The Bluebell Informant

by Nick R B Tingley

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The interview room was cold, but Giles didn’t mind. Her hair was dishevelled and windswept from the rain, but she didn’t care.

  She couldn’t really complain.

  People had died – people who didn’t need to die.

  Alison Carew – her friend. Her lifelong friend. Shot once to the head because Giles was careless – because she left a gun where Barker could pinch it…

  What the hell am I going to say to her father?

  Then there were the two officers: Parsons and…

  She didn’t even know the name of the other man.

  I should find that out.

  It wasn’t right. Those people died because of her.

  How could I be so stupid?

  Several hours had passed since they had discovered the crash site, but everything that had occurred afterwards had shot by as though in a matter of minutes.

  When back-up finally arrived, Giles and Harris had been summoned back to Edenbridge station – two good men had died and the Chief Inspector wanted answers. The boss had even made himself personally available to conduct the interviews. Giles had seen this sort of thing happen before. Something had gone terribly wrong and questions had to be answered.

  Someone had to take the fall.

  Harris had gone first and Giles had been left out in the waiting room, speaking to no one and left with only her own thoughts to piece together what had gone wrong that day. As expected, Harris’ interview had lasted a while. The whole day needed to be scrutinised:

  Who’s fault was it that Barker broke free?

  How did two police officers and a dispatcher wind up dead?

  What happened to Barker?

  Giles had been so sure that she was doing the right thing. Yes, she had acted against protocol and her methods were questionable at best, but she got the evidence, didn’t she? The conspiracy was uncovered. Surely, the ends had justified the means?

  In fact, with the exception of Barker’s abduction, which could hardly have been blamed on Giles, the day had unfolded fairly well…

  Except for Alison…

  Poor Ali…

  She wasn’t so sure now. With the blank walls of the waiting room bearing down on her, it was hard to justify it all. Had it just been her career, it would have been a different matter but…

  Three people died.

  She shook the thought away – she wasn’t ready to face her sins just yet. Her mind instead was a whirl of information and thoughts based on half remembered conversations and snippets of visual memories. Unanswered questions and unexplained objects flitted in and out of her mind like streaks of light shooting across a midnight sky…

  The dog leash…

  By the time that Harris’ interview was over, Giles was relieved to be brought into the interview room where she sat with a cup of coffee in her hand…

  Who is Tommy Haines…?

  For ten minutes, she sat there stony-faced and staring unwaveringly at the closed door. For ten minutes she waited for her opportunity to explain…

  Who is Max…?

  The door handle turned and a man stepped into the room, staring down at Giles with a face so bleak that she felt instantly ashamed. She hadn’t expected to see her own DI that day but, what with everything that had happened, she wasn’t particularly surprised.

  DI Bolton closed the door behind him and made his way across the room, taking the seat opposite Giles. He looked tired today. His skin clung to his cheekbones as though he was starving although the rest of his physique was that of an athlete. As he settled into his chair, he stared coldly across the table at Giles and remained in a state of absolute motionlessness as his detective slouched over and hanged her head in shame.

  He was thorough and ruthless. And Giles had disappointed him.

  ‘I think you ought to know that DI Harris told the Chief Inspector everything,’ he announced, tapping his thin fingers on the table in front of him.

  Giles’ eyes sank lower, settling on his shining Italian shoes that seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the interview room.

  ‘Oh,’ she replied.

  ‘The Chief is already talking about suspensions,’ Bolton continued, flexing his hands as a brand new watch slunk out from beneath his shirt cuffs. ‘He’ll have someone’s job by the end of the day.’

  ‘Right.’

  Bolton rubbed his forehead, sending the limited light reflected off his watch face and into Giles’ eyes. She glanced up at him as he slowly shook his head from side to side, exhaling deeply as disappointment oozed from his eyes.

  ‘Eve, why didn’t you tell me?’

  Giles shrugged.

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t approve.’

  ‘That is precisely why you should’ve reported him.’

  ‘Reported him?’

  ‘Yes,’ exclaimed Bolton, getting to his feet and beginning to pace back and forth across the room. ‘You knew what he was asking you was wrong. You should have reported it instead of going along with the plan. For God’s sake you could have been killed. And as for that poor dispatcher…’

  Giles shook her head, feeling her mouth drop open as though of its own accord.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You’re lucky he was honourable enough to step in to protect you. Had he been any less of a man, he might have offered you up and you would be being charged with aiding the escape of suspected murder suspect. Probably an accomplice to murder as well…’

  ‘But I did help the prisoner escape…’

  ‘Under orders, yes,’ Bolton said, coming to a halt and placing both his hands on his waist. ‘I mean, what were you doing following his orders anyway? It’s your day off and he’s not even your superior?’

  Giles stared back at him, dumbstruck. Bolton breathed out a sigh and settled back in his chair, leaning forward across the table.

  ‘The Chief Inspector is looking to press charges against him,’ he continued. ‘And then he produced that recording of you talking with Barker and that was the final straw…’

  ‘You’ve heard the recording?’

  ‘Yes, I have. It was a big pile of nonsense Barker was trying to sell you. I’m not at all surprised that you brought a stop to this farcical affair after that. The idea that Tommy Haines would order a hit is just ridiculous…’

  ‘You know who Tommy Haines is?’

  Bolton scoffed. ‘Of course, I know him. The man is a businessman, a rather successful one at that. The idea that a man like that would need to stoop to common murder is nothing short of fantastic.’

  ‘Daniel Barker believed it.’

  Bolton’s eyes stared coldly back at Giles.

  ‘Daniel Barker was spinning you a tale. And a foolish one at that. Even if Tommy Haines ordered someone to kill this man, it’s absurd. The victim was a nobody…’

  ‘You know who he was?’

  ‘We do now,’ replied Bolton, ‘thanks to some thorough police work on the part of a local constable. Whilst DI Harris was running about London playing conspiracies, the real work was being done right here by professional and competent officers…’

  Giles looked up.

  ‘Uniform found out who the victim was?’

  Bolton nodded.

  ‘With some good, old-fashioned, thorough police work.’

  A moment of shame crossed Giles’ mind.

  Good.

  Old Fashioned.

  Thorough.

  That was pretty much all the things she hadn’t been today.

  She took a sip from her coffee and bit gently down on her lower lip.

  ‘Who was he - The victim I mean?

  ‘I told you - a nobody. Just some computer software engineer who liked walking his dog in the fields there.’ Bolton leant back in his chair. ‘Absolutely nothing connects him with Haines and, let’s face it, even if there was something, Haines is hardly likely to send a former, failed politician to do the deed, is he? You do know that Haines was backi
ng the Britain’s Own Party in the election, right? He invested millions in the campaign. When Barker lost out on the Prime Minister role, he blamed Haines for not supporting him more personally. He’s been looking for an excuse to bring Haines down for weeks…’

  Giles scrunched her face up and shook her head violently from side to side.

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘I’ve spent the last hour on a conference call with the new Prime Minister – he filled me in on everything,’ Bolton replied, folding his arms and glaring at Giles. ‘Barker was distraught when he missed out on the PM role. He made no secret of it that he planned to take Haines down…’

  ‘But he knew things,’ Giles urged, sitting up straighter in her chair to match her boss’ height. ‘He knew about the case I’ve been investigating. He knew about my informant. He knew about Max…’

  A cold look crossed Bolton’s face.

  ‘Yes, I was wondering when we would get to that,’ he muttered. ‘I must say, I am a little curious as to why such an apparently vital informant was kept secret from me.’

  Giles could do nothing but stare down at the table. She’d never felt shame like this before.

  ‘He didn’t want anyone else to know.’

  ‘I am your boss, Eve. I was running the investigation into the Bluebell Killer. I had a right to know!’

  ‘He asked me to keep his existence from you. He didn’t trust you…’

  ‘How convenient.’

  ‘It’s the truth,’ Giles spat back. ‘Besides, it doesn’t matter anyway. Barker wasn’t my informant. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t know anything. How do you explain how he escaped if he wasn’t telling the truth? It wasn’t random. There was a planned attack to get him out of our custody…’

  ‘The Prime Minister had an answer for that too,’ Bolton replied. ‘There are plenty of old guard in the Britain’s Own Party who disapprove of the direction he’s taking the government and the party. It’s no tremendous leap of logic to assume they might want to keep Barker out of jail to lead a counter movement. Just as likely is the idea that there are people out there who despise what Barker has done and like as not would love to kill him. I’m sure you can understand that sentiment…’

  Giles jumped to her feet. Her head was beginning to ache and her willingness to fight was fading and yet her brain still buzzed with reluctance.

  ‘But there was more to it,’ she barked, pacing across the room. ‘Someone had to pass on information so that they knew where the patrol car was. Alison Carew already admitted that…’

  ‘Passing information?’ Bolton interrupted, one eyebrow slowly rising. ‘Yes, Harris already pointed that out, but it’s not surprising there might be lone guns out there. If Barker hadn’t killed her, she’d be facing a lengthy prison sentence as well…’

  ‘But it wasn’t just her. There’s Detective Sergeant Doyle as well. He was the man who tried to kill Barker. And then there is what he said about the Bluebell Killer. If he’s right, it would explain how…’

  Bolton burst out of his chair in an instant. He pulled himself up to his full height and glared menacingly down at Giles. With a sharp tug, he pulled the front of his tailor-made suit closed and turned his neck with a crack.

  ‘That is enough,’ he hissed. ‘You have been played as a fool. By Barker. By Harris. You’re lucky you haven’t been suspended for your role in this. This has been one big game and I am bringing it to an end, right now.’

  He took a few steps forward.

  ‘You will file your report, exactly as it happened. You will say that Harris ordered you to break Barker free and that Barker’s escape, and everything that happened as a result, is entirely his doing…’

  ‘I won’t do it…’

  ‘You have no choice,’ spat Bolton. ‘Not if you want to keep your job.’

  The two stared daggers at each other for a few seconds before Bolton finally span around and marched towards the door. It was as he pulled open the door that Giles finally spoke:

  ‘That’s an expensive suit you’re wearing,’ she said. ‘Nice watch. Top of the range shoes. I didn’t know Detective Inspector’s were paid so much better than Detective Sergeants.’

  Bolton stopped in the doorway. He turned back to face inside, his eyes flashing with anger and spite as he glared back at Giles. He was stunned – unable to speak, not even able to roar with rage. She had caught him off guard – and he could do nothing but listen as she whispered:

  ‘So Haines got to you too.’

  The moment passed. He took a step inside the room, his fists curling and his face contorting as he moved a little closer to his detective. Silhouetted by the light above, his thin face became more angular as though all the flesh and muscle had been stripped away leaving nothing but a dark skull, with eyes flashing menacingly.

  ‘You are on a very tight leash, Detective Sergeant Giles,’ he said eventually. ‘You had best watch you step.’

  With that, DI Bolton turned around disappeared out of the door. Giles heard him barking orders outside as he barrelled through the corridor and then all was silent.

  A very tight leash…