Power Shift Page 16

  ‘And to follow up a lot of other ends, which may or may not tie up,’ Rod added.

  Smith ran a fingertip down a wall, and showed the others the result. ‘I shall need at least one sergeant with some local knowledge. I know Oxnard’s worried about your staffing, but we can’t manage without.’

  ‘Sergeant Dave Bush, if he’s happy with the idea,’ Kate said. ‘He’s the field intelligence officer here. Speaks Cantonese, so gets on very well with the local community at all levels.’

  Smith jotted. ‘Anyone else?’

  Kate gritted her teeth. ‘There’s a bright lad called Zayn Ara, but I don’t know if it’s still Ramadan.’

  ‘He’s fasting, is he? You can’t expect anyone to work the sort of hours I shall demand if they can’t eat and drink all day.’

  Rod said, ‘I believe even the most devout Muslims can get exemption in special cases.’

  ‘In that case I’d like to ask him,’ Kate said, ‘rather than make a decision behind his back. And I’ll have a couple of fall-back names by nine tomorrow.’

  ‘Eight. I’ll get the ball rolling here, sir. It’s all a matter of routine, these days, isn’t it? Ah, what about parking?’

  Kate thought of the tiny space her colleagues had virtually to fight for. ‘You’ll have to commandeer some public parking. And you’ll notice we don’t have drinks facilities. You might want to organise a machine.’

  ‘Haven’t you got a kettle?’

  ‘If you want to keep us sweet here, you won’t touch that kettle. It’s OK for seven of us at a time, not for your ravening hordes. You’d better order more loo paper, too.’

  By now it was so late she might as well stay an extra ten minutes to brief the night shift. Rod set off home to make, he said, their cocoa. She still wasn’t sure about such openness—but perhaps it was better to be seen as in a long-established, cosy relationship than as a career-grabbing mistress. Yes. She smiled.

  ‘Is that you, Neil? Come on in here a minute, will you?’

  ‘Evening, gaffer. Why are you burning the old midnight oil?’ He sat heavily.

  ‘Three guesses.’

  ‘Phil Bates.’

  ‘Phil Bates and an MIT. No, keep your hair on, Neil. We can’t guarantee any of our teams will be full from one day to the next, and we just don’t have enough legs to run a full scale murder inquiry. Do we?’ She looked him straight in the eye.

  He sighed. ‘Only if we reduce the teams to below safety level. Which some of them are now.’

  ‘And will be smaller. The MIT—do you know DCI Greg Smith, who’ll be leading it?’

  It was clear he did. ‘Idle bugger, by all accounts.’

  So why had Rod selected that particular team? It wasn’t like him to suffer idlers lightly. Perhaps—yes, either he wanted to get involved himself; which he couldn’t legitimately with a good MIT, or he wanted Kate’s people to have a chance. She sent him a mental kiss.

  ‘They want two local people. I’ve suggested Dave Bush.’ Drew nodded. ‘Obvious choice.’

  ‘What about Zayn Ara?’

  He pulled a face. ‘Only a kid. There are lots more experienced folk.’

  ‘On whom we’ll be relying to run the rest of things. I had thought of Ronnie Hale.’

  With an obvious effort, he said, ‘I suppose you could make her acting sergeant in Dave’s place.’

  ‘On the grounds that if I don’t upgrade her, she’ll assume the position anyway?’

  ‘Right. She’s ready for it, too. And she’s not the greatest of team players: she might not fit into the MIT. But Zayn—well, why not?’

  ‘Quite. And as for why, the little I’ve seen of him suggests he’ll go far—it’d be nice to give him a little push. Provided he’s not trying to work MIT hours and fast at the same time. Smith’s made it clear he can’t risk passengers.’

  ‘You can see why. Poor. old Phil: Makes you feel bad for carping about him behind his back.’ Neil rubbed his face. ‘Tell you what, Kate, I wish I hadn’t told you he was only on the skive.’

  ‘Forget it, Neil. I won’t say it’s his own fault, but if he hadn’t had such a bad reputation, things might have got under way a• lot sooner. Now, I’ll talk to Zayn first thing.’

  ‘I’ll tell you something for nothing, gaffer. Jill Todd won’t be happy.’

  ‘To lose Zayn? Well, we don’t know he’s going yet.’ They got to their feet. ‘Look after yourself, Neil—and make sure everyone else does too. As for the MIT, it’ll cause disruption, but I’ve asked Smith to keep it to a minimum. But remind everyone to be tolerant, eh?’

  ‘On one condition, gaffer. If I know you, you’ll be back at pig-squealing time tomorrow—’

  ‘Is that when they rise with the lark?’

  ‘Right?’

  ‘Oink, oink,’ she agreed.

  ‘Well, push off now. OK?’ He grinned with what seemed almost like affection.

  To think that the first-time they’d encountered each other, she’d regarded him as an enemy. Or was it the other way round?

  ‘I shall hate it when you’re working nights, you know,’ Rod murmured, as he wrapped himself round her, tucking the duvet carefully round her neck. ‘Absolutely hate it.’

  ‘Would you rather,’ she made herself say to the darkness in front of her eyes, ‘that I slept over at Worksop Road?’

  ‘Why?’ He pushed himself clear.

  To save disrupting—’

  ‘Good God, no! Absolutely not.’ His voice lost confidence. ‘Unless, that is—I’m sorry, I never thought—’

  ‘I’m never happier than when I’m here, with you,’ she said, turning to face him, and drawing him back to her. ‘Never.’

  ‘In that case,’ he said, ‘do the obvious thing and move in here. Properly. For always. Unless you’d rather we found a house that was ours from the start, not mine.’ He heaved himself out of her arms, but only for a moment so that he could switch on the bedside light.

  She screwed up her eyes and tried to burrow; he held on tight to the duvet, laughing.

  At last she consented to open her eyes, blinking hard. ‘You look like an owl.’

  ‘I shall have the RSPB on to you for cruelty. What did you do that for?’

  ‘So I could see what you want to do, not just hear.’ He took her face between his hands.

  ‘Of course I want to live with you. I love you. I’m afraid you won’t like my clutter in your house, though.’

  ‘In that case we should think about—hell, who wants plans when—Oh, my Kate.’

  Despite herself, knowing she ought simply to be happy and fall asleep, her back tucked up to his chest, as always, she was suddenly alert, panicking almost, thinking. Hamster-on-wheel thinking. Silly thinking. Telling Aunt Cassie. Letting the house. Finding the tenants. Telling Aunt Cassie.

  ‘I can tell you’re awake,’ came an accusing murmur. ‘Just switch off and get some sleep. Now we’ve got the important decision made, the details can wait. We’ve got busy times ahead of us. In fact, I might even be out of the house before you tomorrow.’

  ‘Want a bet?’

  It was only the Radio Four newsreader’s announcement that it was Friday that made Kate realise this was the day she was supposed to be meeting Graham for lunch. A break for food! Some hope. For all that others were now investigating Phil Bates’s disappearance, she couldn’t imagine there’d be anything light about today’s load. Apart from the day-to-day running of the nick, there’d be questions to face from Greg Smith’s team, for her as for everyone else. And she’d need to fill the gaps left by Dave Bush and Zayn Ara, if he was going to join the MIT.

  She’d better deal with Zayn first, so as to clear the ground for anyone else. Or should it be Jill Todd? Zayn: he might not want to be transferred. Or was that cowardly?

  Before she could decide, there was a knock at her door, and—Thelma, the cleaner, appeared. ‘You’re a hard woman but I know my duty,’ she announced.

  ‘I’m sure you do, Thelma, and I’m sure you do
it, too. Have you got time for a cup of tea? The kettle’s still hot.’

  ‘It’ll eat into me hours, thank you all the same, madam. No, I came with this. Since it’s got your name on it I thought as how you’d want it.’ She plonked a battered envelope on Kate’s desk.

  ‘Thank you very much.’ Before she picked it up, she knew what it was. And knew it would have been opened. ‘As a matter of interest, where did you find it?’

  ‘I don’t want to get anyone into trouble, mind.’

  Kate smoothed it out. ‘It’s just an empty envelope—why should anyone get into trouble?’

  ‘It depends what they took out of it, doesn’t it, madam? And before you ask, it wasn’t me.’

  ‘I’m sure it wasn’t. But where did you find it?’

  ‘Down behind the cistern in one of the lavatories. I knew you wouldn’t do a thing like that. You’d have put it in your bin in the proper place. I hate litter, I do so.’

  Kate nodded.

  ‘So someone else must have put it there. So I say to myself, maybe the inspector doesn’t know, her letter’s not where she thought it was. And I saw, it had been opened, and I just wondered …’ Thelma paused. ‘That nice inspector before you, lovely man he was, he used to say, “If something strikes you as odd, it might strike me”—meaning him, madam—“as odd too.”

  Kate nodded with more conviction than she felt. ‘So-it strikes you as odd that a letter to me appears in the loos you’re taking such pride in.’

  Thelma beamed.

  ‘And you’re sure I’ll find it odd, too. Well, Thelma, I do.’

  ‘You see, if they’d put it in their own bin, whoever it was, I’d have known, because I always check what I’m throwing away.’

  Jesus! She must make more use of the shredder—and remind everyone else to. ‘I’m sure you’re right. Now, come on, have that cuppa, because I want to warn you—your life’s just about to get a lot busier, I’m afraid, and…’

  She was just returning from the still immaculate loos when she almost ran into Zayn, still clipping his tie in place. ‘Can you spare a moment in my office straight away, please?’

  ‘Ma’am—I mean, gaffer.’ He followed in her wake, pushing the door half closed behind him.

  ‘Zayn, how soon is Eid?’

  He grinned. ‘You want to come to the party, gaffer? You’d be very welcome.’

  ‘Love to, but that’s not the point. How much longer will Ramadan last?’

  ‘It’s all according to calculations I can’t make head or tail of, but probably Sunday or Monday.’

  ‘And today’s Friday. How would you feel about giving up your fast? Because I’ve had a request for your services. It’s not an empty-stomach job, though.’

  ‘With all due respect, you should let me be the judge of that.’

  ‘Not you, not me, but the guy who wants you on his team. And while you’re absolutely right from one point of view, I can see his, too. We’re talking eighteen-hour days, Zayn. And in anyone’s book that means regular meals—OK, drinks, at least.’

  ‘I could talk to my imam, gaffer’

  ‘He wants an answer by eight, Zayn.’

  ‘Who does?’ Jill Todd appeared in the half-open door horribly on cue. She stepped inside, pushing it behind her. She stepped towards Zayn. ‘Well?’

  He froze to attention.

  Kate said sharply, ‘Zayn doesn’t know, Jill. Now you’re here, I can tell the two of you together. Greg Smith. He’s heading the MIT investigating Phil Bates’s disap—’

  ‘MIT. You mean. he’s—‘Jill’s colour drained.

  ‘Officially still no change from yesterday. He’s a missing person. But yes, an MIT does suggest—’

  ‘So what’s Zayn got to do with the MIT?’ She was now as flushed as she’d been white.

  ‘They want two officers from here on the team.’

  ‘I can’t spare anyone from the early-duty team. No way.’

  ‘All the teams are short-handed. Now, it may be that Zayn would rather stay put, the religious situation being what it is. But if Eid is on Sunday, Zayn—’

  ‘Give me five minutes, gaffer, just five.’ Probably glad to escape the atmosphere steadily thickening in the room, he bolted.

  Kate sat down, as if relaxed, registering the envelope half tucked under her phone.

  Jill took a couple of steps forward. Legs braced, arms folded across her chest, she personified fury. She uncrossed her arms, the better to jab the air. ‘You don’t take my officers, not without my say-so.’

  ‘It isn’t me taking your officers, Jill. But if it were me, yes, I’m afraid I could do so without your permission.’

  ‘What do you mean, it’s not you?’

  ‘1 thought you’d have worked it out by now. The MIT want him. And Dave Bush, as it happens.’

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t—not so bloody fast.’

  ‘Dave’s not negotiable. He’s a sergeant, our FIO, Jill, not part of your team except for admin reasons. Zayn, well, I admit he’d be a loss to your duty team, but any good copper would be a loss to any duty team. And I have to say we don’t even know what his decision will be.’

  ‘Oh, no? That sort’d sell their grandmothers to get promotion.’

  ‘Jill, just listen to yourself. Sit down and take a couple of deep breaths. That’s an order,’ Kate added, voice dangerously quiet. ‘Zayn’s a good officer, but he’s not the only one in this nick. You’re. a good officer, too. You’ll help your relief cope. Look, the news about Phil seemed to upset you.’

  Well, it did seem to have done. The changes of colour, the anger over her plans for Zayn: they just might have been a result of that. If she were Jill, she’d certainly want to pounce on it as an excuse, if only to get out of further, possibly more embarrassing, questions. Yes, Jill might have sat down, but her eyes kept drifting to the envelope.

  She recognised it, didn’t she? Was this the moment to tackle her? No, there were too many other pressing matters. And maybe it would do Jill good to stew a bit. Or were these simply excuses for postponing what would probably be an unpleasant few moments?

  Jill said, ‘I’m fine. Absolutely fine. It’s just that even if you don’t like someone, it’s still a bit of a shock to realise he’s probably dead.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s what we’re all finding.’ Kate stood. ‘Well, you’ll be wanting to go and do the morning briefing. Apologise from me about the disruption having the MIT here will cause. Any problems, get back to me. OK?’

  ‘Zayn—’

  ‘Will no doubt let us know when he’s made his decision.’ Which had better be bloody soon, hadn’t it?

  And was. He popped his head round her door thirty seconds after Jill had left. She’d have liked to have time to check that he really was prepared to do what DCI Smith wanted and break his fast, but raised voices behind him brought her to her feet.

  ‘OK Zayn, good luck. No need to tell you to work hard.’

  ‘No, gaffer.’ He grinned, then, as the noise got louder, grimaced and fled.

  ‘I never gave you permission—’ Kathleen Speed was saying.

  ‘You don’t have to give us no permission. The gaffer gave us permission. And I just did the best I could, like. And if my best isn’t good enough for you, Lady Muck, then you know what you can do.’

  Kate emerged. She ought to be laughing at the sight of Helen Kerr going at it hammer and tongs with Mrs Speed, but perhaps her sense of humour wasn’t awake yet.

  ‘I have, a proper system—’

  ‘Look, I don’t know nothing about you and your sodding system.’

  ‘That’s quite clear!’ Mrs Speed flapped ineffectually at the messy desk.

  ‘So I tried to—’

  ‘Make as much chaos as you could, by the look of things.’

  That was clearly enough. ‘Someone had to take phone calls, and do what else they could,’ Kate said. Her legs were at least as braced as Jill’s and arms at least as tightly folded. ‘It’s a shame if your system’s been me
ssed up, but at least, thanks to Helen, the office kept ticking over and the calls were sorted.’

  ‘That’s the job of the central switchboard.’

  ‘And when did you ever know them. do it? Now, Mrs Speed, I’m very grateful to you for coming in so early, because I’m afraid today isn’t going to be the easiest of days As you can hear. And see.’

  The first cohort of the MIT bundled upstairs, laughing and talking at the tops of their voices. Seeing Kate, they subsided like schoolboys caught in the act.

  ‘Quite,’ she said, every inch a headmistress. ‘Let’s just remember it’s one of our colleagues who’s missing, shall we?’

  A silence fell, among the newcomers and the regulars, as profound as if none of them had ever spent a whole shift moaning about him.

  All this and it still wasn’t quite eight. She was dreadfully hungry. It’d be all too easy to send someone out for food. No. She’d slip out herself for a latte and croissant. It was a pity the sharp morning air was already thick with fumes: one deep breath, and you could almost count the particulates leaping into your lungs.

  Mrs Speed rose to intercept her as she ran back up the stairs. ‘Inspector—’

  More complaints about Helen? Kate forced a patient smile into place-. ‘Mrs Speed.’

  Mrs Speed leant towards her, conspiratorial finger towards, but not touching, her lips. ‘You may want to leave those with me, Inspector. You have a visitor.’

  Chapter 17

  A visitor important enough to deserve special treatment? Senior enough not to have to kick their heels in the corridor but to be admitted to her sanctum? The only person she could think of was Oxnard, checking up on the case so far. He hadn’t given her much time, had he? That was bosses for you: snarl when you request action, and then, when they get interested, expect everything done yesterday. He might moan, but he’d secretly be pleased to see Kate eating on the hoof. So despite Mrs Speed’s advice, the latte and croissant went with her.

  The man standing peering through the blinds at her dubious view wasn’t Oxnard but Graham Harvey. How long. was it since she’d seen him in that position? His stoop was more pronounced, his hair greyer than she remembered. He’d always looked like a tired schoolteacher; now he looked like an exhausted one. And he was only a year or so older than Rod. What had caused this slither into middle age? Was it the job, or his miserable marriage? Or even the part she’d played in his life? She’d been the personification of temptation—the wicked siren. His Church had the same unforgiving attitude to sexual trespass as the most celibate Catholic priest’s. Every moment he’d spent with her, therefore, had been sinful. Even if they were no longer together, the very fact that he might still lust after her was just as much a danger to his immortal soul.