Stuart Pawson - Some By Fire

"And how many little girls will never trust a man again? How many of them has he left damaged? Don't waste your regrets on either of them, Charlie, save them for more deserving causes. God knows, there's plenty."

I fetched two more beers and left another LA with Daniel. He was playing Battle Chess against the computer. The sun had fallen behind next door's roof but it was still a warm evening. A flock of swallows were diving and swirling like tea leaves used to, before they invented tea bags I topped up both our glasses from one can. The first vapour trail had been dispersed by the Jetstream, but another plane was following the same course, pumping millions of cubic feet of burnt hydrocarbons into the ozone layer. Seven miles above us two or three hundred rat-tempered passengers were wrestling with seat backs and folding tables, or standing in embarrassed queues for the toilets.

Bring back airships, that's my opinion.

Dave took a sip, sighed, and balanced his glass on the uneven top of the wall round my little rockery. He sat on his hands and kicked his feet up and down. "You remember when we were going to Bridlington?" he said, when he was good and ready.

"Mmm."

"Remember what we were talking about."

"Percy Shaw?"

"After that."

"Rhubarb crumble?"

"You don't make it easy for me, do you?"

"I'm sorry, Dave," I said, 'but I haven't a clue what you're on about."

"Nigel asked why I hadn't made sergeant."

"Oh, that."

"Yes, that. Have you ever wondered why?"

"Once or twice, but not lately. You could have walked it if you' dwanted. With a bit of effort you could have made inspector, and you'd have been a good one. I just assumed that you were happy as a DC and didn't want to spoil things. You had a family to consider. There's plenty of others feel the same way."

"I am happy, but there's more to it than that."

"Is there?" I wasn't going to ask. He'd tell me, if that was what he was leading to.

"I had a revelation."

"A revelation? You found God?"

"No, I found my limitations. That day, at the fire."

"Leopold Avenue?"

"That's right. When I saw her at the window, little Jasmine Turnbull, I knew I had no chance of saving her. But the alternative was worse.

Just standing there, watching, until the fire or the smoke got her. I could never have lived with myself if I hadn't tried. Halfway up that first staircase I was in trouble. I was going to grab one more breath and press on, but you tackled me and dragged me out. I'd never have made it; I knew that. For a while, I wondered if you did what you did because you hadn't the bottle to go after her. But not for long. I soon realised that if it had been the other way round, if I'd been the sergeant and you the PC, there'd have been ten deaths in that fire, not eight. And we'd have missed all this." He waved a hand at the garden.

"So," he concluded, "I suppose you could say I'm not cut out for authority."

"Now you're talking soft," I said. "How many times has a situation like that risen since then? None."

"But it might, tomorrow."

"And you'd do what was necessary."

"Well, it's too late now."

I shared the fourth can between us. "There's more in the fridge…" I hinted.

"Better not. What's the limit for riding a bike while in charge of a minor?"

"No idea. Cheers."

"Cheers."

It was good beer. The froth clung to the side of the glass, all the way down. That's how you tell a good pint. It's nothing to do with the taste. The widget was the greatest scientific breakthrough since Archimedes invented the overflow.

"I saw the pictures," I said.

Dave licked the froth off his top lip and said: "What pictures?"

"The ones in Kingston's loo, that you didn't want me to see."

"Oh, those pictures."

"That's right. By Mrs. Holmes. She knew him better than she pretended, don't you think?"

"You can't say that. They might have been a Christmas present or anything. Maybe Melissa bought them off her and gave them to him.

There's a thousand possible explanations."

"I suppose so," I admitted, but I knew different. It had all started at that party to watch the Apollo 13 mission on television. Kingston had been awful to Melissa, Janet had told us, and chased another girl.

She'd been that other girl, as sure as Satan made female Morris dancers. Why should Melissa have all the fun? she'd thought, and Melissa had reacted by taking a tilt at Mo, which was what Kingston had intended all along. I'd been to a few parties like that myself. Then it was back to the bed sit and the Leonard Cohen records.

"It was a long time ago," Dave said. "She was young. We all make mistakes."

Daniel came out of the open doorway, saying: "I've logged off, Uncle Charlie. Thanks for letting me play on it. We ought to be off, Dad, before it gets dark."

"Kids," Dave muttered to me, standing up. "Who'd have 'em?"

I watched them pedal away in an impromptu race, and thought: I would.

Thursday morning Manchester airport told me that Delta flight number DL064 from Atlanta was delayed two hours, which suited me just fine. I had long sessions on the phone with Les Isles and Tregellis, and a progress meeting with Mr. Wood. I was working for three bosses and it was hard to juggle things so everyone was equally informed and no feelings were hurt. Fortunately, Tregellis was a long way away, Les trusted me and regarded me as an extension of his team, and Gilbert gave me a free hand, so I was able to do what I wanted.

One of our motorcyclists was waiting for me when I returned from Gilbert's office. He was nursing two videos. "Ah, well done," I said as I took them from him.

"My pleasure, sir," he replied with a grin.

"Nice little ride, was it?"

"Smashing." His helmet and leathers were shimmering with the carcasses of dead flies.

"Well, take it steady, and thanks."

The old idea of an identity parade, with the suspect lined up alongside seven other short, bald-headed men, is rapidly fading. They were always a pain to organise and expensive in time and money. Video film and links are taking over. We can use recordings of the suspect, mixed in with images of similar looking characters off the files, and let the victim examine them at his or her leisure. They don't even have to be in the same city. The security cameras in Kendal nick had captured Kingston's likeness on tape during his two visits, helped by a little careful manipulating of his position. The ID team had produced a video for me showing several stills of him, together with an assortment of similarly built policemen in civvies, visiting solicitors, and various friends, relatives and villains. I posted one straight off to Tregellis, via the internal mail, and watched the other in the main office. It was good.

I'd intended to take Annette with me to Manchester because I wanted her to be our contact with Melissa and her boyfriend, but Gilbert had asked her to produce some figures for a survey about overtime and sick leave.

The Home Secretary had been given warning of a question he was about to be asked in Parliament, so everything had to stop until we had an answer. The sun was still shining, but the temperature had dropped by quite a bit. It was bright and pleasant, rather than oppressive. I gave myself plenty of time and stopped for a chicken burger at the services. As usual, when I used the loo I found that someone with pubic alopecia had beaten me to it.

I was still early. I called in at the Immigration office and they confirmed that Melissa was on the flight, which was a pleasant surprise. Piers had told me that she didn't seem to realise that once she had left the USA it was unlikely that they'd let her back in. He hadn't tipped her off about this small point and we were looking forward to breaking it to her after she'd given us what she wanted.