By a Narrow Majority (13 page)

‘Right,’ Mel confirmed. ‘They mopped that up – one of Fletcher’s gang was hit, and killed. They surrendered pretty quickly after that. Then another member of the TFI came under fire, this time from one of the Liverpool gang. They returned fire, and quickly persuaded the scouser to surrender. The drugs were there all right, but at that point there was still no sign of Fletcher.’

Hillary frowned. How had Fletcher managed to hide
himself when none of the others had? Then she shrugged. The farm was Fletcher’s home ground – he’d obviously have had a few good bolt-holes mapped out beforehand, in case he needed them. He’d always been a careful bastard – that’s why they’d never managed to catch the slippery sod.

‘The TFI were doing a more detailed sweep through the house when we rolled up,’ Mel went on, and Hillary frowned, holding a hand up to stop him.

‘The team leader hadn’t given Raleigh the all-clear?’ she asked, eyebrows raised.

‘No,’ Mel sighed. ‘That’s why one of his men stopped us at the door, and called the team leader down. Raleigh insisted on going inside. He checked out the upper rooms, according to one of the TFI sergeants, but when they came up empty, went back downstairs. He and Frank Ross went into one of the rooms off the kitchen that had already been cleared. The team leader took point again, and went back upstairs, where the rest of the team was still doing its second, more thorough, search. After about a minute, there was another burst of gunfire, and this is where things start to get cloudy.’

Hillary tried to put the memory of that moment out of her mind. What came immediately afterwards wasn’t something she wanted to deal with just yet.

‘Go on, what happened?’ She was still struggling to make sense of all this. Why had Raleigh wanted to go in so early? What difference did twenty minutes make?

Mel laughed. ‘You might well ask! Just what did happen next? We’re not really sure. Any of us. Even now, and we’ve been going over and over it all day. Apparently, Fletcher had a hidey hole in a cupboard out in the back wall of the kitchen. Raleigh and Ross had gone back downstairs by then, but they were in one of the living rooms – the right parlour, we’ve called it, just to save confusion. They heard gunfire in the kitchen next to them, but saw nobody. When the team leader and his immediate team came downstairs, they found Fletcher dead on the kitchen floor. Then they
heard gunfire outside. The first one out the door nailed the bastard who shot you. Oh yeah, Janine was in the left lounge, and Regis and that sergeant of his were upstairs. Nobody saw Fletcher get it, so nobody knows what really went down. At the moment, we’re working on the theory that Fletcher and one of his thugs had holed up in the kitchen, but argued about whether to stay put and trust that their hiding place would remain undetected, or try to make a break for it.’

Hillary frowned. ‘Staying put wouldn’t be a good idea. Fletcher would know that the cops would be at the farmhouse for days, logging evidence.’

‘Yeah, maybe. Perhaps he wanted to leg it, but his sidekick got scared and wanted to stay. So he shot Fletcher when Fletcher insisted on making a run for it.’

Hillary gave Mel a quick look. ‘That make sense to you?’

‘Nope. Janine said, when she was in the left lounge, that she thought she saw someone slip out of the door opposite. If that’s true, it could have been the one who shot you. But Raleigh and Ross were in there, and they’re both saying that nobody came through the kitchen via the right lounge.’

‘So whoever it was must have come from the kitchen and straight up the corridor, and Janine saw him pass as he went across the open doorway?’

‘She must have.’ Mel shrugged helplessly.

‘Could Janine have seen the super slipping out of the room opposite, trying to see where the shooting was coming from? Did he go into the kitchen?’

‘Yeah, he did. The team leader found both Raleigh and Ross there. So, perhaps that’s it. Janine doesn’t really know who she saw – she only sensed movement. Hell, Hill, it’s all a bit of a mess. Regis, Tanner and Janine shouldn’t have been in there at all. The TFI are up in arms about it, and who can blame them? The team leader is telling all and sundry that he’s not going to take the rap for this. But when they heard gunfire they all piled in. Regis and Tanner headed straight for the
stairs and only got to the top just in time to get out of the way as the rest of the TFI came racing down! It must have been like an episode out of the Keystone Cops in there.’

Hillary opened her mouth to defend Regis, then shut it again. She understood why he’d gone racing inside, of course. But Mel was right. It had been stupid. Brave, but stupid. ‘So how are the brass playing this?’ she asked curiously, and Mel laughed cynically.

‘The drugs haul was big, and seeing as it’s a new concoction, it has the appeal of being novel. Fletcher is dead – so a “force for evil” has been removed from our streets, according to the assistant CC. As you can imagine, the PR boys are having a field day. They’ve even got a hero cop to put a cherry on the icing.’

‘Aye? Who?’ Hillary asked blankly, then felt herself flush as Mel gave her a long, level look.

‘Oh,’ Hillary said.

‘I put your name forward for the gallantry medal,’ Mel said quietly. ‘Marcus Donleavy backed it. You’re bound to get it. You saved my life, Hill,’ he muttered, looking down at his hands. ‘I just stood there like a lemon.’

Hillary looked quickly away, and found the woman in the bed opposite watching her. She was the young one, who’d come in yesterday with appendicitis. She quickly dipped her head to her magazine, pretending she’d hadn’t been straining her ears to listen in.

‘A man came at me with a gun and I hit the dirt,’ Hillary said dismissively. ‘What the hell’s so gallant about that?’

Mel leaned back in the chair and ran a tired hand over his face. Hillary supposed he hadn’t slept at all last night. ‘Come on, Hill, we all know that you were thinking on your feet, as always. You stopped me and Tommy from going in and making the farce even worse. And you knew exactly what Brian Conroy wanted when he came out that door, waving that bloody revolver around. He was making for one of the cars, wasn’t he?’

‘It seemed obvious,’ Hillary agreed. So that was the name of the man who’d shot her. Brian Conroy.

‘Sure, it was obvious,’ Mel echoed wryly. ‘All the other vehicles were too inaccessible. I thought of it about five minutes later, when we were following you in the ambulance. Let’s not kid ourselves, Hill, I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.’

Hillary saw Mary, the woman in the bed next to her own, glance across. She was about her own age, and had come in to have her cancerous ovaries removed. They’d chatted that afternoon, when Mary had told her that, since she already had three kids, it was no big deal.

Mary had clearly heard Mel say that she’d saved his life, but for some reason, Hillary found herself unable to meet the other woman’s look. No doubt it was admiring, maybe even respectful. And in this day and age, with tales of heroism being precious and far between to be ignored, Hillary supposed she should just accept the compliment and then forget about it.

The trouble was, she felt such a complete fraud. OK, so maybe she’d thought a bit faster than everybody else, and had managed to keep a clear head when everybody around her had been losing theirs to paraphrase Kipling. And she’d been unlucky enough to get shot in the arse. Well, nearly. But did that make her a hero?

Her mind skipped forward to a possible awards ceremony. The press would be out in force, with her mother and brother and sisters and Uncle Max all there to cheer her on and slap her on the back. She’d have to step up on to some sort of stage and shake hands with the chief Constable as he handed her a bit of metal. Then she’d have to have her picture taken over and over again, followed by interviews with the press, where she’d give modest disclaimers and refuse to comment about the ongoing Fletcher investigation.

She’d have to wear her best dress uniform, of course. Hell, did it even still fit her? She’d have to have it let out. At this, Hillary suddenly laughed out loud. ‘Hey, Mel, did I tell you,
the bullet didn’t do any serious damage because my fat stopped it? If ever there was a good excuse not to diet, that’s gotta be it.’

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her third room-mate smile. She was a plump, middle-aged librarian, who was having her gall bladder removed tomorrow.

‘Trust you to find a silver lining,’ Mel laughed.

Hillary glanced over at the movable tray beside her bed. It was filled with bags of fruit, a couple of vases of flowers, a book of crossword puzzles and now, a bottle of lemon barley squash.

‘You brought lemon barley?’ Hillary said. ‘Most people bring grapes.’

‘I know you like lemon barley,’ Mel said, surprised.

‘Yeah, and how do you know?’ Hillary asked. ‘Because we’ve been friends for ever, that’s why,’ she answered her own question. ‘So let’s not indulge in any more breast-beating, yeah? Someone was going to shoot us, and I made sure we both hit the deck. I only got winged because there was more of me to get shot at, that’s all. I always said you were a skinny little git.’

After Mel left, the nurses came round to take blood, check pills had been taken, and monitor blood pressure. Hillary’s particular favourite, a small round little brown sparrow of a girl called Tracy Wall, wasn’t there, but another nurse brought with her a copy of the
Oxford Mail
. And sure enough, there on the front page was a picture of a younger Hillary, and the confirmation of Fletcher’s death and a large drugs haul. To please everyone, Hillary read it. It did indeed mention that she was in line for a police medal for gallantry.

She was saved from having to accept everyone’s congratulations and sly hints for her to give them some inside gen by the arrival of Superintendent Marcus Donleavy.

He looked liked a banker – grey/silver suit, grey/silver hair, grey/silver eyes. He fairly radiated power and prestige, and the nurses and curious patients melted away at his approach.

Hillary was not surprised when Donleavy pulled the curtains around, giving them some privacy. He sat close to her and put a small tape recorder on the tray beside her bed, letting her see it was running. So, this was to be an official debriefing.

Hillary nodded.

‘So, DI Greene. What can you tell me about the events last night?’

The next morning, Mel came back. He brought a box of chocolates with him. ‘Since you don’t have to diet anymore, I thought you might like these,’ he said, sitting down.

‘You rotten sod,’ Hillary said, and added heavily, ‘Donleavy came by last night.’

‘I know. He’s heading up the internal inquiry.’ There was a certain air of satisfaction about the way Mel said that that had her radar instantly sending out a ‘bleep’ of interest.

‘You think the man from the Met might be out on his ear?’ she asked. She could understand why that would please Mel. Superintendent Raleigh was always going to be a thorn in her old friend’s side. He’d been given the job that Mel had thought was his, for a start. Now it looked as if he’d come a cropper, and who could blame Mel for having a good old gloat?

Mel shrugged. ‘Well, let’s just say, Raleigh jumped the gun. He didn’t follow procedure, hell, didn’t even stick to the plan. And as a result, a senior female police officer was shot. So he’s hardly going to get any brownie points, is he?’

Hillary sighed, not liking the sound of that. ‘So I’m going to be the stick they use to beat him up with? Wonderful.’

‘Come on, it won’t matter to you. Anyway, he’s bound to be transferred out of Thames Valley.’

Hillary nodded, then shot him a quick look. ‘Ah. Which means they’ll need to appoint an acting super for a while. Has he been suspended yet?’

‘No. Not yet.’

‘How’s he taking it all?’ Hillary asked, genuinely curious.

‘I’m not sure,’ Mel said, after a thoughtful pause. ‘You’d think he’d be miffed. Not showing it, of course, but definitely antsy. But I don’t know. He looks tired, but not … I don’t know. He almost seems to be … up, somehow. You know, like a man who’s been vindicated, instead of possibly in the shit.’

Hillary frowned. This was still making no sense to her. Then Mel cleared his throat, and Hillary shot him a quick glance. She knew that throat-clearing gesture of old. It didn’t bode well.

‘Since you’re going to be off work for some time to come, I’ve decided to put Janine in working charge of the Malcolm Dale case,’ Mel said quickly. ‘Well, I can’t let Frank Ross run the show, and Tommy’s too junior,’ he rushed on, giving her no chance to object. ‘I’ll keep an overall eye on things, naturally.’

Hillary stared at him for a moment, thought about it, opened her mouth, then closed it again. She waited until he was looking at her before she let him have it with both barrels.

‘You’re going to dump her, aren’t you?’ she accused flatly. ‘You can practically taste that promotion to acting super, and know that if you want it, you’re going to have to jettison the baggage. And you think that giving her her own case will help get her off your back.’

Mel flushed but didn’t deny it. ‘It’s time to get back on track, Hill. Come on, be fair. Who else can take over the case while you’re away?’

Hillary shook her head.

First you get shot nearly in the backside, then you have to accept a medal, then your blonde bombshell of a sergeant gets to run your case while you sit in a narrowboat and twiddle your thumbs, going slowly mad with boredom.

Whatever it was that she’d done in a previous life to deserve this, she hoped it had been worth it.

Superintendent Jerome Raleigh slowly steepled his fingers together and met the eyes of the man sitting across from him. His desk, stretching between them like a no-man’s land, was unusually clear. Perhaps because his workload had suddenly lessened. A clue perhaps of things to come?  

He said as much to his superior officer.  

Chief Superintendent Marcus Donleavy shrugged. ‘Until we can clear up the events of that night to everyone’s
satisfaction
, you’re still, technically, in the saddle. But nobody’s anxious to load you up with new cases or committee appointments, at least not until they’re sure how things will pan out.’  

Jerome smiled thinly. ‘Can’t say as I blame them. And how long do you think it’s likely to be before that happens?’  

Again, Marcus shrugged. ‘Depends how quickly the evidence can be sifted, and how fast the review board can process it. But it might get bogged down because the TFI are going to fight their corner every inch of the way, and are adamant that they’re not going to take any flak over this.’  

Jerome Raleigh nodded. ‘Nor should they,’ he agreed quietly.  

Marcus watched the man from the Met as he leaned back slightly in his swivel chair, making it creak slightly. His steepled hands fell to the arm rests and lay limply. ‘Is that an admission that the faults all lie with you?’ he asked curiously.  

Jerome shrugged. ‘If blame has to be apportioned, then yes.
Do you think it will?’ he asked the question either very candid, or unbelievably naïve. And Marcus Donleavy didn’t think the man was naïve. Which meant he was asking for honesty.

Suddenly he sighed, and they were just two men who’d managed to climb the ladder high. Up until now, Donleavy had had no complaints about the man who’d taken over his old job. He’d seemed to settle in and he’d heard no
management
complaints or grumbling from the lower orders. And certainly nobody had doubted his dedication to putting away the scum. So was this Fletcher fiasco just a glitch? Or was it indicative of a more ingrained problem? But then, surely a man couldn’t reach the position of super without somebody noticing if he were either reckless or stupid. And what had happened during the Fletcher raid had to be either one or the other.

Marcus frowned, then realized the man was still waiting for his answer. He thought carefully before speaking. ‘Unless something drastic happens, I think we’re OK,’ he finally said, a shade reluctantly. ‘The killing by the TFI man of Marcus Shandy has already been ruled justified as has that of the killing of Conroy. The fact that Hillary’s injuries weren’t serious also helped your cause. The TFI are making it clear you came in too early and without clearance, but nobody’s looking to cut you off at the knees for that. And with the killer of Fletcher also dead, it’s not looking nearly as bad as it could.’

In other words, Raleigh thought, the brass considered it best to keep it in-house and sweep it under the carpet, and content itself with giving him a rap over the knuckles.

So, with a bit of luck, he could simply take his medicine, keep his head down, and get on with things. The only two flies in the ointment were Ross and Greene.

Raleigh was confident that Ross was too shit-scared to grass. But Greene might be a problem. She was too smart by half – and, incidentally, the last person in the world he’d wanted to get shot. Good coppers were too few and far
between to lose any of them. Yes, in spite of the fact that she worried him, Jerome Raleigh still felt guilty about what had happened to Hillary Greene.

But that didn’t stop him from looking out for number one; he still needed to know if he was safe. He shifted in his chair and glanced past Donleavy, to stare at the wall. ‘I’m really sorry about DI Greene,’ he said flatly. ‘That was never meant to happen,’ he added, sincerely. For one thing, he knew that a wounded and pissed off Hillary Greene was probably far more dangerous than a merely curious DI Greene. ‘You’re sure she’s all right?’

‘She’s fine,’ Marcus said curtly, then added grimly, ‘She was lucky. If the bullet had been over to the right a few inches, she’d have been gut shot.’ He could still remember the phone call that night that told him one of his officers had been shot during the Fletcher raid. And when he’d discovered it was Hillary Greene, his anger and concern had escalated. So he wasn’t in any mood to soft soap the officer who’d been in charge. Even before knowing all the circumstances, it had never seriously crossed his mind that Hillary might have been the one to make a mistake. She was too savvy for that.

Raleigh winced. ‘Is she … is she going to file a complaint? She’d have every right to.’

‘Against you, you mean?’ Marcus clarified in a hard voice, still not willing to let the younger man get away with anything. He let the question hang for a moment, then shook his head. ‘I doubt the thought even crossed her mind,’ he said flatly. ‘I’ve known Hillary Greene for years. That husband of hers put her through misery – both personally and professionally. She’ll probably never recover from the stigma of being investigated for corruption. Which is a great pity – she’s one of the best detectives we’ve got. She’s also straight up and down, one of us, through and through. The last thing she’d ever do is put the screws on a fellow officer. So you can relax.’ He made no effort to hide his distaste, or belief that Raleigh was getting off lightly.

Raleigh nodded and took it. He deserved it. But it had been worth it. Everything had been worth it. Now, if he could just sit tight and weather the investigation, everything would be fine.

He’d just have to make sure that worm Frank Ross knew enough to keep his mouth shut. But he was fairly confident of that. Self-interest alone would ensure his silence.

Mel glanced up as Janine knocked on the door to his office, then stepped in. ‘I’ve updated the Dale case, sir,’ she said, waving a folder at him, then glanced behind her and closed the door. ‘Thought you might want to see it,’ she added, coming to stand in front of his desk. ‘I daresay you’ll have to take it over now.’

Mel smiled, seeing right through her. She wanted to be SIO so bad she could taste it. Which was good. Very good.

‘Yeah, bit of a bugger, when I’ve got so much on my plate already,’ he played along.

Janine nodded. ‘You think Raleigh’s gonna get the elbow?’ she asked, with genuine curiosity. When things got shaken up, interesting things tended to fall out of the tree.

Mel shrugged. The truth was, he wasn’t so sure anymore. The murmuring on the grapevine didn’t sound too promising. And, naturally, the last thing the brass wanted was a scandal. Still, maybe a quiet sidelining would be on the cards for him some months down the line.

Which would leave himself with plenty of time to get his house in order, and make the brass look seriously at him for the superintendency. Thinking of that … He sighed, and nodded to the chair. ‘Janine, sit down. We have to talk.’

He’d thought about doing this tonight, when they were both at home, but quickly realized that Janine would be uncontrollable then. At least here she’d have to kerb her temper. It was, he knew, the coward’s way out, but he’d always favoured the line of least resistance.

Janine felt her heart give a little kick, and something cold
dropped into the pit of her belly. Her eyes glittered and her chin came up defiantly as she sat down. Mel saw the look and felt his stomach clench. She’d already guessed what was coming. Had he been so obvious?

He took a long deep breath and began.

Hillary gritted her teeth as she put her left foot down. ‘Ouch. Ouch. Ouch,’ she muttered, every time she took a tottering step forward. This morning she’d done the same journey with a Zimmer frame, of all things, but now she had a walking stick. Tracy Wall was walking close beside her, one hand on her arm in case she fell.

‘You’re doing great,’ she encouraged as Hillary slowly began to take longer and more confident steps towards the opening into the corridor, where the nurses’ station was
situated
.

‘That’s easy for you to say,’ Hillary huffed, feeling the sweat running down the side of her nose. She was in one of her mother’s long flowered flannel nightgowns (since she only slept in old T-shirts back on the boat) and she felt about a hundred years old in it. On the other hand, it had matched the Zimmer frame to perfection.

She winced but managed to refrain with the ‘ouch’ as she took another step. This morning, her hip and the crease in her waist felt on fire as she moved, but it had still been good to be out of bed. Now, on this second outing, she didn’t feel half so stiff or uncomfortable. She’d always been one of those people who healed quickly, and never had she been more glad of it.

‘I hear your boss came by last night,’ Tracy said chattily. ‘Tessa told me he was a dreamboat. All silver hair. Very Kilroy-Silk.’

Hillary laughed, wondering how Marcus Donleavy would react at being compared to the disgraced would-be politician. And that thought led straight back to Malcolm Dale.

Dammit, she should be trying to figure out who’d killed
him, not shuffling around hospital corridors. To make matters worse, Donleavy had told her she’d been scheduled to take three weeks’ sick leave, that might stretch to a month, depending on doctors’ reports. A month! What was she going to do for a month?

As she began to march down the corridor with growing confidence, she tried to think positively. She could put all her energy into selling the house, and then finally buy the boat off Max, all nice and legal. For a long time now she’d been putting that off, but perhaps it was time to admit that she was perfectly content to live on the boat. All of that could fill in some time. Then she could do all the odd jobs around the boat she’d always put off. That might take all of two days.

She shuddered. The thought of so much inaction scared her. But she could still work the Dale case, if she was sneaky. She was pretty sure Tommy could be persuaded to come by with the latest news and copies of reports. If Janine didn’t cotton on to what he was doing.

Janine, she thought glumly. By now, Mel must have told her that she’d be the senior investigating officer on the Dale killing – her first time in charge of such an important case. A chance to shine. Just what she’d always wanted. Right about now, she must be over the moon.

‘You bastard,’ Janine hissed. ‘Why the change of heart? You were all over me last night.’

‘Keep your voice down,’ Mel said calmly. ‘Do you really want to give Frank Ross a show?’

Janine took a deep breath, feeling her fingernails cut painfully into her palms as she clenched her hands into tight fists. There was a throbbing in her temples and she wanted to scream in frustration, but a colder, harder voice of reason stopped her.

If she went ballistic now, she’d never live it down. She could almost hear the sneering. The cracks from all the
misogynists
that bred in this place like malaria mosquitoes. And Mel was right – Ross for one would just love to see her make a scene. She’d be hearing ‘hysterical female jokes’ and
reference
to PMT for months to come. And it was bound to get back to the brass. As well Mel knew, the bastard. That’s why he’d broken up with her here and now.

‘Don’t think you’re going to get away with this,’ Janine warned him. ‘I can still make your life a misery. I could file a sexual harassment suit for a start. What would that do to your chances for promotion then, hey?’

Mel felt himself go cold, but managed a smile and small shrug. ‘What would they do to yours?’ he countered softly, and then sighed heavily as Janine went pale.

‘Look, let’s not be like this,’ he cajoled. ‘We’re both grownups. We both know how it goes. We tried it out for a while, but it just wasn’t working—’

‘It was working for me!’

‘And now we have to carry on working together. Look, Janine, this won’t affect your career, I promise. I’m not the sort of man who can’t stand to have his ex-lovers around, or go all postal on them. In fact—’ he leaned back in his chair and tossed the folder she’d just brought in back to her, ‘— I want you to head up the Dale case. I’ll be in overall charge, of course, but I want you to lead the investigation. You’ve worked with Hillary for three years now – you’ve picked up a lot of good stuff from her. This is your chance. Don’t screw it up just because you’re mad at me.’

Janine stared at him for a long while, then slowly reached forward and picked up the folder.

‘I’ll be round tonight with a mate’s transit van for my stuff,’ she said coldly. She got up and added a sneering, ‘Sir.’

When she left, the air in the office hovered somewhere just below freezing point.

Mel let out his breath in a long slow release, and felt suddenly anxious. And bereft. Janine, in spite of everything, had been fun. His last sip of the summer wine? Fifty was
looming, and for a moment he wondered if he’d made a mistake in letting her go.

Then the moment passed.

Mike Regis stared at her nightgown and tried not to smile. Hillary twirled one of the pink ribbons that rested coyly just below her chin and grinned. ‘My mum’s.’

‘That’s a bloody relief,’ Regis said with a laugh, and
indicated
a big plastic bag. ‘Brought you some of this muesli mix stuff. Nuts and raisins and whatnot. Don’t know if you like it.’

Hillary didn’t either. It wasn’t something she’d normally try. ‘Considering the food in this place, I’ll take it,’ she said, and opened the bag for a rummage. ‘So, what’s the latest?’

Mike drew up a chair and shrugged. He was wearing a pair of dark grey slacks, white shirt, and black leather jacket. With his thinning black hair and penetrating green eyes, she’d noticed all her other ward-mates giving him the sly once-over. Now they pretended to be reading or watching daytime TV.

‘I reckon your boss, Donleavy, is going to do a gloss-over on Raleigh,’ he said flatly. ‘Can’t blame him. Why give the press ammo? Apart from your mishap, it was a bloody good night.’

Hillary grinned. She couldn’t help it. ‘Next time you get shot, I’ll come over and sit by your bedside and say the same.’