The phone became part of Cole’s dream.
“Guv, you better get over here.”
DS Peter Ward’s voice was vaguely familiar. “What’s happened?” “John Domey’s been on. Margaret hasn’t been home all night. He’s panicking. Rang the hospitals…”
“Give me half an hour. You better let the super know.”
“He’s already here, with the chief, and he’s not a happy chappy.” “Go on?”
“Nasty TA in the High Road. Fatality outside The British. Pedestrian was hit and dragged fifty yards. Took most of the night to pick up the pieces.”
A TA wasn’t going to bring out the super, never mind Chief Superintendent Marsh, so it had to be more than that and Margaret Domey was odds-on.
Cole hung up and checked his clock. Seven. He’d had three hours sleep. Self-inflicted, he knew, but the thought made things worse. On his way to the shower he banged on his guest’s door and heard a groan. In the mirror he faced his red eyes. Something had to give, the job, his liver, something… It felt like he’d taken a heavy boot in the side. He turned the shower to hot, until it hurt and took away the pain. It sobered him up, like it always did, as though the water was purifying. It washed away the corruption.
He was in the kitchen when Maynard appeared. Coffee was making noises and bursting bubbles. The therapist looked even worse than he did.
Maynard pulled a can of Diet Coke from the fridge. “Why the air raid siren? Tell me it’s the end of the world, at least?”
“Remember Margaret?”
“Margaret Thatcher’s twin sister? I’ll never forget her.”
“Remember Sam’s missing women, all but one pregnant?” “It’s coming back. Last night remains a little hazy.”
“Margaret Domey is pregnant and last night she didn’t come home.”
Maynard nodded and said quietly, “A sobering thought.”
Cole went on, “And she didn’t do a runner. That’s out of the question. So go through the possibilities: she’s ill, in hospital, she’s fallen through a crack in the pavement or she’s gone the way of these other women.”
Maynard’s features firmed up. “There’s a shed load of possibilities
– memory loss, disorientation, medication not taken, mental impairment, pre-natal depression and a whole bunch of psychological illnesses that aren’t necessarily obvious. Panic for one. Panic can send you to any place and reason won’t come into it. And then there’s the game of hide-and-seek: come and find me – I need some attention. Maybe she just wants some time to herself. It’s a bit early to speculate. But I do know what you mean. Most of it doesn’t fit the Margaret we know.”
“Let’s go and find her. I’ve had enough of this shit. Someone’s throwing bombs around, girls getting cut to bits, missing women. It’s time to take the gloves off.”
“Like the old days then?”
Cole levelled his gaze and nodded and in that moment the psychologist was glad that he was on Cole’s side.
Detective Superintendent Baxter’s features were set in concrete and carried the same shade of grey. He’d spent forty minutes on the top floor concentrating on the thin lips of Chief Superintendent Marsh as he weighed in with the gravity of the situation. Marsh’s deputy, Assistant Chief Superintendent Bob Deighton, involved in costeffective management, stood at the window, watching the crisp dawn break and wringing his hands at the sound of overtime. But he agreed with the chief that Margaret Domey was to be given top priority. She was, after all, part of the firm.
On his way to the office Baxter collected a coffee, left some of it in the corridor and, at the door of the incident room and with a sideways nod of the head, summoned Cole.
Settled behind his desk Baxter said, “You can tell the others that she wasn’t the most popular girl on site but Margaret is one of ours. She’s as good as on the job. Christmas has been cancelled. I know you’re busy but you’ve got to keep a close eye on Hinckley. Jack Wooderson…” He shook a downbeat head then more abrasively said, “And Sam isn’t going to win any inspirational awards, is he?” Cole knew what he meant but it wasn’t going to be easy. Coppers treated interference the same as anyone else.
Baxter went on, “We’ve got a dilemma here. No crime. Not even the suspicion of one. But we all know Margaret. She’s not going to take a hike. I’ll talk to John Domey and make sure everything’s OK. But you get Sam to pull his finger out and make sure that Jack knows the top floor’s looking over his shoulder. I want everything buttoned up, watertight. No one coming back to say we missed something.” “I’ve got Geoff Maynard here.”
Baxter had forgotten. His hesitation betrayed him. He nodded and said, “Let him loose. That’s what he’s here for. Let’s see what he comes up with. Officially, the assaults still take priority. Unofficially, one of our own is missing.”
Cole paused at the door. “Jack isn’t going to like it.”
Baxter stressed, “Frankly, I won’t lose any sleep about hurting Jack Wooderson’s feelings. Go and find Margaret. Whatever it takes. What you do best. Right? Just, be careful. In this day and age a loose cannon is not appreciated. This is a one-off, a rare gift, and it didn’t come from me. I want this little woman found, and quickly.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And Rick, one other thing. You should have followed up John Domey’s visit yesterday. That wasn’t good.”
Baxter stared through Cole’s vacant space, for a moment lost in thought. The day of the free-wheeler from C8 (The Flying Squad, Heavy Mob or Sweeney) and later C1 (Drug Squad) was long gone. Now it was about teamwork and conformity. Coppers like Cole had always been the villain’s biggest threat because they didn’t work by the book and they didn’t conform and that was the very thing that made them unpredictable and dangerous. In giving Cole a free hand the superintendent hoped he had made the right decision. He wasn’t convinced.
After introducing Maynard to the team Cole turned to the therapist and said, “This is PC Donna Fitzgerald and she’s going to look after you.” Donna flashed Cole a thoughtful look. It landed in a sensitive place and had him checking out her engagement ring. It was still there. She said, “We’re still looking for Jason. The uniforms are looking in all the likely places.”
Cole nodded and left them to it.
Although he would have preferred talking to Sam Butler direct he decided on protocol and called Jack Wooderson.
“Rick?”
“Hello, Jack.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Problem is right. I’ve decided not to transfer Anian.”
A moment’s hesitation, an antagonism that carried along the line, then, “What’s happened?”
“Margaret Domey’s gone missing, and she’s pregnant.”
“I heard. Is her pregnancy significant? Complications?”
“You didn’t know the others were pregnant?”
“The other women? Sam might have mentioned one of them was. I didn’t make the connection.”
Cole’s pause went on too long, a silent condemnation. Eventually he said, “Three out of the four, I believe. He should have mentioned it.”
“Too fucking right.”
“You better get your act together. The chief is making threatening noises.”
Another hesitation. This time it was the thought of Chief Superintendent Marsh that did it. Eventually Wooderson said, “I’m on it. I appreciate the call.” Cole struggled with the next one. “I might have been the last person to have talked to Margaret. She was in my office yesterday morning.
You better get Sam over here. The super is talking to John, her husband. He might have something to add.”
“Right. I’ll get things moving.”
Cole replaced the handset and unconsciously reached for a JPS.
Down the dead line Jack Wooderson put a call out for DS Sam Butler and before realizing what he’d done, he lit a Benson’s.
An hour later Sam Butler walked into Cole’s office. Without a doubt Jack Wooderson had carved a strip out of him and told him that Cole was the source.
“Sam, let’s not waste time. Jack’s spoken to you, that much is obvious. Margaret called in yesterday morning. It was nothing more than a social call. From here she was going to buy a cooking pan in the High Road. The Gallery. Know it?”
Butler nodded.
“As far as I know that’s the last we’ve seen of her. Check out the Gallery. Let’s establish whether she ever got there.”
“Right.”
At the door Butler hesitated.
Cole picked up on it and said, “I got you over here to explain why I had to bring Jack into the frame. I had no choice. The top floor is about to cave in on us.”
DS Butler took it in, shrugged weakly, and left the office.
In Superintendent Tony Baxter’s office John Domey was in tears. He was a slim fragile man. Baxter wondered how on earth he put up with Margaret.
“I know it’s difficult,” Baxter said. “But I’ve got to ask you this.
Are you and Margaret OK, with the baby coming? What I’m trying to ask and making a complete arse of it is whether there are any problems I should know about?”
Sleepless eyes blinked up in surprise and met the super’s gaze. “Everything is fine, Tony. But something terrible has happened. I know it.”
Baxter knew the feeling, the utter helplessness, the cold fingers that tightened around the chest until you could barely breath. He moved around the desk and placed a hand on John Domey’s shoulder. It was the best he could do.
“You’ve got to help us find her. Let’s start with her appointment at the hospital. Who was she going to see?”
It was touching noon when Cole walked into Hinckley nick and sensed the excitement. DS Butler and DC Stanford, flanked by Inspector Wooderson and a couple of PCs, were concentrating on a screen where an indexer’s fingers were just a blur on the keyboard. Wooderson saw Cole and mouthed a silent ‘yes’.
“What is it?”
Sam Butler kept his eyes glued to the screen as he said quietly, “This is it, Guv. Christmas!”
Anian Stanford looked up to meet Cole’s fleeting acknowledgment and smiled nervously.
Butler went on, “The owner of the Gallery, one Mr John Lawrence, also known as The Underground Slasher. Did eight of a fifteen. Released on parole in eighty-four.”
Cole’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. Why the hell hadn’t Sheerham picked it up on the slasher case? This previous would have made him a prime suspect for the assaults, certainly top of the list to be TIED. Coppers didn’t believe in coincidence. There had to be a catch. Wooderson put in, “I remember him. Went after pregnant women on the underground. Used a knife on their bellies. Slash and run was his trademark.”
Anian asked, “Murder?”
Butler glanced up from the screen. “No, look, GBH, attempted murder.”
Wooderson went on, “There were headlines in the papers. He killed the unborn child, two I seem to remember, so it should have been murder.”
“A psycho?”
“Are you joking? Personality defect, what else?”
“OK,” Cole calmed the situation. “Let’s have him in. Get a warrant and get a team into the shop. Sam, get hold of the original crime sheets. Let’s wrap this up quickly.”
Butler cut in sheepishly, “There’s something you should know, Guv.”
Cole said, “Go on?”
“Anian’s already made contact. We saw a painting at Ticker’s place and she followed it up.”
Incredulity touched Cole’s eyes before they turned very cold. He looked from Butler to Anian and back again. Eventually he said, “The Gallery?”
Butler nodded.
Jack Wooderson’s mouth dropped open, then anger tightened his lips.
Cole turned to the DC. “And?”
Anian felt the heat on her face and hoped it didn’t show. She said anxiously, “It was just a feeling, Guv, nothing more than that. He’s painting my picture. Just like he painted Helen Harrison.” Butler coughed.
She threw him a leave-it-out look.
Butler explained, “The painting of Helen Harrison was pretty revealing.”
Cole shook away a fleeting image of Helen Harrison and said, “Does he know you’re on the job?”
Anian shook her head.
“What’s he like?”
She sighed relief and answered, “A bit old-fashioned, a bit of a gentleman. He’d open a door for a lady.”
Wooderson muttered, “And slash her in the belly as she came through. Why didn’t I know about this?”
Anian said defensively, “It was off my own back, Guv.”
Wooderson responded quickly. “Then how did DS Butler know about it? Don’t pull the wool, Anian, you’re not good enough and, what’s more, you’re in deep enough already. And it’s bat, off my own bat, not fucking back!”
Butler cut in, “I didn’t know until this morning.”
Wooderson shook his head and brushed ash from his jacket sleeve. His anger was not without reason. The chief would never countenance the role that DC Stanford was playing. Ever since the Wimbledon Common set-up and the judge’s ruling, senior coppers had been having nightmares about entrapment and even now they were unsure where they stood.
Cole defused the situation and said to Anian, “Well, it seems like your hunch was right but you should have shared it. Going forward you’ll have no further contact. Cancel any future appointments. Tell him you’ve changed your mind.”
“Yes Sir.”
“And since you’ve made contact you stay out of the way. Let’s not compromise the situation further.” He turned to Wooderson and said stiffly, “Jack, I didn’t hear any of this. Did you?”
“No, I didn’t. And I don’t want to hear any more.” He addressed Butler direct. “You’ve put us all on the line. You better hope the chief doesn’t get wind of it.”
Anian insisted, “It was a personal contract, Guv, taken out before he was in the frame.”
Wooderson made a suitable noise.
Cole wasn’t convinced either, not by a long shot. DS Butler and DC Stanford had been playing a dangerous game. The DS should have kept Wooderson informed and he should have mentioned it to Cole earlier in the day when he was asked to follow up the chestnut cooking pot.
DS Butler was looking a little wary. He knew pretty well what was on Cole’s mind.
Cole wrapped it up. “OK, let’s get on with it.”
Anian glanced up again. Cole hoped the others didn’t notice the speculation in her eye.
In that moment, when other things became incidental, they heard a distant explosion. The report came on, rushing at them, rattling the windows. Alarm bells sounded, tyres screeched and the lights flickered.
An indexer jumped and fell off her chair. Butler ducked. DC Stanford and DI Cole didn’t move, still locked together by an unanswered question.
And Inspector Jack Wooderson said, “Fucking kids. I blame the single mothers!”