s voice hardened, emerging through tight lips.
‘Then you’ll have to learn to live with it instead. I can take whatever you choose to dish out.’
‘Don’t be so sure of that, Inspector.’
Bliss narrowed his gaze. He even managed a thin smile. ‘You like doing that, don’t you? Reminding me who I am, what rank I have. But I know why you do it.’
‘Really? Enlighten me.’
‘It’s the only way you can feel superior. By reminding me that you are, by rank. But we both know it’s by rank only, and that must eat away at your insides.’
Sykes rolled back from his desk, stood and strolled across to peer out of a window, hands clasped behind his back. A grey, swollen mass of clouds seemed to press against the glass. The day was about to get colder and wetter.
‘You think you have all the answers,’ he said, not bothering to look at Bliss. ‘I can assure you, Inspector, you do not. You may have Chief Superintendent Flynn in your corner, but he won’t be around forever. There are greener pastures calling him. I wouldn’t be in your shoes when he moves on.’
Bliss knew exactly what Sykes was driving at. He felt a surge of undiluted anger, briefly considered quelling it, then decided instead to let it loose.
‘Yes, okay, the chief super did support me when I was suspended, and perhaps he does sympathise with my position. But there are just the two of us here and now in this room. One of us is a decent copper, and the other is a complete arsehole. And both of us know which is which.’
Sykes turned this time, eyes narrowed, mouth no more than a dark smudge. ‘I will remember each and every one of these insults, Bliss. And every barb will be a nail in the coffin of your career. There will be payback, and I’m a patient man.’
Getting to his feet, Bliss moved towards the office door without being dismissed. ‘When did you stop being a copper and start being a petty, vindictive coward?’ he asked.
‘I am a copper,’ Sykes snapped, wheeling fully around, outrage etched deep into the folds of his face. ‘I’m a modern police officer in a modern police service. You bloody… troglodytes couldn’t possibly comprehend that.’
‘You want to watch your blood pressure,’ Bliss said, pausing at the door. ‘Stress can be a killer, so I hear.’
‘Get out of here! Go on, get out.’
But he was already alone in the room.
On his way down to the ground floor canteen, Bliss stopped off at the main administration office, which was staffed entirely by civilians. The open-plan office was bustling as usual, telephones going off, voices bubbling away in the background. At the counter, a large, matronly woman sat tapping at a computer keyboard.
‘Afternoon, Betty,’ Bliss said. He flashed a wide grin. The spat with Sykes had perked him up.
‘Good afternoon, Inspector,’ came the reply. She looked up and smiled back at him. Her blonde hair was cut into a neat bob that curled in at the ends and rested on her shoulders. She dressed in green almost every day, and today the mint-coloured cardigan made him think of mouthwash for some perverse reason. She had a lovely smile that cheered everyone who saw it. ‘What can I do for you?’
Bliss frowned. It was a good question. ‘I’m not sure, actually. Tell me, Betty, do you keep records here of officers who have moved on? Transferred out, or retired?’
‘Within reason, yes. We add their new station to their records if they’ve transferred, certainly. And if they move when they retire, we also lodge a forwarding address. Beyond that, the full personnel records will be stored at Cambridge, though we do have access to the main personnel database.’
‘What about a home address or telephone number for someone who transferred, as opposed to just their new station?’
‘Possibly. Who is it you want to track down?’
‘DI Weller. He was at Thorpe Wood when I started here around three years ago, moved on shortly afterwards.’
Betty’s face beamed. ‘Oh, I remember Bernie. Lovely chap. Always had time for a chat and a laugh. Drove him away, did you?’ She smiled again, her hamster cheeks puffing out.
‘Me? With all my charm?’
‘Perish the thought, eh?’
‘Exactly. No, I just wondered if I’d still be able to contact him.’
‘Well, I can certainly look it up for you.’
‘That’ll be great. Thanks a lot, Betty.’
‘No problem, Inspector Bliss. I’ll e-mail you with anything I get.’
As he jogged down the narrow staircase, Bliss almost bumped into the Chief Superintendent. Both men took a step back, affecting the sort of embarrassed grins people tend to adopt after narrowly avoiding a collision.
‘Ah, Bliss. How are things going?’ Joseph Flynn asked.
‘Not bad at all, sir. Thanks for asking.’
‘Good. Settling back in, then?’
‘Yes, I think so. The team have made it easy on me.’
‘And Superintendent Sykes? How easy has he made it?’
Bliss rejected the notion of taking the opportunity to whine and bleat about the way he was being treated. Rumour had it that Flynn’s opinion of Sykes was about as positive as Bliss’s own, but there was a protocol to uphold here.
‘Pretty much as expected,’ he allowed, a faint smile twitching his lips. ‘I think we both know where we stand.’
‘Hmm.’ Flynn raised an eyebrow. A man of no great height, the chief super was nonetheless a powerful figure, hard behind an expensive suit that drew attention from the burning intelligence within his eyes. His face wore the scars of service in the front line. ‘Very tactful, Bliss. So, I understand you’re heading this human remains case. Do you have a sense of it yet?’
There was a point in every case where the investigating officers got a real feeling for how the inquiry might go, where it could lead, the impact it was likely to have. Bliss considered the question and realised he wasn’t yet there with Jane Doe. He shook his head.
‘Not quite. It’s a difficult one, admittedly, but it’s also early days. All the relevant information is old and we’ve got to go trawling for it.’
Flynn was nodding gently. ‘Well, if anyone can, you can, Bliss. Your obvious tenacity was the thing I most admired about your record with the Met. Just don’t push too hard. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you somehow have to make up for what happened last time out. You have no point to prove, at least not to me or, I suspect, members of your team. So don’t force it. Don’t go trying to ram square pegs into round holes just to get a result. If it’s not working, take a step back. If the pressure starts to mount, my door is always open to you. I mean that. If you need to talk, I’m there for you. I’ll be following this case with great interest.’
With that he was gone, and all that remained was the echo of his shoes as he made his way up the stairs. It was his way – a few well-chosen words here, a gentle massage of the ego there. Quiet and effective management from a hugely impressive man.
In the far corner of the canteen, Bliss found Chandler sitting alongside Detective Sergeant Bobby Dunne. A huge bear of a man, the sergeant was a good and vastly experienced officer, and Bliss considered him a vital cog in his team. They exchanged greetings before Bliss asked, ‘Has Penny filled you in on our Jane Doe?’
‘She has, yes. I was just telling her how I overheard a couple of uniforms praising the way she handled herself in the incident room. Handled the actions like a real pro, evidently.’ Dunne had a deep growl to his voice, as if he gargled with creosote. It was a pack-a-day voice.
‘Good for you, Penny,’ Bliss said, grinning at her. She flappe
d her fingers at him, but he could tell she was pleased. Both with herself and the compliments. ‘Any updates?’
Chandler polished off an iced doughnut before responding. ‘I spoke with the Bone Woman. She’s back at work over at Flag Fen, and said she had nothing to add to what she’d already given us. She’s agreed to study any additional findings that arise from forensics, and to liaise with our own experts if necessary.’
Bliss considered the offer. Initially sceptical about Emily Grant’s involvement, it now seemed like a good idea to have someone close at hand with her knowledge and understanding of what they were dealing with.
‘Maybe she could take a look at the gravesite once SOCO are done with the scene,’ he suggested. ‘She might be able to give us a little more insight or narrow down the time of burial at Bretton.’
‘You want to ask her?’ The DC licked icing from her fingers, smacking her lips.
Bliss rolled his eyes. ‘You don’t give up, do you?’
Dunne looked between them. ‘Am I missing something?’ he asked.
‘The boss has a soft spot for our Miss Grant,’ Chandler explained. ‘You remember her from that course we went on?’
‘Oh, yes. Difficult to forget. A hard spot would be more likely with that one, I’d say.’
‘Oh, Bobby,’ Chandler groaned, shooting him a look of disgust.
He laughed over the rim of his mug, his big shoulders heaving. He sounded like Frank Bruno munching gravel. ‘Sorry, Pen. I couldn’t resist. Still, she’s quite a looker from what I remember.’
‘Listen,’ Bliss said, ‘I admit I find Emily attractive. She seems like a nice woman, too. But that’s it. End of story.’
‘Why?’
‘What do you mean, why?’
‘I mean why is it end of story? You’re a single bloke, she’s a single woman as I recall. You reckon she’s tasty, and there’s a slim chance she doesn’t find you repulsive. So why not give it a go?’
He’d previously tried to treat the matter lightly, but Bliss realised now that neither of his colleagues were going to let this go without a proper explanation. He decided to tell them how he felt, lowering his voice when he spoke.
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