As Kate opened the Manse front door to leave for work, Giles was standing on the step, patting his jacket pockets to check for keys. He was so grey and drained that Kate’s urgent questions died on her lips. She touched his arm. ‘Giles?’
‘Death-bed,’ he said briefly. ‘A child.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ She must wait, then. But then she thought of Danny and Dean – even of Tim, arguing with Maz about porridge – and changed her mind. ‘Look, I know this isn’t a good time to ask you this. But I’m going to anyway, because it involves other children.’ She stepped back into the house with him. ‘Alec and Derek say you’re the one who’ll have the records of the BB. Right?’
He nodded. ‘I suppose – yes, they’re in the files, somewhere. Why?’
‘I need to know who was in and who was running the BB about ten to twelve years ago.’
He shrugged off his jacket. ‘I’ll dig them out for you. But if you want quick answers, ask Paul – he’s got a wonderful memory.’
‘But he wouldn’t have been here then, surely.’
‘Oh, yes. He and Maz had been in this congregation years before I came on the scene. Brummies born and bred.’
‘But –’
‘We met and married years before I entered the ministry, remember. Up in Sunderland. Maz always wanted to come back to Birmingham. It was just a miracle that I was asked to take on the ministry here.’
‘And you did it wonderfully, love.’ Maz emerged from the kitchen, putting her arm round his waist.
Robin used to like Kate to do that. He’d grasp the hand and pull it tight.
Giles dotted a kiss on Maz’s forehead. ‘I was just saying, if Kate wants BB information, Paul’s her man. But I’ll dig out the files, Kate. For this evening. Is that coffee I smell?’
‘You couldn’t possibly do it now?’
His face tightened. Maz spoke for him. ‘He’ll do it as soon as he can, Kate – isn’t that good enough?’
Kate took a breath. ‘It may be so important I’ll come home from work to pick them up as soon as you’ve found them. You’ve got my number. I know I’m off the Richter scale for insensitivity, but please understand children’s lives could be at risk.’
‘Why don’t you simply ask Paul, if it’s so urgent?’
Maz’s question was reasonable. So why was it so impossible to answer?
‘I don’t want to involve anyone except you two. It’s as confidential as that.’
‘Come off it: you don’t expect Paul not to know about it? The BB’s his life.’
‘Maz, believe me, I’m not one for dramatic secrets. But at this moment, it’s imperative that this is kept quiet. I didn’t want to spell it out, but I’m going to have to. Someone has alleged that there may have been sexual – shall we call it malpractice? – in the Brigade some years ago. It may be a vicious rumour, in which case clearly no one should know about it. It may be the truth, in which case the first thing the perpetrator should know about it is my boss fingering his collar.’
Maz still glared, her mouth tight with anger. Giles covered his face.
‘Well before your time, Giles,’ Kate reminded him. ‘You can’t hold yourself responsible for things that happened then.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘But what if they were to recur?’
Kate pounced: ‘What makes you ask that?’
He shook his head. ‘Sorry. I’ve been up since two. No, I suppose I was just panicking – it’s what everyone in charge of young people dreads, isn’t it?’
Kate’s mobile phone chirruped. ‘Excuse me. Yes?’
‘Don’t know where you are, Power.’ Cope’s voice sounded strained. ‘But you’d better get your arse in fast. I seem to have picked up that bug. You’re in charge, woman – answerable to Superintendent Gordon. OK?’
Answerable to the Invisible Man, more like.
‘Sir!’ She took a breath. ‘I think I’ve found something important in the paedophile case, Sir. Can I press on?’
‘Do what you fucking want – oh, shit –’
Kate turned back to them. ‘I’ve got to go. I’m sorry to be so – so pressing. But believe me – those files could be a matter of life and death.’
Giles nodded: ‘D’you want to wait? As soon as I’ve had a coffee …’
‘Can’t you see he’s all in? A few more hours won’t make any difference, surely to goodness! Let him sleep a couple of hours before he turns the loft upside down!’
At least if she went in by bus she could sit and think, and God knew that she’d not move much more quickly in a car. And buses had the advantage of bus lanes.
She tried to pull together her ideas by jotting them down, but the bus bucked so much her writing would be illegible. And the man sitting next to her was peering at her hieroglyphics – it would be just her luck if he could read what she couldn’t. So she sat and stared ahead.
The question that most taxed her was why she didn’t want Paul involved. She’d no reason to believe he’d blab – but his tendency to excessive helpfulness could be a problem. Remember how he wanted to run the football training. And now he was busy sorting out her house. No, Paul would have to interfere – he couldn’t help it. And like the posters used to say, careless talk costs lives.
The person she most needed to talk to was Graham, of course. A sympathetic ear, ready with constructive suggestions. She couldn’t weep that Cope was stricken with the bug. Funny that it should be so much later than the others – it seemed to eliminate the canteen. And she must find out about Sally – hospital suggested complications. She felt cold. Not gynaecological complications, please. Colin – she hoped he’d be back. And then there was the matter of Selby and his Patience.
‘Graham!’ Her face must have shown her surprise and relief.
‘My office, please, DS Power. Now.’
She stared. His mouth was moving but the words didn’t make sense.
‘Now.’ He turned on his heel and strode off.
She had no option but to follow. She’d never heard him use that tone, not even the first time he summoned her that had been simple authority – this sounded like cold anger. Colin, back at his desk but still pale, raised exaggerated eyebrows. Selby clicked and dragged his mouse. She’d have to sort that out. She registered that Reg was looking serious, that there was no Sally.
The walk to his office seemed very long. The door was closed when she arrived. She tapped. Waited.
‘Come!’
She stood to attention in front of him, a naughty fourth-former. He was seated at his desk, and leaned forward, as if to spring across the desk at her. Then he stood, confronting her. ‘How dare you? How dare you?’
There was nothing to say, was there? Not until she knew how she’d offended.
‘I come back off sick leave to find this!’ He flicked an answerphone tape across the desk. ‘Keeping me informed, are you? Wanting my advice? Well, my advice is to keep our squad’s work within our squad and not go running to someone else to sort out our problems. Have you any idea how this will look to – to other people? What does it say about the way I organise things that I can’t re-deploy people if necessary? At very least you should have asked Cope.’
‘I did. The flea’s still in my ear.’ Perhaps a weak joke would remind him that they had a friendship growing.
It didn’t.
‘And little Ms Power can’t take no for an answer. Or, more likely, not no, but just wait until we can sort it. For goodness’ sake, you’re like a child of four wanting its ice cream now.’
She said nothing. She registered facts: he was white, the bruises ugly browns and yellows. The inflamed eye now looked simply bloodshot. She was shaking: there was distress, but also anger at the injustice of her treatment. Graham, of all people, behaving like a jealous schoolgirl. Why on earth wasn’t he simply welcoming what she’d done? It was no more than she’d done before – as a sergeant, she had the authority to ask other areas, other forces, indeed, for support.
He turned to the window, shoving his hands in his pockets. Then he withdrew them, folding his arms tightly across his chest.
There was no point in demeaning herself by offering what he’d see as excuses. And he was in the wrong, she was sure of it. Was it some sort of delayed shock? A row with his wife? Perhaps it hadn’t been the most tactful thing in the world to leave messages on his home answerphone. She waited a few moments, and left, closing the door very quietly.
However she tried to school her expression her face didn’t feel right. In any case, as long as she was waiting for the call from Giles, she couldn’t settle.
Reg looked across at her. ‘Ah, he has his moods, does the Gaffer. Just keep your head down and say nothing: he’ll be OK in a day or two.’
Her head was certainly down when Graham appeared, wanting to talk to Colin.
She pounced when the phone rang. Giles must have had time to sort out the files by now. But it was a personal call for Reg. He snapped down the phone at the caller and slammed down the hand-set.
She got up. It was one thing to be hurt dreadfully by someone’s temper – it was horribly like Robin’s when his wife had been on the phone – but another to let it get in the way of the job. If Giles’s sleepless night was no excuse for not searching for the files, how could she chicken out and not tell Graham about them? If he yelled, she’d just have to yell more loudly. She hung round in the corridor outside the office, waiting to intercept him.
He stopped short when he saw her. His mouth tightened.
‘Brayfield Road Baptist Church Boys’ Brigade may have had child abuse incidents about ten years ago,’ she said flatly.
‘What!’
She couldn’t tell whether his explosion was anger at her persistence or interest. He stared coldly for a moment, and then gestured with his head. His office. He closed the door behind them.
‘And it seems someone’s busily circulating dirty pictures now,’ she continued. ‘Which was how it started first time round. Photos, then rumours about one of the others interfering with kids at camp. My next-door-neighbour’s lad left the chapel round about that time – something happened he won’t talk about.’
He walked to his desk, sitting heavily. He gestured her to a chair. She chose the hard one.
‘This is stuff you’ve uncovered through your football coaching, is it?’
‘An adult told me – don’t worry, I haven’t muddied any waters by trying to talk to the children.’
He nodded. A grim smile softened the rigid line of his mouth. ‘At least that’s one thing you haven’t put your foot in. These things have to be handled with extreme care. One false move from us and we blow the case before it even gets to court.’
‘I was going to contact Gail this morning, Sir.’
He nodded. ‘What else have you done?’
‘I’ve asked Giles – you remember –’
‘Yes, the minister you’re staying with. Yes?’
‘I’ve asked him to dig out the records for that period. In fact, I’ve asked him to phone me as soon as he’s found them. I said I’d go and collect them.’
‘Anyone else involved?’
‘Maz, his wife. They wanted me to talk to Paul –’
‘You haven’t?’ he broke in. No, Paul wasn’t his favourite person.
She shook her head. ‘He’d muscle in, wouldn’t he? Has to be in the thick of things, Paul. Fingers in every available pie –’
‘– and a few others. Good. Will they be discreet – Giles and Maz?’
She hesitated. ‘I hope so. I laid on the need for confidentiality quite thick. But Maz and Paul are very close: she was offended that I wanted him kept out of it. I felt very bad – she and Giles have been so good to me.’
Graham nodded. He got up again, heading for the kettle. The water bottle was empty, the cups dirty. ‘Which will you tackle?’ he asked, managing a faint smile.
They were standing side by side waiting for the kettle to boil. ‘At least Reg Tanner and I seem to have escaped the bug – we ate out on Monday lunch-time. He showed me all his wedding photos.’
Graham nodded: ‘Sound bloke, Reg. Been a sergeant far too long. I gather Sally’s had a miscarriage, poor kid. She’s unlikely to be back before her notice runs out. There’s a new lass coming up soon. Keep an eye on her, will you, Kate? Any hint of any rough stuff – I want to know. Whoever’s involved. OK?’
She nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Anything else I should know?’
Selby? She didn’t want to snitch until she’d had one more go at him.
‘There is, isn’t there? Look, Kate, I’m running this show –’
‘I know. But I’ve started to deal with the – the issue. I’d like to see it through if I can. But if I can’t –’
‘OK.’ He dabbed his hand on the kettle. ‘This is taking a long time to boil. Don’t say it’s packed up.’
She picked up the trailing cable. ‘I think it helps if you put this end in a socket – Sir!’
Selby was going through files with a pencil when she returned; perhaps she’d been mistaken about his mouse activities earlier. She was glad she’d said nothing to Graham. She still couldn’t work out the reason for his over-reaction, his fury. It seemed so personal. Perhaps Colin could enlighten her. Not yet, though – she’d got to get an envelope started for poor Sally. She’d ask Reg if he’d mind organising it – he was the sort of kindly uncle figure to screw the maximum out of reluctant fists. OK, he’d probably be quite maudlin in his approach – but a bit of sentimentality in the matter of lost babies wasn’t inappropriate.
By eleven Giles still hadn’t phoned.
‘If he doesn’t get his finger out, we’ll turn up with a search warrant,’ Graham said, half sitting on her desk. ‘Can’t have him sitting on vital evidence.’
‘He’s a friend,’ Kate said.
‘OK. Well, you go round and offer to help. Collect the lot, if he hasn’t time to sort it out. We’ll sort it here.’
She nodded. ‘Now?’
‘Try ten minutes ago.’
It made sense to go back home first, to collect her car, just in case she did have to take the whole caboodle into the city centre. Now she came to think of it, she’d no idea how much was involved – a single file or a whole cabinet-full.
She looked in despair at the cars parked solidly along her street: it would take her five minutes to get out of her space. Not that the car was in front of her house. She’d no idea who that privilege was reserved for. Damn, there was a scar on her front bumper she hadn’t noticed before. She did a slow circuit – yes, now she came to look at it, there was a scar on each corner. None hers, she was sure of that. People parking by touch.
She might as well go and check on her post and answerphone now she was here. The door wasn’t dead-locked – Alf must be working.
‘You look as if you could do with a cup of tea!’ he greeted her. ‘Quite washed out, you look. Here – have a biscuit.’
She took one. ‘How’s things?’
‘Well, fine and dandy, once we get that surface. I been doing your security light. Just screwing down the floorboards now.’
‘Find any diamonds?’ She explained.
He looked awkward.
‘Alf?’
‘Did find summat,’ he said. ‘Not diamonds, though. Not – not very nice, really. I was going to put it on my next bonfire.’
‘What sort of thing?’
‘Don’t like to show it to a lady. Not nice at all.’
‘I’m not a lady, Alf. I’m a policewoman. We get to see lots of nasty things.’
He shook his head. ‘Fair turned my stomach.’ He burrowed in the back pocket of his overalls. ‘If you’re sure?’
‘Sure.’
He slammed a photograph on his saw-horse. ‘There. See what I mean?’