M. Arlidge - Liar Liar

‘I’m going to have to go now, but let me know how you get on.’

‘As I have it. Stay in touch, ok? No going AWOL on me.’

‘Absolutely, boss. Oh and one last thing…’ Emilia teased, a smile breaking out over her face.

‘Hold the front page for me, will you?’

Helen crouched over Charlie as the paramedics gave her the once over in the back of the ambulance. Charlie was insisting she didn’t need to go to hospital, but Helen wasn’t convinced. She had a large bruise rising on her chin, several more on her neck and, though she could walk and appeared compos mentis, her eyes had a strangely glazed look. She was still in shock – as she had every right to be, given what she’d just been through.

‘I’m ok,’ Charlie protested, as the medics shined a torch into her eyes. ‘I know it looks bad but, really, I’m fine.’

‘Let the medics be the judge of that,’ Helen replied calmly.

She had been in this position herself and she knew that one’s first instinct in these situations was denial, batting away concern while attempting to minimize the nature of the trauma you’d been through. It made sense – if you said it wasn’t that bad, then maybe it wasn’t – but it wasn’t rational or truthful. Charlie had been through a terrifying ordeal – she just wasn’t able to admit it to herself yet.

‘She has extensive bruising to the neck, though there’s no sign of fracture. Cuts to the back of the head, facial bruising and mild concussion, I would suggest. She’ll need several days’ bed rest at the very least.’

‘For God’s sake, I’ve said I’m fine,’ Charlie said angrily, trying to rise. But Helen stopped her with a gentle hand. She could see tears pricking Charlie’s defiant eyes now so, having thanked the paramedics for their work, asked them to give her five minutes alone with Charlie.

‘Honestly, boss, I’m…’ but Charlie didn’t have the energy or conviction to finish the sentence now that it was just her and Helen.

‘Listen to me, Charlie. I know Ford was your collar. I know you want to help. But I would be a terrible team leader if I didn’t ask you to heed the medics’ advice and step back from this. I know a few days in bed isn’t realistic, but I want you to stand down for today. I’ll get uniform to take you home. Freshen up, talk to Steve, get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning. Please don’t fight me on this one, Charlie. It’s for your own good.’

Charlie’s body was starting to shake now, as the fear and emotion of the day’s events started to register. She could have been killed today. That would take a while to sink in but when it did it would be hard to shake off. Charlie had responsibilities, loved ones who depended on her. The selfishness of life in a dangerous, front-line job was something you dealt with day after day, but it was hard when you had a nice family to go home to, when events forced you to confront the prospect of your own mortality. Helen didn’t really expect to see Charlie back tomorrow, but she had to offer her that carrot for now, to ensure that she did the right thing in going home to rest.

Charlie nodded gently but said nothing. Helen could tell she was trying not to sob and laid a gentle arm around her shoulder.

‘Don’t worry, Charlie. You made it.’

Charlie leant in closer, seeking Helen’s warmth and support. Helen squeezed her a little tighter in response. Then, having gestured to a uniformed officer to bring a car round, said:

‘Now go home and give that beautiful daughter of yours a big kiss.’

‘Tell me exactly what you said to her.’

Deborah Parks stared at her boss, refusing to be intimidated by his aggressive manner.

‘She’s an old friend and she asked me to talk to her off the record. She wanted some background info on certain members of the team, that’s all.’

‘Your team said you were away from duties for over an hour. You must have been in a very talkative mood.’

‘It wasn’t like that!’

‘So what was it like?’

Deborah squirmed in her seat, privately cursing whichever colleague of hers had dobbed her in. Adam Latham was a canny operator, very political and extremely sensitive about both his reputation and that of the Service. He actively encouraged internal gossip and whistleblowing, as long as the matters arising could be dealt with discreetly. He prided himself on being too smart to be duped and his little network of informers helped him justify that bold claim.

‘You left your designated work to sit down with Helen Grace and within the hour one of our own officers is in cuffs. One of your colleagues. What did you say to her?’

‘She asked me a direct question about Richard Ford. And I answered as honestly as I could.’

‘Saying what?’

‘That he was a good officer, but was socially isolated.’

‘And?’

‘And that he’d failed to make promotion.’

‘Jesus Christ.’

‘I couldn’t lie, Adam. She’s a Detective Inspector investigating a double murder and she asked me a direct question.’

‘And what would she have done if you’d refused? Arrested you?’

‘That’s hardly the point. I’m loyal to this place, of course I am, but someone is doing this and we all have a moral duty to help find out who.’

Adam Latham eyeballed Deborah silently, while chewing on his biro. She refused to blink, refused to bow her head in contrition – she had to front this out. But already she could feel the ground shifting beneath her feet. Latham was an old-fashioned guy who prized loyalty and solidarity above all things, and she knew that in talking to the ‘enemy’ she had committed a cardinal sin. There was only one way for Latham – his way – and Deborah knew that she would suffer for her close association with Helen Grace.

‘Grace is clutching at straws,’ Latham said suddenly, jolting Deborah out of her thoughts. ‘Time will show that. For now, we’ll take the line that Ford is just helping the police with their enquiries and that we fully expect him to be back at work protecting the people of Southampton in the very near future. I have talked to our press people and they are drafting a statement, which I expect everybody to read and follow to the letter. Is that clear?’

‘Of course.’

‘No more talking out of school. It’s time for the wagon train to circle, Deborah. If you get my drift.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good, that’s settled then. Now fuck off.’

It was said with such contempt that for a moment Deborah froze, uncertain if she had heard him correctly. But the way Latham ignored her presence, as he picked up the phone, left her in no doubt as to his opinion of her. She stood quickly and walked out and away down the corridor. With each step, her heart slid a little further into her boots. She had done nothing wrong, but she would be punished nevertheless. Latham would no doubt let it be known that she couldn’t be trusted, that she was a turncoat. Through no fault of her own, she would pay the price for somebody else’s crimes.

Helen stood quietly as Meredith Walker went about her work. The stove fire had been extinguished, but the claustrophobic attic room still reeked of smoke, rendering the atmosphere close and unpleasant. There were no windows or vents in this place, the open door was the only means of expelling the pungent smoke that danced around the naked bulb in this strange cocoon.

Emotions swirled through Helen as she took in the scene. Concern for Charlie, irritation at Emilia Garanita, whom she’d had to forcibly eject from the crime scene, but also disquiet at what she now saw. Every room in the house was packed to the rafters – Ford was clearly a hoarder – but the attic was different. This seemed to be a more ordered chaos, a kind of nerve centre, a shrine almost and the object of Ford’s worship was clear.