--
"Got anything for me yet, Kevin?" Carol asked as she returned to the squad room.
He gestured helplessly to the various piles on his desk. "There are literally hundreds of files going back at least five years." He sighed at the prospect. "Would've been a hell of a lot easier if this was all on computer. Unfortunately, some of it is, but most of it isn't. So…"
"I'll see you sometime next year?" Kevin mirthlessly laughed at her comment. "I'm afraid it's going to take you even longer, because I'm pulling Paula off."
The young cop and Kevin both exclaimed, "Guv?" at the same time, though Paula's had less frustration in the tone than her co-worker.
"I know it's a pain in the ass, but get one of the constables to help you," Carol told him. "Paula, I want you to go back and look at these cases again, but on the premise they're not related. I've got someone from the press sniffing around and the last thing I need is for us to be spending all our time on one theory when it's something else entirely, yeah?"
Paula nodded. "Sure thing, boss."
Kevin was less than pleased. "But if they are connected and another murder occurs, we've wasted time. How do we explain that to the press then?"
There was something in his tone that hit a wrong note with Carol and she hardened her voice. "Kevin, Paula's not the only other person in this office. Get someone else to help you. I don't care who it is. Or sit this one out. Your choice." When he seemed suitably chastised, she said, "I need to look over the crime scene reports again. We might have missed something."
To her back, Kevin asked, "Is that what Dr. Hill thinks?"
Carol stopped dead in her tracks and willed her face to remain blank, despite the seething burn she felt under her skin. With a controlled turn, she flatly remarked, "Dr. Hill doesn't run this office, Kevin, and neither do you. You'd do well to remember that."
--
"Bloody hell!" she hissed between clenched teeth once the door to her office closed, separating her from the rest of the station. She made a mental note to find out what bug had crawled in Kevin's ear. Ambition she could handle; outright insubordination had a way of undermining her authority and causing cracks in the team. In the meantime, it wasn't as if she didn't have her own tedious job to do. The chair might be cosier, but the job was the same. With a sigh, she found the reports and went to work.
--
It would have made his job a hell of a lot easier if DCI Jordan had agreed to work with him, the young reporter thought. Without her help, he'd have to go the long way round, but where there was a will, there was a way. Or more to the point, where there was a £ to be made, there was always someone willing to talk. He looked down at the crime scene photos and smiled. Twenty quid just bought him his next headline.
--
The affable face of his part-time secretary appeared in the doorway and she softly knocked on the frame. Tony mumbled his acknowledgement, but didn't look up. "Dr. Hill?" she said. "Your 2PM is waiting."
He lifted his eyes from the book and smiled at the brunette. "Thank you, Julie." She nodded and made to leave when the light of realization went off over his head. "It's not Mrs. Williams, is it?"
Julie paused and made a small face. "I'm afraid so. We go through this every week, you know. I can always find her a proper counsellor."
"I know. I just don't know how I'd break it to her. But thank you."
"You're the boss," she shrugged, then left.
--
One of the benefits of having his name connected with the success of the Bradfield police was an increase in clients, because while he enjoyed the academic pursuits more, it was the clients that paid the bills. One of the disadvantages was a general misinformed perception people had of psychologists and psychiatrists- that being, most people didn't know the difference. This included Ruth, his first attempt at a secretary, a fact he was only made aware of when his schedule began to fill with people who wanted to complain about their spouses and talk about their pets. Out of sheer self-preservation, Tony was able to week out the majority of unwanted clients, as well as Ruth, though both were done with a fair measure of guilt on his part, particularly the former. He wasn't inclined to not help someone in need, but he also knew he was doing the very same people a disservice if his heart wasn't in it.
Mrs. Harriet Williams was the last of the bunch and yet he hadn't had the heart to turn her away, or as Julie suggested every week, find her a proper counsellor. And if he was honest, it was one of the few times he could let his mind rest. He wondered if he should start giving her the sessions for free…
It was then that a second knock came from the doorway. Painting a bright smile on his face, he greeted, "Mrs. Williams."
--
Thirty minutes of listening to the ills of the current government, along with those of her cat, Mrs. Williams toddled off to whatever life she led between sessions. Standing up, Tony yawned and stretched, and vigorously rubbed his fingers across his scalp. His hair left slightly askew, he dropped himself into the large chair behind his desk and leaned back.
"What does the card mean?" he asked the ceiling.
"I don't know," came the reply, startling Tony enough that he nearly toppled the chair. Fingers gripped the edge of his desk and he looked over to the door, the real source of the sound. Carol couldn't help but laugh. "Let me know if the ceiling ever answers you, yeah?"
"Carol," he said needlessly. Now comfortably upright and secure, he added, "I get some of my best ideas from the ceiling. All those dots, like a Rorschach test on tiles."
"Mmm-hmm. And what do you see?"
"Nothing but a collection of dots, I'm afraid."
"Well perhaps I can paint a better picture for you," she said as she handed him the folder that was tucked under her arm.
His eyes lit up at the implication. "You found something on the other bodies."
"On one of the other bodies," Carol corrected. "Victim #2."
Vaguely gesturing for her to sit down, he flipped open the thin manila folder and took out the photocopy Carol had made of the evidence list. It was a meticulous detail of every scrap of clothing, piece of jewellery, and any miscellaneous item on the victim. Tony's eyes went immediately to a highlighted line.
"Well that can't be a coincidence," he said.
"A cupid pin on the lapel, knowing what we know of the third murder?" Carol rhetorically asked. "No, I wouldn't think it was coincidence."
Tony frowned. "But you found nothing on the first victim?"
Carol shook her head. "Nope."
His frown deepened. "It's there, Carol, you just haven't found it yet."
"Tony, I've been poring over photos and evidence all afternoon. At risk of offending the pathologist team, I've checked and re-checked and re-checked their collection at the scene until my eyes wanted to fall out of my skull. Not to mention having to deal with a Brutus on my own team."
"Brutus?" Tony repeated as he tried to make the connection.
"Never mind," she replied. "I'm telling you, I didn't find anything."
"And I'm telling you it's there."
A frosty stalemate settled between them. It wasn't the first time they had disagreed on a particular point, and considering their natures, it wasn't destined to be the last. Tony's penchant for theory clashed with Carol's quest for fact, though each was inclined to concede a small measure of ground for the other. It was what made their professional relationship such a good one.
With a quickness that made Tony jump for the second time that day, Carol reached over and snatched the folder from his desk. "You can buy me dinner in exchange for your contribution to the shit day I've had," she said. Pushing back the cuff of her jacket, she glanced at her watch. "You've got that brilliant curry shop two streets over from your flat. I'll expect you there in an hour."
Before he had a chance to reply, she was gone, closing the door firmly but not forcibly, not conceding the point, but not ignoring his, either. He leaned back in his chair to give the ceiling a second chance.
--
As directed, Tony arrived at the curry shop an hour later- early in fact, in order to avoid stepping in it again with Carol. His timing was well chosen, because just as he sat down, she walked through the door. They made eye contact across the short space between then and she slid into the seat across from him.
"You're early," she noted.
"I enjoy my limbs attached to my body," he returned.
Ignoring his remark, she slipped off her coat and draped it on the back of her chair. Folding her arms on the table, she asked, "How's Mrs. Williams?"
"Hmm?"
"Mrs. Williams," Carol repeated. "It is Tuesday, yeah?" She laughed when she saw his look of surprise. "I am a cop, Tony. It's my job to notice things you know, despite what you might think on occasion."
He knew she was referring to their earlier clash, and rather than revisit it, he replied, "She's doing well. Not so sure about her cat, though." When she smiled, he was glad for his decision. The waiter came with water and menus, and, when he departed, Tony said, "When you left, I asked the ceiling if it knew what you meant by your Brutus remark."
She laughed again. "Any luck this time?"
"No," he shook his head sadly.
"You can tell your ceiling that it's Kevin," she said and, seeing Tony's expression, clarified, "My Brutus. Kevin wasn't happy about a decision I made today, and wasn't shy about letting me know about it, in a squad room of my officers."
Tony winced. "And how did you handle it?"
"Probably not as well as I could have," Carol admitted. "But he definitely got the point. I don't need my second in command undermining me, especially in front of everyone."
"No," he agreed. "Bad for the morale."
"Exactly."
"What exactly did Kevin take exception to?"
She took a sip of her water, and, over the rim of the glass, said, "He has his heart set on the theory that it's the same killer for all three murders." She set the glass down and waited for the answer she knew was coming.
"But it is the same killer."
"Let's set aside our disagreement on that issue for the moment. His stubbornness came into it well before we realized there was a connection. And while it might be all well and good for you to latch onto a theory without any substantial evidence -" she held up her hand to stop his rebuttal, "I don't have that luxury. I actually have people to answer to. And so does Kevin."
"Politics." Tony said the word as if it left a sour taste in his mouth.
"Exactly. And whether Kevin or I like it or not, part of the job is making sure our umbrella's strong enough for the shit that invariably falls if we're wrong."
"What a fantastic choice of words, Carol."
"Sorry," she smiled. "But it's hard enough to do it with the support of my team. I don't have the energy to deal with insubordination as well."
"Why do you think he's chosen now to be difficult?"
She shrugged. "Who knows? I suspect he might have his eye on the DCI job in Cranston. This case would certainly get the attention of the higher-ups."
"Cranston?" Tony said. "He'd leave Bradfield?"
"It's only 40 minutes away, Tony," Carol answered. "Just because you've grown accustomed to people being in the same place all the time doesn't mean people don't move on."
He looked intently at Carol, wondering if there was any personal meaning behind her words. Displeased with the possibility, he lifted the menu to cover the down turn of his mouth.
"What do you recommend?" he asked.
--
