27 March 1990
"All I've done over the last few days is file, type and make coffee for our glorious leader," Viv moaned as she deconstructed a bacon roll in the canteen. "Honestly, I've had more excitement watching the grass grow."
Christina laughed, "It's the curse of CID I'm afraid."
"I mean, when I put in for this secondment, I thought I'd really get something out of it. Now I'm starting to wonder."
"You will get something out of it, eventually. It's not been all hearts and flowers for me either you know."
"Yeah, but you've been in CID for ages, and you were already a detective before you came here. And I don't see Burnside asking you to make sure and put three sugars in his tea."
"Oh, believe me, we've had our ups and downs. I would say it's only really been in the last year that things have started to improve between us. He used to say things to me that would make your hair curl. I reckon he thought I wasn't really up to the job and it was only by proving to him that I was, that made him, I don't know…respect me a bit more?" She shrugged. "Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, it didn't happen overnight. You just need to bide your time and you'll get there."
"I never thought I'd miss Sergeant Penny, but there you go," Viv sipped her coffee. "This morning, I actually thought about just sticking my uniform on and telling Burnside to shove it."
"Do you want me to have a word with him?"
"And say what?"
"I don't know, to go easy on you a bit. I often think it might have been good if there had been someone standing up for me when he first got here."
"No, I wouldn't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking that I can't cope with him," Viv replied. "Don't say anything, Chris."
"Ok, I won't." Glancing at her watch, she drained the rest of her cup. "I've got to go. I said I'd give him an update on where I am with Marie Donnelly."
"That the woman who robbed the Post Office?"
"Yeah, poor cow. I don't think she's right in the head. I mean, you'd have to be a bit crazy to try and pull something like that off, wouldn't you?"
"Yeah…" Viv agreed, "Well, good luck. No doubt Burnside thinks she's a slag who deserves thrown in the slammer."
Christina laughed and then hurried out of the canteen, heading towards the stairs. As she did, she almost tripped over a pile of building supplies lying in a corner, the first evidence of the refurbishment of the station that was about to take place. Sun Hill was being made bigger and better to deal with the ever-increasing volume of police work and whilst Brownlow had tried to put a positive spin on the whole process at a recent meeting, everyone was very well aware of the disruption that was about to follow, not least the fact that all prisoners were going to have to be held at Barton Street, something which she knew had irritated the sergeants immensely. At least the CID office would be bigger, and that could only be a good thing, especially if secondment and recruitment was going to increase. There had also been whispers about the appointment of a new DCI, something Frank had been less than enthusiastic about unless, of course, it turned out to be a role for himself.
"So, have you and Viv been gossiping then?" he asked, as she made her way into his office. "You been giving her the lowdown on what it's really like to work in CID?"
"In what sense?"
"Well, I'm sure you've got plenty to say on the subject." He leaned back in his chair and surveyed her carefully. "After all, you've been here a good while now."
"You mean I've had to work under you for a good while now," she replied. "You think I should be giving Viv top tips on how to deal with you?"
"I'm offended," he replied mockingly. "As if I would ever say or do anything remotely inappropriate to any female member of my team."
"Yeah, yeah…" she laughed, lifting the file and placing it on his desk, all too aware of the casual and comfortable nature of their conversation, so different from years gone by. "Anyway, this is what we've got so far on the Donnelly case…"
"Lunatic."
"Well, I suppose that would be one way of looking at it."
"Christina, it's the only way of looking at it," he said. "I mean what woman in her right mind, walks into a post office with a handgun, unmasked, and asks the cashier to empty the register? And what woman in her right mind would do that when she had just seen two uniformed police officers go in before her?"
"I admit, it is a bit odd…"
"A bit odd? She's a whole loaf short of a picnic if you ask me."
"Well Stamp and Stringer said that when she saw them, she barely reacted and, in fact, handed over the gun pretty much straightaway on being asked to. She never even got her hands on so much as a brass bean."
"What about her demeanour?"
"Calm; she didn't resist arrest or put up much of a fight at all." She paused. "I can't help but think that she did it for the sole purpose of being caught."
"Why would someone do that?" he looked at her. "I mean, the attempted robbery and the firearm itself guarantees her at least a good seven, maybe eight years inside. Why would anyone do that, least of all a woman, if they were in their right mind?"
"I don't know."
"Has she been seen by the doctor?"
"Yeah, and according to him she's fit for interview, so she can't be that much of a lunatic."
"Right then," he got his feet and grinned at her. "Let's go."
XXXX
"Tosh!" Frank called out as he and Christina made their way towards custody. "What's happening with Terry Pierce?"
"Well, he's come up with an alibi for last night," Tosh replied.
"Has he now? What is it, dining with the Queen?"
"Close. Apparently, he was with Sheena Rossi."
"No…"
"Yes, apparently so. She can vouch for him all night, or so he says."
"If she's still on the gear, Sheena Rossi won't be able to vouch for her own name." Frank shook his head. "You going to pick her up?"
"I thought I'd ask Viv to do it," Tosh replied. "She could do with getting out for a bit I reckon, and Sheena might be a bit more compliant for her."
"Well, make sure to tell her to put her running shoes on. Last time I chased Sheena Rossi I almost ended up having a heart attack." He turned back to Christina. "You know Sheena, don't you?"
"Yeah, she's been pulled a few times. Nothing major; drugs and prostitution mostly. I think asking Viv to bring her in's a good idea, Guv."
"Not that we needed WDC Lewis's ringing endorsement Tosh, but I reckon you're onto a winner there."
"Guv."
"You trying to tell me I've not been giving Viv enough to do?" he asked, as Tosh headed back down the corridor.
"Well, I don't really think making you coffee is exactly a faithful representation of life in CID now, is it?"
"Hmmm…maybe it should be. Anyway, go and book Sheena out and I'll meet you in interview."
"Yes sir," she mock saluted at him.
"Go on, get out of it," he laughed, watching as she hurried away in the direction of custody and finding himself suddenly wondering if he was handling the whole Viv situation the right way. It was helpful to have an extra body on the team, but aside from occasionally pitching in on operations in the past, Viv had no real experience of CID, not like Christina had. Oh, he knew she would get there in the end, but she was naïve, green, inexperienced and whilst a female officer was always a handy asset to have, he had meant what he had said on New Year's Eve alone in his office with Christina.
She would always be his favourite.
Funny that he could think that now.
Opening the door to the interview room, he flicked on the light and sat down at the table allowing his mind to wander onto dangerous ground, ground he tried hard to avoid during working hours. Ground that involved a certain smile, a toss of the hair, the curve of a hip…shaking his head he made a mental note to give Fiona a call. She was good at satisfying the odd urge and she never seemed to be interested in what, or who, he might be thinking about at the crucial moment.
"Right Marie, if you'd like to take a seat." Christina's voice jolted him out of his daydream as their suspect entered the room and sat down on the other side of the table. She was blonde, heavy set with a pale face and eyes that refused to meet his. If she wasn't a lunatic, she was giving a good impression of someone who was, at least, mildly disturbed. "This is my colleague DI Burnside."
"DI?"
"Detective Inspector," he said slowly, as though she was simple.
"Oh, right." Marie looked down at the tabletop whilst Christina fed the tapes into the machine and switched them on.
"Taped interview with Marie Donnelly. Officers present are WDC Lewis and…"
"DI Burnside."
"The date is 27 March 1990. Also present in the room is a third party. Can you give your name for the tape please?"
"Marie Donnelly."
"And your date of birth Marie?"
"9th September 1945."
"I'm going to ask you some questions about an incident that took place early yesterday evening at the Post Office on Dorrell Road. Do you know that Post Office, Marie?"
"Yeah."
"Is it your local one?"
"Yeah."
"And were you at that Post Office yesterday at around four-thirty pm?"
"Yeah."
"Can you tell us what you were doing there?"
Marie rubbed her finger along a scratch on the table. "I went to get money."
"You went to withdraw money from an account?"
"No, I went to rob the place."
As confessions went, it was a pretty straightforward one and Frank leaned back in his chair and surveyed her carefully. "Why?"
She shrugged, "I needed the money."
"Did you take anything with you when you went to the Post Office?"
"Yeah, a gun."
"And where did you get the gun?"
"It was just lying around the house."
Christina sat forwards. "You just happened to have a gun lying about the house?"
"Yeah."
"So, you took the gun to the Post Office, and what did you do with it?"
"I pointed it at the girl and asked her to give me the money."
"Prior to going inside the Post Office, did you see anyone else go inside?"
"Yeah, there were a few people went in. Two coppers went in, you know, ones in uniform."
"So," Frank said, "you went into the Post Office, with the gun, with the intention of committing a robbery, knowing that there were two police officers inside?"
"Yeah."
"Marie? Marie, look at me." She raised her head and met his gaze, blinking rapidly. "Why would you do that? You must have known that they would arrest you."
"Course I knew," she said, as though he was stupid.
"So, why did you do it?"
She blinked again. "To get caught, of course."
"I don't know," Christina said, as Marie was led away back towards custody at the conclusion of the interview. "She seemed lucid enough to me."
"Except she clammed up completely when we tried to probe her about why she did it. There was definitely something she wasn't telling us." Frank shook his head. "You sure you got everything from Hollis that he had on her?"
"Pretty sure. All there was on her card was a couple of shopliftings from the mid-eighties. Nothing as serious as this and no record of mental health issues."
"Well, we know that means nothing in the grand scheme of things. Check with Hollis again; find out if she even lives near anyone we've got information on. Maybe she's connected. It might be a longshot but it's something."
"Yes Guv. Oh, by the way…" she turned back to look at him. "You are going this afternoon, aren't you?"
"To what?" he asked, knowing full well what she was alluding to.
"The ceremony. Your commendation?"
"Oh yeah, that…I'd forgotten about it actually." She raised her eyebrows. "I reckon they can just send me the certificate in the post."
"Guv…"
"What?"
She shook her head, "If you want to make DCI some day then you need to play the game, don't you? I doubt thumbing your nose at this is the way to do it."
"How do you know I want to make DCI some day?"
She laughed, "Reckon I know you better than you think."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
He paused, well aware that she was right. "I probably will go. It would seem childish not to, especially when they've gone to all the trouble of putting on a show."
"Good," she replied, touching him briefly on the arm. "I'm glad."
He watched as she hurried back down the corridor to the collator's office, thinking once more about the ceremony. He'd still been married when he'd received his previous commendation. Julie had accompanied him, despite the fact they had had a blazing row that morning and had been barely speaking at the time. It was the abiding memory he had of that day; not receiving the commendation, but of having to put a front on the disintegration of their relationship. He'd hoped that, if the time ever came around again, things would be different. This time they were, only not quite in the way he would have imagined.
XXXX
"I don't know what else you're looking for," Reg said. "I gave you what was on the card."
"I know you did and I'm not criticising," Christina replied. "I just wondered if there was anything else you hadn't thought of first time around. Maybe she lives near someone we might know, or might be an associate of someone, anything like that."
"Not coming across, is she?"
"No, the opposite in fact. She's put her hands up to it."
"Really?"
"Yeah, but we just can't work out why."
"Mmmm…" Reg perused the cards in the drawer. "Well, there is this. She lives four doors down from Richard Thompson."
"I thought he was doing a ten stretch for armed robbery?"
"Got released two months ago and relocated back here. Maybe they know each other, being neighbours and all."
"Maybe…" she mused. "Thanks Reg." Exiting the collator's office, she came face to face with Viv. "You heading out?"
"Yeah, Tosh has asked me to bring in Sheena Rossi for him. Apparently, she's given Terry Pierce an alibi for last night."
"Yeah, I heard. Good luck, you know what she's like."
"I can't wait," Viv smiled, "Anything's got to be better than being stuck in here."
Christina made her way back up the stairs towards CID, bumping into Frank as he was making his way down. "Listen to this, Guv; Marie Donnelly lives four doors down from Richard Thompson."
"Tricky Ricky? I thought he was inside."
"Released a few months back according to Reg."
"Right, let's take a spin over there."
"But…what about your ceremony?" she asked, turning as he skipped down the stairs behind her. "You don't want to be late."
"And I won't be, not if you drive like you normally do, come on!" Before she could say anything else, he had disappeared down the corridor and she was forced to run to catch up with him, only doing so once he was outside in the yard. "I can't believe I didn't know Ricky was out. You know, in the old days, the prison authorities would give you a heads up about something like that."
"What, so you can give ex-offenders grief?"
"No," he made a face at her. "So, we can keep the public safe. Slags like Ricky should be kept locked up permanently." He slid int the passenger seat. "If he and Marie are somehow connected, do we think he's behind the robbery?"
"Why though?" Christina asked, reversing out of the yard. "What would be the point in having Marie go into that Post Office where she was obviously going to get picked up? What would he have to gain in her doing that?"
"I stopped trying to figure out a slag's mind years ago, about the same time I stopped trying to figure out a woman's thinking."
"All women, or one in particular?"
He looked over at her, "All women."
"You shouldn't tar us all with the same brush, Guv."
"Why not? You're all a bit mad, aren't you?"
"Thanks very much! How am I a bit mad?"
"Well, you chose Stewart to be your life partner after all."
She paused on his words, grateful for the fact that she was approaching a junction and needed to concentrate. On one hand, it was an innocent enough remark, particularly based on the personal interactions she knew her husband and her guvnor had had over the years. But, on the other hand, she couldn't help but feel that his observation was laced with meaning.
"Sorry," he said after a moment's silence. "Not my place to comment."
She glanced over, to find him looking away out of the window. "No Guv, it isn't."
XXXX
"Ricky! How wonderful to see you again!"
"Mr Burnside…" Richard Thompson folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I had to swing by just to make sure my information was correct," Frank replied.
"And what information might that be?"
"That you were out and about; footloose and fancy-free as it were. I thought you got given ten years."
"I did. Released early for good behaviour."
"You? Good behaviour?" Frank laughed. "And the band played. Do you mind if we come in?" He made to step forwards only for Richard to block his path.
"I do, as it happens. I haven't done nothing."
"Well, that's not very nice, is it DC Lewis? Not when we just popped round to see an old friend."
"What do you want, Burnside? I'm straight now. I'm keeping out of trouble and minding my own business."
"Marie Donnelly," Christina spoke up.
"Marie?"
"Yeah, lives four doors down, do you know her?"
"Only in passing," Richard replied. "Why? What's she said?"
"She held up the Post Office in Dorrell Road yesterday afternoon," Frank replied.
"What, Marie did? What the hell did she do that for?"
"That's what we're trying to ascertain."
"Oh, I get it. You think I was somehow involved? You think I put her up to it?"
"Did you?"
"No, I didn't. I barely know Marie, though if you ask around here, you'll find out that she's pretty famous. Walks around talking to herself a lot; claims she's got someone living with her when there's nobody there, that sort of thing."
Christina frowned, "Who does she claim lives with her?"
"Dunno," Richard shrugged. "One of the other neighbours says she talks about Keith somebody a lot. I've no idea who he is, and I've never seen anyone go into her gaff. You done then?" he turned back to Frank. "Can I get back to my telly now?"
"Thank you very much…" the door slammed, "…for your time." Frank stepped back from the door. "Did uniform do a house to house?"
"No, why would they?"
"I reckon they should, don't you? Maybe she has got someone living there and maybe that person put her up to the job."
"Or maybe it's all in her head," Christina replied, "like Thompson said. Besides, I doubt Monroe would be too happy at having his troops stolen by CID for a house to house on something like this."
"Don't you worry about Monroe," Frank said, "You leave him to me. Right…" he checked his watch. "You can drop me at the ceremony now."
"I'm glad I have some use then, Guv," she replied as they made their way back to the car. The traffic had grown heavier over lunchtime and it was fully five minutes to two before she pulled up in front of the venue. Yanking on the handbrake, she turned to look at him. "Well, I hope it goes well. Do you want me to swing by for you later?"
"No," he replied, a sudden thought flashing through his mind. "You're coming with me."
She blinked, "What?"
"Come on," he unclipped his seatbelt and climbed out of the car, meeting her gaze across the roof. "You don't have anything better to do, do you?"
"Well, I'm still working on this enquiry, not to mention all the other jobs that are still sitting in my tray…"
"Don't worry about those," he waved his hand dismissively. "This is far more educational."
"You know, I have been to one of these ceremonies before. Twice before, in fact," she said, hurrying to catch up with him as he made his way up the steps.
"Not with me you haven't," he replied, as they reached the door, and he gave their names to the security officer. "Whole different ballgame when you're here with me rather than him."
"I don't see how."
"Trust me, it is. I'll see you at the end." Before she could protest further, he turned to where the other recipients were waiting patiently in line for the ceremony to begin and their names to be called and joined them. Glancing back quickly, he saw her moving towards the auditorium, trying to gauge where she would be sitting. This time it was going to be different, whether it was real or not.
XXXX
For some reason, there was one spare seat right in the middle of a row, and Christina found herself apologising over and over as she squeezed past other spectators to reach it. By the time she had finally sat down, the ceremony had begun and so there was nothing else to be done except applaud as, one by one, officers crossed the stage to receive their certificate. It felt strange being back there again, twenty months after she had accompanied Stewart, wearing the green dress that had practically stifled her. Thankfully, it was nowhere near as warm as it had been that day, though she did feel marginally out of place in her grey suit amongst the well-heeled families and friends who were there to support their loved ones.
What on earth was she doing here? Why had she agreed to come inside? Why hadn't she insisted on going back to the station? Was it because it was hard to say no to her boss, or was it because it was hard to say no to Frank? And yet, they were one in the same person, were they not? She clapped mechanically as each name was called out in turn and felt a realisation dawning that they were, in fact, two very different entities. There was her boss; the man she took orders from, the man she wanted to impress with her work, the man who had a hand, like it or not, in her career progression, the man who praised or chastised her depending on the circumstances. Then there was Frank; the man she had accompanied to Tracy's funeral, the man she had defended from her parents' baseless accusations, the man who had come to her aid in Patterson's club that night, the man who had protected her from Johnno Smith.
As she clapped again, her rings flashed in the light.
Then there was Stewart; the man she had loved since she was a teenager, the man she had married and built a life and home with; the man she went to bed with….the man who had shown no concern when David Nelson had hit her, the man who had seemed pleased over her exam failure, the man who had dismissed what had happened to her in the club, the man who had walked away when she was giving evidence, the man who had gone to a New Year's Eve party after being told she had been held hostage at gunpoint, the man who had had his arm around another woman in the pub.
"For bravery in the line of duty, Detective Inspector Frank Burnside."
As Stewart had done before him, Frank crossed the stage, accepted his certificate, shook the commissioner's hand and posed for the photograph, and like her husband before him, he sought her out, his gaze meeting hers in the crowd, and she felt a certain sensation flood her as she smiled and clapped; a sensation that she recognised.
"Well, that was pretty painless," Frank remarked, coming upon her afterwards as the guests and recipients mingled on their way towards the reception hall. "Fancy a drink?"
"Shouldn't we be getting back?"
"One drink won't hurt, will it?"
"The clock's ticking on Marie and if you want to speak to Monroe about the house to house…" she trailed off, meeting his gaze again. "I mean…not that I want to put a damper on your day. If you want to stay, I could always head back and…and sort things."
"Yeah, all right," he agreed. "If, as you say, I'm angling for promotion one day, I probably should show my face, talk to the right people."
"Yeah, I reckon you should. I'll see you back at the nick then." Before he could respond, she turned on her heel and hurried out, back into the fresh air, breathing deeply as she made her way back to the car. Once inside, she let out a long shaky breath and then shook her head fiercely at the ridiculousness of it all. It was allowed. Just because a person was married didn't mean that they stopped noticing other people. You didn't sign the marriage register and suddenly lose all your human faculties. It was natural, normal, healthy. It was what the human race was all about at the end of the day.
What wasn't natural, normal or healthy was dwelling on it or, heaven forbid, acting upon it. A person had to be professional and detached, especially when one party was in a position of power…like he was. There were rules there for a reason.
"Don't worry, you'll always be my favourite."
"You'll always be my favourite too, Guv."
Jamming the key into the ignition, she started the engine and then switched on the radio, turning it up as loud as she dared in an attempt to block all other thoughts from her brain.
There was working together, then there was being friends and then there was something altogether more dangerous.
