Strange Tide (38 page)

‘What sort of problem?' Land squeaked.

‘Imagine for a moment that you're running a fried-chicken shop and I'm a health inspector. I come in to check on your hygiene and find you blithely battering rats.'

‘I'm not good with analogies,' said Land.

‘Let me be blunt, then.' Biddle slapped her hands flat on his desk. ‘There's hardly a rule I can find unbroken in this building, from contaminated evidence to unbacked-up computers. These are failures in basic procedure. I don't really know where to begin. Do you want to start with the lack of security? Are you aware that you've compromised this investigation?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘You talked to a reporter yesterday.'

‘I most certainly did not.' Land was adamant. ‘I didn't speak to anyone outside of the unit yesterday apart from my barber at lunchtime.'

‘Did it occur to you that he might not have been a barber?' asked Biddle. ‘Have you seen your hair? You look like a dog after an operation.'

‘I was only passing the time of day,' said Land, crestfallen.

‘All right, what about the cow's head?'

Land looked startled. ‘What cow's head?'

‘The one with four bullet holes between its eyes in the common-room fridge.' She sat back, awaiting an explanation.

‘That's probably Mr Bryant's. He does . . . experiments.'

‘I assume he's also responsible for the marijuana plant, the live rounds of ammunition behind his desk, the stuffed animals and the collection of Victorian arsenic bottles, some of which seem to be full and in one case leaking?'

‘Yes, that would be him.'

‘There seems to have been a disastrous collapse in the command chain,' said Biddle. ‘There's no point in singling out a particular fault. It would be like treating an infected fingernail when the entire body is riddled with leprosy. You see my point?'

‘I'm beginning to,' said Land warily. He should have known she would be trouble. You couldn't trust a woman with a name like someone blowing through a hose into a bucket of water.

‘So here's my problem. If I start with just what I see walking around this place, the unit would have to be immediately closed with a cease-and-desist order, and that would mean I'd be unable to investigate what I'm actually here for, which is to try and find out why one of your most senior officers has ended up being a suspect in his own investigation. You see the dilemma.'

‘Ah, erm, yes.'

‘Obviously I want to be able to perform the duty with which I am tasked, and I cannot do that if the unit is closed.' Biddle found it hard to be officious with a man who looked as if he might shout at himself in bathroom mirrors. ‘So let's cut a deal. I will continue to investigate the circumstances which have led to Mr May being placed in this invidious position by turning a blind eye to your current working practices. I'll present my case by keeping within the restrictions of its guidelines and ignoring everything else, for now at least. But I'll have to make a secondary report to Superintendent Link upon submitting my conclusions.'

‘Couldn't you just – not?'

‘How will that help the dead and the living for whom you must bear witness?' Biddle asked. ‘Your job – in case I have to remind you – is to convict the guilty, protect the innocent and uncover the truth, aims that might be compromised by the revelation that some of the investigating officers are holding bingo sessions in the evidence room.'

‘Are they? I'll have to put a stop to that.'

‘There's also some kind of Victorian coffin in the basement.'

‘Well, strictly speaking that's not ours. We sort of inherited it.'

‘You don't know much about what goes on around here, do you?'

Land thought for a moment, then shook his head. ‘They don't always keep me in the picture, no.'

‘I think I've identified the weak spot in the chain of command,' said Biddle.

‘Oh good,' said Land. ‘Perhaps you can help me to get rid of it.'

‘Root and branch,' said Biddle, smiling for the first time.

Cassie North buried her mother's ashes in a short ceremony at West Norwood cemetery on a Monday morning wreathed in discreet veils of drizzle. Her grandfather attended along with her aunt Molly and a few children who barely knew Marion and ran around the flowerbeds in beatific ignorance of death's wingspan.

Freddie Cooper came alone and stood off to one side, trying not to look as if he was ambulance-chasing. Cassie couldn't work out if he was genuinely sorry for her loss or if he was just there to support his investment. Either way, she had to remain on her guard. Two of Marion's most loyal clients turned up, and just as the service was finishing Ali arrived in his new jeep, dressed in a black designer suit that was too fashionable to be respectful. Cassie left her aunt and tried to head him off.

‘What are you doing here?' she demanded.

Ali removed his mirrored glasses. The day had barely grown light. ‘She was working for me, Cassie. I came to say goodbye, that's all.'

‘You didn't know her.' She looked around herself, unable to stop her anger from flooding out. ‘You think you know us? You don't have the first idea. You look as if you're going to a party. This isn't just another social gathering you can charm your way into.'

Ali couldn't understand why Cassie was angry. She and her mother had never seen eye-to-eye, but he figured that loss could resolve differences just as it created regrets. ‘You think I just want to be accepted?' he asked. ‘That it's about your class system? I don't care about any of you, I want to be rich, that's all. You act like making money is a sin. You've never had to live in a place so screwed up that you'd risk your life to get out of it.'

‘We're all the product of our formative years,' said Cassie coldly.

‘You can't stop acting spoilt, can you? Look at Lynsey, the way she behaved.'

She turned on him. ‘And what was your role in that, Ali? What exactly did you do?'

Conscious that the mourners were staring at them in disapproval, he lowered his voice. ‘You'd better start getting the accounts back in order or Cooper will pull out and we will lose everything.'

‘Is that why you came to my mother's funeral, to discuss our finances?' Cassie snapped back.

‘No, you're right, this is disrespectful,' Ali replied. ‘I should not have come here. There is no sight more depressing than seeing the British close their doors. It makes you all look so small.'

As he walked away, Janice Longbright shut her notebook and headed back to the PCU.

If the wellbeing centre was experiencing problems, the Peculiar Crimes Unit was by now in a state of abject chaos. On that Monday morning the operations room looked as if medical students had held a party in it, and Janice now kept it locked for fear of providing Barbara Biddle with further ammunition. Elsewhere, photographic evidence, statements and half-finished reports had been shoved into folders to fool the internal investigations officer into thinking that order prevailed, but she wasn't that easily tricked.

‘There's banana ketchup all over my timesheets,' said Meera, giving up. She pushed back from the overflowing desk she shared with Colin. ‘I can't work like this, I'm going to get a coffee.'

Colin trotted along behind her. ‘There must be something we can do,' he said. ‘Someone has to take control.'

‘I don't see how any of us can, not when that sodding woman's creeping about taking notes all the time.'

‘She's just trying to do her job,' Colin reasoned.

‘God, Colin, stop being so bloody
reasonable
.' As usual, Meera took his support as some kind of personal slight and vented her anger on the coffee machine until a bit of it fell off.

In Raymond Land's office there was a new problem. ‘I know this is a bad time,' said Fraternity, placing a folded page on Land's desk. ‘I'm really sorry.'

Land eyed the piece of paper as if it was a hand grenade. ‘What's that?' he asked.

‘My resignation from the unit,' Fraternity explained. ‘You know my background. My brother wanted to get into forensic technology, specifically into the field of virtopsies.'

‘
Virtopsies
?' Land's face wrinkled. ‘Is that a made-up word?'

‘It's a forensic tool,' said Fraternity. ‘Virtual autopsies remove the need for physically damaging the body. The development team is looking for officers with tech experience, and I've been given an opportunity to finish what my brother started.'

‘You quisling,' said Land. ‘Another rat deserts the sinking ship. At this rate I'll be drafting in the two Daves as DCs. You can't just walk out on us.'

‘They've accepted me and want me to start as soon as possible. I'll still be around to work with the unit.'

‘But I can't spare you from here. Apart from that you're black
and
gay, which is great for our diversity quota.'

‘I'll pretend you didn't just say that,' said Fraternity, eyeing him coldly.

‘And to be honest I've actually started to wonder if John did it.'

Fraternity couldn't believe what he was hearing. ‘If you don't support your own team, who will?' he asked hotly. ‘We could get him off the hook if Giles returned a verdict of Death by Misadventure on North.'

‘What are you talking about? She was strangled with his scarf!'

‘You know what John said. He gave it to her and forgot to take it back.' Fraternity shrugged. ‘It's the sort of thing any of us could have done, a simple act of forgetfulness.'

‘No. No. No.' Land had heard enough. ‘I can't have two detectives losing their memories.'

‘All right, but let's assume there was a reason for her having the scarf. What if she wanted to blame him for jilting her? She might have hooked it on something in the riverbed when she tried to drown herself.'

‘There's only one problem with the theory,' said Land. ‘It doesn't make any bloody sense.'

‘All right, it's a bit far-fetched, but someone has to think out of the box. Why did you give in so easily, Raymond? You're not too old a dog to learn some new tricks.'

‘You need to show some respect, lad,' said Land half-heartedly.

‘I've tried that,' said Fraternity, ‘and with all due respect, sir, you need to grow some gonads.'

After the detective constable had left his office, Land buried his face in his hands and fought the urge to yell. Fraternity's departure would leave the PCU roster with a measly five members of staff. He was tempted to include the cat just to make up numbers. Thinking back, it had all started to go wrong when Leanne had dumped him for her Welsh flamenco instructor. Back when his marriage was still on solid ground he used to go home and tell her all about his day. Now he talked to the TV. Fraternity was right; he'd lost his mojo. He needed some air.

He went to the window and shoved it open. It was raining, of course, a fine cold mist that drifted in and soaked his shirt front. Down below, a lorry driver ran a cyclist on to the pavement and swore at him. Opposite, a man threw a box of curried chicken and rice at a litter bin and missed.
It's not just me, this whole city is operating beyond its competence level
, he thought.
The river's being used like a waste-disposal unit and I'm powerless to do anything about it. It's like those Russian dumping grounds where they don't find bodies until the snow melts.

He looked around his miserable cupboard of an office. Nobody respected him. There was half a pepperoni pizza on the bookcase and someone had left their damp gym kit on the radiator. He had no idea how to get back on track. It seemed that each new day brought a dozen fresh directives that had to be followed, and each one further detracted from the task of policing. As he looked up, an embittered-looking one-legged pigeon voided its bowels on to the window ledge. Luckily the broken drainpipe on the roof chose that moment to overflow and dissolve the chalky splodge.

I hate London
, he thought,
commuters rushing to reach their offices five seconds ahead of each other, that chicken shop on the corner leaving the pavement slick with grease, the artisanal bakery over there charging five quid for a manky-looking rustic loaf, Arsenal supporters treating the street like a public toilet, shrieking hen parties tottering between bars on ridiculous heels and that smug, stumpy, virus-riddled flying rat thinking he can have a turf-out on my ledge without retribution.

Firing his hand out of the window he made a grab for the pigeon but it simply warbled and strutted out of his way, staring him down with an orange eye. Getting this angry interfered with his blood pressure. He blinked hard and sat down.

Biddle and Link had tied his hands and the only thing that stopped the case from slipping away completely was Giles's determination to reach the most accurate verdict. Fraternity was right; in the unit's time of deepest crisis he had failed to take the lead. He was just wondering what to do about it when his office door opened and then fell off its hinges.