Morning followed too quickly, and forcing himself through his physio routine paid him back for all the recently misspent nights and missed mornings with pain on top of penitence. With all they had ahead of them, he wasn’t the only one to look less than cheerful as the morning meeting coalesced at 8:00 a.m., though it was good to see DCI Groombridge present. Stark had served under enough poor officers to cherish the good ones, and Groombridge was exemplary. One would like to think this might inure him from the potential fallout of Sinclair’s release, but the headsman’s axe was as callous as the battlefield bullet. Seeing his mannerisms and rhythms in Fran’s call to order and initial summations was little reassurance, and before she got into her stride, everyone’s day got a whole lot worse …
This can’t be happening again, thought Stark.
Deputy Assistant Commissioner Stevens barging in would, in itself, ruin any day, but on this particular day he brought on his heels Stark’s least favourite Detective Inspector, and quite the poorest officer he’d ever had the displeasure to serve under.
Stevens’ intent was clear before he said a word. And it was equally apparent from the look on both Groombridge and Fran’s faces, that this time they’d not been warned in advance.
‘Right,’ Stevens announced without preamble, ‘there hasn’t been time to disseminate this through the usual channels, so apologies for trampled toes …’ His tone was anything but apologetic. ‘But with DCI Groombridge facing investigation for the overturned conviction of Julian Sinclair,’ he continued, to palpable shock in his audience, ‘and no DI beneath him, I’ve asked DI Harper to step in once again until matters are concluded one way or another.’
‘Morning everyone,’ nodded Harper, a forced half-smile masking his discomfort. There was none of the brashness displayed when he’d last been forcibly inserted up the team’s fundament just a few months earlier. He’d left Royal Hill Station a year and a half ago for a regional post after failing his DI exam, frustrated and resentful, seeing both Fran and Stark as threats, but had obtained DI rank on his second try and then been temporarily seconded back here by Stevens, to disastrous result.
Only four people in this world, other than Harper himself, knew the depth to which his unprofessionalism might’ve triggered the bloodbath that concluded that case, and three of them were staring at him now. Harper only knew about Groombridge for sure, but he must surely guess there were more. Groombridge had asked Fran and Stark to keep it to themselves; the withheld ammunition he needed to quietly end Harper’s last secondment had to be kept dry. The fourth was Pensol. All four knew surreptitious threats by Harper may have helped tip an unstable suspect into mass murder. Lives had been lost; others, like Pensol’s, scarred.
Even if no one else in the station knew, enough suspected Harper as Stevens’ spy in the ranks for him to be universally unpopular. There were still enough freemasons in the force for it to be known that Stevens had sponsored Harper’s membership. Was Harper still so desperate for Groombridge’s office that he could overlook all that ill feeling, or was Stevens forcing him into this – the poisoned olive branch? The undeserving would be all the more in Stevens’ pocket for his bestowal of favour. How many people did he own thus? And how deep did his grudge go? Stark could hardly credit the senior officer’s gall. To be trying this again after it had blown up in his face last time, and with his own hands far from bloodless; to swan in here wielding the same blunt weapon …
‘Did I miss a memo?’ asked Superintendent Cox, entering at a brisk pace, tipped off about the DAC’s unannounced arrival. ‘Sir,’ he added with perfect timing to both cause offence and deny it. Stark might have been proud of him, were this whole situation not playing out like a slow-motion repeat car crash.
‘You did not,’ replied Stevens, with barely concealed disdain. ‘But I’m sure you will be just as pleased as your finest troops here, to welcome back DI Harper to be a firm hand at the tiller.’
Implying the ship was veering, or worse, listing. The only thing Stevens allegedly cared for almost as much as power, was his yacht. He probably had a captain’s hat with gold trim. And Stark hadn’t missed Stevens’ eyes lingering on him at the word troops.
Cox hardly blinked. ‘We’d most certainly welcome DI Harper’s help, and any other additional personnel that can be spared.’
Stark had to suppress a smile at Cox’s surprising backbone, though Groombridge had always insisted one was there, hidden beneath the moustache-puffing bluster.
Stevens’ crocodile smile tightened, but he was too wily to be dragged into any genuine commitment to deliver the resourses he’d promised only yesterday. ‘Right then, I’ll leave you in Owen’s capable hands. A word with both of you …’ he said to Cox and Groombridge, and stalked out of the room expecting them to scurry in his wake.
Groombridge followed, without haste, but Cox paused just long enough, staring at Harper, for Stark to wonder if Groombridge had shared Harper’s secret with a fifth person.
Harper waited until the senior men were out of the room before attempting another smile. ‘Surprise …!’
‘So the IPCC have decided to investigate?’ asked Cox.
‘It’s surely a matter of when, not if,’ replied Stevens.
‘But as it stands, your pronouncement downstairs seems premature, sir.’
Stevens shot him a sharp look. ‘I think it’s high time you got ahead of events rather than lagging abominably, don’t you? You will of course make your office available to DI Harper again,’ he added to Groombridge. ‘Appearances count. DI Harper needs the full respect of his team.’
‘Of course, sir,’ replied Groombridge, deadpan. ‘Respect is a fragile thing in this job.’
‘And with respect, sir,’ added Cox, ‘DS Millhaven is a DI in all but name and already has the respect of this team. For all DI Harper’s perceived qualities, he does not command the same. Surely at this delicate time –’
‘While I’m sure Millhaven is a capable enough sergeant,’ interrupted Stevens, ‘she is hardly less tainted by this shambles than DCI Groombridge here, no offence intended.’
Much taken, thought Groombridge. ‘Owen Harper was as much a part of that investigation as anyone.’
‘But not of its recent collapse. And even if Millhaven scrapes through her exam, we can hardly put someone like her in front of the cameras.’
‘Like her, how?’ asked Groombridge, more sharply than was wise. A short, mixed-race woman?
‘Hopelessly under-qualified and inexperienced,’ said Stevens, outwardly resenting the inference. ‘This case requires a commanding presence to face the press, and that cannot be any less than an actual inspector. The Commissioner’s office cannot ignore the concerns being voiced –’
‘Voiced by whom?’ interrupted Cox pointedly.
Stevens’ eyes narrowed. ‘There is understandable political pressure, and concerns over your office’s capability to clear up this mess.’
‘Capacity, sir, surely,’ replied Cox. ‘My team’s abilities are beyond reproach.’
‘Hardly,’ scoffed Stevens. ‘Legal Services are all over this like a rash. The IPCC will be right behind. And if your team doesn’t pull its damn socks up, the entire case may be taken from you.’ A grim threat. Cox would not survive such a vote of no confidence. Groombridge’s fate before the IPCC would be sealed. Greenwich Murder Squad would be in the crosshairs, and perhaps the whole station back in danger of being subsumed into its neighbour. Stevens would leverage this to resurrect his power-grab merger plans and bid for the next Deputy Commissioner slot.
‘The Sinclair conviction collapsed on a forensic technicality, nothing whatsoever to do with my officers,’ insisted Cox. He knew he was wasting his breath, but men like Stevens saw a man of his age still at station-level as a failure. Cox might yearn for one more promotion, but he was rightly proud of his patch and disliked threats.
‘Exposing an unforgivably weak investigative case,’ riposted Stevens icily. ‘You blew your only witness and failed to offer anything above coincidence and conjecture. And to make matters worse, you failed to keep Sinclair’s release under wraps and let someone shoot him. You’re a laughing stock. You’ve bungled this case from start to finish and I’m putting someone I can trust in to bat.’
Someone you can trust, thought Groombridge, and the rest of us can’t.