Jack Culverhouse sidled into Chief Constable Hawes’s office knowing damn well what the topic of conversation was going to be. The pressure had been growing for weeks, months, and he could sense that things were about to come to a head.
‘I’m in a very tricky situation, Jack,’ the Chief Constable said as he handed a glass of water across the desk to Culverhouse. ‘You and I both know your style is... unconventional. But it’s always got results. And while the operational decisions of the force have been down to me, that’s been fine. But I’m being leant on from above.’
‘So what you’re saying is the PCC doesn’t like me?’ Culverhouse asked, knowing the answer to the question before he’d even asked it.
Hawes chuckled and looked down into his glass. ‘The PCC doesn’t like anybody. You know how much this job has become focused around targets and numbers in recent years. Well that’s nothing compared to the PCC’s job. That’s all about numbers and targets. He has nothing else. And as far as he’s concerned, he’s authorised a huge amount of spending on this investigation and he’s got nothing except four dead bodies. And I don’t think I need to go into the whole thing about being the most underfunded—’
‘No, you don’t,’ Culverhouse interrupted. ‘What does he actually think goes through our minds exactly? That we’re just sat around eating doughnuts and not really caring if we catch the guy at all? That it really doesn’t matter to us, as long as he provides the budget?’
Hawes steepled his hands and leant back in his chair. ‘I really don’t know what he thinks. That’s the problem. All I know is that he’s seriously pushing for this “streamlining” initiative as he calls it. Bringing all of CID under one roof.’
‘Tell me one thing, sir. Why won’t he come down here and do this himself? Why’s he using you as his messenger? We never see hide nor hair of him. If you ask me, it sounds pretty cowardly.’
The Chief Constable raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘Don’t ask me. I’m not exactly happy about it either.’
‘So he can’t even have the balls to come down here and tell me he’s shuffling me into a backroom to suck Malcolm Pope’s cock?’
Hawes raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not entirely sure that’s on his list, but you never know. The PCC has his favourites, Jack. You and I aren’t two of them. And we’re certainly not doing ourselves any favours on this investigation. Between you and me, if we don’t get results — fast — then I don’t think you can count on being made SIO on any major cases in the future.’
For once, Culverhouse was speechless. As the most senior and experienced CID detective at Mildenheath, he’d been used to being the Senior Investigating Officer on any major cases in and around the town. He knew he was a big fish in a small pond and that the only reason he held the position he did was because of that. In a larger CID unit, he’d be shipped off as part of the old guard in no time at all. Modern policing didn’t treat men like Jack Culverhouse well, and it was his saving grace that Mildenheath was far from being at the forefront of modern policing.
Their unconventional setup and style hadn’t come at the expense of results, though. Mildenheath always got results and Jack Culverhouse always got results. That had kept Hawes happy. But since the PCC had come in, things were different. He’d been looking for a reason to replace Culverhouse and Hawes ever since day one, and this would provide him with the perfect opportunity.
‘And what happens to you if this all goes ahead?’ he asked the Chief Constable.
‘Who knows? Early retirement, probably. You don’t just preside as Chief Constable over a failed serial killer investigation and get away with it. It wouldn’t be my choice, either, really. The PCC can call on me to resign if he feels it’s in the best interests of the police force. And, let’s face it, I’d only need to put the wrong type of milk in his tea to fill that criteria.’
‘And me? I’ll be filing paperwork in an office somewhere, I presume.’
‘I doubt that, Jack. You wouldn’t stand for that. In most cases, he’d probably do that because that’d be his only option. So many officers these days are mercenaries who’d take that as a punishment of sorts. If the CID departments are merged, though, we’d have too many DCIs. At least one would have to be made redundant. Cost-cutting, they’d call it. And he knows that’d be the ultimate humiliation for you. Plenty would take the money and run, but he knows you don’t give a toss about money.’
‘I don’t give a toss about lots of things,’ Culverhouse replied. ‘But my job’s not one of them.’
The Chief Constable leant forward and nodded his head slowly. ‘Then you know what you have to do, Jack.’