‘The truth is, my head is not right at the moment. Neither personally nor professionally. I have no problem admitting that, and it’s hardly a secret. Maybe I came back too soon. Maybe I should never have come back at all. Time will be the judge of that, I suppose. But until I get myself sorted out, I can’t even begin to see someone else. It wouldn’t be right. Not for either of us.’
After a thoughtful pause, Chandler gave a nod of agreement. ‘I’m sure you’re right. Sorry for probing, boss.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ Dunne muttered.
‘No need. I know you’re both trying to look out for me, and I appreciate it, but I really am a grown man now. A man who knows his own mind. All I need is time.’
‘And a nice, awkward case to get stuck into.’
Bliss nodded. ‘You’ve got that right. Are you available to lend us a hand, Bobby?’
‘I’m back in court tomorrow. That bloody ridiculous GBH.’
‘Right, the two dealers.’
‘Yeah. Couple of fucking maggots. I wished they’d topped each other instead of just trading blows with baseball bats. Anyhow, it looks like tomorrow will be the last day, so if you want me I’m on board as soon as I can get away.’
‘Good.’ Bliss smiled and winked at his colleague. ‘For the time being, I’ll have to make do with Penny.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ she protested, feigning hurt.
‘Don’t want your head getting too big, Pen. One good action briefing doesn’t make you a star.’
‘You’re just worried I’m going to get all the glory.’
‘You’re welcome to it,’ Bliss said, shaking his head. ‘This one has disaster written all over it.’
Chapter 7
The sky looked as if a dense grey gauze was being dragged across it. Fierce winds hurried clouds along at a tremendous rate, and as Bliss stood gazing up out of his office window, he tried to lose himself in the swirling mass. He wondered what it would be like to be up there now, being tossed around at the will of a force greater than any he had encountered before. The thought was frightening, yet the notion of such unfettered freedom was also thrilling.
Bliss had always considered himself to be an unwilling member of the human race. Too many rules, too many boundaries. Expectations he could never live up to. Dreams and hopes crushed and swept aside like dead leaves. Heart and mind shattered by loss, the encroach of reality a burden he was incapable of carrying. Should such an emotional cripple be given the responsibility of solving a murder? Wallowing in such deep melancholy wasn’t unfamiliar to Bliss, nor was it the first time he had asked himself that searching question. But the answer always came back the same: if not him, then who?
Yes, there were other people, excellent officers, Bobby Dunne and Penny Chandler among them. But what if they had similar doubts? What if they walked away in despair? For every Dunne and Chandler there was a Sykes, and those who put themselves and their own agendas above the job, ahead of doing what was right, who set their personal ambitions before the quest for justice, could not be allowed to win. And there was another angle, Bliss had to admit to himself: he didn’t know what the hell else he could do.
Peterborough wasn’t the kind of place where quests were realised. There was no holy grail to be found here, no golden fleece. A dull, faceless city, whose population had risen beyond its worth, it nevertheless deserved the best he could offer. Bliss was as certain of that as he was about anything.
At four thirty he held a media briefing. In the public relations room Bliss saw representatives from local newspapers and regional TV only – pretty much what he’d expected at this stage – and he didn’t envisage much national interest arising in the days to come. If the inquiry had been anything resembling high profile, Sykes would have insisted on running the show, but in this instance, Bliss had been allowed to deliver a pre-prepared statement. He fended off a few follow-up questions, though there seemed little genuine interest. Fresh dead bodies demanded front-page headlines, whereas skeletal remains were buried somewhere near the horoscopes.
Just as he was winding it up, Sheryl Craig, a journalist with the local Evening Telegraph, got to her feet. An explosion of blonde curls, she was less than five feet tall, somehow managing to cram several extra pounds and a voluminous chest into a tight two-piece navy business suit without it looking ridiculous. The moment he saw her, Bliss’s sphincter tightened.
‘Inspector,’ Craig said, pouty mouth forming a carnivorous smile. ‘How does it feel to be handling a murder investigation again, given how terribly the last one ended up?’
‘It feels good to have the confidence of both my peers and superior officers.’
‘I’m sure it does, Inspector. But surely you must be a little anxious?’
Bliss glanced across at the press officer sitting by his side. Jump in any time, he thought. End this for me rather than make me do it. But the man sat there looking straight ahead.
‘I’m always anxious when investigating a murder,’ Bliss replied. ‘I don’t know any detectives who aren’t.’
‘So you don’t expect a repeat of what happened last time?’
‘Of course not. Such a rare combination of circumstances comes along once in a lifetime.’
‘And you feel no bitterness towards your employers, given that you were suspended for several months?’
‘As I said, I have their confidence. My employers were supportive during that unfortunate period.’
‘I’m sure they were. But you took a lot of punishment from the media for the manner in which you conducted that investigation.’
Bliss smiled. ‘Yes, mostly from you, as I recall. But is there a question in there somewhere, Miss Craig?’
‘My question, Inspector, is do you think you are the right person for the job? In fact, given your recent history, should you even be running a murder inquiry again so soon after the last fiasco?’
She was biting hard. Bliss felt the anger simmering inside, but he took a moment before responding. ‘Well, that’s two questions, actually. The answer to the first is yes, I do think I’m the right person for the job. I’m a DI. This is what I do. Should I be running a murder inquiry? Again, it’s what I do. And I believe I do it well.’
‘Even last time?’ Craig shook her head in mock astonishment.
‘Yes, even then. Despite everything that took place.’
‘Really? I’d hate to think what you would consider failure, Inspector.’
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t say it was successful. Did it turn out as we’d hoped? No. Were errors made? Yes. But did we track down the man responsible for several murders? Yes, we did. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, Miss Craig. But we’ve learned our lessons. I have learned my lessons. This is a new case, and it’s time for us all to move on.’
‘Which is all very well for those who are still around to move on.’
Bliss winced. The lowest of all low blows. He shook his head and said, ‘I think we’re straying from the subject in hand once again, Miss Craig. I’d be happy to discuss that particular case with you another time.’
‘I’ll hold you to that, Inspector.’
Yeah, I bet you will, he thought. Bitch!
After the briefing he caught up with some paperwork – the curse of modern policing – but by six he and Chandler were booked out and heading away from the city to unwind over a drink.
The village of Yaxley clung to Peterborough like a minnow to a whale, fiercely defending its independence while still seeking to bask in the protective shadow of the city’s wealth and popularity. Chandler drove through its centre and pulled into a space directly outside the Woodcutter’s Inn.
Bliss peered out through the side window, raising his eyebrows. ‘A favourite haunt of yours?’ he asked.
The tiny pub appeared run down, almost derelict. Its whitewashed walls were broken away in chunks, like a cake whose icing had been picked at by sweet-toothed children.
‘Actually, it’s run by a family friend,’ Ch
andler replied.
‘Looks like he could use the trade.’
‘It’s a she. And yes, she could.’
Bliss waited patiently while Chandler and her friend caught up, smiled through the inevitable introductions, and then sighed with pleasure as he sank his first mouthful of Guinness. If anything was going to shake off the bloody headache that had been building up all day, it was this. He glanced around the living-room-sized bar, brass horseshoes tacked to the dark wooden beams, landscape watercolours mounted on nicotine-coated walls. An elderly man sat alone by the unlit fire playing some solo version of dominoes, a greyhound curled up by his feet like the shell of a snail.
Chandler looked weary as she knocked back some of her vodka and orange, stretched out both legs and rolled her neck muscles.
‘Bad night?’ Bliss asked.
‘As usual. If I get five hours I’m lucky.’
‘Too much on your mind?’
She managed a weak smile. ‘To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I was able to switch off.’
‘You ought to consider putting in for some compassionate leave. You’re being pulled apart by the job and the battle for your kid. Maybe the job can wait.’
‘It’s not an option, Jimmy. I need the money a promotion to sergeant will get me. I’m already borrowing heavily from my parents.’
Bliss nodded thoughtfully. He sipped some more of his drink. Penny was a proud woman, and she fought her own battles. But there was no shame in accepting help occasionally.
‘I can smooth out some of the wrinkles for you, Penny. Financially, I mean.’
‘I couldn’t let you do that. Why would you, anyway?’
‘You could let me. I did very well on the housing market when I moved up here, and there’s a pile of insurance money I haven’t touched. As for why, isn’t wanting to help out a friend reason enough?’
‘It… it might make things awkward between us.’ Penny was finding it hard to meet his eyes.
‘I don’t see why it should. Call it a loan if you like. Pay me back the interest I’ll lose if you want. Pen, I don’t mean to embarrass you, I just want you to know that if you need it, it’s there. Don’t fail to get your daughter back because you’re short of money. That’s all I’m saying.’
There was a pause, and for a moment Bliss thought he’d offended her. But then Penny nodded her head and gave a wide, genuine smile of gratitude. ‘Thank you, Jimmy. You don’t know what your offer means to me.’
He chuckled. ‘Hey, it’s not entirely altruistic. I want your full concentration on the job while you’re here.’
‘I knew there’d be a catch.’
Bliss gave a satisfied nod. The moment was over. ‘I admire your determination. I know it’s been hard for you, and I can’t even begin to imagine how you must feel. But don’t ever worry yourself about the job. You’re doing just fine.’
Chandler flashed a grateful smile.
‘I take it nothing of interest came in from the troops while I was with our journalist friends,’ Bliss said.
‘Hardly any reports at all, let alone anything worthwhile. I gave word for either or both of us to be contacted if something does turn up, but otherwise left updates for the morning briefing tomorrow.’
‘You told them eight thirty, right?’
‘Uh-huh.’ She took another sip of her drink, smiling with pleasure this time. Ice rattled in her glass as she placed it back on the table. ‘I hope to have a few more bodies available, too.’
‘Good. We’ll probably need them. Oh, and it’s a no on the Fletton lake search. Sykes won’t sanction it. Did Emily manage to get over to the gravesite?’
‘No. SOCO were still finishing up and hadn’t cleared the scene, so she’s heading over first thing in the morning. I did consider going with her, but I thought you might want me with you for the briefing.’
Bliss set down his glass, surprised to see two thirds of his drink already gone. ‘Actually, I want you to lead the briefing. I have somewhere else to be.’
‘Oh. Anywhere interesting?’
He tapped a finger against the side of his nose. ‘It’s personal. Cover for me, will you?’
‘Of course. What do you want me to do with the teams?’
Bliss sensed both reluctance and anticipation in his colleague. Penny was an excellent detective who, despite her competence, was always eager to learn and move on, remaining enthusiastic about the job and her prospects. He had high hopes for her.
‘React accordingly to what they have to tell you, to their findings. If there are any. You know what’s needed. If they’ve come up with nothing, get them back in there to carry on where they left off today. If something useful crops up, do what feels right. Take it to the next level.’
She pulled a face as if she had bitten into a lemon, anxious now, he could tell. ‘Can I get hold of you if someone comes up with something more than useful?’
‘No. Sorry. I’ll give you a bell as soon as I’m able, though. Listen, Pen, don’t worry about this. You have good instincts. Trust yourself and go with them.’
‘And if I screw up?’
Laughing now, Bliss said, ‘Then you’ll join a large and non-exclusive club whose members include every copper who ever had to make a decision. Mistakes are part of the learning process. Happens to everyone. Even me, believe it or not. You’re only a liability if you don’t learn from them.’
Chandler nodded. Took a breath. Eased it out slowly. The bar door opened and an elderly couple came inside, complaining bitterly about the weather.
‘This place is buzzing now,’ Bliss said.
‘Yeah, it’s a riot. You want to call for backup?’
‘I think so. Armed Response and the canine unit.’
They chuckled, letting the nonsense relax them. Chandler drained her glass and said, ‘Thanks, boss. For this opportunity at work. Your confidence in me means a lot.’
‘You’ll do fine. By the way, when are your sergeant’s exams?’
‘January. I’m hitting the books, but not much of what I read tallies with what I see out there every day.’
Bliss shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t. There’s theory, and then there’s reality. Seldom are they the same thing, not in any game. And especially not in ours.’
When he got home just before eight, Bliss took Bonnie and Clyde for a short walk over at Ferry Meadows. The park was virtually empty, the emergence of cold and damp weather starting to keep folk indoors of an evening. The only people he encountered were fellow hardy dog walkers, most of whom kept their heads down as they passed by. Darkness changed the whole feel of the place, making it seem smaller and less defined, but considerably more threatening. The air smelled fresh, its chill moist. Bliss’s teeth began to chatter, so once around the lake was enough for him, if not the Labs.
Walking back the way they had come, Bliss found himself thinking about Emily Grant. What he’d told Penny and Bobby Dunne was true: he didn’t feel right in himself, not about his work, nor about his life, and it would be unfair to begin a relationship with those twin monkeys on his back. It had been a very long time since he’d dated, and maybe he was misreading Emily, sensing signals she wasn’t giving off, but he thought he’d detected interest. Even a little bit of flirting.
He found Emily attractive, had admitted as much to his colleagues, but Bliss asked himself if mere attraction was enough. It wasn’t as if he was looking to have a woman in his life right now. Perhaps he never would. He missed his wife terribly, and that awful ache expanded in his chest every time he thought about her – which he did several times a day. Her death had left a gaping hole in his heart that still seemed impossible to fill, though more than a thousand days and nights had passed since Hazel was taken from him. She hadn’t been merely a part of his life, she had been his life. His very essence. What he was left with now was mere existence. Next to Hazel, anyone would pale in comparison. Even someone as beautiful and delightful as Emily Grant.
Back home Bliss fussed over the
dogs for a few minutes longer, wondering at the simple pleasure gained from the company of a pet. As a child he’d had the usual goldfish, hamsters and rabbits, but his only dog had been run down and killed by a car when he was just eleven. For a while that had put him off the whole idea of owning an animal, but he couldn’t now imagine life without Bonnie and Clyde.
As the night unfolded he ordered himself an Indian curry, then fed the dogs and made sure they had ample water. While he waited for his own meal to be delivered, Bliss changed out of his charcoal grey suit into more comfortable clothing. When he emptied out his trouser pockets, he noticed the contact information Betty from admin had mailed him moments after the media briefing ended. Bliss looked at the sheet of paper he’d printed out, paused only for a moment to consider what he should do, then dialled the telephone number. Earlier that afternoon he had decided to forget all about Weller, annoyed that the man hadn’t bothered to turn up for their meeting. But now, almost inevitably when he felt at a loose end, curiosity got the better of him.
After several rings Bliss was about to hang up, but then a female voice answered, ‘Hello?’
‘Oh, hello,’ he said, unsure now how to proceed. ‘Is that Mrs Weller?’
‘No. This is Sharon Callard, Mrs Weller’s sister-in-law.’
‘I see. Mrs Callard, my name is Bliss. I’m an ex-colleague of Bernard’s. We worked in Peterborough together.’
‘Oh, well thanks for calling. Allison is not up to speaking with anyone at the moment. But I’ll let her know you called. Bliss, you say?’
‘That’s right.’ He frowned. The woman appeared a little confused. ‘DI Bliss. But, actually, I was calling to speak with Bernard, not his wife. Is he not at home?’
There was a brief pause, a total silence that seemed to hum inside his head. Then the woman spoke once more, her voice softer now. ‘I’m terribly sorry. I thought you were calling to offer your condolences.’
‘Condolences? I don’t understand.’
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