Peter Helton - Falling More Slowly

The noise level coming from the lobby was alarming for this time of day. When he let himself in through the security door he could see why no one had answered the phone. Down here at least two phones were ringing incessantly. Everyone was arguing loudly with someone. The place looked more like a bad Saturday night than mid-afternoon on a weekday. Two half-naked drunks were being noisily processed. One of them was being restrained by two PCs while he screamed abuse at Tony Hayes, the desk officer. The other drunk who, judging by the state of his rancid trainers, was the author of a pool of vomit on the floor, gave slurred support to his friend. ‘Too fuckin’ right, Bobby … they’ve no right … you fuckin’ said it.’ Two officers were waiting to check in their customers, two girls arrested for shoplifting. Repeat offenders, scrawny smack heads who whined with hard flat voices that grated in McLusky’s ears. Their hair was thin, their skin pale and slack. A middle-aged black woman wearing an ensemble of Day-Glo clothes stood under the noticeboard, talking loudly to herself in impenetrable angry patois while treading from one foot to another like a child needing the toilet. An elderly Asian couple walked into the lobby. Both said something that to McLusky’s lip-reading skills looked like ‘Oh dear’ and walked straight out again. The drunk and disorderly would sober up in the cells, the shoplifters would be processed and eventually released back on to the streets. Having been relieved of the stolen goods the girls would of course have to commit some crime as soon as possible. If the shops were shut by then they would have to mug someone to get the money for gear or else they’d smash their way into a car to find stuff to sell. Meanwhile politicians congratulated themselves if the price of heroin went up because of Customs and Excise seizures. They imagined it a success while all it meant was volume crime had to rise with it to match the escalating price. But the price of heroin was still shockingly low compared to a night out at a club.

Addiction … He craved another cigarette. For McLusky an air of futility seemed to rise from the vomit-and dirt-covered floor. Here were six police officers who would spend hours dealing with four teenagers who had made drugs and alcohol the centre of their universe; a universe so tiny there was no room left inside for anyone but themselves. The screaming bloke was handcuffed now and got tired of struggling but kept up the verbal with moronic repetitiveness. Tony Hayes, who had been abused by experts during his many years in the job, showed no sign of strain, though he briefly raised one eyebrow when one of the girls shut up long enough to spit in his direction. Tony Hayes liked a clean lobby. Tony Hayes was also wearing his stabbie as a matter of course, ever since an irate customer had vaulted the desk and attacked him with a sharpened screwdriver last summer. McLusky let himself into the relative security of the area behind the desk. Hayes acknowledged him but kept his concentration on logging the details of the drunk. McLusky looked around, spotted a likely-looking carrier bag with a yellow post-it sticker on one of the desks and grabbed it.

‘I meant to send them up as soon as I had a minute.’ Hayes spoke without turning around, having excellent hearing as well as eyes at the back of his head.

The bag was suspiciously light. ‘There’s not a lot here.’

‘That’s all that came, sir.’

Back upstairs McLusky found a DVR and monitor in the CID room. It was quiet, most officers being out for a change, chasing something. Austin was there chewing a cheap biro into oblivion in front of his computer. McLusky loaded the footage. There was none from the gym. He complained about it to Austin.

‘There wouldn’t be, the system’s not switched on during the day.’

All that had come was CCTV from the Council House car park. Footage of the whole day was there but for the moment he was only interested in that covering the time and area of Maxine Bendick’s approximate arrival. The image was in black and white and a time counter ran at the bottom right, accurate to one tenth of a second. Once he knew what he was looking at he could safely fast-forward until the car whizzed into view, then he rewound and pressed play. The Mini came into the picture on the bottom left, speeded up and slotted neatly into the space in one movement. At this moment there were no people and no other moving cars visible. All the spaces at this end were taken now. After only the shortest interval Maxine Bendick got out of the car. He paused the tape. So that’s what she looked like. He mentally corrected himself: this is what she had looked like, before half her face was burnt off. He released the flow of the image. The woman sprang to life again, retrieved her bag from the passenger seat then pointed her key, which was answered by a silent flash of the car lights. She walked off briskly through the rain. An undamaged, unburnt Maxine, untouched by the madness, walked into the wilderness without noticing it. The car park was on a slight slope. The picture angle was a little awkward but adequate, looking across from the top of one of the high lamp-posts. Maxine was making her way towards the edge of the picture which only showed a narrow strip of pavement. A couple, man and woman, appeared from that direction. He would later follow their movements and, if they walked to a car, try and identify it and trace them. Maxine speeded up now and then disappeared out of the frame. End of story. Nothing had happened.

Or perhaps … He rewound a little, replayed the sequence. Maxine disappeared off the screen but a sliver of her bag, which stuck out behind her, didn’t. It bobbed down, then up again before finally going out of shot. McLusky’s opinion was succinctly summed up. ‘Shit.’

‘Found something?’

‘I think so. Come here, Jane, look at this.’

Austin arrived at his shoulder. He replayed the whole sequence for him. ‘Gets out, grabs bag, walks towards the exit, right? Here comes a couple towards the entrance …’

‘She puts on a bit of a spurt.’

‘Yes. Keep your eye on the bag.’

‘Oh, she stops and bends down, that’s what that looks like.’

‘I think when she’s fit to be interviewed she’ll tell us she found the damned thing right there.’ McLusky tapped the edge of the screen with a fingernail. ‘Only she didn’t open it until later because she was in a hurry.’

Austin nodded. ‘Possible.’

‘Possible. Though I hope not. I sincerely hope not. How long do you think the thing could have been lying there? Minutes? Hours? Days?’

‘That’s hard to say. It’s a busy car park and a lot of people go in and out, not to mention those walking along there. Not long. It was bright gold.’

‘That’s what I’m thinking.’ He scribbled a note for Deedee Dearlove to try and trace the couple in the video. Naturally he expected others to read his notes.

Austin scratched the tip of his nose. ‘Why were you hoping she hadn’t found it there?’

A couple of civilian operators walked in. McLusky jerked his head towards the exit. ‘My place.’ Austin followed him into his office. McLusky wedged open a window and pulled open a drawer. He produced a small ashtray with a lid and his cigarettes. Austin accepted one. Still this ridiculously light brand. What was the point? You had to smoke twice as many. He accepted a light from the inspector’s tiny plastic lighter, filled his lungs with smoke and repeated his question. ‘Why are you hoping she didn’t find the thing there?’

‘Because.’ He swivelled his chair and shot upright. ‘Because I very much want someone to have it in for Maxine Bendick. I want to please find that someone has been trying to blow her up.’ He stood by the large-scale map of the city centre which nearly covered one entire wall of the tiny room and tapped his fingers on the green shape that represented Brandon Hill. ‘Here’s the shelter, was the shelter, I should say. Here’s the car park, here’s the way she habitually takes through the park. Maxine Bendick goes to her gym three lunchtimes a week. She went on the Monday of the bench bomb. The pavilion went up an hour before she was due to walk within ten feet of the thing.’