Locked Up

by GB Williams

  She watched him go and wished him back. Drawing in and slowly exhaling a deep breath, she returned to the front of the shed. She was surveying the general activity, making sure everyone was doing what they should. Which was when she noticed Winehouse standing across the way. As she caught his eye, he shifted and moved over to her. Paul followed, but Winehouse told him to wait an oddly far distance away.

  ‘Officer Teddington,’ he greeted quietly. ‘Feeling any better?’

  ‘Compared to being shot, I’m fine,’ she answered. ‘Where’s your deckchair?’

  ‘The question was an absolute, not comparative,’ his voice was low. Teddington wondered just when all these conspiratorial conversations became de rigueur. ‘I understand the need not to show weakness, but don’t take it too far.’

  Since she didn’t know what to say about that, she let it hang in the air.

  ‘I don’t know what happened while you were both out, but looks like you’re not the only one still reeling.’

  He nodded over towards Charlie, who was digging as if his life depended on it, like he was tunnelling out of there. If he kept turning over huge clods like the one he had on his spade at that moment, he probably could. She forced herself to look away. She didn’t need this.

  Turning back to Winehouse, she pressed her question again. ‘The chair?’

  ‘Missing.’ He shrugged as he walked away.

  26

  Charlie dug over the vegetable patch. It had been harvested a couple of days ago, the lettuces making a fresh and tasty addition to their meals at lunchtime. He was worried about Teddington, and ploughed all his frustration into turning over the soil. She shouldn’t be back. She wasn’t physically ready for that yet, and her mental health was looking even more questionable. She was tense and nervous; even when she’d surprised him by looking comfortable in Keen’s cell, she still hadn’t been her old self.

  Or was it just because he’d seen her vulnerable side now?

  He jammed the spade hard into the earth, turning over a huge, heavy clod. He had to get over it and move on. Worst thing was, inside, the work was as heavy going as this digging. Nothing was coming together regarding Tommy. If it was a dibber and not a pipe, that at least made sense of the “dirty” part of her note.

  Then, there was Holden. Sean Holden should have been released a month ago, but he was still here. When Charlie had asked him about it, he’d said ‘don’t ask.’ When Charlie had pushed it, all he’d said was he hadn’t misbehaved enough. Which made no sense. But, then, so much of what was going on didn’t make any sense.

  He was still mulling it all over when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He jolted away, surprised by the touch, surprised he had been so concentrated on the manual labour he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching.

  ‘Clocking off time,’ Winehouse advised him.

  Looking around, he saw everyone else was either returning their tools or lining up to return to the wing. He also saw he had less than a half square metre of the plot to finish. He must have worked like a man possessed to have so little left. ‘Let me finish this.’

  ‘I would,’ Winehouse said, ‘but do you think the screws would agree? Now is not the time to be rocking the boat. I’ll get you on the list for tomorrow, you can finish it then.’

  Charlie went to the shop after lunch, brought a paper, an envelope and a stamp. He wanted to speak to Teddington, but couldn’t seem to catch her eye. She always had a shadow, usually Robbins, but one or other of the screws was constantly close to her. He wasn’t sure if they were there for her protection or control. He guessed only she’d know that. Or maybe not.

  With nothing better to do, he headed to his cell, he had a letter to compose.

  Not willing to wait for the bus, Teddington drove to the hospital. She tried to avoid taking her car because parking was either difficult or expensive. The hospital having expanded beyond the capacity of its car park, this usually meant waiting for someone to leave, or going into the multi-story built for the nearby business development that only opened to the public after 5 pm. Anything to increase the capitalist buck, apparently.

  She got lucky; a car was leaving, and she was able to pull straight in. Seeing Sanchez sitting up and smiling brought a smile to her own face. He was looking so much better. She’d brought him magazines and contraband, which she quickly stowed in his locker, though some chocolates stayed out. She knew she’d really brought them for her, which was why only one box got hidden.

  ‘What’s up? Really?’ Sanchez asked, after a few minutes of over-bright conversation.

  She felt her face fall. ‘Oh, God, am I that obvious?’

  ‘We’ve known one another a long time.’ He laid his hand over hers. ‘Come on, Ari, spill.’

  She bit her lip. ‘Swear to me you won’t say anything to anyone?’

  Sanchez frowned. ‘Okay, now I’m worried.’

  She shook her head and turned away. ‘Forget it. It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Clearly, it does,’ he said squeezing her hands, keeping her with him. ‘Okay, I swear I won’t repeat this to anyone, but you have to tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can do it anymore. Work, that is. Inside Blackmarch, anyway. I’ve always loved doing what we do, but now …’ She shook her bowed head. ‘I don’t know anymore. I go in, and I’m tense. God, I got so scared in the garden today, I actually threw up.’

  ‘Did anyone see you?’

  ‘Charlie Bell came over. He’s the only one who commented, but I’d be surprised if the whole detail didn’t hear me.’ Her face flushed at the memory.

  ‘How is Bell getting works details suddenly? He never used to.’

  Her frown this time was curiosity instead of shame. ‘I don’t know. I hadn’t thought to ask. I’ll look into it.’ She looked around, made sure no one was listening, though she was pretty sure they all had better things to do. Still, she kept her voice down. ‘I’ve done something that’s probably really stupid.’

  ‘Go on,’ Sanchez encouraged when she didn’t.

  ‘I’ve been looking into Tommy Walters’ death. And I asked Charlie Bell to help me.’

  Sanchez’s face was a picture of surprise. ‘Actually, that makes a lot of sense. The police don’t seem to be doing much. At least Bell has the right skill set and easy access to any potential witnesses.’

  ‘Well, not really.’ Again, she checked over her shoulder, the paranoia getting to her. ‘That’s the thing. The inmates hardly socialise anymore. I told you about Richie Brett right?’

  Sanchez nodded.

  ‘Well, he’s not the only one looking strained by the isolation. I mean, I know prisons are punishment, but the way things are at the moment … it must be torture for some of the guys.’

  ‘No one wants to be that isolated.’

  Teddington watched the emotions and thoughts cross his face. He was frowning when he turned back to her. ‘How are the other female staff doing?’

  She shrugged. ‘Fine, I guess. I haven’t heard any complaints.’

  ‘What about Fry?’

  ‘She is around a lot at the moment.’ Teddington thought about it. ‘An awful lot.’

  ‘How does she seem?’

  When she opened her mouth to speak, Teddington wasn’t sure what to say. ‘Okay. I haven’t really spoken to her. Why do you ask about her in particular?’

  ‘There are rumours.’

  ‘Okay, now, I’m curious. What rumours?’

  ‘The kind of rumours that could ruin her career, but there’s no evidence.’

  ‘Of what?’

  He flushed red, as he forced himself to say it. ‘That she likes it rough.’

  Teddington stared at him, slack jawed, then, she felt a smile creeping over her face. ‘I don’t believe there’s actually anything illegal about that.’

  ‘With inmates.’

  ‘Oh! Ah. Well, it’s not exactly illegal.’

  ‘Partridge was the last I heard claim it, but …’

  ‘Wh
o’s going to believe an inmate over a probation officer?’

  ‘Oddly, these days, I’d say pretty much anyone, given all the scandals these last few years. On the other hand, prisoners want out ASAP, so why would they complain?’

  Good question, and one she contemplated, as she reached for another chocolate. Only she couldn’t find one, she tipped the box, it was empty.

  ‘Good God, did I eat all of them?’

  ‘Yup, but then Malteasers are your favourite and you’re stressing out. You shouldn’t be back in work yet.’

  ‘I know.’ She smiled. ‘Seems like pretty much everyone else knows it, too. Except the Guv. After an initial insistence I get certified as being ready to come back to work, once I had it, he couldn’t wait to get me off light duties and back on the floor. In fact, I never even got a day of light duty.’

  He shook his head. ‘What else?’

  She smiled up at him. ‘Wow, you really do know me too well.’ She took a big breath before telling him. ‘It’s just weird in work. Too quiet, like just before the storm, you know?’

  He nodded.

  ‘It’s odd you should ask about Fry. She’s fighting to get Bell out, while everyone else says he’s got to stay in after running, even though that wasn’t his fault, and he gave himself up voluntarily.’

  ‘Have you asked him about that?’

  She shook her head. ‘To be honest, I’ve been avoiding him as much as possible. I don’t want to add fuel to the fire, because according to the rumour mill, we became lovers while we were out of circulation.’

  ‘Did you?’

  Her breath caught in her throat. ‘No! How can you even ask that?’

  ‘Because everyone is going to be asking the same thing. I believe you, some won’t. However, if Fry is pushing for his release, see what you can find out about it. Is there anything else I’ve missed?’

  Teddington nodded. ‘There is something else. I’ve seen no records of any fights, but I’ve seen bruises that don’t come about by accident. There are guys there I haven’t had a problem with at any point, but now, they can’t meet my eye. Others have become oddly cocky. You know that Regis Fortnam?’

  ‘The forger?’

  ‘That’s the one. Should have seen the look he gave me the other day. Usually, he’s the one who can’t meet my eye, but now, he’s looking at me like I’m the only glass of water in the desert.’ She shook and hung her head. ‘It’s a switch I can’t explain.’

  Sanchez laughed. ‘I can.’

  She looked up and frowned.

  ‘Well, I can explain Regis,’ Enzo clarified. ‘Before he turned forger, he was quite the artist. Turner popped in a few days ago. He told me he had to confiscate some drawings from Regis. Drawings of you.’

  ‘What?’ Teddington wasn’t sure what she was hearing, but she could see it amused Sanchez no end.

  ‘Apparently, they were sketches of you when you walked in wearing a corset.’

  She could feel her face flaming.

  ‘And then, there were others where you weren’t wearing a corset.’

  Even her cold hands couldn’t stop the boiling in her cheeks. Sanchez’s laughter wasn’t helping.

  ‘It’s your own fault for telling them to put it in the spank bank.’

  Two days later, after she’d finished another shift, she was surprised to see Turner in street clothes waiting in the locker room for her.

  ‘You’re coming to the pub.’

  It wasn’t an invitation; it was an order, and it was so unlike Turner she meekly accepted.

  Quarter of an hour later, they were sitting in The Lock Up, the pub directly opposite the prison, with three other officers.

  ‘Teddington,’ Turner introduced, ‘this is Parry from A-Wing, and Wilson and Malkin from B-Wing.’

  Though they nodded in greeting, none of them looked happy. Parry was a big roid-enhanced, black man. A-Wing was the secure wing, and all the officers on that detail tended to be big guys because of the risk of attack. She’d met Parry before, but they’d never done any more than nod in passing. Wilson and Malkin were new to her. Wilson was mid-twenties, fit, mean looking but with intelligent eyes; Malkin was older, with more of a world-weary air about him.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she demanded of Turner.

  ‘That’s what we’d all like to know,’ Turner told her, ‘but it seems we five are the only ones asking. If anyone asks, we’re here on union business.’

  Teddington felt like the world was tipping around her. Nothing was making sense. ‘I’m not in the union.’

  ‘You joined two months ago,’ Turner told her, passing her some papers. ‘I just haven’t got around to taking the dues from your salary.’

  Teddington looked at the papers. Membership papers. He’d tried passing these to her before, but she’d never actually taken them. These particular forms had been completed in her name, and dated two months ago. She felt like she’d been pushed into the corner, and her instant reaction was to push back, but she swallowed – she needed this. Turner held out a pen, she took it, and signed, only hesitating when she went to write the date. She needed to put the date the same as Turner had, but that would be lying. Hating herself for the weakness, she wrote a past date.

  Turner’s brows were raised when she pushed the document back towards him.

  ‘You really hated doing that, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘You that anti-union?’ Wilson asked.

  ‘They mean lying about the date,’ Malkin pointed out.

  ‘Well, this is a bloody heavy-handed method for just strong arming me into joining the union, so shall we get to the point?’

  Teddington felt the blood wash from her face, as Turner did just that, and she heard from the others the effects being felt on the other wings. If she was worried there were some weak teams being put out in C-Wing, it was nothing to the risks being run in A-Wing. She slumped back as the others talked. Their words were sinking in, and she could see where it was all going.

  ‘Ian Houghton’s getting vocal again,’ Malkin grumbled.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Ian Houghton, B-Wing. The Islamist, now calls himself Mohammed Ibrahim.’

  ‘He’s always vocal,’ Turner pointed out. ‘The joy of religious conversion.’

  ‘They want a riot,’ Teddington concluded.

  ‘What?’ Turner and Wilson asked together, focusing on her.

  She saw four faces turned to her. ‘Look.’ She sat up, and laid it out for them. ‘If you sift through all the changes you guys are talking about, what “they” have effectively done isn’t to decrease tensions – they’ve put a lid on them and turned the place into a pressure cooker. The restriction of socialisation just leaves the population isolated and disaffected, which is part of the reason half of them are in there in the first place. Eventually, someone’s going to snap. We were lucky when Brett went I was in and able to calm him down, or else all those hungry men could well have kicked off, because when one of them goes, they all will.’

  Turner was scowling at her. ‘Why would they want a riot?’

  Teddington didn’t have an answer to that.

  ‘Because there’s some pay off in it,’ Parry added. ‘And there’s all manner of things which could come out of it.’ He frowned. ‘There’s all manner of things which can happen during one.’

  Teddington felt sick.

  ‘We’ve had one death they brushed off as accidental,’ Malkin pointed out. ‘It’d be a struggle to cover up another one without a riot.’

  ‘I think,’ Turner tried to lighten the atmosphere, ‘we might just be taking this a little too far.’

  ‘Really?’ Teddington asked darkly. ‘Guess you weren’t the one that got shot, then.’

  ‘That’s it,’ Wilson said.

  ‘What’s it?’

  ‘She is,’ Wilson answered Turner.

  ‘Makes sense.’ Parry was nodding.

  Teddington felt like she’d just jumped into a plunge pool. ‘Wh
at makes sense?’

  ‘Everyone thinks the shooting at the funeral was about Bell, but what if it wasn’t?’ Wilson said. ‘What if it was about the prison officers there? A few months ago, Richmond was whining about having no money—’

  ‘That’s right,’ Malkin added. ‘In fact, he mentioned bankruptcy might be a distinct possibility.’

  ‘Then, how the hell did he afford a luxury holiday in Bermuda?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  That was the most chilling answer Wilson could have given.

  ‘Then, there’s Sanchez,’ Wilson continued. ‘He was making complaints to the Guv about some of the things going on, even had a row with the DCI that he wasn’t doing enough.’

  ‘Piper?’ Teddington asked.

  ‘Yeah, that’s the one.’

  ‘Well, you have to admit,’ Turner put in, ‘he’s not exactly carrying out an active investigation. Teddington?’

  No amount of acting was going to cover up the fact she’d reacted to that statement. ‘It’s nothing.’ That wasn’t right. ‘Well, okay, it is something, but I can’t tell you.’ They all reacted to that. ‘You’ll just have to trust me. Or not,’ she added, looking at the doubting looks around her. ‘Anyway, to get back to Wilson’s point, why would I be “it”? I haven’t done anything to put my head above the parapet.’

  ‘You’ve highlighted issues to the Guv,’ Turner pointed out.

  ‘Only in the last week. I hadn’t done anything before I got shot.’

  ‘Except help Bell,’ Malkin pointed out.

  ‘But that puts the focus back on Bell, not me. To divert this, and ease my sense of paranoia, have any of you had a good look at the new computer system?’

  ‘Yes,’ Parry didn’t sound impressed. ‘They’ve put a load of data in wrong.’

  ‘Typical IT people.’

  ‘No,’ Teddington put in, ‘and speaking as an ex-IT person, I can assure you, yes, upload errors do happen, but not of the nature of what you can see in the Prism system. If there are transcription errors, they tend to be wholesale, like you’ll get all of one record under the wrong unique identifier, and they all realign, and since I can see you lot glazing over at the techie speak, what that would mean is, I’d find something, like, Wilson’s details under Williams’ name. But, those aren’t the kind of errors I found. I don’t think it’s the extraction and upload that’s to blame; I think the records were tampered with before the IT guys got them.’