Quintin Jardine - A Rush of Blood

By that time she had known of her illness, and had been faced with a life-threatening judgement of her own: to carry on with her pregnancy until Stephanie was almost full term, or to have her delivered weeks early, on the edge of viability, so that she could have surgery. In the aftermath of Stevie’s death, she had taken the gamble, put the egg before the chicken and delayed her vital operation. Since the end of her follow-up treatment, her regular scans had been clear, and her consultant was smiling. Most of all, though, her baby was perfect, and every time she looked at her, she could see her father.

She shuddered, not only from the cold, and stepped towards the door entrance to the Divisional building. The door was pulled open before she reached it, by a veteran officer. ‘Good morning, ma’am,’ said PC Charlie Johnston, looking far more neat and tidy than she had ever seen him, ‘and welcome.’

‘Thank you, Constable,’ she said as she stepped inside, with a brief, formal nod, thinking, Bob was right. No more advance warning of visits.

Superintendent Mary Chambers, in uniform, was waiting for her in the public area. She repeated Johnston’s ‘Good morning ma’am’ in a voice loud enough to be heard by the sergeant and two constables who were standing, almost at attention, behind the counter. ‘Jesus,’ Steele asked herself, mentally, ‘when Bob Skinner walked in here unannounced in my time, what did he see?’

‘And to you, Superintendent,’ she replied, feeling that she wanted to loosen up, but knowing that she had to maintain the formality. Chambers half-turned, stretching out an arm as if to escort her. Just then, the door at the back of the public office swung open, and Neil McIlhenney stepped through, slipping a waxed cotton jacket over his suit. ‘Hi, Mags,’ he said with a cheery smile, and carried on his way.

Quickly, Steele headed in the direction from which he had come, leading the way upstairs, to what had been her office less than a year before. As she had expected, her former desk was neat; the files in the out-tray were stacked much higher than the in-tray. She hung her cap on the stand and slumped into a chair. ‘Bloody hell, Mary,’ she exclaimed, ‘I feel like a schools inspector.’

The superintendent laughed. ‘Want a coffee?’

‘Tea, if you have it.’

‘No problem.’

Steele watched as Chambers switched on her kettle, and found a mug and a tea bag as it came to the boil. ‘How goes?’ she asked, as Chambers finished brewing up.

‘Job or personal?’

‘Job.’ She took the mug as it was passed to her, handle first. ‘Thanks.’

‘Official report?’

‘No, I’d need that in print. Just you and me.’

‘Well, the highlight of my month is that Charlie Johnston’s two weeks off retiring. He’s a nice guy, but a throwback. He’s the original plodder after whom we’ve all come to be named, and he’s been filling in his time, drawing his pay and waiting for his pension from the day he joined the force.’

‘He’s reliable, though. He doesn’t make mistakes. His problem is that while he does everything by the book, he does it all very slowly.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Chambers grunted. ‘He seems to have an effect on time itself. If he’d boiled that kettle it would have taken ten minutes.’

Steele laughed. ‘True. Mind you he does have one virtue that you’ll miss. He knows everything. Nothing goes past Charlie, not a single fact, or piece of gossip, about what’s going on in the office. When I was here, if there was something that I couldn’t quite pin down, I always asked Charlie, and he always came up with an answer. Has he said what he’s going to do when he retires?’

‘He’s been talking about applying for a security job in one of the museums or art galleries.’

‘Tell him that I’ll give him a reference if he does. Tell him also that if he fancies the idea of being re-employed as a civilian clerk, he should give me a call and I’ll see what opportunities are available.’

‘What?’ the superintendent exclaimed. ‘Do you want the paper trail to grind to a halt?’

‘Alan Royston, the force media manager, has a vacancy. While Charlie has a nose for gossip, he never gives anything away. He might be a good guy to have mixing with journalists.’ She sipped her tea. ‘OK, Charlie’s departure’s the highlight. What about the rest?’

‘We’ve been quiet. There’s been an increase in call-outs for shoplifting, a by-product of the economic slump, I suppose, but otherwise we’re not over-stretched.’

‘Got everything you need?’

‘Apart from a new building, you mean? That apart, for the moment we’re fine.’ She paused. ‘Ach,’ she resumed, ‘I go on about this place, we all do, but it works. We do a decent job here, so we can go on with it for a while.’

‘Don’t be too quick to tell me that, or anyone else in the command corridor. Do that and you’ll stay a low investment priority. Complain, Mary, complain.’

Chambers smiled. ‘If you insist. Charlie Johnson says that the gents’ toilets are what he’ll miss least about this place.’

‘That’s a surprise; he’s spent a good part of his career in there. But act on it; ask the guys, and if they agree, drop me a memo. If we refurbish the gents’, the ladies’ will be done at the same time, automatically. From what I remember, they’re not too fresh either. Right,’ she said, ‘that’s what you need. Now, is there anything you want to ask me?’

She waited. ‘Well,’ the superintendent replied, finally, ‘there’s the job, this job, the one I’m in. I’m still only acting divisional commander, and I’m way down the list for promotion to chief super. What’s my situation?’

‘That’s with Brian Mackie and the boss, but do you want it permanently? You have the option of going back to CID.’

‘I’d be a spare wheel there, in this division at any rate. Becky Stallings may only be a DI, but she’s bloody good; besides, with the new structure, and her reporting to Neil McIlhenney, my old job doesn’t seem to be there any more. So for now, if there’s a chance, I’d like to stay here.’

‘In that case, I’ll fix it. You’re right in that I can’t swing an early promotion, but I’ll speak to the chief, and tell him I want you here.’

Chambers looked at her gratefully. ‘Thanks, Maggie. I appreciate that; I’ve been feeling in limbo lately, at work at any rate.’

Steele looked at her. ‘I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t believe it was best for all of us; you, me and the force.’ Her expression softened. ‘Going back to CID, how’s young Sauce getting on? He’s been an unofficial protégé of mine ever since he was the rawest of probationers, under the warm and comforting wing of PC Johnston.’ She shook her head. ‘I still can’t get over my predecessor putting a rookie at risk by sending him out with Charlie.’

‘From what I see, and hear, he’s doing bloody well. Jack McGurk told me the other day that the lad keeps him on his toes, and Jack’s a hard guy to please.’

‘That’s good to hear. It doesn’t surprise me, though; that kid’s got “high-flyer” written all over him.’ She grinned, then performed one of her trademark switches of subject. ‘You’ve been in limbo at work, you said. Should I read anything into that, away from the office?’

For a few moments, Mary Chambers’ plain square face took on an expression that might almost have been described as coy. ‘Well,’ she began, ‘you know my relationship broke up a wee while back?’

‘Yes, I was sorry to hear it. I thought it was pretty stable.’

The superintendent shrugged her shoulders. ‘It had run its course. It was mostly my fault. Cop’s disease; I got so wrapped up in the job that I was never really at home, and my other half finally got fed up with it and found other interests.’