Consequences (6 page)

Max stretched out on the kitchen floor, moaning contentedly as he watched them mill around him.

‘Don’t work too hard,’ Jen shouted to Dylan, as she rushed to catch up with him on his way to the front door. Holidays were okay, but you had to come back.

‘I won’t,’ he called over his shoulder in his ‘I know’ tone.

‘No, promise me. I’m serious,’ she pleaded, as she stood with him at the open car door. Jen brushed the front of his jacket with the palms of her hands, and stood on her tiptoes for a kiss. Jack smiled and hugged her tightly.

‘After the relaxing time I’ve just had on that beautiful Isle, I’m going to find it very hard to get motivated love, never mind working too hard,’ he said as he flopped down into the driver’s seat and wound down the window.

‘Good. Love you,’ she said, touching his cheek. ‘I couldn’t bear to lose you Jack.’ Jen’s eyes filled with tears.

Max’s bark from inside the house broke their gaze. They laughed at him clambering on the settee; watching them from the window seat, he eagerly awaited Jen’s return. She brushed away a tear spilling onto her cheek, which didn’t go unnoticed by Jack.

‘You’d better go back in, someone wants to go out for his walk,’ Dylan said, as he watched Jen bite her bottom lip. She nodded and smiled.

Dylan breathed a long sigh of relief as he quickly drove away she nearly had him going there. It had been tough getting Jen to agree to come back with him from the Isle of Wight, and who could blame her. She loved the Island, her birthplace. He was selfish, he knew, but he needed her and he truly meant all the promises he made to her before they left.

The clock chimed eight a.m. as Dylan arrived at the nick. His inbox was overflowing.

‘What the fuck?’ he groaned, pulling the paperwork out onto his desk. The least he’d expected was for Larry to have kept up with it.

‘Coffee, sir?’ Vicky called cheerily, as she stuck her head round his office door.

‘Thank you. I’d love one,’ he said eagerly, as he started to prioritise the paperwork. What the hell had Larry been up to? This stuff hadn’t been touched whilst he’d been away.

‘It’s good to have you back, boss,’ said Vicky, strategically placing Dylan’s coffee cup on the corner of his littered desk. Dylan pointed to the pile of work. ’By the look of this lot, it must have been busy whilst I’ve been off, I hope Larry’s looked after you,’ he said, looking down at a report.

‘And I thought you knew everything, boss,’ she commented flippantly, as she quietly closed the door behind her.

I wonder what she meant by that he thought, but was distracted by the phone ringing.

‘Jack, its Ralph, I’m sorry, I’m afraid Dawn won’t be in today. She’s feeling a little under the weather, probably something she ate. You know what she’s like. Eats anything,’ he laughed.

‘Oh, tell her I’ll manage somehow without her. Just, tell her to get well soon. I hope it wasn’t something you cooked for her or you’ll never live it down.’

‘No, no...it’s nothing like that. Thanks Jack...she’ll be back tomorrow, I’m sure. Look after yourself.’

Ralph, Dawn’s husband owned a restaurant in the Sibden Valley called ‘Mawingo’ and food was her Achilles heel. Although she denied emphatically that was what first attracted her to him.

Dylan knew some of his male colleagues hated having a woman as their partner, but he enjoyed Dawn’s company. Not only did she look like Dawn French but she also had the sense of humour to match. Dawn laughed at herself when he teased her about her habit of dabbing her mouth when she was hungry, and made fun of her beautiful embroidered hankies she carried around with her for that purpose.

Draining his coffee cup, Dylan cursed Larry. Through the glass partition of his office he saw Tracy, the young policewoman he’d last seen on Stan Bridge. She was in a smart suit and was standing by a desk in the CID office; she looked thinner out of uniform, he thought, her light brown, curly hair hanging neatly over her shoulders. What a smart, clean looking young lady she was. It made a change from casually dressed youngsters, with their tattoos and piercings. How on earth could anyone think that was attractive? He was getting old, he thought, as he eased himself from behind his desk and walked towards the general office.

‘Morning you. How’s things?’ he said cheerily. She blushed, ferociously. ’You decided to become a detective, then?’

‘On attachment for two weeks sir and I’m really, really looking forward to it.’ She drew back. Her grin reminded Dylan of an over excited child. He remembered his first CID attachment. In the ‘olden days’ he’d been shoved and pushed around the CID office as an aide, by the older detectives, who insisted he called them Mr and he got a clip round the ear if he answered back.

‘Nervous and excited, I bet?’ Dylan said, smiling.

‘Yeah, something like that,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders.

‘Good, it’ll be a bit different from guarding ‘scenes’ and stopping traffic, that’s for sure.’

Dylan got the impression she was uncomfortable talking to him. Unfortunately, he felt that was the uniform mentality. Uniformed bosses, inspectors and sergeants tended to be officers who gave orders to be complied with. They didn’t, in his experience, stop for a chat to get to know the individuals under their command. No, perhaps that was unfair, he reflected, these days attitudes were changing.

‘Sit down and make yourself at home, it’s a much different style of work in CID to what you’ve been used to. Did ‘Chubby’ behave himself for you after the episode on the bridge?’

‘Yes sir, thanks for that. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been in the traffic, waiting to cross the bridge that day. I’ve seen him since and he’s living with a mate and his girlfriend. She’s got a small boy. You never know, Chubby might settle down now.’

‘Who knows? Leopards and spots do spring to mind though,’ he said, grinning, as Vicky walked in the room.

‘Vicky, this is Tracy, sorry I don’t know your last name,’

‘Petterson, sir,’ she said, smiling apprehensively at Vicky.

‘PC Tracy Petterson is with us for two weeks secondment. Look after her will you DC Hardacre?’

‘No probs, I’ll treat her as if she were one of me own,’ Vicky mocked jovially, putting Tracy instantly at ease.

‘Don’t know if I’ve done you a favour there or not,’ Dylan said grimacing playfully as he retreated back to his office, feeling very much his age once more. Vicky threw her pen at his closing door. Laughing at her through the window, he picked up his phone to text Jen.

Lovely lady, missing you already… Dawn’s gone sick and Larry hasn’t surfaced yet. But by God when he does he has a lot to answer for.

‘Gosh, how dare you do that?’ Tracy whispered to Vicky.

‘Because Dylan is okay; he’s a good boss and he’s got a good sense of humour but don’t be misled, he’s nobody’s fool. Keep him supplied with coffee and you’ll be his friend for life though.’

Two hours later, Larry casually strolled into Dylan’s office looking worse for wear; the smell of stagnant ale accompanying him, which only confirmed to Dylan that he’d, slipped back to his old ways. Was that a black eye he was sporting? After his dad died suddenly, Larry had gone on a bender but after a while he seemed to recover. Had someone or something knocked him back again Dylan wondered? He would have to have a chat with him, and not in a pub.

‘Morning Boss,’ he slurred. ‘Good break?’ Larry just about managed the words, before slumping into the chair opposite Dylan, his hands deep in his trouser pockets.

‘I’ve been south for a few days actually, to see how Jen’s dad’s coping since her mum died if you remember, Larry, not exactly two weeks in the Bahamas.’ snapped Dylan.

‘Er...er...yeah...sorry boss.’ He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat and sat up straight.

 Dylan placed his empty cup down on the desk and studied Larry. ’Well, what’s been happening then? Any messages or updates for me?’

‘No...no, it’s been dead quiet. Bit of a theft from a garage, but the young lad only got away with about a hundred quid, and would you believe it, the CCTV tape we retrieved is jammed in your cassette player.’ Larry yawned, pointing to the offending video player.

‘What the hell is it doing there? It should have been copied and the original kept, Detective Sergeant Banks. Even you know that.’

‘I know… just thought I might know the lad and get a quick I.D,’ he whined.

‘We don’t need to cut corners, Larry, and there’s no doubt the offender will try again if that’s all he got. Did you put his description on the ring around, for petrol stations to be on alert?’ Dylan asked, staring hard at Larry. There was something different about him. Have you ’bin in a fight?’

 Noting he was under scrutiny, Larry made a display of coughing and spluttering, avoiding any eye contact. ‘Nah, I’m too old to scrap. I walked into a door. By the way I’ve got a dentist appointment at eleven so if I’m missing for a while, you know where I am.’

 Dylan knew he was lying about his eye. Walking into a door? What a lame excuse, but Larry was an adult after all. He knew what he was doing, or at least Dylan hoped he did. He’d make sure he’d cover Larry’s appearance and his attitude when they had that chat.

‘Dentist? Rather you than me Larry’ he said, looking down at a report he had started writing. Larry stood to leave and farted loudly.

‘Larry. For God’s sake.’ Dylan said as his phone rang. ‘Be here at one. There’re a few things I need to talk to you about; one being this untouched bloody paperwork and another, your conduct.’ Dylan looked up as he put the phone to his ear. Larry was gone.

‘Hello Dylan? Harriet Anderson from the Child Protection Unit.’ Dylan could tell by her voice she was smiling, but then again, she always did.

‘Gosh, Harriet, long time no see...It can’t be long now can it before you go on maternity leave? How the hell are you?’

‘I’m fine, that’s why I’m ringing. I’m going at the end of the week and no one has got a replacement for me. Do you know of anyone who I could suggest would like to take on the role?’ she enquired tentatively. ‘I’m too big to sit behind this desk now, in fact if I get any bigger I think I’ll explode,’ she said.

Dylan’s heart sank, they would miss her. If ever there was a round peg in a round hole it was Harriet and the CPU.

‘I just thought I could show the cover the ropes before I go.’

‘I’ll be honest with you I didn’t realise you were going to be of so soon, these last few months have flown. Look, let me have a think and I’ll get back to you,’ Dylan had known about Harriet’s pregnancy since the day she’d took the test, because she’d sent an e-mail to everyone she knew, with the good news. So, his opposite number in Child Protection was going on maternity leave, one DS was off sick and one was heading for...Larry’s future didn’t bear thinking about. If not much had happened whilst he’d been away, then what the hell had Larry been up to, so he couldn’t manage the paperwork he wondered, as he fired up his computer. He needed more coffee and stood up to stretch his legs, to catch someone’s attention. The CID office was empty, which was a good sign everyone must be out working.

Larry was having a mouthwash, but not one you’d get at a dental surgery. He felt like a kid bunking off school, which was becoming a familiar feeling. He hadn’t always been like this, but after being overlooked for promotion again, he’d lost his focus. He caught sight of the pub clock, twenty past eleven. ’Come on,’ he muttered impatiently. What was it about women and time? There was nothing polite about being late, although he knew he always was he thought grinning to himself.

Dylan sat alone in his office, with his door propped open. The large, general CID office that he looked out on was quiet, apart from the odd telephone ringing. He was concerned with his e-mails. HQ was drawing his attention to a recording of a robbery that had been reduced in severity to a ‘theft from a garage’. This must be the crime Larry had mentioned to him. Dylan researched it on the CIS computer system and looked at the ‘I’ screen for the MO. ‘
Single male walks into garage believed in possession of handgun, demands cash from female cashier. In fear she hands over money from till.’
He immediately changed the crime to robbery. What the hell was Larry thinking of? Since when had he been concerned with crime figures? Manipulating numbers was downright stupid, he knew that. Dylan went on to read the description of the robber. It sounded like a typical ‘Chubby.’ No, surely not. Chubby didn’t want to go to prison again, but Dylan decided to give Tracy the job to investigate, since she had recently dealt with the youths in the town while in uniform...it was a start. Dylan smiled, thinking about some of the nicknames of local youths. ‘Scarface’ was obvious, ‘Bandit’ because the guy had only one arm or ‘Jaws’ because the kid had it broken a few times, were more tongue in cheek. Often, as officers found out to their dismay in interviews, they were the only names the youngsters knew each other by. His smile froze as he caught sight of the mangled tape in the video machine. Hell Larry; that might’ve lost us vital evidence. He’d get one of the techno bods to deal with it. He didn’t want to damage it further by trying to yank it free himself.

‘What’s happening?’
Larry texted Liz, as he drained his pint glass. A right pain in the arse this was turning out to be. He just hoped it would be worth it in the end. He needed to pull a good job out of this bag. Sort himself out.

‘
I need to see you now,’
came the text back.

‘Boss, I’ve had a call to see an informant,’ Larry told Dylan over the hands free, as he put his Audi into gear and skidded in a half circle across the pub car park. He stopped abruptly, and without looking reversed back to allow him to face his exit. He heard a loud thud. Larry hung up. Dylan snarled into the receiver.

‘Shit, shit, shit.’ Larry shouted, slamming the palm of his hand on the steering wheel. Climbing out he saw the crumpled figure of an old man on the ground. He jumped back into the car, rammed the gear stick into first and raced out of the car park in a cloud of dust, causing a car to skid to avoid him. Car horns blared in his wake. His heart raced. His head banged. What had he done? He could hear sirens.