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Authors: Gwendoline Butler

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‘When's Stella getting back?' Phoebe enquired.
‘Another week if I'm lucky, might go on a bit longer.' He smiled. ‘I hope sooner rather than later. I'm looking after Gus and the cat: I need help.'
‘I'd be glad to do anything I could, sir.'
‘I might take you up on that.'
The small clock on his desk chimed. The clock had been Stella's Christmas gift, or one of them as she was prodigal with presents, so that although Coffin hated the idea of a clock with a bell, he went on using it. He was beginning to find it useful to remind him of what he might be tempted to forget or pretend he had forgotten, a device he was not above using. In his office outside he had two secretaries both too tactful to remind him of appointments too obviously. He had them well trained.
Gus, the white peke, stood still as if he knew what the bell meant.
‘Go back,' said Coffin. ‘Not time for your walk yet.'
‘I'll take him, if you like. He knows me.'
Gus gave a small movement of his tail. Yes, it said, he knew her. He stood up hopefully. Phoebe stood up too.
‘I'll give you his lead. Don't let him off however much he
asks because he runs off. Last time he got in a laundry van and had to be brought back from Greenwich.'
Gus was hooked up and ready to go when the telephone rang. ‘Hang on a moment, Phoebe.'
Gus and Phoebe stood by the door, both listening while pretending not to. Not much good being a detective, Phoebe had always thought, if you can't listen to other people's conversations when you want to.
‘Yes, Paul. Put him through. Miller? Yes, I did say that I wanted to know at once of any thing vital …' He listened, his face serious and intent. ‘This is the body that just turned up. On Pilling Common?'
Pilling Common sounded romantic and rustic, as it may have been before being swallowed up by factories and docks. Even the docks were disused now and the factories empty. The whole district was being redeveloped into flats and offices, which would all be expensive and smart. A small remnant of what had once been open space deserving of the name of a piece of common ground was still there as a municipal park.
‘Right, Miller, thank you for telling me. Keep me in touch.' He looked at Phoebe and Gus, hardly seeing them.
‘Something happened?' asked Phoebe.
‘I wanted to be kept informed. That was Superintendant Jack Miller doing just that.'
Coffin liked to be involved in the serious cases, more so than perhaps he should have done, but you couldn't kill the detective in him. Most of the CID officers accepted this, gratefully in some cases, less so in other. Jack Miller was one of the less grateful.
‘I won't interfere,' said Coffin, thoughtfully and aloud.
Phoebe knew he would, and that they'd be grateful if he did. So, he might miss a committee or two in London that he was meant to be at, but the Second City would be the better for it.
‘The new girl,' he said. ‘The new victim, she was only a girl,
strangled and raped, no semen, must have used a condom, every detail just the same. But a bit extra this time: she was cut open … '
‘Nasty.' Phoebe could feel Gus settle himself across her feet. It was his way of telling her to get a move on.
‘The Ripper was like that … got more and more to enjoy the sensation of cutting into flesh.'
‘I suppose it's pleasure,' Phoebe said doubtfully.
‘Not what you and I would call pleasure … but an excitement, a glow … the knife was sharp enough to cut through the flesh and muscle but blunt enough to drag at it.'
‘Is that what Jack Miller said?' Sounded too vivid for him.
Coffin gave her a half smile. ‘He just gave me the idea.' He bent down to pat Gus. ‘We've got to get him.'
‘Before he gets really nasty?'
Another smile. ‘Bloody old world, isn't it? All young women … just out walking. One of them even had her dog with her.'
He looked down at his own small dog, asleep on his feet.
‘How's Stella?' asked Phoebe. She knew that Lady Pinero had been very busy with the scholarship auditions she had been holding through which the chosen candidate would get offered training as well as a part.
‘One lucky lad is chosen.'
‘And her new theatre?'
‘Well, the auditioning and so on has brought her the publicity she hoped for, and now she has to face the actual building work.' He smiled affectionately.
‘And that's on the way?'
‘Starts very soon.'
The phone rang, and this time it was what Phoebe knew to be his private line. ‘Stella? Lovely to hear your voice. How are you? Oh good. How is the work going?' He smiled, so work was going well. ‘A box … Do you want me to collect it? …Yes sure, of course. I'll take the dog and walk round there. What do you want me to do with it … Right.'
He hung up and turned to Phoebe. ‘She's had a message to say that a parcel is waiting for her in St Luke's Tower. She thinks it's some new makeup she ordered … Doesn't want it sitting in the sun.'
‘Might get nicked' Phoebe said. ‘Can't I collect it for you and bring it back here with Gus?
Coffin considered.
‘I'd like the walk with the dog … while I think over this paedophile case you want me into.'
‘Well in,' said Coffin, making it almost a command. ‘That's what it needs, Joe and Mercy have been floating the surface a bit.'
‘I suppose Joe wasn't fit. And Mercy had a row with that doctor she's been seeing.'
‘Make them more determined to get the perpetrators. Keener.'
‘But frightened too.'
Coffin was silent. Then he said: ‘No names have been mentioned in the press or on TV. Joe and Mercy have not been mentioned.'
‘No,' said Phoebe.
More silence. Coffin took a deep breath. ‘I won't pretend I don't know what you are getting at. Or that I have not considered it.'
Phoebe waited.
‘The paedophile group may contain one or more people I know.'
‘And who work with … us.'
‘Possibly a member or members of the Second City Force.' said Coffin. ‘And Joe and Mercy will have sensed this. That's about it, isn't it?'
Phoebe nodded. ‘Yes.'
‘Well, I agree with you. And it's one of the reasons I have asked you to take charge. How does that make you feel?'
Phoebe took a deep breath. ‘That I want to get on with it,
sir.' She looked down at the dog, ‘Come on, Gus, we'll take that walk.'
On the stairs in the theatre she passed a tall, thin youth who was, although she did not know it, Andrew Eliot, the lad who had won Stella's prize audition and who would be working in Spinnerwick. He bowed and smiled at Phoebe, who smiled back. She liked good looking youths. Andrew was doing secretarial work at the police station to earn money for a nose job, to make him even more good looking for his acting career.
As she set out with Gus, trotting cheerfully in front as if ready to walk miles (although she knew from past experience, he would soon be looking up and saying he couldn't walk another step and now could she carry him), her thoughts were not focused on the dog.
She wondered how Mercy would take her arrival in charge. Mercy, polite and friendly as she was, had the reputation of protecting her own territory.
And then there was the matter of her love affair. Since her divorce Mercy could be tricky. Phoebe had never been quite sure if Mercy was divorced or widowed. Both was her secret opinion: divorced then remarried and widowed. She certainly had a taste for men.
Joe had surely declared his position by falling ill. All right, he didn't invent it, who would, but she knew Joe well enough to guess that in the normal way he would have carried on working if at all possible.
Phoebe went up to her small office on the third floor. Would she still be working from there when she got into the paedophiles? Probably not. A bigger office would be necessary, but she would be back here, it was the nearest place to her working home since she had left Birmingham.
She rang Mercy, with Gus sitting on her feet, looking hurt. Where was that walk? ‘Mercy?'
‘Oh hello. So you're taking over?' Her voice was brisk and Phoebe had known it friendlier.
‘Working
with
you,' said Phoebe, ‘that's more the way of it. I didn't get a lot of choice, you don't with the Chief Commander when he's made a decision.'
Mercy knew it. ‘It's not a nice piece of cake, you know.'
‘Then we needn't eat it like that, need we?'
Mercy laughed and relaxed. ‘No, sure. Well, there you are, we do it together.'
‘How's Joe?' Phoebe asked.
‘Not too bad. Turns out he hasn't got leukaemia, the symptoms looked right but when they did some tests, it wasn't. But he's got to rest.' She added, a shade wistfully: ‘He's out of hospital. Home, being cherished.' At least, she thought that was what it was.
Taking a month or so off, thought Phoebe, she couldn't blame him. ‘How are you feeling?'
Mercy did not pretend not to understand. ‘I expect to keep well. I've sent my son to Fife to stay with family. I think with two brothers who are into judo, not to mention two guard dogs, he will be safe enough.'
‘Right.' Phoebe looked down at Gus. And I haven't even got a cat or dog to worry about. Another reason why I got chosen. Perhaps she could get a cat. Or later on, even have a baby. People did, you weren't obliged to have a father, although it was probably nicer, just a little bit of semen. But she could no doubt manage the father if she gave her mind to it. Jokey speculation like that always cheered her up.
‘What sort of mood is the Lord High Executioner in? Approachable?' Mercy wanted to know.
‘He's always approachable, isn't he?'
‘Well, yes,' said Mercy'
‘Sometimes more so. Stella's away, he can be edgy. He's jealous, you see.'
‘No!'
‘Of course, she's an attractive woman, and it's her job to let people see it. I'm jealous myself sometimes.'
‘I never know whether to believe you or not.'
Phoebe laughed.
‘Anyway, I want to see him, need to see him, and I hope he will listen to me.'
‘Try him and see, 'Phoebe advised.
‘Yeah, might do that.'
‘I'll be back.' said Phoebe. ‘And we'll mop up this paedophile outfit, I'm determined. May be only a small group. Even a one man band, feels to me like that.' And then she was determined she would be transferred to the Stalker investigation.
Phoebe said goodbye to Mercy and then she and Gus trotted off together; Phoebe feeling more cheerful and Gus more determined to get his walk.
On the way, she saw Mercy, also on her way somewhere … ‘Hi.'
‘As we're soon going to be working together,' Mercy said, ‘we'll have to get used to meeting.' She sounded only half pleased at the prospect. ‘There's a room for you to work in been found.'
‘What's in it?'
‘It hasn't been opened yet. Waiting for you, I think …Joke. This is a bloody difficult case.'
Mercy did not know for sure as yet who was going to be in charge now Joe was off. She wanted the job, but Phoebe outranked her. And in fact she had a strong feeling that she was going to be on the outskirts of this case. One of those CID officers who is occasionally seen but seldom heard. A disappearing act which somehow wins promotion. If Phoebe sought to be transferred to the Stalker outfit, then no doubt she would be, Mercy thought.
Anyway, a call on the Chief Commander might settle her mind.
 
Even as tolerant and polite a Chief Commander as John Coffin (who well remembered his own humbler days) could
not be seen without a preliminary talk with Paul Masters who ‘kept the book' as he liked to describe it.
He had a desk in one corner of the big room with two acolytes of either sex (one no longer called them secretaries) at their computers and various other electronic aids on longish tables.
Paul had run in the London Marathon once, he and Mercy had trained together and Mercy had got through while he had had to drop out. An experience like that gives you respect for the other person. Liking too in this case, because Mercy had never once made a joke of him. Never even mentioned it, so most of his colleagues, who would certainly have referred more than once to Drop Out Paul, never knew of it.

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