There was a loud buzzing noise. The telephone. As Eve woke, the previous day’s events began to reload in her brain. She groggily opened her eyes, twisting her head to look at her arm. The bruise was there, now a darker, more violent violet. She looked over at the neon numbers of her bedside clock; it was already nearly lunchtime.
Eve was padding downstairs when the answer machine kicked in.
‘Hi, this is a message for Eve. It’s Deb. We’ve got some ISON footage you might like to take a look at, if you’re passing. We’re here all the time, as usual!’
Having reached the kitchen, Eve picked up the receiver, but Debs had already hung up. She tried to call back but the number was engaged.
Curious, she thought, as well as, I’d best spring into action, then. Her stomach rumbled, and she decided: but first, toast.
Womble had left the radio on, and the news was in full flow.
‘Dozens of students in Japan, including one Briton, have been hospitalised after taking an animal tranquillising drug. Said to be the result of “recreational misadventure”, there have been no such cases reported in the UK, but manufacturer AnimolPharm have announced that, as a precaution, they will recall all recent batches for further testing… Shadow MPs have demanded an enquiry after reports that the attacker in an attempted rape case was Turned, yet not taken into custody until he arrived at a police station to turn himself in. Meanwhile in other Purple news, the prime minister is said to be considering designated seating areas on public transport, with additional ISON monitoring, for those who’ve been Turned, plus a reduction in benefits for any Turned person who usually receives them. That was the news at one o’clock – your next bulletin is in an hour.’
It just gets madder and madder, Eve thought, reaching for a jar of marmalade and wondering what it could be that Debs wanted to show her.
As she left, Eve collected up the morning’s mail from the doormat, and was surprised to find a postcard addressed to her. It was from her mum.
Hi Eve,
Just a quick note about a couple of things.
Glad to hear you and Simon have been spending time together! I always wanted you two to get along.
Your dad’s doing well – such a good recovery. We thought we’d have a little family gathering – and we have an announcement!
Hope you’re having fun.
Love,
Mum
xx
That’ll be news that surprises no one, thought Eve, wondering, doubtfully, if it might be different this time. She tucked the postcard into her pocket and headed out the door.
There was a ripple of warm air, which caused the leaves to shimmy on the trees, and the shifty fox, paw aloft, swayed ever so slightly.
‘Afternoon,’ said Debs, clutching a glass and a tea towel.
Frankie was seated at the bar, drinking orange juice.
‘Hiya, Eve,’ he said.
Debs put down the glass and retrieved the portable ISON unit.
‘Simon thought you might like to see this.’
‘Simon?’
‘Yes. He knew of someone being Turned here, and said you’d probably like to see what the ISONs caught.’
Eve looked at Frankie.
‘Officially, I’m not here,’ he said. Then winked. ‘But Simon and your dad were in last night, and Simon came over to Deb, said he knew this bloke, and would we let you see the footage.’
‘But you don’t want me looking into this. What’s changed?’
‘He doesn’t agree with it.’
‘Deb!’
‘Well. He doesn’t. Of course, he doesn’t want to get into any grief, and he doesn’t want you getting any grief, but…’
‘It seems to be getting a bit out of hand. Turning people for minor offences that usually wouldn’t even warrant a caution. And the segregation thing Fletcher’s started talking about…’ Frankie shook his head. ‘I don’t know if you’ve carried on with your investigation…’ From the look he gave her, Eve could tell he guessed she had. ‘Or if you managed to dig anything up…’
‘Not much,’ said Eve, thinking, what if it had been Frankie who’d tipped someone off that she was looking into it? What if this change of heart was a bluff? Here was a chap who’d grown up in a staunchly pro-law-enforcement household, and followed in his dad’s footsteps, so would he really be willing to spill any beans – although she’d instinctively trusted him enough to ask him, hadn’t she?
‘Is there anything you can tell me?’
Frankie shifted on his bar stool. ‘Here’s a weird thing. Not everyone – police officers, that is – knows what’s going on. A few from our station were sent on a course, it wasn’t specified what for, before the initiative was announced. When they came back, they were vague about the training, casually dismissive about it, saying things like, you know how it is, they showed us a new way to fill in forms, ha ha. After the initiative became public, they had mostly patrol shifts, but wouldn’t come into the station before or after, which was odd. I mean, usually you’d at least come in to change into your uniform, you wouldn’t leave home in it.’
‘But if they were out and about Turning people, they’d be in plain clothes, wouldn’t they?’
‘Exactly, you’d surmise that. Now, when they’re at the station, they’ll be in the office, never out on the front desk.’
‘Do they go into the interviews with Turned people who come in?’
‘Never.’
‘Strange. Unless that’s in case they risk being recognised. Though people would expect it to be police officers doing the Turning, wouldn’t they, so hardly a surprise. What do they say about it? Do they talk about doing the Turning?’
‘Nope, they say nothing.’
‘Does your dad know anything?’
‘He’s heard rumours that apparently those who’ve had the training aren’t allowed to discuss any operational details even with each other.’
‘So one officer who was doing the Turning wouldn’t be able to say anything to another officer who was doing it?’
Frankie gave a nod. ‘All tied up in confidentiality agreements, he heard.’
‘So, if not all of you are doing the Turning, and those who are probably doing it aren’t talking about it, do you know how they’re doing it?’
‘No.’
‘That’s ridiculous! They must tell you.’
‘They haven’t.’
Could that really be true, Eve wondered?
‘Nor your dad?’
‘No. He’s fuming. After all my years of dedication to the force…’
‘It’s barmy,’ said Debs. ‘And don’t even get him started on officers being made to keep secrets from each other. He’s livid, isn’t he?’
‘Yep. They say it’s for security purposes, and our own safety. That if no one knows everything then we and the scheme are all more secure.’
‘Okay,’ said Eve. ‘So if the officers probably doing the Turning aren’t interviewing the folk who’ve been Turned, how do the officers doing the interviews know what to say?’
‘There’s footage of every incident.’
‘ISON footage?’
‘No, it’s at the wrong angle to be that. Looks more as though it was filmed by a bystander. Perhaps wall-mounted with remote access, though that would mean they’d need a lot of cameras, plus views would be restricted, and stilted.’
‘Does any of it show anyone being Turned?’
‘No. At least not that we get to see. And from doing the interviews, there’s a pretty uniform lag between any incident and when the Turning starts to occur. At least six hours, usually.’
Debs was busy scrolling through footage on the portable ISON screen.
‘Here we are,’ she said. ‘This is the guy Simon said has been Turned.’ She pointed to a man wearing a tracksuit with a stripe down each side.
‘What did he do?’
‘Head-butted a guy in the garden, broke his nose, apparently.’
‘And Simon knows him?’
‘I suppose so. He knew about him being Turned.’
‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ Eve murmured. ‘Did you see it happen, the fight?’
‘No. I don’t really remember seeing the guy,’ Debs said, looking at the screen with frowning concentration, like someone scanning mugshots, waiting for a face they recognised.
On the edge of the screen, a small dog wandered into view.
‘Wait,’ Debs said, ‘that must have been the night that dog ate a chocolate pudding. Yappy little thing, it was. The owner was hyperventilating about it eating chocolate. But then a bloke stepped in, said he was a vet. He took it outside, and thankfully somehow got the dog to…’ Debs mimed the dog retching.
‘A vet?’
‘Mm.’
‘Would you remember what he looked like?’
‘I don’t know. Possibly.’
Eve zipped forward, skimming the action – punters going back and forth to the bar, their faces to camera as they walked away, their speed dictated by how many drinks they were carrying and how refreshed they already were. A pair of women, arms linked, laughed and clinked glasses as they tottered back to their table, the sequins on their tops glinting against the lights; a sweet couple sneaked glances at one another as they waited to order, hands entwined; a man studiously balanced four drinks, before turning doubtfully to the bar and moving away again a moment later, now loaded with just three. And then, a familiar face. Eve squinted at the screen, wanting to be certain. She was pretty sure it was… Rory.
‘Was this him?’
Debs looked at the paused footage. ‘It could be,’ she said, pulling an indecisive, apologetic face. ‘I really don’t remember, I’m sorry. I was paying more attention to the owner, who was having a meltdown. Do you know this man, then? Would it help if it was him?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ said Eve. To Frankie, she said, ‘One more thing. Have you noticed any new bits of kit at the station? Needles or anything that could be used for Turning?’
‘I haven’t, no. Though they emptied an old stationery cupboard recently, put a new door on it, and now it’s like Fort Knox, so there’s obviously something in there…’
‘You don’t have access to it?’
‘Chance’d be a fine thing. What do you think, are you making sense of any of this?’
Cogs whirring, but playing it cool, Eve said, ‘I don’t know. I’ll mull it over, see if lightning strikes.’
Eve stepped outside, taking a seat on a bench and raising her face to the sun, thinking. After so many blazing hot days, the breeze was a welcome treat, and at this precise moment, hopefully fanning her overactive brain. She pictured a one-armed bandit, wheels spinning, then slowing, one by one: Ding! Cherries. Ding! More cherries. There was now just a single reel still whirling, but she was pretty sure who’d be able to help bring that final bunch of cherries into view.
Eve looked at her watch. Hopefully she could get to the surgery not long after it had closed. On her way to the bus stop, she hovered by a pay phone. Should she, shouldn’t she? Eve lifted the receiver and dialled Duncan’s number.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, it’s me. Look, I know you think we shouldn’t be seeing each other or speaking to each other or what have you, but I needed to talk to you.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’m sure the last thing you’d want to be talking about is the Purpleness, but as you know, I’ve been trying to work out how it’s happening. Bunsen Burner Bob—’
‘Who?’
‘You’d have met him at the pub, briefly. A friend of Womble’s, who had a theory about a tanning product that got pulled before it was supposed to come out.’
‘That doesn’t make any sense.’
‘I know, bear with me. I was trying to look into it, but in a secretive way because Frankie and Annie said to be careful—’
‘Annie Morris? Frankie the policeman?’
‘Yes, yes, but then I got approached by a bloke in the alley – that was just after we found out Womble had been asked to do the Turning—’
‘He was what?’
‘Don’t worry, he didn’t do it. Anyway, when the bloke threatened me—’
‘He threatened you? Did he hurt you?’
‘No, I’m fine, but then I knew something was up, and Bob had hit on something with his theory. And then Magnus—’
‘Magnus the campaigner, from the telly?’
‘Yup, he—’
‘You’ve been seeing that Magnus?’
‘Just the once. Well, twice, sort of. Why? Would you be—’
‘Jealous? Yes, I would actually.’
‘Well, it’s not like that. He’s married, for a start. Anyway, he asked Carla De Lora—’
‘The model?’
‘Wait, did you say you’d be jealous?’
‘Yes.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh… Where was I?’
‘Carla De Lora, the model.’
‘That’s the one, she was the spokesperson for the tanning product, and it turns out it’s injected!’
‘Injected? How? I don’t remember being injected.’
‘Mm… that bit I’m still working on, the dratted missing piece of the puzzle. But I think Rory—’
‘Did I meet him at the pub too?’
‘Yep. He works with Helena at the vet’s. And he just appeared in some ISON footage from a night a man was Turned.’
‘Okay…’
‘And he said he didn’t see anything, but I’ve a feeling he might know something about the night Drew was Turned.’
‘I don’t know who that is.’
‘Don’t worry, you don’t need to. Anyway, then I twigged that in many of the accounts by people who were Turned, they mentioned that there was someone with a dog.’
‘Lots of people have got dogs.’
‘Exactly! And you don’t pay any attention to them – they can be anywhere, unnoticed, they’re just walking a dog. It’s genius! If I’m right. Who knows, maybe I’m just loopy.’
‘So police officers are borrowing dogs and injecting people?’
‘Yes. No. Well, all sorts of people might be doing it, it seems. Anyway, that’s not the point of me telling you—’
‘It’s not?’
‘Well, actually it is. Because Rory is involved, I think. He has access to dogs, and people with dogs, which I’m sure is important. And he was at The Fox when this friend of Simon’s was Turned. And I think he’s the one who suggested Womble to be trained. He got all pally with Womble after the debate, and it was after that when the phone calls started. But I can’t tell Helena or Womble, because they’re friends with him, and what if I’m wrong?’
‘Quite.’
‘And if I tell Bob – well, he’s lovely, but overexcitable.’
‘Ah.’
‘I could tell Annie, or Magnus, but I’d like to be sure first.’
‘Of course.’
‘And I will tell Adio and Saffron.’
‘Good.’
‘But I, um, thought I’d tell you.’
‘I see.’
‘So here I am.’
‘Hello.’
‘Hi. So, I think Rory is involved in all this, I just need to find out for certain.’
‘Right. How?’
‘I’m not quite sure. I’m going to try and find him, and ask him. I’ll ring you when I know more.’
‘Eve?’
‘Yes?’
‘Be careful.’
‘Aren’t I always? Caution is my middle name.’
Eve hung up the phone, and muttered to herself: but time for a change, and all that.