by Alex Walters
'We just wanted to follow up DC Wallace's conversation with you and Mrs Myers.'
'How do you mean?' He shifted in his seat. 'I don't think there's anything I can add.'
Murrain was sitting in silence, gazing down at the table. After a moment, he looked up and gazed squarely at Wickham. 'You're aware we're investigating a murder in the village, Mr Wickham?'
'Yes, of course. That little boy. It's a dreadful business.'
'What time did you visit Mrs Myers on Saturday night?'
'Well, I got there while the police officers were still talking to her. I don't know—about six, maybe?'
'You hadn't tried to visit her earlier in the afternoon?'
'No. We'd originally arranged for me to come around about half-eight to go for a drink and a meal. Then she phoned me about Luke. By the time I got there the police had arrived.' He'd stiffened defensively in his seat. 'Why are you asking?'
'As you heard, Mr Brody said Luke thought he was being watched by someone in a van. Do you own a van, Mr Wickham?'
Wickham's eyes darted from Murrain to Wallace and then back again. 'No.'
'Any kind of vehicle?'
'Yes, a Fiesta.'
'A saloon?'
'An estate. I don't see—'
'What colour is it?'
'Dark blue. I—'
'Do you think someone could mistake it for a van? In the dark? In the rain?'
Wickham sat up his seat, looking alarmed now. 'How would I know? The point is I wasn't there.'
'No, of course not.' Murrain picked up his coffee, as if he'd suddenly lost interest in the conversation. 'You'll appreciate we have to be sure, Mr Wickham. How long have you known Mrs Myers?'
'Well, not long. A week or two.'
'You're fairly new to the area, I understand?' Murrain's tone had changed, as if he were engaging in nothing more than idle chat.
'Well, a couple of months here. I've lived up in the north-west for a while, though. Did my postgrad in Manchester. Look, I really don't see where this is going.'
'You'll appreciate, Mr Wickham, that in the circumstances we have to explore all the avenues. Were you aware Mrs Myers had a son? When you started a relationship with her, I mean?'
'I'm not sure we have "started a relationship" as you put it. We've been out together a couple of times, that's all. I knew she was divorced. We’re neither of us exactly teenagers. But, no, I didn't know about Luke, not really. '
'Not really?'
'Not at all. Till Saturday night.'
Murrain raised an eyebrow. 'So the first you knew about Luke was that he'd gone missing?'
'Well, yes. I guess Sue had been picking her moment to tell me.'
'Indeed.' Murrain paused. 'But you’re happy with the father figure role?'
Wickham was silent for a moment. 'Like I say, it’s early days. We're not really thinking in those terms yet. Look, I don’t want to seem difficult, but I’m still not clear why you’re here. What you want from me.'
'It's all routine, Mr Wickham,' Murrain said. 'We have to follow up every avenue. Thank you for your assistance.' He turned to Wallace. 'Is there anything else you'd like to ask, DC Wallace?'
She caught his eye. 'Just one thing, Mr Wickham. We took the liberty of seeing if there was any reference to you on the Police National Computer.'
As she spoke, she registered that Murrain had suddenly sat back in his seat, almost as if he'd been physically struck. For her own part, she'd noticed Wickham's fingers whitening as they pressed down harder on the table.
'I'm sure you did,' he said. 'Did you find anything?'
'Nothing of significance. Just a small incident at a protest in London.'
He blinked. 'I was given a caution, that's all. Frankly, it was your lot who should have been prosecuted. It was just a peaceful protest.'
'I'm sure, Mr Wickham,' Murrain said, placidly. 'I'm sorry, we've taken up far too much of your time.' He pushed himself to his feet. 'We're very grateful for your assistance. I take it you'll be happy to talk to us again. Should the need arise.'
Wickham had also jumped up, seemingly keen to get them off the premises. Wallace remained seated for a moment, painstakingly writing something in her notebook. Then she rose and followed the two men out into the hallway. Wickham already had the front door open.
Outside, after the previous days' rain, it was a fine afternoon. 'Is this your car?' Murrain asked, gesturing towards a Fiesta Estate parked at the roadside.
'That's it,' Wickham said. 'I don't think you'd mistake it for a van, would you?'
Murrain walked closer and regarded the vehicle. 'Thanks again for your time. I hope we won't need to disturb you further.'
He stood, still gazing at the vehicle, while Wickham disappeared back into the house, closing the front door firmly behind him. Then he turned to Wallace. 'Well, you wouldn't mistake it for a van on a day like today, anyway. And not close up. But a child? In the distance? At night? In the rain? Who knows? I guess it's possible.'
'What did you think?' she said.
'I thought,' he said, 'that there was something odd about Mr Wickham. Something not quite right. Something in particular about his entry on the PNC.' He paused. 'I don't know what it is. But I've an odd feeling we might be about to find out.'
'Feeling?' Wallace echoed.
'Yes,' Murrain said. 'A definite feeling.'
CHAPTER NINETEEN
'Afternoon, people,' Tim Hulse said. It was difficult to read his expression. 'Apologies for missing the daily meeting this morning, but it sounds as if John held the fort admirably as always. And apologies also for interrupting your afternoon, but I wanted to give you the opportunity to say hello to our new Regional Director.' He waved his hand in Greg Perry’s direction, in the manner of a compere introducing the top of the bill. 'I imagine many of you will have come across Greg previously.' He glanced over at Kate Forester. 'Some more recently than others, I guess, Kate?'
'I thought I’d escaped from him.'
'You can run, but you can’t hide,' Perry said. He was looking his usual relaxed, genial self. 'Afternoon, ladies and gents,' he said. 'I just wanted to say hello while I was on site. I’ve literally only taken up the job today, so not really even got my feet under the table.' He looked slowly around the room as if appraising them all individually. 'I spent most of my time as Governor wondering what the hell it is that the Regional Director actually does. I suppose I’m about to find out. Any advice gratefully received.'
John Hodges, the Deputy Governor, was sitting at the far end of the table, intent on completing some intricate doodle in his notepad. 'Good of you to spare us the time so soon, Greg,' he said, without looking up. 'Why are we so high on your priority list?'
'You’ve been in the Service too long, John. Breeds paranoia. Just luck of the draw, I’m afraid. I’m planning to get round the whole patch over the next couple of weeks.'
'Question is,' Hodges said, 'are we the short straw or the long one?'
'Oh, definitely the long one as far as I’m concerned.' Perry gave a smile that revealed nothing. 'I couldn’t imagine meeting a more delightful group of people on a Monday afternoon.'
Hodges snorted. 'I can see how you got promotion,' he said. 'You were never this smooth when you were working for me.'
'I worked as a Head of Ops under John,' Perry explained to the others. 'Learned everything I know from him.' He laughed. 'So Christ knows how I ever got this job.'
This was it, Kate thought. Greg Perry working his magic. When they’d been called to this meeting, the mood among her colleagues had been a mix of cynicism and anxiety. The old hands, like Hodges, claimed to have seen it all before. 'He’s just pissing up the wall,' he said, characteristically. 'Marking his territory so we all know where we stand.' Sharon Barnes, the Head of Residence, was newer to the game and, in career terms, had much more to lose. In the few hours before this meeting, she’d worked herself up to an almost supersonic pitch of worry. She’d appeared three times at the doorway to Kate�
��s office for what she described as an 'all girls together' chat, presumably because she thought Kate might have some inside track to Perry’s mind. 'But why would he come here on his first day?' she’d asked repeatedly. 'There must be some reason he’s chosen to do that. It can’t just be coincidence.'
But now, in the meeting, he was winning them over. That was Perry’s great skill. Not everybody liked him but most people ended up respecting him. He knew which buttons to press, how to get people supporting him, without ever seeming manipulative. Before long, he had them all contributing to the discussion. Even Sharon Barnes seemed to have lost her anxieties and was explaining various aspects of the regime to him with enthusiasm.
Perry was smiling at Kate, as if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. 'You haven’t said much so far, Kate.'
'I’m just the new girl,' she said. 'I don’t know there’s much I can add.'
'Fresh pair of eyes and all that. Just wondered what your impressions were.'
'I’m still getting used to the place,' she said. 'It’s a whole different set of challenges from anything I’m used to. But I’ve been impressed so far. The psychology team are really excellent.'
Perry nodded, as if she’d offered a genuinely profound insight. 'That’s good to hear.' He smiled amiably around the table. 'Well, this has all been really interesting. Thanks for taking the time to update me. If everyone’s as forthcoming as this, I might even get the hang of the job sometime before I retire.' He looked at his watch. 'I really don’t want to take up any more of your collective time. If it’s OK with Tim, what I might do is have a wander round afterwards, and grab a few more minutes with one or two of you. Just to explore a few more specific issues. That all right with you, Tim?'
'Well, if you’re sure you’ve got time—'
'Might as well do things properly while I’m here.' Perry pushed himself slowly to his feet. 'Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen. Very much appreciated. I’ll leave you to get on with some real work.'
***
'I may owe you an apology.'
Kate glanced up from her computer monitor. She’d been in the middle of a risk assessment report and had lost track of the time. 'Really? I thought it was the other way round.'
Perry was leaning against the door. There was no sign of Tim Hulse. 'That wasn’t your fault. Just one of those things.'
'That’s what you’re supposed to say. Mental illness counts as a disability these days, so you have to demonstrate you’re not being discriminatory. But I let you down, and you must have been mightily pissed off.'
Perry closed the door behind him and lowered himself into the chair opposite Kate’s desk.
'They already think I’m your spy in the camp,' she pointed out. 'It won’t help if they think we’re having secret confabs in my office.'
'Are you?' he said. 'My spy in the camp, I mean.'
She saved the file she was working on, and turned to face him. 'You wouldn’t want me to be,' she said. 'That’s not the way you work.'
'If I want information, I get it for myself.'
'So I’d noticed.'
'Hope it wasn’t too obvious.'
'Only to those of us who’ve studied your methods, Holmes,' she said. 'I hope you found out what you needed.'
'Getting there.' He stretched out in the chair and looked curiously around her office. She’d never been one for introducing home comforts into her working environment, and so far she’d done nothing to personalise her new work-space. 'Not even a coffee machine,' he commented.
'There’s plenty of instant in the kitchen down the corridor,' she said. 'If you’re thirsty.'
'Tim’s been feeding me coffee by intravenous drip.' He paused. 'I’m not just being PC, you know.'
'Well, there’d be a first time for everything. How do you mean?'
'About your illness. That’s what it was. I wouldn’t have been pissed off if you’d taken time off because you had cancer or been in a car accident. And I wasn’t pissed off because you took time off for the reasons you did. You were ill.'
'It caused you some problems.'
'It wasn’t ideal timing,' he admitted. 'But these things never are. I’m paid to cope with them.'
'But it doesn’t help if your Head of Psychology goes doolally at the point when you’re trying to reassure the powers-that-be about the release of a high profile prisoner?'
'Doolally? That the technical term, then? Well, no, it wasn’t the most convenient moment.'
'They were convinced he’d confessed something to me, you know? Something I wasn’t revealing. Something I hadn't put in the Parole Board report.'
'I know,' he said. 'They kept asking me the same question. As if I’d have kept something like that to myself.'
'They really didn’t get it,' she said. 'They kept going on to me about patient confidentiality, and about how public safety had to override all those considerations.' She shook her head at the memory of a series of encounters that, up to now, she’d successfully shoved to the back of her mind. 'I kept telling them I knew what my job was. That I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise public safety. And that, no, Carl hadn’t confessed anything to me I hadn’t already shared with them.'
'They’re HQ wallahs,' Perry said. 'You can’t win with them, by definition. It would have been easier not to report what he’d said in that final session. "The boy I killed". That complicated things just at the wrong time. But if we hadn’t told them, and it had somehow come to light—'
'Yes, I know,' she said. 'But it wasn’t a confession. That's what I kept trying to tell them. Not in any meaningful sense. It’s possible it might have led to a confession in the longer term, if there’d been a longer term.' She shook her head. 'But I didn’t help you. I was a mess by that point. In tears half the time. Had lost all perspective. I can’t really even remember what I was thinking. But it was clear they didn’t trust my judgement.'
'Not sure that lot ever trust anybody’s judgement,' Perry said. 'Except their own, however ill-founded that might be. But they thought you’d got too close to the case. They even thought that maybe it was something Carl had told you that drove you over the edge in—well, you know—'
'In throwing those wild accusations at Graeme?' she said. 'That was the phrase they used to me. "Wild accusations". They knew nothing about me or Graeme or anything that had happened. They only knew about it in the first place because they wanted to know why I'd been taking time off. Then they seized on it as if it proved their point. There was nothing coherent about their arguments. They couldn’t decide whether I was being hysterical in accusing Graeme or whether there really was something in what I was saying. In which case if I’d been taken in by Graeme, maybe I’d also been taken in by Carl.'
'Coherence has never been HQ’s strong point. They just keep asking random questions until they hear an answer they like. Which is generally that they won’t be held responsible for anything that might subsequently go wrong.'
'Mind you,' she said, 'you’re not so far from being an HQ wallah yourself these days.'
His expression changed to one of mock outrage. 'How dare you?' he said. 'I’m still one of the people. One of the more senior people now, admittedly. But I’m still the same little old Greg, deep inside.'
She smiled. 'No-one’s ever got that deep inside. But if you say so. Not sure that everyone here believes that.'
'No, well, if I’m honest, one or two people here perhaps have some reason to be anxious on that score.'
'Are you sure you want to share these thoughts, Greg?'
'I wouldn’t expect you to tell me anything. Even if you were in a position to. But, like I say, I do owe you an apology.'
'Go on.'
'I pointed you towards this job. I encouraged you to apply. Wrote a damned good reference for you, too. It’s largely my fault you’re here.'
'What do you mean, "fault"?' she said. 'What’s going on?'
Perry looked about him, as if appraising the fabric of Kate’s office. 'This place has
problems,' he said. 'Serious problems.'
'Really? I mean, there are challenges—'
'You knew it'd had a couple of really crap inspection reports?'
To her embarrassment, Kate realised that, in her eagerness to move on, she’d not even carried out that basic level of due diligence before taking the job. She’d asked one or two colleagues their opinions of the place, that was all, and had heard nothing bad. 'Tim said the last one had some criticisms, but only what you’d expect.'
'The last two inspections were bad. Not just the kinds of things you might expect, but a litany of criticisms—bullying, victimisation, physical violence, rampant drug taking. And not just among the prisoners, either. We’ve had five Officers suspended and ultimately dismissed from here in the last couple of years. Again, all kinds of things—physical violence, inappropriate behaviour, sexual assault, corruption. You name it. And those five were just the tip of the iceberg.'
'I’ve seen no signs of that.'
'You wouldn’t, would you? They’d be very careful not to wash any dirty linen till they were sure you were elbow deep in suds as well.'
'You said two inspections. The first of those would have been before Tim’s time here, surely?'
'Has Tim worked his charms on you, then? Not surprised. He’s got himself a long way on charm, has Tim. Too many people keen to protect him. But you’re right. The first of the inspection reports was completed before he arrived here. It was damning enough, and that was why Tim was brought over here—to try to sort it out.'
'Is that his reputation?' she asked. 'The troubleshooter type?'
'Not particularly,' Perry said. 'He was under a cloud, already. He’d been highly regarded when he joined the Service—graduate high-flyer, like yours truly—but too many things went wrong. Not all his fault, but enough to get him noticed for the wrong reasons. And some of it definitely was his fault—like being caught with inappropriate material on his laptop. He got a formal warning for that. Lucky to escape dismissal.'