Doors Without Numbers
Page 14
Beech stood up from his perch on the desk and walked back to his chair. He was irritated by his DI and made no attempt to hide it.
“Thomas’s behaviour is not the issue here Wallace. He reacted to a negative situation such as being approached by Roberts with violence. Evaluating why or whether there is a chance he will do so again is not our concern. The psychological evaluation will cover that. You have means; He lied about not recognising Roberts even though Roberts had been identified as being a regular to the woods. You have motive; to stop Robert’s advances. Thomas had the opportunity, more than one, since he returned to the scene, and you have evidence. You have a confession, therefore you charge him. When the forensic report comes in, you charge Thomas and get him to court. Stop procrastinating, do your job!”
Beech’s voice was louder as he ended his sentence. His attitude angered Hammond. The man was ordering him to effectively back down from another investigation again.
“So, that’s it. Case closed?”
Beech looked at Hammond hard, his jaw set. He looked as if he was prepared to have an argument with his subordinate if it was invited, and judging by the way Hammond was now pacing the office, he presumed the invitation was imminent.
“Wallace, let’s be frank. You haven’t exactly investigated this case with what I would call professionalism so far. Be grateful that you caught the person responsible without making a complete mockery of the Major Crimes Unit. Learn to step away before you end up walking over the edge.”
“Let me do my job without blocking me!” Hammond shouted back at Beech. The two men glowered at one another, each refusing to back down. Edwards, Dunn and Galvin had made their way along the corridor on the pretext they were collecting coffee. The raised voices could be heard quite clearly. Edward raised an eyebrow whilst Dunn stood unsure whether to go in to the office. She felt loyal to her DI, she was equally responsible for the arrest of Thomas, she should be in there with him, taking the fall.
“I am protecting you as well as myself Wallace!” Beech ignored Hammond’s attempt to voice his opinion on his latter statement and continued with his reasoning.
“Forgetting the shambolic display of what was meant to be a media briefing, let’s focus on your handling of the investigation so far; You charged in and questioned Thomas on your own without notifying your team or your superiors. You questioned William Barnes on his own. You have a highly accomplished team yet you aren’t using your resources to their full capacity. You aren’t behaving like a team member, let alone a senior officer! To make matters worse, you chase a twelve year old kid out of his house and down several main roads risking his safety. What if he had run out in front of a car because you made him panic? There were witnesses all of whom could testify that Thomas was being pursued recklessly and without due cause. Imagine what that would have done Wallace! You have cocked up big time and I am offering you a chance to step away and let the CPS take it on from here. Don’t fight me on this!”
Hammond was very tempted to storm out of the office but he wanted to get his words in first. Beech needed to hear what he wanted to say and the temper he had stirred in Beech was not enough to make him back down.
“We don’t have enough! If we turn it over to the Crown Prosecution Service now, two things are likely to happen; either Thomas is sent down as a violent delinquent, which I do not believe him to be, or his aggressive behaviour is swept aside as being justified, which I don’t believe it was. Either way, there are questions about this case that must be resolved! You have got to give me more time!”
Beech sighed, he wanted to end this conversation whilst he was capable of acting responsibly. He tried the gentler approach. “Let me be honest Wallace. Your behaviour has been erratic lately. You are not behaving as a Senior officer. You’ve lost your objectivity. What is going on? Is it your family? Do you need time off?” He paused as if deciding on behalf of Hammond that this was exactly what was needed. “Take some time off, a couple of weeks. God knows a holiday is long overdue. Use it, then come back fresher and stronger. DS Dunn is more than capable of heading an investigation until you get back.”
Hammond stood with his mouth open. He was sorely tempted to reply with more than words, instead he turned on his heels and slammed the door so hard he very nearly looked behind him to see if he had broken it.
It hadn’t been Hammond’s intention to drive to the hair salon in the high street, but he had needed to go somewhere and driving through the town aimlessly did nothing to resolve his agitation. He was angry with Beech for making him feel inadequate. He considered himself to be a good officer, a fair and dedicated law enforcer who simply wanted to do a thorough job. Instead of his efforts being appreciated he had been humiliated and treated as a inexperienced rookie. Ideally a man in his position should return to the office and talk to his team but pride had got the better of him so he decided to stay close to head quarters but away from Beech until his temper calmed.
The sun had melted most of the snow apart from a few shovelled heaps on the kerbs that were turning to a brown coloured slush. He parked the car in a free space just outside the salon and looked through the window. It looked empty apart from an older woman whose hair was being blow-dried by a skinny man wearing tight jeans and a black waistcoat over a white t-shirt. A young girl was seated on a high stool near the door twirling her hair around a finger whilst talking on the phone. She was laughing and bowing her head down to avoid the questioning gaze of a female hair stylist who watched her through the mirror’s reflection. It was an impulsive decision to go in the shop but once there, Hammond felt more relaxed. He was anonymous and in the last place anyone would expect him to be. That made him feel free to think about his predicament at work without the pressure of being followed by well meaning colleagues who would no doubt persuade him to go back to Beech with cap in hand.
He sat on the faux leather tub chair nearest the window whilst he waited for the receptionist to finish her conversation on the phone, it was evident the girl was in the throes of a new romance. He watched her and wondered if she was popular with the boys. The girl wasn’t pretty but it was obvious she knew how to flirt. In his limited experience, the girls good at flirting were often the ones to avoid, they would surely be bored after the chase. As if reading his mind, the girl looked across and asked if she could help him. He said he would like a haircut. This was, on reflection, he realised, a rather stupid thing to say, after all why else would he be in a hair salon? He was asked whom he would like to cut his hair, he could have Danny or Tony. Hammond looked at the two hair stylists and tried to guess which name belonged to the female stylist. He was inhibited when it came to interacting with camp men and the skinny man looked like he talked a lot. He took a chance and chose Danny which he presumed was a derivative of Danielle. The receptionist called the name aloud and the male stylist looked up and said he would be free in five minutes. He smiled at Hammond and invited him to look at magazines whilst he waited. Inwardly Hammond groaned, he wondered if it would look too prejudiced if he now decided to change his mind and choose Tony instead. He decided it would and resolved to ignoring the fashion magazines completely and looked out the window.
Having decided that it would do no harm to go home early, Hammond found Jenny in the kitchen painting the walls light blue. She looked at his haircut with mute approval as he entered.
“The phone hasn’t stopped ringing for the last two hours. I answered the first few calls but ignored the last because I was up the ladder. A woman called; apparently your mobile was switched off. When I asked her who she was she said “I’m Done”. I figured it would make sense to you, anyway, she said you must call her back as soon as you get this message.”
Hammond looked at the wet paint and wondered why on earth she had chosen light blue for the kitchen. Magnolia had always been his choice. It was a safe colour and more importantly, economical. Now he would have to get matching blue tea towels. Lyn had taught him well enough that the use of colour had to be synchronised f
or a finished look. He decided to keep quiet about the new decor and instead picked up the kitchen telephone.
Dunn answered her mobile immediately. “Where are you?”
He told her and apologised for his mobile having been on mute, he had forgotten to turn the sound back on after he had left the hair stylists. He listened as she updated him on news at the office. “I spoke to Beech; I told him that we may have new evidence on Roberts. It was almost true; we still need to identify the payments from his savings accounts and check out a mobile number Roberts had called from his landline the previous evening. Beech has agreed to give us another forty-eight hours. Edwards and Galvin are back at Graham Robert’s house if you want to join them.”
It was a tempting offer but three officers searching a house might seem excessive. Dunn agreed hesitantly and promised to inform him if any invoices were found. He thanked her and promised to keep in touch. He wanted to be updated on any progress, despite Beech’s insistence that he take some time off, it would be possible to work behind the scenes without Beech knowing.
The telephone was replaced and then, after a pause, picked up again as Kathleen’s number was punched into the keypad. When Kathleen answered, Hammond felt shy. He explained that he had left work early so that it would be possible to see her earlier than planned. They arranged to have a meal at The Oak pub restaurant at seven that evening. As he ended the call, Hammond turned to see Jenny watching him with raised eyebrows.
“If you are leaving at half six, that will give you five hours to get ready.”
Hammond looked at her with a bewildered expression as she climbed down the ladder and began untying her apron.
“I’ll come with you; you’ll need new trousers at least. We’ll take your car.”
Yet again, Hammond found himself thrown into a situation where he was under the control of a girl barely half his age.
The Peugeot crunched its way over the gravel drive leading to the Harris’ home. The house was in darkness apart from a splinter of light showing from a window at the top of the house. He approached the door hoping Kathleen wasn’t ready, he wanted the opportunity to talk to Lloyd without Kathleen overhearing. It was obvious she didn’t want her Father’s interest in the suicide investigation to be encouraged and doubtlessly she would hinder their conversation if she were around. Hammond had left earlier than planned. Once he had dressed the adrenaline propelled him to make a move rather than sit around when his mind couldn’t concentrate on anything other than what he would or should say to Kathleen. The door had an old fashioned brass knocker that hadn’t been polished for a long time. He knocked it gently then waited for several seconds before knocking harder a second time until he heard movement behind the door. Harris’ face peered around the partially opened door and gazed at Hammond with a blank expression. Hammond’s heart sank. Harris didn’t recognise him. He shifted his weight slightly unsure whether to introduce himself or to behave normally as if he didn’t know of Harris’ affliction, hoping that the older man would gradually remember.
“Hi Lloyd, I am a bit early, I wanted to talk to you before I took Kathleen out” He cleared his throat and stepped forward towards Harris who nodded and opened the door wider.
“Wallace, come in.”
Hammond patted his friend on the shoulder as he passed. “Every time I see you, I get the impression you don’t know who I am.”
“I don’t.” Harris held out a hand, offering to take Hammond’s jacket from him. Unsure what to say in response, Hammond searched Harris’s face for a clue and was relieved when Harris smiled.
“The Wallace Hammond I know usually looks like a scruffy fat bastard but you look more like an old gigolo!”
Hammond was aware of heat creeping up his neck to his face, he suddenly felt self-conscious. Had he overdone it? Would Kathleen think it was for her sake that he had dressed smarter than usual? It was for her benefit of course, however he didn’t want her to know that. Harris switched on the hallway light and looked up towards the top of the stairs to check if his daughter was within hearing. Satisfied that she wasn’t aware of Hammond’s arrival, he hung the jacket over the banisters and ushered Hammond into a side room that was easily identified as an office. A small desk lamp illuminated books stacked in neat piles on the floor and any available surface. Glancing at the titles, Hammond noted they ranged from subjects as diverse as psychoanalysis and criminology and included several political biographies. The complete works of Noam Chomsky had been placed still open with the pages face down. The book was well thumbed, the edges of the book stained with use. Hammond was vaguely surprised, he had never considered Harris to have any other intellectual interests which he now realised had been a shallow perception of his former colleague. He continued to take in the room and noticed all photo frames had been placed face down on an old desk littered with newspaper cuttings and scribbled notes. He looked enquiringly at Harris whom was busying himself clearing a space for Hammond to sit down. Lowering himself into a chair by the window, he studied Harris’s movements hoping that his former colleague wasn’t fading too quickly from the reality in which they shared. Harris finished his fussing and eventually sat near Hammond, perching on a foot stool that he had retrieved from under the desk.
“Kathleen is getting ready. Do you want a drink?”
The offer was declined as the two men sat quietly in the small room. The silence lingered as both men wondered what the other was thinking. Paul would refer to such awkwardness as comparable to seeing a white elephant in the room, all parties could see there was a white elephant, it was impossible to miss but no-one would broach the subject. In this case, the white elephant that Hammond could see was a man slowly losing his memory. It was painful to think about; he had a great deal of respect for Harris and hated to see intelligence such as his be taken away so cruelly.
“I see Kathleen has told you about my Diagnosis.” Harris didn’t wait for an answer and ignored Hammond’s feigned look of ignorance.
“Yes, I am going through the early stages of Alzheimer’s but don’t you start thinking I am going mad. If you are wondering whether I am fit to make a decision, look at Ronald Regan, he did ok.”
Hammond was surprised. “Regan had Alzheimer’s?”
Harris smiled suggesting a hint of pride in his answer. “Sure, some of the greats had it; Rita Hayworth was another one and Iris Murdoch. I think Charlton Heston did too.”
Hammond felt ashamed that he had been so dismissive of Harris’s suspicions after Kathleen had told him about her Father’s diagnosis. He owed Harris an apology and offered it quietly.
“Wallace. I know who you are; I remember our years working together which is why I’m confident I have asked the right person to continue where I left off before I forget. Oh stop that...” impatiently, Harris waved a hand in front of his face to dismiss Hammond’s attempt to appeal. “You need this...” As he spoke Harris bent down onto his knees and crawled under the armchair on which Hammond sat.” No, don’t get up, I’ve got it...” There were sounds of scurrying from underneath Hammond whilst Harris knelt with his head and arms between the chair legs. Hammond prayed silently that Kathleen wouldn’t walk into the room at that moment and see the two men in such a compromising position. When Harris reversed himself from his hiding place under the chair, he was dragging a large box file.
“Here you go, there should be all the information you need to get your investigation going.” Harris stood up by leaning his weight on the arm of the chair and then bent down to pick up the file before dropping it onto Hammond’s lap.
Hammond gasped as he felt the extraordinary weight of the file and opened the lid. There were pages of written notes scribbled in a furious hand, Hammond estimated there must be about a hundred pages worth, underneath the papers were numerous photographs. A quick glance showed him some of the pictures had been taken decades earlier, the colours were slightly faded with a brownish tinge. The edges of the photos were smooth from where they had been handled frequently.
“Lloyd, I wouldn’t know where to begin, there is so much here.”
Harris had resumed his place squatting on the footstool. He used his arms to brace his upper body as if to ease the pressure on his lower limbs. As Hammond looked at him, he noticed Harris’ expression had changed from being an enthusiastic conversationalist to someone deep in thought. It took several moments until Harris spoke again, during which time Hammond simply waited. He didn’t know what his friend was going through; how his mind was able to clarify thoughts amongst a dense jungle of confusion that he presumed the Alzheimer’s had bestowed upon its carrier, but he guessed that patience from others helped. So he sat quietly and waited for Harris to share his thoughts.
“I joined the police force in 1968, I was nineteen years old and an innocent in every sense of the word. However, I soon discovered that you couldn’t be a policeman and remain wet behind the ears for long. Bear in mind Wallace, that the police force had just recovered from two major scandals of police corruption in the late 1950’s so the relationship between the public and the police was uneasy.”
Hammond was surprised by Harris’ choice of subject, but he listened carefully. He was aware that the scandals Harris was referring too had influenced the reform of Britain’s police forces in the 1960’s. The subsequent 1964 Police Act had removed policing power from local counties by allowing the Central Government to exercise more control over local forces. It had been an issue of debate for his Father whom had argued that such a move exhibited nothing more than a lack of faith in local democracy, and had only achieved to create a weaker structure for law enforcement. Hammond shared these thoughts with Harris who impatiently dismissed Hammond’s reply to continue talking. I must keep quiet Hammond thought, if I don’t he will lose his train of thought. It was evident that Harris wanted to share something but so far Hammond could not understand the relevance. It must be a need to reminisce, Hammond thought so made an effort to remain silent.