Steven Dunne - Deity

‘Yes, sir. I was just going through some forensics about our floaters,’ he explained to Charlton.

‘I heard the second body wasn’t exactly floating,’ retorted Charlton without expression.

‘No, sir.’ Noble looked back at his notes. ‘The cloth recovered from the Derwent looks like it was worn by McTiernan, probably as some kind of loincloth because the second body wore an identical piece of material. They’re running tests on the Shardlow cloth now. The Derwent cloth is made of Egyptian cotton, nothing unusual about it though it did carry traces of the same make-up used on Tommy’s face, as well as disinfectant, and we know the body was washed before being dumped. There were also minute traces of arsenic. No suggestion that McTiernan was poisoned though. It’s probably from some cream applied to the. . er, deceased.’

Noble looked at Brook then Charlton before continuing. ‘The stitching in the wound was a shoelace. Also Egyptian cotton. .’

‘Maybe the killer works at Dunelm Mill,’ said Charlton drily.

‘Sir?’ enquired Noble.

‘It’s a fabric warehouse,’ muttered Gadd, tight-lipped, aware that Charlton’s presence wasn’t a good sign.

‘Every time my wife goes to Dunelm she comes back with more cushions and another bloody duvet cover,’ added Morton, smiling. Gadd elbowed him discreetly in the side.

‘Any news on the murder weapon, Detective Sergeant?’ asked Charlton. Noble didn’t reply. Brook managed a private smile but also kept his eyes on the floor. ‘Oh, hang on. There isn’t one, is there? Because this isn’t a murder inquiry.’ Nobody spoke or looked in Charlton’s direction and the Chief Superintendent let the silence fester for a few moments. ‘Can you all leave the Incident Room for a moment, please? I’d like a word with DI Brook.’

Brook remained motionless as the rest of his team slowly gathered themselves and left in silence. Noble fired an enquiring glance at Brook as he closed the door, but Brook motioned him to leave.

‘What are you doing, Brook?’

‘Conducting an inquiry, sir.’

‘I see. You’ve tied up five detectives on a Sunday just to investigate the death of an indigent who drank himself to death, according to Dr Habib.’ Brook looked up at Charlton finally. ‘Yes, that’s right, Inspector — the post mortem results have come in. In fact, you knew the results when you spoke to me before.’ Charlton glared at Brook, certain of his ground. ‘Didn’t you?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Did you see my email about the budget cuts?’

Brook paused. ‘I saw it.’

‘Then I’ll ask you again. What are you doing committing so many resources to this? God alone knows what the overtime bill will be.’

Brook looked Charlton in the eye. Why don’t you ask Him when you get to church? ‘But now we have a second body, sir.’

‘Murdered?’ Brook said nothing. Charlton nodded. ‘You don’t know yet.’ The Chief Superintendent paused, hoping to increase the pressure. ‘I like to run a tight ship, Inspector, but with these swingeing cuts, I need people who are team players, people who play with a straight bat. What I don’t need are cowboys.’

‘You’re right, sir,’ said Brook quickly. ‘I’ve been working too hard. It’s affected my judgement. I’m sorry.’

Charlton was wrong-footed, the wind taken from his sails. His facial expression softened with vindication but inside, the disappointment of an opportunity lost was palpable. ‘Well, I dare say you made the call as you saw fit.’ His features darkened again. ‘But I won’t tolerate being lied to, especially in front of subordinates,’ he continued, with a nod to Noble outside the door.

‘Of course not,’ said Brook, now the model of contrition. ‘That was unforgivable.’ Charlton examined Brook’s face long and hard for any sign of insincerity. ‘Perhaps I should take a few days off, sir. I’ve got plenty of leave owing.’

Charlton continued to stare Brook down, not wanting to be rushed. He couldn’t escape the feeling that in some way he was being outflanked, but he didn’t know how. Eventually he sat back and looked at the table. ‘You don’t like me very much, do you, Brook?’

Brook couldn’t hide his surprise. ‘Sir?’

‘No, don’t bother. I already know. I’m a bean counter, aren’t I? And you’re a force of pure detection, a seeker of justice.’

‘Sir, I don’t-’

Charlton held up a hand. ‘It doesn’t matter, Inspector. That’s my job. I expect to be disliked. If I wasn’t disliked, I wouldn’t be doing my job properly. And if I wasn’t doing it properly, you couldn’t do yours. But you probably don’t accept that, do you?’

Brook remained silent.

‘And though we had a few problems a couple of years ago, I had hoped that we could have moved forward.’

Brook looked down into Charlton’s face, this time with the feeling that he was being outflanked.

‘You see, Brook, I’ll be honest. I can’t do what you do. I can’t find the bad guy who doesn’t want to be found. I don’t have your skills. But by the same token, you can’t do what I do. Clear the decks and sign the cheques, as my old Chief Constable used to say. Someone has to do it.’ He paused. ‘Look, you don’t need to go on leave — and I no longer want you to resign. I made a mistake suggesting it. And one thing I learned from our. . difference of opinion was — well, I know you have integrity. Briefing the press behind my back. . you did the wrong thing but for reasons you believed were valid, and I should’ve acknowledged that.’

‘Sir, I-’

‘Forget it. Get your team back in here and finish the briefing. If you think this incident has mileage, I’ll back you. But I want to be kept in the loop. If you withhold information from me again, I’ll bury you.’

Charlton stood with his untouched coffee and stalked away.

‘Chief Superintendent.’ Charlton turned at the door. ‘Thank you,’ said Brook. ‘But I do have something I need to do. Three days’ leave should cover it.’

Charlton nodded and walked out.

Wednesday 25 May

DI Damen Brook stood in the gutter looking up at the heavens. If he’d been at home, in his cottage garden, he could have picked out odd stars and constellations, but in the neon glare of the city his vision was impaired. He straightened his stiff neck with some discomfort and massaged it with his grubby hand. He’d never take his soft pillow for granted again.

Scratching at his three-day beard, he resumed his weary trudge through the centre of Derby, feeling the earlier rain still squelching in his shoes. As he shuffled through the darkened shopping precincts, he closed his eyes for long periods to relieve the sting of broken sleep on his pupils — broken by the cold, broken by the noise of others snoring or swearing or just gibbering senselessly, broken by a rat on that one occasion he’d tried to spend a night in a squat.

His mobile phone vibrated in a pocket and he fumbled through his different layers to open it, looking around furtively to see he wasn’t being observed. Cheap though the phone was, a tramp talking on a mobile was an incongruous sight as well as an easy target for muggers.

Brook didn’t look at the display. Only Noble had the number. ‘You’re up late. Where were you tonight? You missed our meeting and I missed my burger.’

‘Sorry, sir. I’ve been busy on another case. I’ve also spoken to Dr Habib.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘We got prints from the second body and we’ve got a name. Barry Kirk — originally from Carlisle. He disappeared off the radar ten years ago when his business and marriage failed. There were all the signs that he was living rough since dropping out of sight — various minor convictions around the country, D and D, vagrancy, you know the routine.’