by C. D. Neill
“Of course, the 1970’s was different to how it is today. You can’t just stop a man and search him because he is Asian or black but in those days, it was the norm. If a man had darker skin, it meant he was up to no good, at least that was the opinion of my colleagues. I guess it is no wonder that the public distrusted us, but we believed we were doing our job. We believed that we were protecting the public. We didn’t need what you call ‘reasonable suspicion’ to bring a man in for questioning. The copper’s instinct was the only tool we needed.” Harris shook his head and shrugged. Hammond was unsure how to answer, he wasn’t sure of the relevance of the subject. What was he trying to say? He listened for any sound of Kathleen’s progress but he couldn’t hear anything other Harris’s breathing. Again, he waited and hoped that by doing so he was being helpful in allowing his friend to share what was troubling him.
“Then of course, the police were the prosecutors, which meant that there was the tendency to focus on a suspect and build a case around them. I admit that there were the odd occasions when we couldn’t be entirely sure that evidence leading towards other possible suspects wasn’t ignored. The number of acquittals we experienced was from providing weak prosecution preparation so it meant that we relied heavily on confessions in order to secure a conviction. In those days corroborating a suspects’ confession with forensic evidence wasn’t as important as it is today.”
Hammond found himself fidgeting in his chair, he reminded himself to keep quiet and not interrupt Harris’ reminiscing even though he wasn’t particularly enjoying having a history lesson on policing.
“The pressure on getting results could be crippling, especially on cases with a high public profile, we had to identify a suspect quickly in order to prove we were doing our jobs. Once evidence pointed to one suspect we would focus on it and make damn sure we would get a result that the public expected. We used the philosophy that if a person was found near a scene of a crime or they had a history of committing previous similar offences, it was enough to bring them in for questioning. Police territory could be a very intimidating place, and being interrogated was..well..an intimidating experience.”
Harris whistled through his teeth as if he were judging his own past actions. Hammond sat shocked by what Harris was suggesting but at the same time wondered why he was being told such information. Was Harris’ confession to clear his conscience? Harris looked at Hammond then and raised the corners of his lips in a thin smile.
“There was coercion. No doubt about that. Of course, there were some good police officers who went by the book but we believed we were doing the right thing for the people we were protecting. But then people started asking questions, the public began to distrust us, and we had to regain their trust so it was necessary to compromise; make ourselves known to be fair. We adopted a trading system where a suspect would give us information in exchange for immunity from prosecution.”
Harris was caught up in the flow of his reminiscing, his expressions became animated. Hammond sat listening; he was beginning to feel uneasy wondering where the confession was going to end.
“But then you are faced with the question; Where to draw the line? What started out as compromising became colluding with the commission of offences. There was a lot of perks for officers in the vice squad in particular. I worked alongside Vice at one point in my career. I knew that most of the young girls were being brought over from Europe or as far afield as Africa for prostitution but the girls were looked after and treated well. We looked after them and protected them from nasty punters in exchange for a free ride so to speak. It worked well; the girls trusted us and would often allow themselves to be used to get information from their contacts. There was mutual trust from both sides. I became friends with one of the girls there, she called herself Pattie...” There was a sound of a door closing from upstairs, Harris sat up and left the room leaving Hammond sitting on the chair perplexed. He was about to move and join Harris in the hallway when the older man returned to the office and shut the door.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be ages yet...where were we? He stood looking at Hammond who started to remind Harris about the girl called Pattie before Harris remembered and resumed his position on the stool.
“Anyway, it became apparent that there were too many bribes being taken in the Vice Squad and rumours were spreading like wild fire of collusion between armed robbery gangs and high ranking officers in specialised units such as the regional Crime Squad and Criminal Intelligence...”
Hammond interrupted, He realised what Harris was telling him about.
“You are referring to Operation Countryman?”
Harris looked annoyed by Hammond’s interruption but he nodded with affirmation.
“Yes, exactly. Originally it was established following suspicion of corruption within the City of London Police but it became apparent that the Metropolitan Police were also under investigation. I hadn’t been discreet regarding my affair with Pattie, whom by then had established herself as a madam with girls working under her, but I knew it couldn’t be proven that I was involved in taking bribes. The worst I could be accused of would be to have turned a blind eye to their involvements with organised crime and coercing confessions and the like. So, I was offered a deal; any enquiry against me would be forgotten if I agreed to co-operate. I became an informant for the Home Office.”
Hammond was dumbstruck. He had joined the Police force three years following the closure of the major wide-ranging investigation into police corruption, but the aftermath of what had been called ‘Operation Countryman’ had been in existence during his early years as a police constable. Over 400 police officers had been dismissed from the force either during or after the investigation by the Home Office. Distrust between officers had been well documented following allegations, some unfounded, that officers had betrayed their colleagues during the investigation. Despite spending £4 Million during the six year investigation, no criminal charges were made despite the belief that over 300 officers had been involved in criminal dealings.
“This was why you were transferred to Medway?”
Harris nodded. “It had something to do with it I am sure. Working undercover and reporting the people I had respected as friends as well as colleagues wasn’t something I enjoyed. But you see, I was young and selfish and I wanted to protect my own interests.”
“You mean Pattie, the girl you were having an affair with?”
Hammond wondered what influence Pattie had had over Harris, he suspected that there was more to the story than Harris was telling him. If Pattie had been working as a madam, it was possible that Harris was protecting her from investigation as well as himself. Certainly it would not have looked good if it had been made public that a police officer was associating with prostitutes but at the same time, it may not have warranted a dismissal. There must be more to this than Harris is telling me Hammond thought. He watched his friend closely, hoping for signs that Harris was going to tell him more.
“I kept some information back. It wasn’t in my best interests or Pattie’s either to tell everything. So I withheld details that I felt would make no difference to their investigation. Some of the information I collected is in that box.” Harris pointed to the box file on Hammond’s lap. For a moment Hammond looked down at the box, he tried to understand what relevance it had to the investigation Harris had delegated him to do.
“You mean it is connected somehow with the murder of Salima Abitboul?”
Harris gave a short nod of his head but his eyes remained fixed on the floor.
“How?”
“I am ninety-nine percent sure that Salima was one of Pattie’s girls.”
Suddenly Hammond realised what Harris was trying to tell him.
“The man who confessed to murdering Salima Abitboul was innocent?”
Harris looked up slowly, and looked Hammond in the eye.
“Yes, I think so, but I didn’t know at the time. A Pakistani man had been seen visiting the site where her bod
y was found, he was found with her possessions. I believed he was guilty. I guess it was the racist in me that made me so damn sure but I didn’t have enough evidence, so it took some persuasion.”
“Why now? Why didn’t you present this...” Hammond swept his hand over the box file in an agitated fashion
“...this possible evidence and get the man freed if you believe he was innocent after all?”
“He died from cancer in prison years ago. What good would it have done? I believed he was guilty. We had some evidence, the confession just secured it. It is only now that I wonder whether we made a mistake.”
“So, you want me to find out if Mark Callum was guilty of her murder? Is it possible that he had known her during his childhood hence him having her possessions?
“I cannot say for sure, but I do recommend that you consider what I have told you when you investigate.”
Hammond sighed, he felt that time was running out for the two men. Kathleen could appear at any moment and he felt he was making progress.
“Lloyd. If there is more, tell me, tell me as much as you can. I feel as if I am walking blind here.”
Harris put his hand on Hammond’s shoulder. “I trust you Wallace, only you. Like I said before give it your best shot please. It sounds disloyal to say it but it is important that you do not show any of this to Kathleen. I don’t know whether you are friends now nor do I care what your relationship is, but do not share any of this information with her. Promise me Wallace.”
Hammond considered that the promise would be useless since Kathleen would surely ask why he was carrying a large box file out of her home, and worse still, would want to know the contents. Hammond wasn’t good at lying, it wouldn’t take a genius to guess the truth he argued. In reply, Harris suggested he distract Kathleen whilst Hammond hid the file in his car. Feeling it was a unnecessary precaution, he shoved the file under the driver’s seat before returning indoors.
The man had stood hidden in the shadows of the overgrown garden. From his position he could see the front door open and the Detective come outside carrying a parcel. He stepped further back hoping the light seeping outside from the house wouldn’t compromise his hiding place and watched as the policeman opened his car door and placed the parcel inside before quietly closing the door. The car’s headlights blinked as the car was locked by the remote control before the front door was shut again. The man waited for a minute, before stepping lightly across the gravel towards where the policeman’s car was parked. He skirted around the car, looking in the window, hoping to see where the parcel had been placed but it was too dark to see inside. He looked toward the house again and reconsidered his plan of action. He looked up at the light coming from the top window and waited until it went dark, then he crept his way back down towards the drive and returned to his car parked discreetly along the lane. He waited.
The conversation in the car was stilted. The newly styled Inspector Hammond was feeling absurdly self-conscious, he was painfully aware that this was his first social meeting with a woman he didn’t work with. He felt out of practise and hoped that Kathleen would encourage a topic of conversation. Instead, she looked out of the window during the five minute drive and simply nodded when he remarked how well her father had looked.
As he parked the car behind the pub, Kathleen asked if she could be excused for a moment; she had to visit the ladies room. She left the car quickly, shutting the door with a careless manner before she hurried to the main entrance of the restaurant. Her behaviour was rather odd since she had only just left home, but Hammond contemplated the possibility that she was also nervous. Perhaps like him it was the first opportunity to be alone with a single man since her divorce. He sat in the car for several seconds, wondering how he could steer the conversation onto her Father. After all, that was why he had wanted to meet her. The box file underneath his seat beckoned his attention. He thought that Harris’ warning was rather extreme but it wouldn’t hurt to take it indoors with him. Kathleen wouldn’t be interested in the contents if she thought it was connected to his work. Whilst he was waiting for her, he could have another peek at the contents in the light of the restaurant.
Kathleen was sat waiting at a table as he ambled his way into the entrance, he gave his name to front of house and was about to be accompanied to where she sat before he changed his mind. It had been a stupid idea to bring in the box file with him. He was about to eat a meal, it wasn’t as if he could spread the contents over the table and shovel a fork with one hand like he did at the breakfast table. He asked the maître d’ if they could look after the file on his behalf. They were happy to put it in their office where it would be safe he was assured. Gratefully, he accepted and reprimanded himself mentally on forgetting his manners.
“I should tell you Wallace, how dashing you look. I do like the hair cut.” Kathleen showed off her dimples as she smiled. Her attitude had changed dramatically from when she had been in the car and he was encouraged by her willingness to converse. The drink menus were offered. Despite the temptation to have beer, he ordered the safer option of mineral water but Kathleen quickly rebuffed his choice.
“Oh Wallace, this is a friendly re-union! Let’s be a little more adventurous!” She ordered a bottle of Burgundy dismissing his preference to be teetotal.
“Oh come on, we have so much to talk about. You can order a taxi if necessary. I’ll pay!” She pouted her lips playfully and rested her hand on his in an attempt to persuade him. The ploy worked. Hammond had not had the best day and if Beech had his way, there was no need to worry about going to work early in the morning so he raised his glass to toast a relaxed evening.
The conversation, aided by the wine, was soon flowing. Harris must have felt his ears burning as his daughter and former colleague discussed his mental state.
“He admitted to me that he had been diagnosed but to be honest he seems ...well.. if you pardon the expression...normal. He was as rational as ever. Are you sure your Father’s symptoms are as advanced as you fear them to be?”
“Like I said Wallace, there are good days and some bad days. I guess you were lucky tonight. Two days ago, he was in a terrible state; I came home just after seven to find him wandering around the village with no shoes on. It was freezing! By the time I had persuaded him to get in the car and come home, he was so agitated that I had to call the GP to sedate him.”
Hammond stopped chewing his pork loin and looked at her with astonishment.
“He is that bad? What about drug therapy?”
Kathleen poked her Haddock with her fork, lost in thought.
“The inhibitors help to slow down the degeneration but there are times when he gets so confused. If I am not there every day morning and night handing out the medication, he won’t take the tablets or forgets the dosage.” She raised one shoulder as if to express her acceptance of the situation rather than questioning it.
“So he forgets to care for himself yet he remembers details of us working together. It’s crazy.”
Kathleen looked sharply at Hammond.
“Are you suggesting I am exaggerating?”
“No! Not at all, I guess I am just so perplexed how the human mind works! It is all beyond me, yet your Father seems to have accepted his fate. I saw all the books of Psychology; he must be a learned man.”
He felt himself being scrutinised suddenly. Kathleen had put down her fork to pick up her glass, sipping slowly as she looked at him over the rim.
“You saw his office? You are honoured; normally it is out of bounds. I am not allowed in there.”
“I didn’t see much to be honest, just books.” It was a good time to change the subject, but Kathleen seemed less keen in ending the topic of conversation.
“Yes, but you were there long enough to see what kind of books there were. Like I said, you are honoured. I expect he wanted to show off his research. He spends a lot of time in that room scribbling away on goodness knows what. Did he seem obsessive to you?”
Kathleen’s
question was innocent. Hammond owed her the truth, she was concerned about her father, it was cruel to deliberately keep information from her.
“Perhaps a little. He has been very keen to show me the information he has gathered regarding local suicides.”
“And did he?”
“Yes, I had a glance at what he had collected. However, a glance was all I could afford, he had completed a file worth at least. I don’t know what the file contains though.”
“So that is what he gave you?”
Kathleen’s perception had to be honoured, he nodded but gave no more details. So far Hammond was telling Kathleen the truth even though he had the intention of studying the file contents later. He hoped that he appeared to be cooperative and sympathetic to her situation. She was trying hard to protect her Father’s reputation, whilst Harris was trying to protect her innocence. Hammond was stuck in the middle, but he owed it to Harris to keep his promise, more than he owed loyalty to Harris’ daughter.
Kathleen changed tack, she was curious to learn of Hammonds parents. He was rather reluctant to focus attention onto himself but he was grateful for the change in subject and answered her questions openly. He accepted a top up from the second bottle of wine and sipped it, enjoying the acidity after his rich meal.
“My mother was the typical home maker, always making jams and homemade breads. She used to refer to herself as a housewife but in reality she was a bit of everything, cook, seamstress, gardener, you name it, she’d do it!”
Kathleen watched him as he recounted stories of his youth. She didn’t interrupt and seemed to enjoy hearing of his childhood exploits.