Antman (13 page)

*  *  *

Tom reached his office in a flat mood.

He picked up the phone and dialled. 'Hullo, is that the coroner's court?'

'It is, sir.'

'Could I speak to the coroner's clerk, please?'

'Speaking.'

'Is Mrs –'

'This is Miss Cannock. 'The regular clerk is still away, sir. Can I ask who is speaking?'

There was a knock at Tom's door and it opened a fraction. Jean put her head round it. 'The missing equipment,' she mouthed.

'It doesn't matter,' said Tom and put the phone down.

'Sorry,' said Jean. 'Was I interrupting?'

'No, no,' said Tom, 'only the library. They can wait. Do come in.'

'I've been making a few enquiries,' said Jean. 'It's quite interesting. When you start asking questions and looking for equipment, all kinds of other objects which had gone missing start to turn up.'

'Amazing what the fear of the auditor and charges of stealing from work will do,' said Tom. 'And I never even mentioned them.'

'You didn't have to,' said Jean. 'As usual, you left it to your faithful female secretary. Another prime example of men leaving the dirty work to women. From the nappy to the bedpan, it never stops.'

Tom held up his hand. 'I agree,' he said. 'I surrender to the overwhelming combined forces of feminism and equal opportunity.'

'If you try sarcasm,' said Jean, 'I shan't tell you what I found.'

Tom made a further gesture of compliance.

'Right,' she said, 'Item one: you didn't lose the equipment. Item two: it was loaned to, or rather borrowed by, the Department of Oceanography nearly fifteen months ago. Item three: it's never been returned.'

'I'll be damned,' he exclaimed. 'What have they to say for themselves?'

'Hang on,' said Jean. 'I haven't finished. I contacted Oceanography to ask for its return. Guess what?'

'They sold it to pay for the Christmas dinner?'

'It was never received.'

'How can they tell?'

'They're adamant. I spoke to the administrative officer who registers the movement of all equipment. They're far more rigorous about it than we are. They have to be, remember, because they work with so many outside bodies. Some of the marine exploration equipment they use costs as much as our entire laboratory.'

'Where is this going?'

'What is more, they never requested this equipment.'

'In other words –'

'In other words, someone probably half-inched it and laid a false trail, relying on the fact that nobody follows up most of these items in any case.'

'Why would somebody do that?'

'I don't know,' Jean said. That's your department.'

'Jean, you're a wonder. You'd put Sherlock Holmes to shame. Take the rest of the day off.'

'It's four o'clock already,' said Jean, 'Having spent time sorting this out, I've still the post to do. But thanks for the thought.'

'And you,' said Tom thoughtfully. 'Thanks for the thought, Jean. Something's going on here. I'll get to the bottom of it.'

'Even if it means swimming into dirty water,' said Jean.

'That too. I really don't care, as long as the reason for the dirt becomes clear. I'll start by asking the technical staff. They're the ones who really know what goes on in this place.'

She smiled at him as she left. Her smile said, I know you, Tom Fortius. Something else will overtake you. You're too busy to concern yourself with every detail of what goes on in your department.

Chapter 10

'Weather's turned cold.'

'Super's boiling hot, though. That temporary transfer's arrived to replace Dave Berringham,' said Paul Morrison.

'How is he?' asked Bob Mander.

'The new guy? We haven't met yet.'

'Piss-ant! I meant Dave.'

'Dave? He was in intensive care for a while. But they've taken his appendix out. It was knackered. He's back on the ward now.'

'His missus will be relieved. Who's the replacement? Do I know him?'

'Her. An inspector on temporary duty, from out of county, just been appointed in this Force to chief inspector.'

'Did you say she?'

'Yep.'

'Old news. I've already met her at the dead pig fiasco,' said Mander.

Sergeant Brill was passing the doorway and looked in. 'By the way, you two bloody washerwomen, the incident room is now the murder investigation room, with DCI Winchester in charge.'

'When was that decided?'

'Don't ask me,' said Mander. 'I'm looking forward to a long weekend in my caravan at sunny Runswick Bay, watching frets rolling in off the North Sea.

Brill put both hands on the desk. 'Rumour has it that somebody leaned on Bradshaw and said this is how it's bloody gonna be. So I advise you to watch yourselves with her. She's probably got friends in even higher places than the bloody Masons.'

'That's not funny. You wanna be careful where you make that kind of remark,' said Mander.

'Yeah, watch Bradshaw's left trouser leg when he's next in. It's always at half mast,' said Morrison.

'Come to think of it, your handshake's a bit suspect, Morrison,' said Mander.

'See what you've missed. Serves you right for taking leave during a busy period. That woman eh?'

'Yes. What about it?'

'In this Station. With him?'

He motioned next door.

'Morrison!' Bradshaw bellowed from the adjacent office, as if on cue. Bradshaw's office was like himself, large and lean. It was almost bare of furniture apart from his own desk and chair, offering no place for the visitor to feel relaxed.

'Sir?'

'Bring me those expense claims, pronto.'

Any doubts about whether Bradshaw's intervention was coincidental were settled in the next minute. The Superintendent scrutinised each sheet of paper before signing it grudgingly. He leaned across the desk, rising slightly off his seat with his weight carried on his outstretched arms, palms down on its polished surface, like a spider about to leap forward on its prey. Morrison returned to the main office. Brill spoke slowly and deliberately to him:

'Now Superintendent Bradshaw has finished with you, I want to say I've heard quite enough about caravanning exploits to last me the rest of your possibly quite short career. I want this Station to be known for its efficient work, not for the quality of its caravanning holidays. Is that understood?'

'Yes, sir,' Morrison answered obediently.

'Get on then, man. And wash your mouth out. We've a woman DCI working in this Station and I want no more sodding language fouling this effing place up.'

'We've WPC's. Why the song and dance about this one?'

'Because she's new, because she's joining us temporarily so she's taking her impressions back to another Force, because she's a good bit higher in rank than you. Three reasons enough?'

'Definitely, sir.'

'So watch your bloody ps and qs. I'm off to lunch now. I want a full report on any developments as soon as I return.'

'Yes, sir.' Morrison looked round and there was Mander dancing a miniature jig behind Brill's back as he left the general office, mouthing 'This is bloody pot calling bloody kettle black, over and out.'

*  *  *

Detective Constables Andy Dobbs and Bob Livesey were in the locker room, coming on duty for the first time that week.

'Winchester,' said Livesey

'Rifle or cathedral?' Dobbs asked.

'Keep your witty remarks to yourself. Neither. It's her name. Christine Winchester.'

'I can tell you a bit about her,' said George Tenant, who'd come in to the room halfway through the conversation: 'I've heard she turned down accelerated promotion at one point. By coincidence, I think I've already met her.'

He wasn't put off by the 'Ooohs' this remark stimulated.

'At the scene of the dead pig fiasco, and in the car park at HQ. I helped her move some box files from her old office.'

'He's going to tell us he found out her back box files are seldom used.'

'You're a crude bastard. No wonder you never made it through the sergeant's exam.'

Tenant had unzipped his trousers to tuck in his shirt.

'Look at Mr bloody cocky, waving it about.'

'How is it other people know they've sent a woman to replace Dave Berringham and I don't.'

Tenant tapped the side of his nose. 'Not enough of this, lad. Keep your nose to her grindstone, eye on your balls.'

'You are a dirty bastard.'

'Fast mover, this lad.'

'Fancies his chances.'

'If it's the same one. I asked in the office afterwards and they gave me the gossip on her. Young, thirty-ish, extremely attractive, no current attachments, likes smart men and smart cars. First class degree from Oxford University so right out of your league.'

'Smart, high achiever. Sorry Andy, that rules you out as well,' said Bob.

'You'll have to do something about the rust on that old Vauxhall,' said Tenant.

'Shut it. Just because you're already smarming your way in with her, Georgie Porgie. Remember what happens when you kiss the girls.'

'Woah, guilty minds speak most.'

'Who said I'm even interested? I haven't got your one-track mind.'

*  *  *

It was three hours since the body had been found. Bradshaw was back in his office.

DC Morrison made a mistake. Mug of coffee in hand, he was peering out of the office window at a helicopter hovering over the streets to the rear of the car park.

'Ah, Morrison.' Bradshaw took a deep breath. 'Free and looking for something to occupy you?'

'Not exactly, sir.'

'A woman's body has been found.'

'Yes, sir. I know.'

Bradshaw rocked back on his heels. 'You know, sir?'

'Yes, sir.'

Bradshaw recovered quickly from his surprise. 'Bad news travels.'

'Sir.'

'Then you'll probably know she's thirty-ish. No ID yet. Suspected foul play.'

'No, sir.'

Bradshaw tried, and failed, not to let his satisfaction show.

'Is DCI Winchester on duty yet?'

'Haven't seen her, sir.'

'Phone headquarters. Ask them if they've any reports anywhere in the county in the last two weeks of bodies found in suspicious circumstances.'

'Who shall I report back to?' Morrison sensed the situation between Bradshaw and DCI Winchester was potential dynamite and had no wish to be around for any detonation.

'Sergeant Brill of course.'

'Sir.'

'On second thoughts …'

Morrison's hopes of being let off the hook were raised momentarily then dashed.

'… make that the last month or so. Don't just ring Forensics. They've a locum in place of our regular. Check with the undertakers as well. You can't be too careful. Another nail in the coffin of quality, eh?'

'Yes, sir.' Morrison turned towards the doorway of the general office. He showed no sign that he'd recognised any witticism buried in this remark. Constables Tenant and Morrison, sitting opposite each other, looked sideways at him and exchanged glances and shrugs. They were used to not understanding what Bradshaw was on about.