Chapter Thirteen

The phone on Terry Bane’s desk started to ring. He tried to ignore it but the constant noise began to irritate him.

‘Terry Bane,’ he said in to the phone’s receiver.

‘Hi, Terry, great story, can we meet pal?’

‘When?’ Terry replied – he knew the voice.

‘The sooner the better… do you fancy a pint?’

‘Yeah, why not?’ Terry replied, smiling to himself. Things had not changed.

‘The Bidders Arms in, let’s say, an hour?’

‘Have one waiting for me, mate.’ There was no need for goodbyes.

Terry Bane was now a reporter. He worked for Thames News and had been doing the job for nearly five years. He had previously worked as a high-ranking detective at New Scotland Yard. Terry had decided to leave his job at The Yard soon after his wife left him. At the time, Terry had been involved in a murder case – a very high profile murder case. It had been the ever-building media pressure that dictated that the case needed solving quickly. Someone had to be brought to justice and therefore Terry had to commit to working long hours to catch the culprit. This, in turn, had put a strain on his marriage. The pressure had become too much for his wife to cope with, forcing her to make a break from the whole thing that was smothering her life. She couldn’t take it anymore and broke free.

She always knew that her husband did not have the luxury of a nine-to-five job. The constant phone calls in the middle of the night drove her crazy and they could never plan anything. Their lives seemed to become an ad-hoc existence.

Terry had taken the whole thing very badly. Once the case was solved and the killer caught, he resigned, though by then it was too late. This was another blow which struck him deep. He had lost his true love. It was this loss that pushed Terry over the edge; he began to drink excessively. He knew he was heading for the gutter if he did not pull himself together; a breakdown soon followed. With the help of his best friend and ex-colleague, James McFarland, Terry cleaned up his act and landed a job as a crime reporter at Thames Television. His background at The Yard had opened doors. He’d done the press a fair few favours in the past and it was time to call them in. Time had proved to be Terry’s best ally, time to heal his broken heart, though the deep scars still remained.

Terry now lived with his new girlfriend, Natalie, and was very content with his life. He knew that his friend wanted to talk about the Tinckerton Street Murder. During the next hour, Terry prepared himself for his meeting.

As Terry was getting ready to leave his desk, his phone rang. He was going to ignore it but something told him to pick it up. A copper at heart, he couldn’t ignore his gut feeling.

‘Terry Bane,’ he said in to the telephone’s receiver.

‘Hello, darling.’ It was Natalie.

‘Just on my way out to meet McFarland. Sorry sweetheart,’ he apologised.

‘Give James my love and I’ll see you tonight.’

‘OK, darling, sorry to have to cut and run like this.’

‘No worries. Say hi to James.’

‘I will. Gotta go… bye!’ With that, the conversation ended.

Terry knew, and had never allowed himself to forget, how lucky he was to have met Natalie. She always seemed to understand; never questioned him. She trusted him completely.

Terry had met McFarland at Hendon Police Training College a long time ago when they had both joined the force. They had sparked an instant friendship, buddying up almost immediately. They clicked; thought on the same wave length. They were then stationed together and preceded through the ranks at more or less the same speed. They knew each other inside out. Once McFarland had moved from CID to New Scotland Yard, the wagers were flying thick and fast as to how long it would be until Terry followed him.

McFarland openly admitted that it was never the same after Terry left. They had remained great friends; nothing was going to change that.

Even though past evidence had proved that they were a very effective team, they were very different in the way they carried out their investigations. Terry was logical and methodical whereas McFarland was the bull in a china shop, seemingly wild but usually right. It worked. Results were results, and they were both in the results business.

Upon arriving, Terry paused for a moment. His heart started to race, he had not set foot in this establishment for a very long time. He slowly made his way inside. The Bidders Arms was a nice cosy pub, mainly used by people who worked in law enforcement or who were attached to it in one way or another. Police informers, solicitors who had crossed over to the dark, murky side of society.

Terry glanced around. The place had not changed in the slightest. A couple of prostitutes giggled at Terry, one of them flashed her breasts. Terry simply looked away, not interested. A couple of unsavoury faces from the past stirred the acid in his stomach. Terry had acquired an overwhelming hatred for corruption within The Yard.

‘Terry… over here!’ a voice called from a table in a quiet corner of the bar.

Terry acknowledged it with a simple hand gesture. As he sat down to join his friend, he was handed a pint of lager.

‘Cheers,’ James McFarland smiled, with a hint of a Scottish accent.

‘Cheers. You’re losing that accent, mate.’

‘I know, I know,’ he smiled. ‘How’s Natalie?’

‘She’s as great as ever. She sends her love by the way.’

‘It’s been a long time, Terry.’

‘I know, too long. Listen, mate, I’m sorry for cutting myself off…’

‘Shut up you fool,’ McFarland interrupted. ‘We’re mates and, hey, I understand. It’s what you had to do. Listen, you went through a shit time. Getting away was the best move for you. It was the coming back to London that surprised me.’

‘I met Natalie, that’s why I came back. Oh, and not to mention the fact that I am a Londoner. I could never stay away from the smoke.’

‘Aye, it gets a hold on you after a while.’

‘Cheers McFarland,’ Terry said, raising his glass. ‘Now what’s this all about?’

‘As if you don’t know already.’

Terry looked at James McFarland. They knew each other better than anyone else, as if they were still playing their detective games.

‘Tinckerton Street,’ McFarland replied succinctly, confirming Terry’s suspicions.

‘What would you like to know?’

‘Who did it?’ McFarland laughed. ‘I’m only joking. What’s your gut telling you?’

‘Fuck me, how long you got?’ Terry smirked. ‘But my gut is telling me one thing.’

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s telling me to tell you that I’m not coming back to The Yard.’

‘Did I ask?’ the Scotsman laughed.

‘No you didn’t. But you don’t have to McFarland. I know you too well, mate. You’ve been sent to ask. I know how the wheels within wheels work. Don’t treat me like a fucking amateur.’

‘OK, OK. We need your experience. We are never going to solve this case with the fucking muppets that they’ve assigned. We don’t even know if she’s insane or not,’ McFarland had a passionate side to him. He cared about the public, even if most of them hated him for the career he had chosen.

‘Shit, shit, shit!’ Terry spat, showing that he was not impressed.

‘Calm down, Terry. I need you back on the team. You can lead from the rear. I’ll take the front.’

‘Natalie will have my balls. What about my day job?’

‘That’s taken care of, it’s been called a “leave of absence”, McFarland smiled.

‘This has come from the top and the people at Thames have been told – they have humbly agreed to our terms,’ McFarland smirked.

‘You sneaky bastard. I never had a choice did I?’ Terry smiled. ‘But I’ll only agree on my terms.’

‘And they are?’

‘You get another drink in.’

‘Fuck me, nothing’s changed there,’ McFarland joked.

‘Seriously though, mate…’ Terry added, leaning closer, ‘one, I’m not directly reportable to anyone, but you. Two, I’m there in an advisory capacity. McFarland, I can’t come back in full capacity – you understand… Natalie would worry. Mate, last time…’

McFarland smiled at him. ‘I know, I know. Your role would simply be neutral. No rank, no warrant badge, on no one’s payroll, reportable to me and no one else.’

They were so close that they could be themselves and they knew that if they pissed each other off, it would be forgotten five minutes later.

‘I’ll need to speak to Natalie first,’ Terry said. ‘Now tell me what you know.’

‘OK. A large, mutilated white male died from being hacked to death with a machete and was found at the scene. This is the strange bit, the victim had been hit on the shoulder once and twice on the head with what seems to be a hammer or something similar. This has not yet been recovered. Their baby… hold on, you know all this!’

‘So he was still alive before she started hacking him with the machete?’

‘Yes, it seems so. She has admitted to the murder but she is sticking to her story that a man in a black skintight suit made her do it.’

‘The baby was unharmed in the next room? I thought that was just what they had told the media, I didn’t think it was true. This is a strange one, McFarland.’ Terry seemed confused. ‘I think we need to find out her mental state before we proceed. If she has a clean bill of mental health, we should be asking why this guy in a black skintight suit made her kill her boyfriend and why he chose not to harm the child. Did he use the child to force her actions? Why didn’t he kill her boyfriend himself? Why didn’t he just kill all of them? Does he really exist?’ Terry was rambling now.

They both looked at each other, puzzled by what Terry had said.

‘Another drink?’ Terry asked, not bothering to wait for a reply. McFarland nodded anyway.

At the bar, Terry looked around; he was feeling a little uncomfortable. Ex-colleagues were looking at him, talking amongst themselves – though they all seemed too embarrassed to talk to him directly. The man behind the bar acted awkwardly. He even fumbled Terry’s change.

As he sat back down he took his mobile phone out of his pocket and began to dial. He waited for a response.

‘Natalie… Sweetheart…’

‘Hello darling,’ she replied.

‘You know what I’m going to say?’ he correctly assumed.

‘Yes I do,’ she replied, wearing a wry smile. ‘You know I’ll support you in whatever you decide, though I’m not going to lead a lonely life with you working all the hours.’

‘Clear as a whistle. I’ll help them with this and that’ll be it!’

‘Your choice, you have my full support though please remember what I’ve said,’ she had firmness in her voice.

‘Yes darling… thank you.’ He ended the call.

McFarland waited for Terry to speak first.

‘Did they have a landline phone?’

‘Aye they did. That’s another thing. Their landline is untouched. It worked perfectly. Normally that would have been ripped from its socket. That’s why I’m not convinced Terry.’

‘Or maybe the guy in the black suit was very confident. It’s all too… We need to fill in too many blanks.’ Terry shrugged his shoulders.

‘Now you see why I need you. Things don’t seem to add up.’

‘Nothing is as it first appears McFarland. You of all people should know that.’

The two men finished their drinks.

‘See you in the morning,’ McFarland said.

‘Are you picking me up?’

‘Yeah. By the way, only the top brass know about this.’

‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’

‘See you at your house in the morning then,’ McFarland confirmed gripping Terry’s hand firmly as he shook it.

***

As Terry walked back into the Thames Television offices, he was greeted with a whisper in his ear.

‘We’ll call it a career break, a leave of absence.’

Terry turned quickly to see who the comment belonged to.

‘Thanks Dave,’ Terry replied.

‘Solve it, mate. Hey, and call me when you’re ready come back,’ Dave said, with his voice still lowered.

‘I will and thanks again.’ The two men privately shook hands so as not to draw any attention.

Terry spent the rest of the afternoon at home going over what he knew. He was trying to look at all possibilities but without a proper look at the scene of crime, he was still blind. He sipped the scotch that he had previously poured himself and fell deep in to his thoughts, reminiscing about cases that he and McFarland had worked on together. They had never left a case unsolved. They were legends, solving the case was his focus and also his fear.

A bottle of champagne appeared from behind the door.

‘Congrats darling.’

‘We need to talk,’ Terry said with seriousness in his voice.

‘You’re covert, I know.’ There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

‘How did you know that?’

‘Come on darling, The Yard can’t be seen to have to beg an ex-one-of-their-own back to solve a case that has only just opened, it’s because they’ve not got a clue.’

‘Why didn’t I see that?’

‘You’re a man. Now are we going to drink this bubbly?’

‘Bloody right we are. Let’s order a curry, we’re celebrating!’

They continued their celebrations until the early hours, before they both decided that it was time they fell into bed.

***

Morning arrived unannounced. Terry’s head throbbed unforgivingly. Once Terry had shaken off the alcohol-induced cobwebs, he kissed Natalie. She was still in a sleep-like coma, completely unaware of her lover’s departure.

McFarland picked Terry up as promised and they headed for the scene of crime. They both separated once at Tinckerton Street, preferring to do their own investigating and pooling resources later. This had proved successful in solving past cases. Even though the crime scene was no longer fresh, Terry was still able to look at most of the important things. All the time he was taking notes, questions were popping up in his mind. He was also interested in reading Sharon’s statement, to see whether she was telling the truth. So many questions, he knew that he was going to have to interview her himself at some point, to freshen his investigation.

He noticed that there was a single partial footprint, though there was no pattern on the sole of whatever made the mark. He quickly snapped a picture with his digital camera.

‘Hold on a minute, sir,’ said an uniformed officer.

‘That’s OK officer, he’s with me,’ McFarland snapped at the uniformed officer, giving Terry the thumbs up.

Terry returned the gesture and continued. He could not understand where the hammer had disappeared to, that is if it was a hammer. He was going to have to wait to see the coroner’s report, whatever it was. Where was it now?

‘McFarland,’ Terry called.

‘Yes, mate, what is it?’

‘I’ve hit a dead-end. I’m going to have to see the girl’s statement. Have you received the coroner’s report yet?’ It was as though he had never been away.

‘I’ve been here with you so I’m not sure about the coroner’s report. I can get you a copy of her statement though.’ A plain expression covered his face.

‘What’s that smell?’ Terry enquired. They both looked at the uniformed officer.

‘What smell, sir?’ he answered uncomfortably.

‘Can you smell that?’ Terry asked.

‘No, sorry, sir,’ he replied plainly.

Terry continued sniffing, tiptoeing around like a basset hound, hoping that he would be able to pinpoint the smell.

‘Let’s go. I need to see the girl’s statement and check if the coroner’s report has come through,’ Terry instructed. ‘Thank you,’ Terry said to the uniformed officer.

The officer nodded politely.

Once the two men were outside, and out of earshot, Terry told McFarland what he required.

‘I’m not going back to the office McFarland. I don’t want anyone at The Yard knowing I’m on-board. I need you to e-mail me a copy of the girl’s statement to my private e-mail address, and a copy of the coroner’s report in the same e-mail would be nice.’ Terry gave a knowing smile.

‘Aye, that’s fine.’

Terry then told McFarland that once he was done at The Yard, he wanted him to go home and pick up his toothbrush.

‘You’ll be staying at mine tonight, mate,’ Terry told McFarland.

Terry also needed to clear all of this with Natalie, though he knew she would not mind. She would accept it as a one-off.

‘I’m going to have to talk to the girl, you know,’ Terry announced.

‘Not a problem. When?’

‘Tomorrow morning. You can clear it while you’re at The Yard.’

It was normal for Terry to take the lead; assume command. He was like a dog with a bone – the only difference was that Terry never buried his bones, he would gnaw them, until there was nothing left.

‘I’ll drop you off on the way,’ McFarland said.

‘OK,’ Terry replied, climbing in the passenger seat.

Terry checked the time – to his surprise, they had been at Tinckerton Street for just over two hours. The day was still young.

McFarland drove away as Terry put the key in his front door. He went straight into the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee, stuffing a handful of biscuits in his mouth during the process. He could not believe his luck when the phone rang. He tried to swallow the contents of his mouth and darted to the phone. He missed it. His mobile phone rang and he removed it from the inside pocket of his jacket and answered it. By this time his mouth was empty.

‘Hello.’

‘Hi darling, it’s Natalie.’

‘Hi darling. I’ve got a favour to ask.’

‘I can read you like a book, Terry,’ Natalie giggled.

‘Wait till I’ve asked. How do you know what the favour is?’

‘I know you, Terry Bane. Is James going to stay at ours, or are you staying at his?’

‘McFarland is staying here… if you’re OK with it?’

‘I know you’ve already told him, Terry,’ her giggles continued. ‘Listen, darling, I’ve had an idea. You’ve already invited James to stay tonight. And I know you’ll both be working on this case and downing copious amounts of booze. If I’m there, I’ll get in your way and be bored. So I’ve decided that I’ll give Mum a call and let you boys get on with whatever you get on with. I’ll spend a few days at Mum’s. That way I’ll be less of a distraction. I hope that’s OK.’

She knew that Terry would have to agree. She had done what she did best, she had taken a decision and then followed by asking the question as if to turn the tables – textbook Maggie Thatcher. Natalie knew that Terry admired Maggie, so would never disagree when she used Maggie’s negotiation techniques.

‘Great idea, thanks for being so understanding, sweetheart.’ Softness did not suit him.

‘I’ll call you,’ and with that she was gone.

Terry knew that his lady was not impressed and that she was only testing him.

He uncontrollably drifted back to his thoughts though he was never alone. His counsellor had taught him that.

Terry sat in silence, thinking that McFarland seemed to be taking a long time. Logging on to his laptop, Terry was able to watch the video footage broadcast by other news channels. Most of them were like-for-like. They gave him nothing new. Frustration was beginning to blur his train of thought. He started to prepare dinner, cooking made him feel relaxed and when he was relaxed, he could think more clearly.

Terry rarely watched the television. When he did, he mainly watched current affairs and the news, the rest of the world never interested him. It was Natalie who was a self-confessed soap addict. Terry found the soaps fascinating, though never enough to offer him the same escape as it seemed to offer the millions of other hooked viewers.

When he told Natalie stories of his detective days, he would insist that to be a successful detective you could not afford an imagination – it was removed once you had secured your promotion and discarded your blue-bottled uniform.

Terry had been productive with his culinary and his logical skills. As McFarland arrived, dinner was ready to be served.

‘Perfect timing,’ Terry said as he opened the front door.

‘Great, I’m starving. What is it?’ McFarland replied, trying to look in the kitchen.

‘Wait and see, you nosey bastard,’ Terry chuckled.

McFarland sat down in the living room and, as Terry finished serving up the food, Terry switched on the radio for any snippets of news that may filter through. They ate quietly; the sound of the radio could be heard in the background from the kitchen.

The two men cleared their plates as if they had not eaten for a week. Both men read as they ate. They read the pathologist’s report as well as going over Sharon’s sketchy statement.

‘I’ll wash, you dry,’ Terry suggested.

‘Let’s do it!’ McFarland replied, mimicking the movements of a commando in action.

‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Too much, they’ve managed to overlook too much,’ Terry answered, wearing a troubled look.

‘Tell me more.’

‘In a minute, let’s get this out of the way first, mate.’ McFarland did not reply. He knew when not to push Terry.

Once they had completed the task, both men returned to the living room. Terry collected two cans of beer on the way.

‘Cheers, now tell me more,’ McFarland said, making himself comfortable. It was going to be a long night.

‘Right, the victim was killed by being hacked to death by a machete. We know this because Sharon was still holding a machete when she was arrested,’ he paused, ‘and the only prints found on the machete belonged to her. The victim had suffered three blows from a blunt instrument, believed to be a hammer, one to his shoulder and two to his head. The pathologist confirms this in his report.’ He stopped to look at Sharon’s statement and to take a large swig of his beer. ‘OK, where is the hammer?’

‘Shit, you’re right. How did I miss that?’

‘Now, in her statement she mentions this guy in a black shiny suit.’

‘Yeah. Ha, ha, ha – out there I think,’ McFarland could not contain his emotions.

‘I don’t think she is, mate,’ Terry replied bluntly. ‘Who would make something like that up? Hold on; listen to my theory so far. Only one of the weapons used has been recovered. Sharon had not left the premises to dispose of the hammer because why only get rid of the hammer? If she had, she would have got rid of the machete at the same time. She has not denied that she actually did kill the victim. We need to get her state of mind checked out. I need to talk to her,’ he concluded.

‘Let’s see what the shrink says. She saw her this afternoon – last thing. I’ve told her to e-mail me the results. All my e-mails will be automatically forwarded to you whilst we’re working on this case Terry,’ McFarland said flatly.

‘Once this case is over, I’m off back to TV land, mate.’

‘We make a great team, Terry.’

‘I know we make a good team, mate. We might be chalk and cheese, but don’t think you can reel me back in because I’m a bit drunk, I won’t soften McFarland!’

‘We locked some evil fuckers up in our time, Terry.’

‘I don’t wanna talk about it.’

‘We only ever did our job!’

‘They didn’t teach us half the shit we got up to at Hendon, McFarland. Maybe you can block your mind off to it, but I can’t. There’s innocent people locked away, and we made sure they went down for something they didn’t do.’

‘Fucking hell, Terry, we only did what we had to – what we were ordered to do. We had no choice. We didn’t make those decisions, they came from above. I can’t believe you’re still carrying this guilt around, mate.’

‘My demons…mine and yours; remember, they’re mine and yours.’

‘I don’t feel any fucking guilt Terry; your demons are your own. Fucking move on – I have!’ McFarland growled. ‘Let go of your fucking excess baggage, Terry!’

‘What if I can’t?’

‘Terry, let it go, leave it in the past.’

‘Not this time, McFarland.’

‘You don’t think the girl did it, do you?’

‘No I don’t… well at least not on her own. Whoever aided her or…’ Terry paused, ‘or forced her actions, will be the only fucking arrest we make. Are we on the same page here McFarland?’ Terry said, gritting his teeth.

‘Clear cut Terry, fucking clear cut.’

The time seemed to have run away from them. Both suffering from too much alcohol intake and tiredness they said their goodnights and went to bed.