20

The following morning the team assembled at Serious. Wheeler was grinning from ear to ear. This was the part of her job she enjoyed the most - well, perhaps second only to biting someone’s head off - the congratulations and the acclaim that come after every successful arrest.

Kasper Buzowski was in a secure unit, receiving psychiatric care. He would be flown back to the States as soon as he was deemed fit to travel. Luka Buzowski was at the Railway Hotel - nowhere near as glamorous as his millionaire brother’s accommodation but better than a kick up the arse with a pointed shoe. He had spent several hours filling Wheeler in on what he knew of his family’s early history and now she was about to impart that to her team in a debriefing.

Lina’s doctor had been mistaken. She had not been carrying twins but triplets. The news had come as a terrible shock. The attendant nurse - Luka had tracked her down - confessed she had taken matters into her own hands. She told the cash-strapped mother that the third baby had died in its cot, when in reality she had sold him to an unscrupulous couple. Luka had tracked them down too. They said the boy had run away years ago and if they saw that nurse again, they’d demand a refund.

The trail had ended at the facility for the criminally insane. Kasper, following years of cruelty and abuse, had travelled across the States leaving a trail of corpses and mutilated farm animals in his wake. When Luka told him who he was, Kasper had stared. It was like being stared at by a doll, Luka said: the eyes lifeless and malevolent.

Luka’s visit spurred Kasper’s efforts to escape. With two guards dead, he got out and paid brother Luka a visit at the farm. Finding only Luka’s adoptive parents, he had killed them and burned their homestead to the ground. Then he’d set about tracking down his other, more famous brother, to take out the resentment he felt on him.

“He blamed his mother,” said Stevens.

“Haven’t you been fucking listening?” said Wheeler. “The mother thought he was dead. It was the nurse’s fault.”

“So why didn’t he kill the nurse?”

“Perhaps he would have, if we hadn’t stopped him.”

“Er... ” Brough raised a finger. “Oscar stopped him.”

“Either way,” Wheeler continued, “you don’t need to worry about the nurse. Harlan has sent his deputies to pick her up from her retirement home. Fuck knows how many unwanted babies she sold over the years.”

“Who’s Harlan?” said Pattimore.

Wheeler jerked her thumb at the white board behind her. “Sheriff Hardacre, to you.”

“Oh,” said Stevens, “The fat bastard.”

“Have some fucking respect, you bell end.”

The Serious team smirked. It looked like Wheeler had made a friend across the Atlantic.

“Um,” said Harry Henry. “What’s going to happen about the film?”

“I don’t give a shit,” said Wheeler.

“I can answer that one,” said Miller. “I was driving Bunny home last night and she got a phone call from the producers. It’s all off. They’re packing up and going home. The Hospital Corners film is no more.”

“Oh well, shit happens.” Wheeler was philosophical. Then she turned to Stevens. “Hang about; wasn’t this going to be your big break? Why aren’t you fucking off back to the States with your new bosses?”

Stevens turned red and looked away.

“Come on; let’s have it,” Wheeler persisted. “Did you talk to them? Did you go to them and have that chat?”

“Huh,” Stevens grunted. “They wanted a chat all right. They’d noticed my moves, all right. It turns out that tin of toffees I chucked was only rented. Rented and dented. They wanted me to pay for it. Tight-arsed bastards.”

The team roared with laughter despite Stevens’s instructions for them to shut up and fuck off.

“It’s Bunny I feel sorry for,” said Harry Henry when the merriment had abated a little. “I always used to watch her with my mum.”

“Oh, don’t worry about Bunny,” Miller dismissed his concern. “As I was driving her home, she had a second phone call. All the publicity over the film and the murders has renewed interest in the old television series. They’re releasing the lot on DVD - and Bunny’s been asked to do a whatsit, a commentary on every episode. That should keep her gainfully employed for years.”

“Will you keep in touch, do you think? You and your showbiz chum?” Pattimore asked Miller but he was looking at Brough.

“I don’t know,” said Miller, “I hope so. See her for drinks at Christmas or something. Only not sherry, please God!”

Everyone laughed. Except for Brough. He was grinning broadly, remembering his night of lovemaking with Oscar Buzz.

“Oi, bugger-lugs,” said Wheeler, nudging him out of his reverie. “I said first round’s on me.”

“Um,” Brough looked at his watch. He jumped up in horror. “Is that the time? Fuck, shit!”

“Are you coming to the pub?” Pattimore asked, with a hopeful look in his eye.

Brough shoved him aside and tore from the room.

“I guess not,” Pattimore was deflated. Stevens put a consolatory arm around his shoulder.

“Come on, fuck-faces,” said Wheeler, ushering them towards the exit. “We can drink his share and all.”