Flawed Beauty

by Ernesto Lee

  “You’ve all seen this, haven’t you? ‘Murder Investigation Stalled. Have the Police Got the Right Man?’ And this isn’t even the worst headline I’ve seen today. It is, however, the only one asking that particular question. Well, have we? Have we got the right man?”

  A veteran officer on the front row nods but his mouth is barely open before Erin cuts him off. “That was a rhetorical question, Sergeant Carter.”

  Then to the group, she says, “And for anyone here unsure of the correct answer – yes, we have got the right bloody man.”

  Pausing to let her words sink in, Erin then asks, “So, tell me this, team – if we do, in fact, have the right man, why are we no further forward than we were a week ago?”

  Understandably, there is a reluctance in the room to speak up, and, frustrated by the continued silence, Erin shakes her head. “Guys, that question wasn’t rhetorical. I was, in fact, looking for an answer or some insight into our lack of progress.”

  Shaking her head again, she says, “I’m starting to think, though, that this team’s lack of drive or belief in this case might be the answer to my question.”

  Knowing that no one else would willingly risk getting on the wrong side of Erin’s temper, Terri takes it upon herself to speak up in the hope of preserving any remaining vestige of team morale. Getting to her feet, she walks to the ops board and clears her throat. “Ma’am, if you don’t mind me saying so, we’ve done everything right this week. Each of these lines of inquiry made perfect sense a week ago and they still do now.

  “But after such a great start, it was always going to be challenging to keep that kind of momentum going. I think, though, if you allow the team to give their updates, you’ll see that there has been some progress made since we all last met.”

  Erin knows perfectly well what Terri is trying to do, and although still not completely calm, she is grateful for her efforts to play the peacemaker and refocus the team. Her intervention and mention of progress have also inadvertently provided Erin with an opportunity to continue the meeting without the need to apologize for her behavior.

  Masking any sign of emotion, she thanks Terri before turning to the rest of the team with a smirk. “It’s good to see that at least one of my team believes in what we’re doing here. Now, how about the rest of you brain-dead, mute assholes tell me what you’ve been up to over the last couple of days.”

  Perfectly delivered, the lighthearted insult delivers a much-needed wave of relief and sniggers from around the room. The mood instantly lightens, and a smiling Erin points to DC Potter. “Okay, let’s get started then. Michael, what have you got for me on Shreya Singh?”

  Slightly taken aback at being singled out first, Potter fumbles with the file on his lap before stuttering, “Um, yes, ma’am. Well, what I mean is, the boyfriend angle still seems to be a dead-end, and we haven’t managed to find anything significant in her debit or credit card statements as yet, but we—”

  “There’s a ‘but,’ DC Potter? That sounds promising.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is.”

  Opening the file, Potter hands Erin a handful of still video images. “These were captured by the CCTV in The Village Taverna on the 14th of March. The quality isn’t great, but this is definitely Shreya Singh.”

  Nodding, Erin says, “The Taverna. That’s the Greek place on Station Road, right?”

  “That’s right, ma’am. It is.”

  “Okay, and do we know who this other woman is?” Erin asks, handing back one of the pictures. “She looks quite a bit older than Shreya.”

  Looking up from his notes, Potter grimaces and then says, “Sorry, ma’am. We don’t have a name yet, but we do have a fairly good description of her from the restaurant manager.”

  “Go on?” Erin urges.

  “Yes, ma’am. Caucasian, of course, long blonde hair, five-nine to five-eleven tall, mid to late thirties, slim to medium build, clean complexion and attractive but not overly made-up.”

  “Any noticeable accent?” Terri asks.

  Turning toward her, Potter frowns. “Possible Merseyside or North West at least, ma’am. But our witness couldn’t swear to it. He’s Greek born and bred. Apparently, we all sound alike to him.”

  “Of course we do,” Erin tuts to herself in annoyance. “Had he seen either woman before?”

  “No, ma’am, not that he recalls. But he did get the impression that they were more than just friends.”

  “Meaning what exactly?”

  “They were very touchy-feely, ma’am. Lots of hand-holding and some kissing.”

  In one of the images, Shreya can be seen kissing her companion on the cheek. Handing the image to Terri, Erin asks, “What do you think? Lovers or just a peck on the cheek for a friend?”

  “Difficult to say without understanding the context,” Terri replies. “Taken in isolation, it looks innocent enough.”

  “Agreed.” Erin nods before turning back to Potter. “Okay, back to the name of our mystery woman. Who made the reservation?”

  “There was no reservation, ma’am. “They were a walk-in.”

  “Okay, so what about a credit card receipt. Who paid the bill?”

  Worried about her reaction, Potter hesitates to answer, forcing Erin to repeat the question. “Mike, who paid the bill?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. We don’t know exactly. The manager thinks it was Shreya’s companion, but he’s not sure. The bill was settled in cash.”

  “Wonderful,” Erin grunts. “So another bloody dead end.”

  Sparing a blushing Potter, Terri interjects. “No. Not a complete dead end, boss. DC Potter and DC Thorne were able to locate some additional camera footage of our subjects flagging down a taxi outside The Taverna. It’s not the sharpest footage, but the lab team are working on it, and we’re hopeful of getting back the license plate.”

  Then prompting her young colleague, Terri says, “Isn’t that right, DC Potter?”

  “Um, yes, ma’am. That’s right. With the license plate, we can get a fix on where they went next and hopefully—”

  “Yes, yes. That’s great,” Erin snaps impatiently. Then noting Potter’s embarrassment, she reins herself in and smiles. “No, seriously, that’s great work, DC Potter. You too, DC Thorne. Let me know as soon as you’ve got a fix on that license plate. Oh, and get copies of these images in front of Shreya’s friends and family. One of them may be able to give us the name of her companion. Good work, guys.”

  Scanning the front row, Erin’s eyes settle next on Tony Bolton and DS Cheeseman. Both officers have just returned from interviewing Murray in prison. “Anything new or enlightening from the man himself today?”

  “Nothing, boss.” Tony shrugs. “That brief of his has him well and truly keeping schtum. The only time he does speak is to protest his innocence.”

  “Or to ask to—”

  “Honestly, ma’am. Talking to Murray is a waste of our time,” Tony says, loudly talking over his colleague. “In my opinion, our efforts would be far better—”

  “Sorry, Tony,” Erin interrupts. “I think DS Cheeseman was going to say something. Sorry, Frank, you were saying?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I was going to say that Murray kept asking to speak to DI Marchetti. He was quite insistent.”

  Pricking up her ears, Terri asks, “Really? Did he say why he wanted to see me?”

  “Just that he had something important to tell you,” Cheeseman replies.

  “He didn’t go into any detail,” Tony adds. “But I’m guessing, based on your prior history, he’s hoping somehow to get you onside. If I was you, I wouldn’t put too much emphasis on it, ma’am. This is Murray simply looking for a distraction.”

  “I should probably speak to him, though, boss?” Terri asks, turning to Erin. “If only to see what he has to say for himself.”

  “You should,” Erin affirms. “But I tend to agree with DS Bolton. If he had something important to say to you, then why not say it before? You can speak to him, but I don’t want Murray
or Quinlan to think any of my officers are at their beck and call whenever it suits them.”

  Turning to Tony, she asks, “When are you next planning to interview Murray?”

  “At 2 pm, Monday afternoon,” Bolton replies. Then with a sickly smile to Terri, he says, “DI Marchetti is welcome to join us.”

  “Good. That’s settled then,” Erin says. “Monday afternoon it is. Okay, Terri?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll rearrange my schedule to make myself available.”

  Moving quickly on, Erin finds Malcolm Gladwell nestled slap bang in the middle of the second row. “DI Gladwell, any progress with the DNA samples or other forensics?”

  Rising to his feet, Gladwell slowly shakes his head. “I’m still working on the make-up samples, along with the DNA and partial print lifted from the glove recovered at the Singh murder scene. But as of now, I’ve drawn a blank from all our usual databases, ma’am.”

  “You’ve gone nationwide?” Erin asks.

  She already knows the answer, of course, and it is no surprise when Gladwell confirms that he has. “From Land’s End to John O’Groats, ma’am. Highlands and Islands included.”

  “Well, perhaps you should now go beyond our usual databases,” Erin suggests. “Widen the net. Find out who else routinely holds DNA or forensic samples. Otherwise, call it a day and allow me to focus your efforts elsewhere, DI Gladwell.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Understood. If it’s okay, I’ll give it a few more days. There are one or two more avenues I’d like to explore?”

  “That’s fine,” Erin responds. “Let’s review again mid of next week.”

  Gladwell retakes his seat, and Erin asks the team, “Does anyone else have anything significant they would like to share?”

  Met with a wall of blank expressions and stony silence, she shrugs and says, “No? Okay, let’s wrap things up then for today. I’ll see you all bright and fresh first thing Monday morning.”

  Catching Terri’s prompt, she nods and turns back to the team. “Oh, and good work, guys. Thanks for your efforts this week. Enjoy your weekend.”

  Grateful for an entire weekend off, the team are excited and chatty as they troop out from the briefing room. Terri, however, tells Erin and Tony she has a suggestion to share and asks for them to wait a moment. With the last of their colleagues gone, she smiles and says, “What do you think about a team night out?”

  “I’m always up for a knees-up,” Tony smirks.

  “Sure,” Erin says. “When were you thinking of?”

  “What about tonight?” Terri replies.

  Frowning, Erin says, “No. I’m not sure about tonight. I’m really not in the mood for it. Maybe next—”

  “And that’s exactly why we should have a drink with the team tonight. They’ve busted their balls for twelve days solid now. They need a pick-me-up and so do we.”

  Although he is an unlikely ally, Terri looks toward Bolton for support. “Back me up here, Tony. Tell the boss a night out will be a great boost for team morale.”

  Nodding, Tony says, “We don’t often agree, as you well know, boss. But on this occasion, DI Marchetti does have a valid point. A night out would be a good boost for morale.”

  “And it’s sure to put the guys in the right mindset to hit the ground running on Monday morning,” Terri adds enthusiastically. “Particularly if you put a few quid behind the bar. Come on. What do you say, boss?”

  “Do I have any real choice?” Erin smirks.

  “None at all,” Terri smiles. “Shall we say 8 pm in The Unicorn?”

  “Fuck that – not The Unicorn,” Tony grunts. “That place is full of bloody yuppies at the weekend. If we really want to let our hair down, we should go to The Jolly Mariner.”

  “Whatever,” Terri concedes with a shrug. “I’m good with any place as long as we can get a drink and it has decent music. Is The Mariner okay with you, boss?”

  Begrudgingly nodding her capitulation, Erin picks up her handbag and phone. “I suppose you had better let the team know before they all disappear for the night. I’ll see you both around eight.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rather predictably, the party is already in full swing by the time Erin arrives at just after eight thirty. Equally as predictable is the sight of Tony Bolton taking center stage at the bar.

  Clearly in his element, he enthusiastically holds court for the more junior officers, who hang off his every word, eagerly lapping up the somewhat embellished tales of past heroics and cases solved. Terri, however, can be found sitting away from the main group at the other end of the bar, chatting quietly with Alice Thorne.

  Catching their eyes, Erin joins them and sarcastically asks, “Not interested in joining DS Bolton’s masterclass, ladies?”

  Screwing up her face, Terri shakes her head. “Nah, it’s all a bit too Rambo for us, ma’am.”

  Then in a passable imitation of David Walliams from Little Britain, she says, “We’re far too genteel for all that nonsense, aren’t we, Alice? We’re ladies, you see.”

  Chuckling, Alice adds, “And, besides, I think DS Bolton is more comfortable around men anyway, ma’am.”

  Shaking her head and laughing, Erin says, “Yeah, I can’t say I blame you. It sounds like you pair are having your own little party anyway. How many have you had to drink?”

  “Actually, just the one,” Terri replies. “We were saving ourselves for the free bar.”

  Incredulous, Erin asks, “What bloody free bar? I agreed to put a few quid behind the bar, but I’m not paying for the whole nigh—”

  “Here she is,” Tony suddenly bellows across the room. “Where have you been, boss? Get your ass over here. It’s time to really get this party started.”

  Smiling, Erin tells him she’ll be right there. Then turning to Terri with a grimace, she says, “I take it my boisterous friend over there was the source of the free bar rumor?”

  “Where else would it come from?” Terri laughs. “Go on, boss. Go entertain the troops. Don’t let Detective Colombo take all the glory for himself. We’ll join you in a while. Oh, and, boss, before I forget, our mystery woman drew a blank with Praneeta Singh and the family. Sorry.”

  Unsurprised, Erin thanks Terri for the update, then quietly mouths, “Wish me luck,” before she turns and plunges headlong toward the lion’s den.

  . . . . . . . .

  Three drinks down already, Tony is clearly relishing his moment in the spotlight. Playing to the audience, he smirks knowingly before turning casually towards an unsuspecting Erin as she approaches.

  Blissfully unaware of his intention, she is taken completely by surprise as Tony springs the ambush. Surprisingly strong, his arms envelop her in an enthusiastic and all-consuming embrace. Feeling somewhat like a baby zebra caught between the powerful jaws of a crocodile, Erin is powerless to escape her fate.

  Grinning from ear to ear, Tony pulls her closer still. Erin’s final indignity is a tobacco and whisky tainted kiss planted on her cheek accompanied by a loud and noisy, “Mwah!” Theatrically released from his grip, Erin is left stunned and more than a little embarrassed. Tony, however, is secretly elated to have scored this small but symbolic early victory.

  Turning toward the bar like the angel of all things alcoholic, he wondrously spreads his wings to reveal the multitude and miracle of strong liquor resplendent before him.

  His voice booming, Tony loudly declares, “Drink’s for everyone! The boss is paying.”

  Erin’s feeble protest is easily drowned out by the cheers of her team, and nimbly stepping to the side, she narrowly avoids being trampled by the inevitable stampede to the bar.

  Firmly caught between a rock and hard place, she quietly mouths the word “asshole” to a now grinning detective sergeant.

  For his part, Tony wryly returns the compliment by slowly raising his glass. “To your very good health, ma’am.”

  . . . . . . . .

  Two hours and multiple toasts in her honor later, Erin is just about ready to call it
a night, when a half-cut Mike Potter approaches unsteadily clutching two shots of tequila. “You ready for another, boss?”

  “Actually, Mike, I think I’ll pass this time. Why don’t you give it to DS Bolton? He never passes up the opportunity for a free drink.”

  Looking slightly dejected and more than a little pathetic, Potter whines, “But I got this one for you.”

  Then after a moment of confused reflection, he says, “Well, actually you got this for you. But you know what I mean. And you have had a shot with everyone else, ma’am.”

  “Which is exactly why I don’t want another one.” Erin frowns. “I’ve got things I need to do tomorrow, and I can do without feeling like shi—”

  “Oh, don’t be such a wet blanket,” Tony slurs loudly, suddenly propping his chin on Potter’s shoulder. “It is good for team morale, after all, ma’am.”

  Firmly back in the spotlight, there is no way on God’s green earth that Erin is going to gift Tony Bolton a second opportunity to humiliate her tonight.

  Shaking her head and frowning, she jokes to the team, “Wow, guys. With friends like you, who needs bloody enemies?”

  Then to Mike Potter, she says, “Right then, let’s do this.”

  Taking a breath to steady herself, she raises her glass to the young DC before knocking back the shot of tequila.

  Choking slightly, but somehow managing to keep it down, she smirks, then wipes her mouth and chin with the back of her sleeve before asking sarcastically, “Happy now, assholes?”

  Honor restored, she excuses herself and leaves to find Terri.

  . . . . . . . .

  Terri is no longer at the end of the bar, and Erin eventually finds her at a discrete table on the other side of the bar still deep in conversation with DC Thorne. “I’m sorry, but do you mind if I get a moment with DI Marchetti, Alice? I won’t keep her long.”

  “Of course not,” Alice responds, offering her seat. “Judging by the noise they’re making, it sounds like the guys need taking in hand anyway.”

  She leaves, and although such formality is not required, Erin politely asks if it is okay to sit down.