Apologies for such a long delay!
He waited before going in, unsure for perhaps the first time in his life how to play things. They would probably all know by now anyway. There were no secrets in a police station. Didn't he know that even from when the affair had become public knowledge, and when they got married? He didn't care about them knowing, or about what they might think about him not being successful, but he did care about what they might perceive his attitude about it to be. The last thing he wanted to do was give anyone the impression that he was disappointed in failing to secure promotion, even if that was the truth of the matter.
"Morning Guv," Matt greeted him as he entered the custody suite.
"Morning Matthew," he replied in what he hoped was an appropriately cheerful tone. He could feel the other man's gaze on his back as he pushed through the swing doors and headed for the coffee machine.
"You're here then."
"And why wouldn't I be?" he asked, sighing inwardly as Ted came up behind him. "I do work here you know."
"Lucky for us." Ted paused. "I'm sorry."
"What for? The fact you're still stuck with me as your guvnor?" Retrieving his cup, he turned to face the other man, forcing as much bravado onto his face as he possibly could and finding himself somewhat surprised at the sympathy in Ted's expression.
"Well, you're better than most."
"Thanks a lot. You haven't always held that opinion."
"No, and I'm sure the time will come when I won't hold it at all so, be grateful." Ted paused again. "I know how you feel."
"I'm not so sure that you do," he said, turning and making his way up the stairs. "I don't think our situations are comparable really, do you?"
"Meaning what?"
"Well, meaning…" he paused and suddenly asked himself if he really wanted to have the fight he knew would ensue if he continued. Ted had gone before the Inspector boards year after year for no other reason than, it would appear, amusement of senior management. He had never had any hope of being promoted, but his own situation was an entirely different kettle of fish. Not that he perhaps needed to go into that right at the precise moment. "Meaning, you haven't got a wife at home to please."
Ted laughed as he followed him into the office. "You're not saying that you were scared to go home and tell Chris you didn't get it?"
"No, but…well…you know what it's like. She's not going to want to be married to a DI for the rest of her life."
"I've never thought rank really bothered her."
"They all say that don't they. Anyway, despite that, I'm really not that bothered."
Ted raised his eyebrows, "You're not?"
"No. I reckon I've still got plenty of arse-kicking to do around here. The place would fall apart without me, and you know that's true, Meadows or no Meadows. Speaking of arse-kicking, what's happening with the Prentice case?"
"I'm still waiting on forensics to come back to me about the car. It was a complete mess of prints."
"Some of which, we know, are going to belong to our friend Liam."
"More than likely, but until forensics tell me that for sure, I've got nothing on him."
"Come on, you know as well as I do that the one person capable of pulling off so many car thefts in such a short space of time is Liam Prentice."
"I don't disagree, but we still need the evidence, Frank."
"Yeah, all right, I get that. It would just be nice to get something concrete on the little scroat for a change. Nail him to the wall. Be a lovely end to the last quarter of 1992."
"Well, I'm doing my best."
"Ted…" the other man turned back. "Have you heard what the others have been saying?"
"About what?"
"You know about what."
Ted shook his head, "I haven't seen anyone this morning except for Meadows."
"Meadows told you I hadn't got it?" he asked, slightly incredulous at the gall of the man.
"He just said that you would be sticking around a bit longer, that's all." Ted shrugged. "No big deal, is it?"
"No, I suppose not." He sat down at his desk and watched as Ted ambled back into the CID office. Meadows was a queer one, though he'd always known that. All that support and sympathy yesterday and then, first chance he gets, he spills all. Well, he'd have to remember that.
The others slowly began to drift in, most of them casting a look and a morning greeting in his direction. He watched them carefully, in ways he always had and assumed they had never noticed. He didn't immediately detect any ridicule in any of them, but he also knew he would be ready if anyone chanced to say anything. He'd faced worse criticism after all.
The phone on his desk rang suddenly, breaking into his thoughts and he answered it automatically, groaning inwards when Brownlow's secretary asked if he could spare the man ten minutes.
He knew what that would be about.
XXXX
"Well at least no-one connected to this case got murdered last night," John said conversationally as they drove towards Mr Patel's home address. "Not as far as we know, anyway."
"That's a cheerful thought, John, thank you."
"True though."
"The part about nobody being murdered or the part about us not knowing yet?"
"Both, I suppose."
She shook her head, "Well, if we get there and find someone has been murdered, we know whose head's going to be on the block, don't we?" In the aftermath of everything that happened with Frank the previous evening, she had almost forgotten about Mr Patel and the fact that she had persuaded Peter that he shouldn't be lifted straightaway. She could only hope at the end of the day that her hunch had proved right. Perhaps if they could get Mr Patel to see that they had done him a favour by, in effect, giving him a heads up that this was coming, they might get cooperation from him in return.
Or it could all go horribly wrong.
"I heard about Frank," John said suddenly, as they pulled up to a set of lights. "I'm sorry."
"Thanks."
"Was he upset about it?"
"He was…accepting of it," she replied. "He'll get it next time."
"Yeah, I mean he's a prime candidate really, isn't he?"
"I would say so."
"Maybe the board were just a bit…you know…"
She glanced over at him, "A bit, what?"
"Well, you know…you and him…"
Though he had mentioned it the previous day, she wasn't sure whether to be irritated at him bringing it up again or impressed that he felt confident enough to do so. Regardless, she felt an overwhelming sense of loyalty sweep through her. "That has nothing to do with how he would perform at DCI level."
"Well, no I wasn't suggesting that it did. I just meant…well, you know, professionally speaking…" she waited as he floundered. "They could argue that it's…well…not."
"Sleeping with a junior officer, you mean?"
"Well, yeah. Sorry, I didn't mean to speak out of turn. But he's got a good reputation, otherwise, so…it would only seem natural that that might be the reason…"
"Can we talk about something else?" she interrupted.
"Yeah sure, sorry." He pulled away from the lights. "Are you ok?"
"Me? I'm fine."
"It's just you look a bit tired, that's all."
"I had a bit of a late night."
"I can imagine."
She looked over at him again, opening her mouth to question him as to what he meant and then closing it again. What was the point in raking everything up and involving people that had no business being involved? What was said between her and Frank was for the two of them, not anyone else, and she knew, even without thinking about it, that Frank certainly wouldn't have been going round Sun Hill telling everyone he'd had a bottle of whisky and an argument with his wife over it. There was no reason for her to act any differently and she was almost relieved when they pulled up outside of Mr Patel's house.
"Let me do the talking," she said, ringing the doorbell. It was opened within seconds by a woman she could only assume was Mrs Patel. "Morning. I'm DS Lewis, this is DC Boulton, Barton Street CID. We're looking to speak to Usman Patel. Is he at home?"
"Uh…no…" the woman replied, somewhat anxiously. "He's not here."
"Are you his wife?" The woman nodded. "Do you know where he is?"
"He went to the shop first thing."
"It's still closed though, isn't it? Because of the fire damage?"
"Yes, but…but he just went to see if it was secure. You know what people are like. Any opportunity and they start looting."
"Ok…" she surveyed the other woman critically. "So, we'll find him there then?"
"Yes, yes he should be there," the woman's gaze flitted between them.
"All right, thank you." She had barely stepped back from the door when it was firmly closed in her face and she turned to look at John. "Something strike you as odd about that?"
"She seemed very nervous."
"Mmm…" Pausing, she stepped back and craned her neck to look up at the second floor of the house. "Perhaps we should take a look around the back."
"What for?"
"I don't know. There was just something off about what she said."
"You think the husband's in there?"
"I think we'd be daft running off to the shop without having a check about the place." Turning, she made her way along the pavement, John behind her, until they came to the end of the row of houses. Much to her chagrin, the gate that would have led to the back gardens was padlocked and the doors of the other houses went unanswered when knocked. "I suppose there's only one thing for it then."
"What's that?"
"We need to go over the wall."
"Well, ladies first."
"What, so you can look up my skirt?"
"The thought never crossed my mind, Sarge," John smirked as she pulled herself up and swung her leg somewhat inelegantly over the wall. "What do we say if anyone asks why we're traipsing through their gardens?"
"I'm sure you'd be able to think of something," she replied, letting herself down on the other side. "At least it's all low fences from here on in." Leading the way, she traversed the gardens between them and the Patel's house, eventually emerging into a small, neat patio, with plant pots around the back door and a washing hanging up on a line.
"Someone's optimistic," John observed. "Looked like rain earlier." Peering through the back window offered no sign of life at first, but when she moved to the back door, she noticed that it was standing slightly ajar, and she slowly opened it. "We haven't got a warrant."
"I know that, but something's not right here. Can you smell that?"
"Smell what?"
"That. It smells like…" she broke off suddenly as Mrs Patel suddenly appeared in the kitchen in front of her, her expression nothing short of terrified. "Mrs Patel…"
"Please, please you must go!"
"Is your husband here?"
"You have to go now, please!"
She stepped into the house, aware of the smell becoming even more overpowering as she did so and, looking down, saw that the floor beneath her feet was wet. "What's going on?"
"Please, please go now!" the other woman looked fearfully behind her and then let out a sudden yelp as a man suddenly grabbed her, pulling her back out of the room.
"Police!" she surged forwards after them, emerging into the living room in time to see a man with his arm around Mrs Patel's throat.
"Get out!"
"Ok…" she said, trying to keep her voice calm. "I want you to let her go."
"I said, get out! If you know what's good for you!"
"Well, we can't do that, can we? We're police officers and you're holding an innocent woman by the throat."
"Innocent? Innocent?!" he squeezed Mrs Patel's neck tighter. "No-one here is innocent!"
"Sarge…" John's voice was quiet behind her and she glanced behind her, only to follow his gaze to the floor. The carpet beneath them, like the floor in the kitchen, was wet, and she suddenly realised what the smell was.
"Look, there's no need for any of this, is there?" she directed her comments to the man. "I don't know who you are, or what this is all about, but we can fix it, ok?"
"No, we can't fix it," the man said shakily and, reaching into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette lighter. "No-one can fix this."
She tried to remember what it had been like, all those years ago when Johnno Smith had pulled out that gun in his flat. She remembered how terrified she had felt at the thought that she might get shot and how calm Frank had been in comparison. He had been the senior officer. He had taken charge and said and done the right things. Glancing quickly at John, she could see the concern etched on his own face and realised suddenly that, now, she was the senior officer.
"Ok," she said, trying to keep her voice level. "We've just walked into this ok, so we don't really know what's going on. Why don't you start by telling us who you are?" The man looked between them furtively. "I mean, it would be good to at least know names, wouldn't it? I'm Christina and this is John. Can you tell us what your name is?"
The man paused, glancing between them again before speaking. "Abdul."
"Right. Ok Abdul, it's nice to meet you. I can understand that you're upset right now about something, but I really think it would be for the best if you put the lighter down over there on the side, don't you?"
Abdul looked at the lighter in his hand as though he had never seen it before and, for the briefest of moments, she thought that it was going to be as easy as that. But then his expression changed again. "No. I can't. I won't! Everyone has to burn!" He tightened his grip around Mrs Patel and pulled her towards the living room door. "Everyone in this house has to burn for what's happened!"
"Abdul! Abdul, just stay in here with us, ok? And…and maybe you could let Mrs Patel go, so that we can talk about this."
"There's nothing to talk about!"
"Is there anyone else in the house?" She glanced at Mrs Patel, who nodded fearfully. "Who else is here?"
"My…my husband. He's upstairs. He's hurt…"
"Shut up! Just shut up!"
"Ok, I'll shut up, but I need you to take your arm away from Mrs Patel's throat and let her sit down, all right? Can you do that? Abdul, can you do that?" He paused, longer than she would have liked, then loosened his grip on the other woman. "Ok…that's great Abdul, thank you. Mrs Patel, why don't you have a seat on the couch."
"My…my husband…"
"How badly hurt is he?"
"I don't know. I don't know, he wasn't talking…" the other woman dissolved into tears.
"Ok, Abdul…if Mr Patel is hurt, then the best thing we can do is call an ambulance for him."
"No!" Abdul glared at her. "He has to die! They all have to die for this!"
"Well, if you would put the lighter down, then maybe we could talk about what it is that's led you to do this."
"I can't. I can't put it down. If I put it down, I won't pick it up again and I'll have failed. I'll have failed in what I'm supposed to do." He jerked around in front of her, holding the lighter in his hand, his expression wild yet determined.
"Ok," she said again, glancing at John. "Well, let's think of something else then, shall we?"
XXXX
"Ah Frank, thanks for sparing me the time."
"Not at all Sir," he replied, unable to quell the feeling that Brownlow seemed almost too chipper for such a meeting. "Marion said you wanted to see me."
"Yes…I wanted to make sure that you weren't feeling too downhearted about yesterday."
"Downhearted?"
"Yes. I know it's not pleasant to go before a board and be unsuccessful, but I also like to think that it's a learning curve. We can always take something from every failure as well as every success. No doubt you'll have gone over it in your mind and can see where improvements could be made the next time."
"Oh yes sir, definitely," he lied, well aware that the other man would be thinking the same thing. You couldn't do much about an affair with a junior officer, even if she was now your wife. "There's another board in six months so…"
"Yes, of course. Well, you'll have my support as always though of course if you were to leave Sun Hill, it would be a loss to us."
"Thank you, sir."
"I understand from my counterpart that WDS Lewis has settled in well at Barton Street."
He paused, surprised that the other man would have been keeping any kind of tabs on Christina. "Yes sir, by all accounts she is."
"Does she like it there?"
"Well, it's a change for her, after all her years here…"
"Yes, but sometimes change can be good."
"Yes sir, of course."
"Good, well I'm glad to hear it," Brownlow said, settling himself behind his desk. "Thank you, Frank."
Clearly dismissed, he turned for the door. "Thank you, sir." Closing it behind him, he let out a long breath. "Sanctimonious git."
"Who's a sanctimonious git?" Jim asked, joining him at the top of the stairs.
"I'll give you three guesses coming from that corridor."
"Ah, I see. Sorry you weren't successful yesterday, Guv. I thought you'd walk it myself."
"Well, thank you very much for your support, James," he replied, as they fell into step back along the CID corridor. "We can always take something from every failure."
"Oh…uh, yeah of course."
"Guv, there's a phone call for you," Viv said, clutching the receiver in her hand. "It's DI Norris from Barton Street."
Rolling his eyes, he took it from her. "Peter, how are you?"
"Frank…I'm sorry to call you like this, but we've got a bit of a problem."
"What sort of a problem? Some mess you've made over there that you need Sun Hill to clear up for you?" He waited for a barbed retort, but it didn't come.
"Listen, I don't want you to panic, but we've got an incident ongoing on our ground at the moment. It's to do with a spate of arson attacks that have happened over the last week or so. Anyway, turns out it's a feud between two families that's spiralled out of control and…"
"This is all very interesting Peter, but why do I need to know about any of this and why do I need to not panic?"
"I was getting to that. The blue light's gone up. One of the men involved has taken some members of the opposing family hostage and doused their place in petrol. He's got a lighter and he's threatening to blow the whole place up and everyone in it."
"So, they all kill each other, so what?"
"Look, I know this seems a bit strange, but is there any chance you could come over here?"
"What, to Barton Street?"
"Yes. I think it might be better if we spoke in person."
"Needing the benefit of my infinite experience, are you?" he raised his eyebrow at Ted. "Can't handle it on your own?"
"Something like that. Look, could you come now?"
"My, you are desperate. I'm a very busy man you know and…"
"Please."
Something in the other man's tone unnerved him slightly, but then who was he to turn down any opportunity to potentially lord it over officers at Barton Street? "All right, I'm on my way." Replacing the receiver, he shook his head. "Something funny going on over there."
"Want me to come with you?" Ted offered.
"No, it's fine. Whatever it is, I'm sure I can handle it." Moving back into his office, he lifted his own phone and dialled Christina's extension number. It rang out for the best part of thirty seconds before he gave up and hung up. "Right, well I don't know how long I'll be. Make yourselves look busy, all right?" Without waiting for a response, he headed down the corridor, greeting Jack at the swing doors. "I'm just popping over to Barton Street Guv."
"What for?"
"DI Peter Norris called and asked me to go over. Something about some bloke who's doused his house in petrol and is threatening to blow the place up. I'm guessing he wants the benefit of my years of experience."
"Bit odd, isn't it?" Jack frowned.
"Yeah well, you know me. Never one to turn down an invitation to go and play."
"All right, but keep me posted, yeah? We've got enough of our own crime to be sorting out here without helping Barton Street with theirs."
"Understood Guv," he nodded. "Something I'm sure I'll be delighted to tell that ponce Norris."
"Good luck with that."
"Thanks." He pushed open the doors and then trotted down the steps towards the front office. For some reason, and he wasn't sure exactly why, he knew he was going to enjoy this.
