Bad to the Bone

by Tony J. Forder

  ‘I’d have to know what I’m commenting about.’

  ‘Of course. Essentially, while the main item is about the murder, the background will reveal that you were arrested by your own colleagues yesterday morning for soliciting the services of Connie Rawlings, and that you are about to face an investigation into the murder itself.’

  Bliss closed his eyes. This was much worse than he’d imagined. Someone inside Thorpe Wood had leaked everything. ‘Are you running the story today?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s the intention, yes.’

  ‘Tell me, Sheryl, are you looking to print sensationalism or the truth?’

  ‘I know we’ve had our disagreements, Inspector Bliss, but I resent the implication.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry if I’ve offended your sensibilities, but I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you that not everyone in your profession understands the meaning of integrity. I just need to know if you’re one of those who does.’

  There was a brief pause. Bliss could tell she was weighing up her options. He decided to add some leverage. ‘Sheryl, if you run with what you have right now you’ll very likely end my career. I have no doubt that I will be able to refute everything you print, but mud sticks and I’ll be buried beneath a whole pile of it. The truth might not be as spectacular, but it will be factual and you won’t have ruined someone’s life. Plus… if you do this for me I will owe you one.’

  That was the clincher.

  ‘Where do you want to meet?’ she asked him.

  Bliss told her.

  Like any other modern city centre, Peterborough’s was awash with coffee bars. There were independents littered all over the place, plus the three main players: Starbucks, Costa, and Nero. Bliss chose Nero mainly because the coffee was his favourite, but also he hated the fact that Starbucks just a few doors away had taken over a beautiful old building that had once been the main branch of Lloyds Bank. Seeing fine institutions ransacked and replaced by a high-price coffee bar didn’t sit well with him.

  When he arrived, Sheryl Craig was already waiting for him, hunched over her drink. Bliss ordered himself a double shot of espresso and took it across to a narrow counter that ran along the spine of the bar. He pulled up a tall stool and plumped himself down next to Craig.

  They exchanged subdued greetings and a few insincere pleasantries. But what they both wanted was to get right into it.

  ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in my asking for the name of your source, right?’ Bliss asked. He took a sip from his tiny cup, the caffeine kicking right in.

  The journalist merely smiled at him.

  ‘I had to ask,’ he said, his own smile barely thinning his lips. ‘All right, then, Sheryl. Let me start by saying you’ve been sold a pup. I have no idea what the going rate for information is these days, but you didn’t get your money’s worth.’

  ‘I didn’t have to pay for this, Inspector. My source was only too eager to reveal all.’

  Which told Bliss a lot. He’d been racking his brain for who might have done this to him. Sergeant Grealish, the uniform he’d fought with, was high on the list. PC Gascoigne was right up there with him. But either of those two pricks would have made sure they made a few quid as well, so that left just two names: Sykes and Flynn. It would suit the purposes of either man, but Bliss would lay odds on it being Sykes.

  The huffing of the milk frother tore into Bliss’s concentration, the loud voices of the counter staff piercing his ears like tiny razors. His nerves were frayed, and he felt sick. He took a moment to pull himself together.

  ‘Tell you what, why don’t you call me Jimmy,’ Bliss told Craig. ‘See me as a human being first.’

  ‘Very well. Jimmy it is.’

  ‘Good. So, tell me what you think you know.’

  Craig knocked back some of her coffee. She referred to no notes as she spoke. ‘I’m reliably informed that you were arrested yesterday morning for soliciting sexual favours from a prostitute posing as a masseuse. The woman’s name was Connie Rawlings, and she was also arrested. Within hours of her release, Connie Rawlings was savagely murdered, stabbed to death in her own home. The word is that you are about to be investigated for that murder.’

  The lack of notes told Bliss that Craig’s story was already written and waiting to go to print. He had only once chance to rescue this. He finished his drink and took a breath.

  ‘To begin with, neither I nor Connie Rawlings was arrested. That’s the first error in your story, and can be easily verified if you choose to do so. What happened was this: having previously interviewed Connie regarding a case I am currently working on, I returned to ask her a few more questions yesterday morning. On leaving, I was… persuaded to accompany two fellow police officers back to Thorpe Wood. Now, it is true that I was interviewed and solicitation was the reason given, but I was released without charge the moment my reasons for being with Connie were made clear. Several minutes later, Connie was also released. It was a mistake. Pure and simple.’

  Craig was nodding, trying to read his eyes all the while. ‘This case Connie Rawlings was helping you with, that would be the Jodie Maybanks murder, right?’

  Bliss had to think about that. By rights the journalist had no need to know, but he didn’t think it could harm anyone now. He gave a nod. ‘That’s correct. The two of them worked the streets together.’

  ‘You say you had already spoken to her. So what more did you think Rawlings could give you?’

  ‘That I can’t answer. It’s still an ongoing investigation. I also think we’re straying off course, here.’

  Grinning, Craig nodded. ‘Sorry. Old habits, and that. So, Inspector, what you’re saying is that you did not pay Connie Rawlings to have sex with you. She was simply a witness, and you were in her home carrying out an interview.’

  ‘That’s about it, yes.’

  ‘Then why would I be told otherwise?’

  ‘Because it makes the second part of the story more believable. And the murder is the only part you are really interested in.’

  ‘So you’re telling me that someone has set you up. Using me as a way of getting to you, an attempt to ruin you.’

  ‘The whole guilt by association thing, yes.’

  The woman sat back and shook her head, golden curls dancing. ‘Tell me why I should believe you, Inspector.’

  ‘I’m not telling you that.’ Bliss met her direct gaze. ‘I’m asking you to check the facts before you run the story. I’m asking you not to ruin my career unless you are absolutely convinced of my guilt.’

  Bliss saw in her eyes that she was wavering. Saw it long before she said, ‘And if I do this for you, you’ll owe me. That is what you said earlier?’

  ‘It is. I did. And I will. Even though all I’m doing is asking you to do your job properly.’

  If she felt rebuked, Sheryl Craig hid it well. ‘What can you give me in return?’ she asked.

  ‘At the moment, nothing. But there’s a reason why someone did this to me. That reason might be of interest to you at some point in the near future.’

  ‘And if it isn’t?’

  ‘Then I’ll still owe you. And I always pay my debts.’

  She took a long, deep breath. ‘Despite what you obviously think of me and people in my line of business, Jimmy, I do value integrity and I do report the truth where it can be found. Believe it or not, that you’ll owe me is incidental, but I will call in that marker. We both know I couldn’t run this story now without checking out your version. I trust your press officer at Thorpe Wood will be helpful?’

  ‘Call and tell them you’ve heard a whisper about my being arrested and ask them to confirm or deny.’

  Craig nodded. ‘I’ll do that. And what about the murder? Is it pure coincidence that Connie Rawlings was killed shortly after being interviewed in relation to the Jodie Maybanks case?’

  ‘I told you before,’ Bliss said with a thin smile. ‘I can’t discuss that with you right now. But keep your phone switched on and fully charged.�
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  Chapter 35

  As he drove back to the other side of the city, Bliss tried to decide who had fed the story to Craig. He couldn’t really figure out what Flynn would have to gain from such a move. In fact, officially linking the murder of Connie Rawlings with the Jodie Maybanks investigation would probably reignite an inquiry that had been all but extinguished. Sykes, on the other hand, was much more likely to have seized the opportunity to create a false impression of Bliss in the eyes of the public and influential senior officers.

  Bliss decided it didn’t matter right now. He and Sykes would butt heads again, but the immediate prime objective had to be nailing Flynn. Back at Thorpe Wood he felt curious eyes upon him as he made his way through the CID area, wagging tongues having done their work in his absence. Bliss had been at his desk for no more than a minute before Bobby Dunne came in and shut the door behind him. He wore a wide grin of excitement.

  ‘You are going to love me, boss,’ the DS said. ‘You might even want to have my children.’

  ‘That’s an ugly thought I don’t wish to dwell on, Bobby,’ said Bliss. ‘But I’m all ears, big man.’

  ‘I’ve been sniffing round a couple of Flynn’s old colleagues. One of them told me something that sent me digging into archives once more. This time I struck gold.’

  ‘And? Don’t fuck about, tell me.’

  Dunne eased himself into a chair on the other side of the desk. ‘Did you know Flynn was a big football fan?’ he asked.

  ‘Sort of. When I came for my first interview I noticed a photo of Goodison Park on one of his bookshelves. He said he’d been an Everton fan all his life.’

  ‘That’s right. But not only Everton. He’s a member of the official England supporters’ club. And guess where he was in the summer of nineteen ninety?’

  Bliss didn’t have to guess. The answer struck him immediately. ‘Italy. He was watching England in the World Cup.’

  ‘Spot on. One of the ex-cops I spoke to was actually there with him. They were together right from the opening game to the day after the semi-final defeat by the Germans. Including the Belgium game.’

  Bliss licked his lips. Nodded eagerly. ‘Okay. That obviously rules him out of the Jodie Maybanks murder, but it doesn’t mean he didn’t arrange for Rhodes or someone else to sort Jodie out while he was away. Perfect alibi, if you look at it from this fresh perspective.’

  Dunne continued to grin. ‘But you’re forgetting my trip back to archives. See, this fresh information didn’t gel right with everything else we had, so the one brain cell I still have started working overtime. I thought about the first piece of evidence that pointed us in the direction of Flynn. Those bloody records I dug out. So I went back, found half a dozen other cases where Flynn had signed off that same year. The signature on those half dozen all matched, but even to my untrained eye, the two we found didn’t.’

  Bliss let the new information sink in. ‘Someone forged Flynn’s name on those case reports. Someone wanted to lead us to him.’

  ‘That’s what I reckon, yes.’

  ‘But why? Why Flynn of all people?’

  ‘That I don’t know. Maybe they just picked it out of thin air, not thinking it would ever come up. Who could have known back then where Flynn would be now?’

  Bliss clicked his fingers. ‘Or maybe… maybe they didn’t just use his name for those reports. Bobby, what if it was Rhodes who was seeing Jodie Maybanks all along, only using Flynn’s name? I realise that sounds wild, but just think about it for a moment. As soon as Jodie tells him about the pregnancy and makes her threats, Rhodes realises how much trouble he’ll be in. In his mind, what better way of tying it all together neatly by apparently having Flynn sign the cases off.’

  ‘It fits,’ Dunne said, leaning forward now. ‘It bloody well fits.’

  But then something occurred to Bliss, and he frowned. ‘Except for one thing. One major flaw. If Rhodes was on duty and Flynn was in Italy, who drove the car that ran Jodie Maybanks down that night?’

  Dunne put back his head and exhaled his frustration. ‘Fuck!’

  ‘No, hold on,’ Bliss said, raising a hand. ‘That doesn’t mean we’re not right about this. It just means that someone else was more involved than we thought. Weller or Dean, maybe even Hendry.’

  Bobby Dunne was shaking his head, rubbing the back of his neck with a meaty hand. ‘So after all this, Flynn may be in the clear, completely innocent. Rhodes used his ID all the way through. Is that where we’re heading with this now?’

  ‘It’s beginning to look possible.’ Bliss could scarcely conceal his relief. Flynn’s guilt had gnawed at him, but now he could see a way through. ‘More than possible,’ he added.

  ‘The only problem is we can’t confirm any of it. Not with all the major players now dead. Maybe that Rawlings woman could have picked Rhodes out as the man Jodie thought was Flynn, but now we’ll never know.’

  Bliss felt a smile spread slowly across his face. ‘We do have one last card,’ he said. ‘On the day Connie was dragged in here, she told me about another brass who was good friends with Jodie. For the life of me I can’t remember her name right now, but it’ll come back to me. Connie even told me where I might find her.’

  Dunne was looking at him oddly. The excitement had drained from his face, leaving narrowed eyes and a pained expression. ‘When were you going to tell your partners about that little gem of information?’ he asked.

  ‘It had slipped my mind until now.’

  ‘Slipped your mind? How convenient.’

  ‘Bobby?’ Bliss stared hard at his colleague. ‘What the hell is wrong with you? You think I was keeping it from you and Penny? Deliberately so?’

  Dunne closed his eyes and hung his head. It was as if someone had put a puncture in him. ‘Ignore me,’ he said without looking back up. ‘I’m tired and I’m being a prick.’

  ‘Forget it. What you’ve come up with has made my day, and may just have saved several reputations. I so wanted Flynn to be innocent, but I never thought we’d be able to clear his name completely. All I want to do now is hang it all on Rhodes. Then we can decide what to do with it.’

  ‘You want me to interview this other brass?’ Dunne asked.

  ‘I still can’t even recall her name. But sure, as soon as it comes to mind I’ll call you. Take some mugshots over, include both Flynn and Rhodes.’

  Dunne got to his feet. ‘Fair enough. Sorry for throwing my toys out of the pram. I was feeling bloody good, and then deflated because I thought you’d kept me out of the loop.’ He stuck out a hand. ‘We okay, boss?’

  Bliss took the offered hand and shook it firmly. ‘We’re better than okay, Bobby. You did great work today, my friend.’

  For the first time in days, Bliss’s thoughts were positive. On his own once more he reflected on how close he’d come to endangering his job by trying to investigate a senior officer. Despite his now apparent innocence, Flynn would never have forgiven him. Bliss was certain of that. A valuable ally would have been lost. And all for nothing.

  His mind drifted back, fleeting glimpses of the past couple of days, snatches of conversations. Connie Rawlings. Penny. Bobby. Sykes and Flynn. Then out of nowhere something stuck, snagged in his mind and refused to loosen its grip. It was the snippet of conversation that had bothered him so much, the one he thought might be important. The one he believed might bring Flynn’s guilt more into focus.

  At first it felt good simply having managed to scratch the itch. The anomaly seemed little more than that – an innocuous remark made during an in-depth discussion. But the itch wouldn’t let up, and Bliss felt his thoughts being dragged back to the conversation. Something else lay beneath the surface, another incongruity that was raising its head, begging to be noticed.

  When it finally hit, disparate elements falling into place and forming something tangible, Bliss felt his mouth open, heard himself sucking in air. His insides seemed to drain away, replaced by something dull and heavy and insurmountable. He couldn’
t recall the last time he’d felt so emotional. Time and again he tried to deny the memory of that conversation, seeking to make sense of what he was now thinking. But there was no sense. The world had turned upside down and inside out. No sense. Only a terrible sense of outrage.

  The Flag Fen Bronze Age site lay in the wetlands to the east of Fengate, and was a far more impressive sight than Bliss had expected. He’d noticed the brown road signs on many previous occasions, and was aware of the site’s historical significance, but had never considered joining the many visitors it welcomed each day. He wished he had a better reason for being here now, but he knew he had to get this right, that he had to be absolutely certain of his suspicions this time.

  At Reception he asked for Emily. It needed a flash of the warrant card to get the pale, bearded receptionist to take an interest, and the man eventually used a walkie-talkie to summon Emily from somewhere within the vast complex. When she arrived a few minutes later, she looked dishevelled, her hair tied up and clipped in several places to keep it off her shoulders and out of her face. She wore baggy jeans and boots beneath a thick, padded winter jacket. Bliss thought that beyond an uncertain frown, she looked pleased to see him.

  He took Emily’s arm and walked her outside, strolling alongside the visitors’ centre. ‘I take it this is business, not pleasure,’ she said. She smiled, but Bliss could see the remains of uneasiness there.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ he admitted. ‘Not that it’s not always a pleasure to see you, of course. I wish the circumstances were different, but I do need to talk to you about work.’

  Emily nodded. ‘Okay. Yours or mine?’

  ‘A bit of both.’

  ‘Ah. Our human remains.’

  ‘I’m afraid so. Listen, do you happen to have completed your report? I told you my boss was being arsey about it.’