‘George! Come in!’ said the super, as if welcoming an old friend he hadn’t seen for years into his home for dinner.
Chief Superintendent Christopher Ellis was someone who found Cross perplexing, vexing and infuriating at the best of times. But being a numbers man and someone who was acutely aware of the need for the police to be perceived by the public, as well as by his superiors, as getting results, he appreciated that Cross was an invaluable asset who needed handling with care. His effusive politeness in this instance was familiar to Cross and indicated that the super was about to ask him to do something which, he already knew, Cross would be reluctant to do.
Carson was also in the meeting. Ellis never had meetings on his own since his recent promotion, Cross had noticed. He wondered whether having subordinate officers in the room was intended to remind everyone of Ellis’s superior rank or whether he just wanted witnesses to bear testimony at a later date to his version of what had taken place in the meeting. Ellis was a classic ‘cover your back, cc everyone on any email, create an electronic paper trail’ kind of operator. He spent so much time managing everyone’s perception of himself that Cross wondered how he ever had any time to do any actual police work.
‘So, this Campbell business. Do we really need this right now, at a point when the department is stretched badly enough as it is, I find myself asking?’ Ellis began.
‘Isn’t that a question you should be putting to DI Campbell?’ Cross asked.
‘Yes, but I thought I’d speak to you first. Wouldn’t it be best if this complaint wasn’t made at all?’ Ellis went on.
‘Again. Isn’t that something you should be putting to DI Campbell?’ Cross repeated.
‘We have and his position is that he is willing to withdraw the complaint.’
‘If the purpose of this meeting was to communicate that to me, surely it could have been done on the phone?’ Cross said.
‘It’s actually slightly more complicated than that. In order for Campbell to drop the complaint he needs an apology. From you.’
‘Then let him make the complaint. I have no intention of apologising for having to make up for the numerous shortfalls and mistakes in his investigations. Although to describe them as such is to push the dictionary definition of “investigation” into uncharted waters.’
‘You see, this is the problem. Your attitude, George,’ said Ellis.
‘The problem is his ineptitude, not my attitude,’ replied Cross.
‘He finds your tone disrespectful and rude.’
‘If he finds my tone disrespectful and rude he might care to remember how he and his colleagues treated me when we were junior officers together. Their treatment of me was more than disrespectful and rude, it was blatant abuse. Yet I never saw fit to complain.’
‘Those were different times,’ said Carson.
‘Which, as we know, is no excuse,’ said Cross.
‘No, of course not,’ said Ellis.
‘I will not apologise. He is a classic ipse-dixitist,’ said Cross.
Ellis laughed. ‘What is that when it’s at home?’
‘Someone prone to ipse-dixitism, whether at home or elsewhere,’ said Cross. He then realised from the ensuing silence that further elaboration was required. ‘It’s someone who is prone to making assertions without any factual evidence to support them,’ he added.
‘Well, thank you for the English lesson,’ said Ellis.
‘You’re welcome,’ Cross replied. ‘As for the complaint, I welcome it. The chances of it being upheld are minimal.’
‘The panel might not see it that way, and there’s always the question of how you’ll come across to them,’ said Ellis.
‘That won’t be a problem,’ Cross assured him.
‘How can you be so certain? Some people, well, Campbell being a prime example, find you difficult to read,’ said Ellis, as diplomatically as he could.
‘Because I won’t be attending the panel,’ said Cross, getting up.
‘Then you will be in breach of a direct order,’ said Ellis.
‘For which I’m sure I will be accorded the appropriate censure, which will, unlike this complaint, be fully justified, and which I will therefore happily accept.’ So saying, Cross left.
Ellis turned to Carson. ‘Did I actually dismiss him?’
‘You didn’t, sir,’ Carson replied.
Cross now reappeared at the door.
‘On another matter, sir, did you know a DCI Moffatt?’ Cross asked.
‘Esther Moffatt? Gosh, that’s going back a bit. Yes, I did. Why?’ Ellis asked.
‘I met her at the weekend.’
‘I didn’t know she was still alive,’ said the super.
‘She is,’ replied Cross, then, thinking about it, added, ‘Well, she was yesterday. Was she “good police”? I believe that is the expression.’
‘She was. “Little Miss Moffatt” she was called, inevitably, when she first joined. She was quiet. But then she proved a force to be reckoned with. You’d have liked her, George. “Esther the arrester”, she became known as. People thought she might be our first female chief constable, but she wasn’t interested in the politics of it all. Preferred to be on the ground,’ said Ellis, prompting Cross to turn and leave without a word.
Ellis turned to Carson.
‘You have to say, as far as his manners are concerned, that Campbell might have a point,’ Carson said.
‘Frankly, I think Campbell is the last person we should be taking any guidance from on what makes good manners. This is the police force, for God’s sake. When did we ever have to worry about good manners?’
And therein may lie the public’s perception of us, Carson found himself thinking.