“Right, no, but you know conversion therapy is to do with being gay?”
“No. Maybe. Seen it on the web.”
“Okay, so you’ve never heard of the church running any courses?”
“Nah, not my thing.”
“Okay, and you didn’t know Mr Stewart?”
“No.”
“And this,” she held up a piece of paper, “is this your phone number?”
“No.”
“We can ring it.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Okay, the thing is, your name is Barack?”
“Yeah.”
“The thing is, Barack, your mobile phone was called multiple times by one belonging to Jonathan Stewart.”
Barack ran a hand through the dreads on his head, before deciding to reply “I just bought it. Must be them who’s gay. Not me. Just got it.”
“If you knew anything, we would appreciate it if you told us. You’re not in trouble, we just want to stop people going through the stress that affected Jonathan.”
“Don’t know him. Don’t know Kofi neither. You wanna say anymore, you go get a lawyer or a warrant or whatever, don’t stop a man in the street like this and start saying he’s gay. I’m a Christian, a good Christian, people might hear you.”
“We didn’t actually call you…”
“Nah, back off, I answered, I don’t know nothing.”
“That means you do,” Maruma explained.
“Bro, what you doing here? You a choc ice or something man? You shouldn’t be calling a brother gay, you one yourself?”
Maruma raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet.
“You got anything else you want, you come with a warrant, and I’ll come with a lawyer.” Barack turned and stormed off towards his flat, which he opened and then slammed the door behind him.
“Well I think he’s gay,” Grayling said.
“Clearly projecting insecurity,” Maruma confirmed. “He knows. But we’re gonna need a lawyer. He is not on the side of the dead.”
Susan turned to Maruma. “What’s a choc ice?”
“Brown on the outside, white inside. Way of insulting a black cop, trying to invoke a culture war. Doesn’t faze me. I don’t feel a part of any culture anyway, besides the Bunker.”
“Hello there,” Lindleman said as he wiped his feet on a mat which was placed outside the door, so he could come in and put his shoes on the one inside. “I’m DC Lindleman and my colleague DI Sharma is just parking the car.”
“I must have seen twenty different policemen, women, people, whatever you call yourselves,” Mrs Cribb said it in the manner of someone who didn’t think women ought to be in any uniform besides a domestic one.
“Yes, we all do different roles. Thank you for allowing our scene of crime team to go over your house and your lounge is now returned to you. However, the DI and I are leading the investigation into your husband’s death…”
“Murder,” she said firmly.
“Quite so, murder, and we have some questions.”
“Of course, ah, here she is,” Sharma walked in, so Mrs Cribb barked “shut the front door.”
“What? Oh, right, yeah, you literally meant that.”
Soon Sharma was sat down.
“I’ve forgotten the tea!” Mrs Cribb shrieked as she leapt up with the same stress other people have when they leave their baby in Tesco.
“It’s fine, really, what we want is for you to answer some questions.”
“I believe they say, ‘fire away’.”
“Okay, so, did your husband have any enemies?”
“None. He was a highly respected church elder.”
“But had he annoyed anyone doing that?”
“Not a soul.”
“Were all his financial dealings up to date?”
“They are spotless.”
“Anyone argue with him?”
“I think,” Sharma said butting in, “that Mrs Cribb is going to say there were no problems to anything we ask.”
“Quite so!”
“In that case, a different question.”
“Anything.”
“Do you know where your husband’s laptop is?”
“The brief case like thing?”
Sharma stifled an eye roll. “Yes. Our officers noticed your husband has a dock in his office, with a monitor and a mouse and, well, an actual dock, but the laptop that must power it is missing. We can’t find it anywhere in the house or his car.”
“He must have left it in his office.”
“Our officers…”
“No Detective,” Mrs Cribb said in a way exposing her relish at putting an Asian woman to so called rights, “his office in the church.”
“He has a full office at New Hope?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting. So, it might be there?”
“He was a man who brought his work home with him, because he loved the church and always had time for his parishioners. But he went out every day, so anything you can’t find here would be in the church.”
“As would everyone he’d upset,” Sharma said casually.
“There’s always one or two…” A guilty pause, “he hadn’t upset a single soul.”
“Right, well thanks very much, my colleague here is now going to go outside and use his radio, while I am going to have another look at the home office.” Sharma smiled, didn’t wait for an invite, and proceeded to use the house in a manner that established who exactly was in charge of this thing.
The receptionist looked up to find two men walking towards her. She didn’t recognise them so put on her smartest expression. “Hello, welcome to New Hope Church, how may I help you?”
“Hello,” one man began, “I’m DC Will Green and I’m here to execute a warrant.”
“Good to see you sir. What does that mean?”
“Oh, I’m investigating the death of Joshua Cribb.”
“Such a tragic loss,” the receptionist said with the voice of a robot, “we all miss him a great deal. He brought us in chocolates all the time.”
“I wish my boss did that. Anyway, we know he has an office in the building and as part of our investigation we’d like to look around it.”
“Oh, that’s fine, anything to help. What does the warrant part mean?”
“Well, it just smooths things over,” it means you can’t say no don’t it, Green thought.
“Right, well, I will show you two through, follow me,” she stood and did her best walk through the building. They went down a wide corridor painted cream and came to a dark brown wooden door, on which was a bible quote carved into a wooden plaque, as well as the painted name Elder Joshua Cribb.
A key was produced, the door opened, and Green and his companion went inside.
“Shall I come back in five minutes?” the secretary asked.
“No, these things take a lot longer, we wouldn’t mind some coffee though?”
“Perfect.”
With her gone, the two men looked around the room.
It was more like a library than an office. A good two thirds of the walls were covered in bookcases, and they were filled. Books, magazines published by different church groups, photographs of Cribb with… well they varied between Cribb seemingly being treated like royalty by people clearly abroad, and the family the deceased man had left behind. In fact,
“this man travelled more than a ten quid note”, Green said, pausing to muse “spose that doesn’t travel round the world much though does it?”
“Let’s focus,” his companion said, moving round to look at the desk. Big and heavy, it had two screens on the top and a desktop computer tucked away underneath. “I wonder if that holds the answers?”
Green tilted his head to look at a cross. “Reckon that’s ivory?”
“I hope not.”
“Oh yeah, me too, I love Dumbo. Good thing we don’t have more flying elephants though.”
“Focus, Green.”
“Oh, right. Well, professional opi
nion is we’ll need someone tearing this place apart and it won’t be quick, there’s a million books and knick-knacks and no sign of this missing laptop.”
“Agreed. Completely agreed.”
The door swung open at speed, so hard it bounced back into the man surging through. “You can’t come in here!”
“Are you Edward Quince?” Green asked.
“Yes, and who are you?”
“I’m DC Green, and I’m…”
“Listen to me Constable, you do not barge into people’s offices and start going through their material and …”
“I have a warrant.”
“What?”
“I got one to make sure.”
“In that case I demand to speak to your superior.”
The other man in the room stepped forward. “I’m Detective Chief Inspector Wick of the Morthern Major Crimes Unit, how may I assist you?”
“D…C… I…”
“Yes Quince, yes.”
“Major… Crimes…”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Wick noted.
“Do they have those in Christianity?” Green asked. “Cos, they don’t get approved a lot.”
“You think there are major crimes?”
Green noted the multiple he’d just casually fallen into.
“A murder, so yes.”
“Even so, you can’t just walk in here and…”
Wick smiled. He believed Maruma’s assessment that Quince was hiding things and he had to admit he did love winding officious people up. “We’re not walking in anymore. As part of a murder investigation I am seizing the contents of this room. Now no one besides my officers will be allowed inside until we have finished.”
“This room has material sensitive to the running of the church!” Quince blustered.
“We have a full set of protocols and procedures that safeguards your documents, while allowing us to find the killer.”
“But it’s private!”
“You can trust the police.” Wick smiled. Quince really did not.
“You’re really going to take this material?”
“Yes. Is there something you want to tell us Mr Quince?”
“No, no, it’s just a shock that’s all, a shock. I shall… leave you to it.”
He turned and stormed out like a child denied ice cream.
“Well he’s a twat,” Green noted.
“Not an assessment taught in psychology, I grant you, but one I do agree with. Dial up the troops and let’s get someone cleaning house. Meanwhile help me unplug this computer, we are not letting it out of our sight. Quince would probably have it fall into a drill.”
Quince slammed his office door shut and walked in an ever-faster circle round his desk, the chair kicked to the side. Can they just come here and do that? Can they just fucking walk into a church and steal all the files? Jesus, what was in Cribb’s files? What would they find? Anything to do with him? Measures had been taken to clear Cribb’s home of content, but coming into the fucking church?
He snatched his phone up and dialled.
“Hello Edward, how are…”
“Warrants,” Quince snapped, “tell me about warrants.”
“What specifically?” the lawyer asked his elder.
“The police have shown up, waving a warrant. It says they can come in and take what they want. Is that a real thing? Can that actually happen?”
“To get a warrant they’ve had to persuade a judge that there is just cause. What’s it about?”
“Cribb’s murder.”
“Oh, well, yeah, they’ll probably get one easy for a murder if they think something’s hidden…do they?”
“They want to search his office.”
“Oh yes, that all sounds perfectly legal.”
Quince didn’t say bye, he slammed the phone down and screamed “fuck!”
A knock on the office door, a begrudging “what?”
“Excuse me sir, but there’s a man to see you.”
“Is it the f… police again?”
“No, but he says it’s related.”
“Show him in.”
Quince was still high on adrenaline, but he sank into a chair. When a man walked in, medium height, but broad with flowing dreadlocks, Quince merely said “what?”
“My elder, the police came to see me.”
“Oh, you too? Why?”
“I knew Jonathan Stewart.”
Quince leaned forward, “what?”
“The police have found his hidden phone. They know everyone he spoke to secretly on it, and they know he and Kofi were a couple. They know I attended the group and they tried to get information out of me.”
“And you said?”
“I denied it all sir. I came straight here to tell you. I’ve been good, right, not been with a guy since, I been good, and the cops are harassing me, threatening my good name and soul.”
“I know exactly how you feel,” Quince replied with complete sincerity, here truly was a kindred spirit.
“What do I do sir? What do we do?”
“That my friend is a very good question. What’s your name?”
“Barack.”
“Okay Barack, I want you to sit down and tell me everything you know, about all of it, and we’ll see if we can get to a way to help us both.”
“Lindleman, what are you doing?” Sharma asked.
“I am carrying boxes.”
“No, you are posing. You did not need to take your jacket and shirt off to reveal a sleeveless vest, nor did you need to carry with your muscles sticking out.”
“It was dusty.”
“The people of this church did not come here for a gun show.”
“The people of this church don’t like gays and you bet your ass I’m going to strut my homo muscles around this place like the cock of the walk. Every stylish step is a nail in their hatred.”
“It’s carrying boxes for a police investigation; it is not a pride raid.”
“Do they have pride raids?”
“I don’t know, I was just saying annoyed words.”
“That should so be a thing. I might suggest that to my mans.”
“You do whatever you want when you get off work, but for now, put your fucking jacket back on. Wait…”
“What?”
“That guy in the corner is staring at you like you’re a salted caramel treat.”
“I’m doing it, I am turning the church, I am opening doors.”
“Sometimes, life was a lot easier when people were just trying to fucking shoot me instead of dealing with lunatics like you.”
“The army is filled with people like me.”
“Well you should have joined and saved me all the bother. Do you think Grayling has to put up with shit like this from Maruma?”
“They’re a sweet non-couple. We’re more like an owner and a dog that’s too big for her.”
“I do not even know where to start with that Robert, I do not even know.”
A phone rang, and Quince pulled his mobile out and looked at it. Given the name that popped up, he made polite ‘just a moment’ signs with his hands, then raced round and out into the corridor, down to his office and closed the door.
“Quince here.”
“Hello Eddy.”
“Did you get it,” the elder tried to hiss, but it was almost pleading.
“Yeah, I got it all right. Just what you wanted. Right where you said it would be.”
“Oh, thank Jesus, he is good to me.”
“And me, right?”
“Oh yes, you too, he loves you too. So, where can you hand it over?”
“Well I ain’t got my licence back but I am parked in the car park, so you might want to come quick.”
Eyes wide, meeting all forgotten, Quince raced through the building, exited via a side door and walked as calmly as he could across the car park, until he saw Stuart’s car. Then he slid into the passenger seat.
“So, like, Jesus will protect me driving w
ithout a licence, right?” Stuart asked.
“What?”
“Me, driving without a licence. Cos I’m doing God’s bidding, he’ll protect me right?”
“Oh yes, of course, whatever you do for me makes you bulletproof.”
“Great, great. I like working for you.”
“Small talk is nice Stuart, but you said you had it.”
“Oh, yeah, of course boss.” Stuart reached round into the back seat and returned with a large but flat black bag. It was like the kind pizzas were delivered in, and Edward grasped it quicker than a stoned teenager. The flap was torn open, and inside was a laptop.
“Thank you, Jesus.”
Quince stroked Cribb’s laptop, then grinned at Stuart, who was grinning back. Such was the relief and the intensity of the situation that Edward’s usual messianic power left him, and he said, “you’re a good boy Stuart, you really are.”
“Will I go to heaven then boss?”
“Yes.”
“After everything I’ve done?”
“Yes.”
“Great. So, what’s on it?”
“I’m not going to tell you that.”
“Fair do’s!”
Not that Edward knew for sure. In truth there could be any large number of issues tucked away in that data, and the best way to handle things was to remove it from the police’s eyes. So, what was the best thing to do now? Quince had no idea. It was supposed to be very hard to destroy a laptop; you had to take the hard drives and do heaven knows what. Quince might find the material useful himself, if he was going to fully take things over. So, he would have to hide it, right? That seemed like the right thing to do. But where? It’s not like he owned a large safe or a secret garage or a nuclear fucking bunker.
He would need to look more into privacy. You couldn’t trust anyone these days. Only Jesus of course, but he didn’t really think prayer worked.
Susan nearly knocked on her own door so as not to surprise her sister, then remembered it was her house and goddammit, she didn’t have to knock anymore. She came in, dumped the shopping bags on the table and called out “Karen, I have supplies.” Susan then made sure she took out what she wanted, namely certain chocolate bars and the only variety of apple she liked.
Karen came in, smiling and happier than anyone in the family had seen her for a long time.
“You’re doing well?” Susan half asked, half complimented.
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