Scarred for Life (30 page)

‘And then you took that car of yours all around the estate before leaving it directly outside my business.’

‘Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.’

‘No, you weren’t.’

A hint of a smile crept across Jessica’s face. It felt like being told off at school and finding it increasingly funny, no matter how many times the teacher said it was serious. Usually, she’d have the self-control to hide it but she allowed her lips to curl just long enough for Freddy to notice.

He sounded even more irritable when he spoke next: ‘Why are you interested in that symbol?’

‘Nothing in particular, I was just intrigued by it.’

‘There must be a reason.’

‘Nope: I’d just like to know where it came from.’

Jessica and Freddy stared at one another, each waiting for the other to break first. Unlike when she had been facing Bex, Jessica knew that this was a contest she’d win.

Freddy finally leant back in his seat, trying to appear relaxed, even though he clearly wasn’t. ‘It was just something I thought of.’

‘When?’

‘Why does it matter?’

‘I’m curious.’

‘Years ago, when I was at school.’

‘So you were thinking about logos for your business while you were still a student?’

‘I suppose.’

He was lying, which only made Jessica more curious about why he’d hide it. The forced relaxation looked even more awkward because his eyebrow was starting to twitch with anxiety.

‘Does it mean anything in particular?’

Freddy began tugging at his T-shirt, pulling the shoulders forward and then shrugging them back again. ‘It was just a shape I fancied. Perhaps I saw it once?’

‘Did you?’

‘What?’

‘See it once – or was it something you thought of?’

‘I, er . . . I’m not sure why any of this matters. You said it wasn’t official business . . .’

Jessica stood, exchanging a glance that she thought had a significant look about it with Dave, even though he clearly didn’t know what she was thinking. ‘No, no, that’s everything. Sometimes we have to ask the odd question. You know what it’s like with all the Eastern European tradesmen coming in and doing shoddy jobs; then there are all sorts of tax scams going on and rogue traders building these crumbling properties. I’m sure you don’t have any problems with those types of thing.’

‘Is there some sort of problem?’ he asked.

‘Not at all – I know what a busy time it must be for you with that juicy new social housing contract. What was it worth, eleven, twelve million?’

‘I, um . . .’

‘No matter, I’m sure you’re a busy man.’ Jessica took a business card from her pocket and placed it carefully on top of his desk. ‘Never mind, if there’s a problem, you can always call the station where I work. The number’s on there.’

‘Am I suspected of something?’

Jessica laughed again. ‘Have you got something to hide?’

‘Of course not.’

‘There’s your answer. Cheerio.’

Jessica hurried to the car as quickly as she could, muttering a ‘come on’ to Dave as they moved. She started the car and then handed him her phone, watching through the side window as Freddy stood in the doorway.

‘What was all that about?’ Dave asked, turning her phone over in his hand.

‘Honestly? I’m not sure yet – but I bet you ten quid that my phone rings in the next five minutes.’

36

Jessica was grateful she didn’t put any money on it, because it actually took six minutes for her phone to ring. ‘Don’t sit there looking at it, answer it,’ she hissed.

Rowlands fumbled with the buttons before finally putting it to his ear. ‘Hello.’ Moments later, he held the phone out in Jessica’s direction: ‘It’s for you.’

‘Who is it?’

‘The guv.’

‘Tell him I’m driving.’

Dave went through the rigmarole of being the middle man in the conversation between DCI Cole and Jessica but she had known what the gist was going to be from the moment she’d walked out of Freddy’s office.

‘He wants us back then?’ Jessica clarified when Dave hung up.

‘“Now”, apparently, as he shouted half-a-dozen times.’

‘Interesting.’

‘Aren’t you worried?’

‘No – because now I know for certain that there’s a link between that logo and whatever it is that’s going on at the station. As soon as we’d pulled away, Freddy was on the phone to someone complaining about us.’

‘Porky Pomeroy?’

‘Perhaps – but at least we know for certain it’s not just me being paranoid.’

Jessica hadn’t seen Detective Superintendent William Aylesbury for almost two years. He had been a DCI when she was first promoted to detective sergeant. At first, she’d not known what to make of him; he was more someone she’d tried to work around, rather than with. Gradually he had grown on her – and then he’d been promoted to DSI to oversee multiple stations. Over time, his appearances at Longsight had become less frequent and then he’d stopped coming at all, occasionally summoning DCI Cole to see him, or taking part in a conference call. In all that time, he’d never bothered to seek Jessica out – not that he had any reason to.

Which was why Jessica was so surprised to see DSI Aylesbury sitting in DCI Cole’s office, legs crossed, cradling a cup of tea and laughing as if he was at a comedy gig. When he spotted her through the glass, he smiled and waved her inside.

He’d always had a presence, partly because of his height, but also because of his trim, athletic physique. He stood to shake her hand, reminding her of quite how imposing he was. Now in his late fifties, his hair was looking thicker than while he had been DCI and, if anything, he appeared fitter than she remembered, with a hint of a tan too – which definitely hadn’t come from Manchester. If everything people said was true, then it was more likely a Portuguese golf course. He was surely only a year or two away from retirement – unless one of the assistant chief constable roles became available for any reason and then he’d be one of the first names on the list.

‘Jessica, Jessica,’ he said, over-pronouncing each syllable and being too familiar. ‘It’s so good to see you – and a DI now too.’

Jessica shook his hand: ‘Sir . . .’

DCI Cole’s face was blank as he watched from his side of the desk. Any hilarity that had been in the room moments before was gone.

‘Sit, sit,’ Aylesbury said, grinning too much. ‘I figured it was about time we had something of a catch-up. I’ve been hearing good things.’

‘Thank you, Sir.’

‘You looked good on television this morning – I know what a ruck those things can be but you dealt with everything exceptionally. I know Graham was delighted with how everything turned out.’

‘That’s good to hear, Sir.’

Ugh.
Jessica hated the sound of her own voice.

‘I hear you were largely responsible for the arrest of Timothy Stoddard and that it was clean as well; no roughhousing, no shots fired.’

‘It wasn’t just me, Sir, there were other people involved – a true team operation.’

The two men exchanged a quick glance and Jessica thought she saw the I-told-you-so look from Cole. She was cooperating in an entirely non-cooperative kind of way, not quite giving the wanted answers. Aylesbury had a small hint of frustration in his voice when he continued. ‘But it
was
you who talked him down, so to speak.’ He swirled his hand around in front of his chest, stammering, before finally finding the right words. ‘I suppose in old parlance, you made him come quietly.’

‘I suppose so,
Sir
.’

Jessica knew he wanted details but she was also aware that he wasn’t simply here for a cosy catch-up.

Another quick exasperated flicker between the two men: ‘Would you care to say how you managed that?’

‘Womanly charms? I’ve got a good range of pilfered jokes as well. Have you heard the one about the price of Velcro?’

Cole cut in: ‘It’s all on tape – she was wired in case Stoddard actually confessed.’

Aylesbury studied Jessica with a scratch of his chin and a considered nod. ‘Aah, very good, very good. So you can speak with great diplomacy when required . . .’

Jessica allowed herself a grin. ‘That’s very kind of you to say,
Sir
.’

‘Of course, this is only the latest in your run. I believe you brought a man into custody for the tattoo robberies?’

‘That was DS Diamond,
Sir
.’

‘And then there was the unfortunate incident with the, ahem, Stretford Slasher last spring . . . ?’

‘That really wasn’t much to do with me,
Sir
. I was just here.’

‘I’m hearing all sorts of rumours about the outcome of Matthew Pratley’s investigation into our district following that case. You know they’re publishing early next year?’

‘I don’t really listen to station rumours,
Sir
.’

‘Probably the best policy – but there could be all sorts of shake-ups and redeployments. For some, it will be the end of the road but for others – people who get their heads down; those with good track records – this entire mess could turn out to be a blessing.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind,
Sir
.’

Aylesbury nodded, leaning forward and picking up his tea again. He took a swig, before returning the cup to the saucer, twisting the handle around until he was satisfied it was perpendicular to the edge of the table. So far, he’d been as subtle as a bloke shuffling his way into Sandra’s: if she kept her head down and didn’t cause too much trouble in the next couple of months, there could be all sorts of interesting opportunities come the new year.

Aylesbury sucked on the inside of his cheek, still watching Jessica. ‘This all comes, of course, after what was an extended break . . .’

Jolts of ice prickled along the back of Jessica’s neck. He couldn’t use that against her: no one could. Cole knew as well as anyone what she’d been through. She angled slightly in her chair to look at the DCI behind his desk but he was deliberately avoiding her gaze.

She kept her eyes on Cole, even though it was Aylesbury she was talking to. ‘As far as I’m aware, everything was cleared at the time with HR and anyone else it needed to be signed off by.’

Aylesbury adjusted his position until he was perched forward, diligently trying to catch her eye. ‘Quite, quite – and you’ve been largely hitting your targets since returning, of course . . . so, with all of that in mind, can I ask where you’ve just been?’

Jessica could feel Aylesbury staring at her but didn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. Finally, the buttering up and vague hints were over and they were getting to the point.

‘I’ve had a busy weekend,’ Jessica replied. ‘I was moved to lates at short notice but then I had to come in yesterday to deal with Timothy Stoddard. I need a new pair of shoes, so I figured no one would mind if I nicked over to the Arndale for half an hour. My timesheets have been ridiculous this month anyway.’

Silence.

DCI Cole stared at his desk. DSI Aylesbury stared at Jessica. Jessica stared at the certificates on the wall behind the pair of them.

‘You went shopping?’

‘Not technically,
Sir
, I didn’t buy anything.’

‘But you’re saying you were in the city centre?’

‘I was in a few places – just a quick in-out. I didn’t think anyone would mind; it’s quiet around here.’

‘Right . . .’

Aylesbury sounded as if he was about to launch into some sort of life lesson, so Jessica cut him off. ‘Can I ask why you’re interested,
Sir
?’

The question took him by surprise. ‘Sorry?’

‘It’s just we’ve not seen you in months. Obviously that’s none of my business – it’s just curious that you’re suddenly interested in what I’m up to. If you like, I can email you minute-by-minute updates of my whereabouts but I doubt there’ll be a lot in there to interest you. If I’m not here, I’m usually at home. Sometimes I stop off at the supermarket on the way back. If you catch it at just the right time, there’s a sweet spot for when they reduce the price of all the bakery items. It’s an art form trying to get there at the right time.’

The DSI’s eyes were narrow, piercing through Jessica. This was definitely not Grandpa Aylesbury; this was someone firmly on the greasy pole of corporate promotions. ‘Perhaps your time would have been better spent trying to find the evidence needed to secure a conviction against the person who killed Damon Potter, instead of harassing innocent people?’

‘If you ask DCI Cole, I’m sure he’ll be able to tell you that I’ve been shuffled sideways in that case. Witnesses were brought in at times I wasn’t here, Holden Wyatt was charged by someone else. I’m not omnipresent,
Sir
– and the whole point of what we do is that we don’t know who’s innocent or guilty until we’ve actually done the whole investigating thing.’

A pause for another sip of tea and then the rearrangement of the handle so it lined up with the desk.

‘Are you saying you don’t believe Holden Wyatt is guilty?’ Aylesbury asked.

‘I don’t know,
Sir
, like I say – shuffled sideways.’

Aylesbury turned to face Cole and Jessica knew that this exact conversation had already been predicted.

‘Wyatt has already admitted multiple assaults, including upon Damon Potter. We are going to look increasingly ridiculous if he is tried for an assault on someone, while we still don’t have anyone for the actual death. The victim didn’t put himself in that bin.’

‘That’s what I’ve been saying the entire time – but I fail to see how a group of students first saying they saw Holden at a party and then saying they didn’t proves that
he
was the one responsible for dumping the body. We’re not even certain whether Damon choked on his own vomit after drinking voluntarily, or if he was forced.’

‘In that case, it’s your job to get on with proving something and to stop messing around with other things – and that message comes down from on high. Do you understand?’

Jessica understood far better than he knew: Pomeroy.

‘Yes,
Sir
.’

‘Good – then I’m sure there’s something you can find to be doing.’