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Authors: Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

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BOOK: Killing Time
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‘Oh, we had to go ahead with that. There are some very senior people coming, and it’s difficult to get them all in the same place at the same time. It would have been impossible to reschedule at this late stage.’

‘I see.’

Honeyman looked at him almost pleadingly. ‘And what is the latest movement on the Paloma case?’

Slider felt a cad to be hitting him when he was down. ‘There seems to be some possibility of doubt that Lafota is our man, sir,’ he said; and explained.

Honeyman’s face, which had sunk at the opening words, rose again from the waves towards the end. ‘Oh, I’m sure that can be got over. You must look into everything, of course, but there’s no doubt Lafota was there, and he must remain our best suspect. And while we’re on the subject,’ he hurried on, as though afraid Slider might voice some more inconvenient doubts, ‘I have some information for you concerning an enquiry you put to me.’ He raised his eyebrows and gave Slider a significant nod. ‘Shut the door, will you?’

Slider obeyed. Honeyman sat down behind his desk and gestured Slider to sit opposite him.

‘This is confidential and very sensitive. I’m sure I can trust you?’

‘Yes sir,’ Slider said, a little intrigued.

Honeyman seemed to relax. ‘I know you’re a good chap. The thing is—’ He hesitated, and, leaning forward a little, adopted an unburdening posture. ‘Senior rank has its social aspect, and I’m not very good at being pally. It’s held me back to a certain extent. But I’ve always believed in being open, and I dislike – yes, I dislike very much – the sort of keep-quiet-and-do-as-you’re-told attitude that’s rife amongst some of the higher echelons.’

Slider was now mystified. He could only look receptive and hope that the unburdening wasn’t going to get too sticky. Deeply personal confidences tended to involve a morning-after hangover of the do-you-still-respect-me variety, which Slider had no wish to be on the wrong end of.

Honeyman sighed. ‘I’ve been in the Job thirty years, all but,’
he confided. ‘I was never a high flyer. I was interested in police work, that’s why I joined. But there comes a point when you have to decide whether you’re going to have a career structure, or settle for being PC Plod and going out in a blaze of obscurity. And a career demands a certain amount of compromise. A certain amount of put up and shut up. Tact, diplomacy and the occasional—’ He hesitated again, lost for the right word. Slider could think of plenty, but plumped for tact and diplomacy and waiting in silence. ‘Fudge,’ Honeyman said at last. ‘Well, perhaps not quite that. A blurring of the outlines.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Slider said, to help him along.

Honeyman looked at him sharply. ‘I don’t mean abandoning one’s principles. I don’t mean doing anything wrong. But sometimes one has to be, well, pragmatic.’ He stopped, internally digesting something, and then seemed to come to a decision. ‘I’ve taken my share of stick over the years. When you aren’t a high flyer, it’s expected. But when it comes to being spoken to like that—’

‘Sir?’

‘Look here,’ Honeyman said, ‘I’ve been told to keep my mouth shut about this, but I don’t see how you can carry on an investigation without all the information, and it is my personal judgement that you ought to be told. So I am going against orders. But this must go no further.’

‘I understand, sir.’

‘Yes, I think you do.’ Honeyman scanned his face keenly. ‘Cosgrove did put an enquiry to Mr Barrington. And Barrington did tell him to drop it. He had orders from higher up. There was – and is – a special Scotland Yard investigation going on into a very large drugs network. It is a very major investigation indeed, and they’re hoping to bring down some very major players. The whole thing is very sensitive and very expensive, and if anything were to happen to disrupt it there would be repercussions at the highest level. The Drugs Squad has got undercover people in all over the place—’

‘Including at the Pomona Club, sir?’ Slider put in.

‘Got it in one. That’s why Cosgrove was warned off, and that’s why I’ve been told to warn you off. Any snooping around the Pomona or Yates is likely to tread on certain toes, and it won’t be tolerated.’

‘Warn me off without explanation?’

‘Exactly. That’s what gets my goat,’ he added with sudden animation. ‘Don’t ask questions, just do as you’re told. What kind of way is that to run a department?’

‘I appreciate your telling me all this, sir,’ Slider said. ‘Can I ask you – is Yates one of the big players they’re after?’

‘I can’t tell you that. Oh, not because I’ve been warned, but because I don’t know. But I suspect he is. There’s something not quite right about friend Yates, or my name’s not Eric St Maur Honeyman.’

Slider took that without a blink. ‘It occurs to me to wonder, sir, whether Cosgrove was whacked because he was asking questions about Yates. His girlfriend said he told her he wouldn’t be put off by Mr Barrington’s warning, and that he’d go on asking questions on his own.’

‘It occurs to me to wonder that too. But I’ve been told to keep my wondering to myself. Any questions that need asking will be asked by the great and good at Headquarters,’ Honeyman said with undisguised sarcasm. A spot of colour appeared in each of his cheeks. ‘But Cosgrove’s one of
my
men. I may not have been with you long, but Shepherd’s Bush is
my
ground and
my
responsibility. Well, that’s it,’ he concluded. ‘You know as much as I do now. I’m not going to tell you to leave well alone. But I will tell you to be careful. Your career could be on the line if you foul the scent for the Drugs Squad. Those special posting boys are impatient of locals and arrogant as hell.’

‘I suppose,’ Slider said tentatively, ‘you don’t know the name of the undercover officer who’s been targeting the Pomona?’

‘If I did, I wouldn’t be allowed to tell you. And if I told you, it would be strictly against orders for you to contact him.’

‘Of course, I see that. It’s just that, if we knew what he was up to, we could make sure not to get our lines crossed. It’s easy to blunder into snares when you don’t know where they’ve been set. We might already have caused some upset, simply by arresting Jonah Lafota. If only we could ask him,’ he finished wistfully, ‘I’m sure the officer on the ground would see the sense in keeping us informed.’

Honeyman eyed him through a blend of righteous indignation, years of resentment, and a touch of holiday rapture. ‘I am
absolutely forbidden to tell you Detective Sergeant Richard de Glanville’s name,’ he said firmly.

‘Of course, sir. I understand.’

‘It would upset Mr Wetherspoon very much if he were to hear you had approached DS de Glanville. Very much indeed.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of letting him hear that, sir,’ said Slider. He and Little Eric looked into each other’s eyes. It was a moment of contact, of tentative warmth between them. He wasn’t a bad old boy, Slider thought, for an impossible bastard.

‘Good, good. Well, off you go, then,’ Honeyman said briskly. ‘I’ll see you at the party later on.’

‘Yes, sir. Thank you.’

‘At least they can’t touch my pension,’ Honeyman said as Slider headed for the door.

Slider sat down at his desk, hesitated a moment, and then picked up the phone and dialled Scotland Yard. ‘Detective Superintendent Smithers, please.’

It rang a long time before a woman’s voice answered.

‘Pauline, it’s Bill Slider. I didn’t interrupt you in the middle of someone, did I?’

‘Fat chance,’ she said. ‘I was in the loo, that’s all. Is it trouble?’

‘Why should you think that?’

‘When else do you ever ring me?’

It was a deserved barb, Slider realised. He had known Pauline Smithers for most of his career, but her seniority, his diffidence, and Irene had prevented him from seeing much of her socially – which before Joanna might have been just as well. There had been a definite tenderness between them at one time.

‘Congratulations on your promotion,’ he said.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘But you know I only got it because they’re abolishing the DCI rank. They had to do something with me. Shove me up and shove me sideways.’

‘Bollocks. You deserve it. You’ve deserved it for a long time.’

‘You could have had it if you’d wanted it,’ she said seriously. ‘You’ve got the talent, and you haven’t got my disadvantages.’

‘Disadvantages?’

‘Two of them. Front upper body, left and right.’

‘From what little I know of them, I’m sure they’re a positive asset.’

‘Chivalrous but inaccurate. The point is, if I’ve got this far despite being female, you could have been a chief superintendent by now if you’d wanted.’

‘I suppose that’s it. I didn’t want.’

‘Then you’re a fool, Bill,’ she said briskly. ‘Who d’you think you are, Peter Pan? You want to retire on that salary grade, do you?’

‘It’s not a question of money,’ he began.

‘Then you’ve got a Gandhi complex, which is worse.’

‘I’m good at what I do,’ he said. ‘It ought to be possible to be rewarded – to get the promotion and the pay increases – without being moved into a different job that you wouldn’t be so good at.’

‘Yes, there’s a lot of things ought to be different from what they are. You’ve just got to work with what there is. It’s a fool who complains about the system when he can’t change it.’

‘I wasn’t complaining. I’m happy being a DI.’

‘You won’t be for much longer, chum, when the kids start being promoted over your head, and you’ve got some spotty youth giving you orders. Still, it’s no concern of mine. What did you want, anyway?’

That didn’t sound very promising. ‘I just phoned to congratulate you. How are you enjoying the new posting?’

‘Don’t stuff me, Bill. What do you want?’

‘I need your help, Pauly,’ he said meekly.

‘I’d guessed that much,’ she said. And then, more kindly, ‘Are you in trouble?’

‘I’ve got a case. It was difficult from the start, but now I’ve come up against official silences, it’s escalated to impossible.’

‘All right, tell me the worst.’

He gave her a rough outline of the case, and told her what Honeyman had told him. ‘It occurs to me this undercover guy may have been the one Yates saw talking to my victim. I need to find that out so that I can strike it off my list. And I could use a little more information about what my victim was getting into. I’m groping about in the dark here.’

Pauline said slowly, ‘And what do you want me to do about it?’

‘Tell me how to get in contact with this de Glanville without blowing his cover or upsetting the brass.’

‘But why ask me? I’m not in the Drugs Squad.’

‘You’re at the Yard. And you have contacts everywhere, I know you have. You’ve told me yourself plenty of times that you’ve had to play it sneaky to get on. The Ladies’ Loo Network you used to call it. Female solidarity.’

‘You’re forgetting I’m brass myself now. Senior ranks solidarity – what about that? What you’re asking me could get me demoted so fast I’d get friction burns on my arse.’

‘But it’s crap, this blackout. I’m far more likely to mess up their investigation through ignorance than if I knew where not to tread. Help me. Can’t you help me?’ There was a silence. ‘Please, Pauly. I think I’m losing it.’

‘I don’t like it,’ she said.

‘It’s in his own interest. If he was the man Yates mentioned, that could mean he’s clocked him. He could be in danger.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t come to me with this sort of thing,’ she said, and he knew from her tone of voice that he’d won. ‘I don’t mind helping you out, when it doesn’t mean breaking the rules. But I’m in a vulnerable position now. You wouldn’t believe the cabals that operate up here. And there are no women on the Squad, that’s another thing.’

‘No-one need ever know. You can do it. I wouldn’t ask you if there was any way I could do it myself. And it’s for a good cause.’

‘Yeah. Your promotion. If only. All right,’ she said at last, ‘I’ll try and get him to contact you. That’s the best way. But if nothing happens, it’s because I haven’t managed it. Don’t chase me up, or bother me, or leave me messages.’

‘Hey,’ he said, wounded, ‘it’s me.’

‘And you owe me, after this.’

‘Anything.’

‘I won’t hold you to the anything,’ she said drily. ‘But a bloody good nosh, anyway.’

‘Just pick the date and the restaurant,’ he said.

He put the phone down feeling happier. Women CID officers were so beleaguered that they tended to stick together and help each other out; and there was also that curious solidarity that women of all ranks show each other in front of the mirrors
in the loo. Information he was confident Pauline could come by. The co-operation of the unknown de Glanville was a different matter. But he had done his best; now he could only wait.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
There’s Many an Old Tune
Played on a Good Fiddle

The estate sat in its daytime quiet, all the kids in school, all the workers at work, just a few mums and tots about, and the occasional dog busily trotting its rounds. With the new universal affluence, even council tenants had cars, and parking had become a severe problem on an estate built for people who walked or went by bus. The roadsides were always occupied; the yards round which the blocks of flats were built had been divided up with raised flowerbeds and marked out into parking spaces, which were allocated to specific flats for fairness. Slider found an empty one easily enough, for in the daytime a lot of people took their cars to work, but in the evening the yards were full. It occurred to him to wonder where Jonah parked on the murder evening; and if Jonah wasn’t the murderer after all, where had the murderer parked, and had anyone noticed an alien vehicle in their space?

As he got out of the car and locked it, he felt that inexplicable crawling of the skin that comes from being watched. He made a business of fumbling with the key and testing the handle to give himself time to look unobtrusively around, but he couldn’t see anyone. The owner of the space, perhaps, debating whether to come out and challenge him? It was probably nothing, but being whacked on the head by a murderer had concentrated his instincts of self-preservation wonderfully, and instead of going straight up to Busty’s flat, he did a walkabout, going up the stairs of the block opposite, walking along different balconies, looking out all the time for the tiny giveaway movement. But he saw nothing, and, chiding himself for over-reaction, he crossed the yard and went up to Busty’s flat.

BOOK: Killing Time
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