Bad to the Bone
Page 35
‘It’s a sorry mess. Yet again the name of this service will be ridiculed in the media. And need I remind you, sir, who was involved the last time that happened.’
Bliss decided he’d had enough. He was being discussed as if he was not even present in the room. ‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘But while I am normally the first person to shoulder blame, I would like to point out that it was DS Dunne who was responsible for this series of awful events, not me. I didn’t murder anyone. I simply did my job.’
Before Sykes could respond, Flynn held up a hand. ‘I think that will be all, Inspector. Now, here’s what I would like you to do: remove yourself from the duty roster, and don’t let me catch you here again until Monday morning. While you are off, I want you to compile a fully detailed report. In addition, obtain and collate all other outstanding reports from members of your team. Prepare for an internal inquiry, Inspector Bliss. Prepare your team for the same. Oh, and one last thing: you were previously offered the opportunity of undergoing counselling and therapy, an offer you declined. This time you have no option. Are we clear?’
Bliss could have hugged the man. Flynn was allowing him time to get his story straight, to consider every angle and make the final report work. The counselling and mention of an inquiry was a bone for Sykes, but the DCS was effectively providing Bliss with the opportunity of emerging relatively unscathed.
‘We’re clear, sir,’ he said. Bliss glanced across at Sykes, who had been shaking his head for several minutes. Their eyes met. In that instant, Bliss knew his most bitter opponent was not about to let this go without a fight. Behind the scenes there would be mutterings of discontent, veiled accusations against both Bliss and Flynn. But it was a battle Sykes would not win.
A fine mist of rain enveloped the mourners. Grey skies carried darker threats, harbingers of the storm to come. In the shadow of a hulking medieval church whose bells tolled without regret, Bliss stood leaning against a cold granite headstone that had been erected more than a hundred years ago. He wondered if there was anyone around who still remembered the person buried here, whether their legacy had crossed the generations. He also questioned what he would leave behind other than a trail of misery.
Bliss watched as the group of mourners dispersed to go their separate ways. Only three people remained at the graveside, their heads bowed. Bliss slipped between the burial mounds and moved across to join them. When he stopped, only a couple of yards away, the three looked up to see who had joined them.
A woman, in her mid-sixties Bliss guessed, gave a puzzled frown. She forced her mouth into what passed as a smile of welcome.
‘Hello,’ she said. Her voice was cultured and refined, her black clothes immaculate and expensive looking. ‘We haven’t met before. Did you know my daughter?’
‘Connie?’ Bliss nodded. ‘Yes, I did. Not well, and only recently, but I felt I should come to pay my respects.’
‘Did you work with her?’
To either side of the woman stood a man, whom Bliss took to be her husband, and a woman about Connie’s age. She looked a little like her, too. Bliss saw something flicker in her eyes. She knows, Bliss thought. She knows what Connie did for a living, but her parents don’t.
‘Uh, no I didn’t. We met socially. I liked her very much.’
The woman nodded and glanced down into the open grave, rain now beating down on the lid of the coffin. ‘I’m not surprised. Our daughter was a very special person.’
Bliss thought about Connie Rawlings, wondering what had driven her into the life she’d chosen. He remembered her smile, the way she had relaxed with him in her bed, opened up to him in a way she never would have with a client. Their collision had been a fleeting, yet welcome instalment in his life. Bliss hoped Connie Rawlings had felt the same.
In days to come there would be two more people to say goodbye to. He did not relish informing Allison Weller of her husband’s past, but he had taken on that duty willingly. The woman deserved to hear the words from someone with whom she was familiar, not some faceless bureaucrat from HQ. Bliss would tell her of Bernie’s role in the Jodie Maybanks case, but he would coat it with just enough sugar to make his words palatable.
How he would cope with facing Bobby Dunne’s wife was another matter entirely.
‘Another chain of guilt, Inspector Bliss?’
Doctor Karen Hardy regarded him thoughtfully, but with an uncommon empathy. He had just finished telling her about Hazel and then about Bobby Dunne, before describing in detail the conversation with Connie Rawlings’s mother, and his thought process earlier that morning at the cemetery.
Bliss nodded. ‘How can it be anything else? If I hadn’t questioned Connie, she would still be alive.’
‘But in your line of work you question many people. On a daily basis. Are you to be held accountable for any and all of their ordeals that come about as a result of your investigation?’
‘No. I’m not saying that. But I ought to have realised that my contact with Connie had left her vulnerable.’
‘Do you believe you can protect everyone, Inspector?’
‘Please, call me Jimmy.’
Hardy smiled. ‘Another time, perhaps. This is our first session, and I think we need to maintain a formal basis.’
Bliss regarded her thoughtfully. Hardy was attractive, somewhere in her late thirties, thick black hair cut short and curling into her neck, bracketing an interesting face. Her eyes sparkled whenever she spoke. Her office was muted, no grandiose certificates attesting to her competence adorning the walls. Bliss decided this was a woman he could open up to. Eventually.
‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘And no, I don’t expect to be able to protect everyone. People fall through the cracks sometimes. I’ve been in this ugly business long enough to realise that. But this was different.’
‘How so? Because it was personal?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Then you feel responsible only for those with whom you have a close association.’
‘No, not exactly. It’s just that it feels worse. It feels… so unnecessary. Avoidable.’
The therapist shook her head. ‘Every second of every day we make decisions that affect not only our lives, but the lives of others. If you decide to take a different route to work and are involved in an accident that takes the life of another, is the death your fault because you chose to go that way?’
‘That’s just cause and effect. I have no control over that.’
‘The problem for you, Inspector, is that you have control over very little in this life.’
Bliss said nothing.
‘Eventually you will break under the weight of this burden, Inspector,’ Dr Hardy insisted. ‘You are intelligent enough to realise that. Yet still you continue. I wonder why that is.’
‘You wonder, or are you asking me a question?’
‘I’m not asking, because I don’t think you’ll tell me at this stage. You are defensive, and that’s understandable.’
Bliss pulled his attention back. ‘Yes. Right now I have other things on my mind. Like the fact that a good friend and close colleague turned out to be a cold-blooded killer, and then committed suicide rather than face his punishment. That his suicide could have been prevented if I had done my job properly. And that a fine woman was murdered because again I didn’t do my job properly.’
‘Let’s not forget your wife, either. Because that’s where all this began. Isn’t that right, Inspector Bliss? Did you feel responsible for everyone and everything before you lost your wife?’
‘Hazel made sense of my life. She was everything to me. I failed her. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me most.’
‘And ever since you’ve been trying to ensure that never happened again.’
Silence filled the void between them, but Hardy nodded as if he’d spoken anyway. ‘That’s a place to start, Inspector. I think we can build on that. But before we go down that road, we have to assess where you are right now. Other than these genuine sorrows already d
iscussed, other than your work and what drives you on, tell me what else ails you.’
For a heartbeat, Bliss considered telling her about his illness. Instead he said, ‘There’s this woman I want to get to know better.’
‘I see. And what’s stopping you, exactly?’
‘Only the fact that I slept with Connie Rawlings.’
Dr Hardy smiled. ‘Now, that’s a much more familiar problem. I think perhaps we can deal with that one here and now.’
Bliss thought of Emily, and decided therapy might not be such a bad option after all.
THE END
Tony J. Forder’s captivating new came thriller, Degrees of Darkness is now available on Amazon HERE.
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Acknowledgments
It's hard to know where to begin. However, since home is where both the heart and oven is, I think it best I start there. So, a huge debt of gratitude goes out to my long-suffering wife for graciously allowing me the time and space in which to write.
I'm also not sure where this book would have taken me were it not for the efforts of my own editor, Doug Watts at JBWB. My gratitude is also extended to my Bloodhound Books editor, Lesley Jones.
To my family, friends, and supporters, a big thank you goes out to you all.
To my mother and father, for having the good sense to bring me into the world. I miss you, dad.
To Betsy, Fred and Sarah at Bloodhound Books – thanks for taking a leap of faith with me and for getting it out there.
Finally, this book is dedicated to Ei and Lori – my wife and my daughter, who also happen to be my best friends.
Tony J Forder
Peterborough
April 2017