I Watson - Director's cut

“Yes, Sir.”

“And Rick, one other thing. You should have followed up John Domey’s visit yesterday. That wasn’t good.”

Baxter stared through Cole’s vacant space, for a moment lost in thought. The day of the free-wheeler from C8 (The Flying Squad, Heavy Mob or Sweeney) and later C1 (Drug Squad) was long gone. Now it was about teamwork and conformity. Coppers like Cole had always been the villain’s biggest threat because they didn’t work by the book and they didn’t conform and that was the very thing that made them unpredictable and dangerous. In giving Cole a free hand the superintendent hoped he had made the right decision. He wasn’t convinced.

After introducing Maynard to the team Cole turned to the therapist and said, “This is PC Donna Fitzgerald and she’s going to look after you.” Donna flashed Cole a thoughtful look. It landed in a sensitive place and had him checking out her engagement ring. It was still there. She said, “We’re still looking for Jason. The uniforms are looking in all the likely places.”

Cole nodded and left them to it.

Although he would have preferred talking to Sam Butler direct he decided on protocol and called Jack Wooderson.

“Rick?”

“Hello, Jack.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Problem is right. I’ve decided not to transfer Anian.”

A moment’s hesitation, an antagonism that carried along the line, then, “What’s happened?”

“Margaret Domey’s gone missing, and she’s pregnant.”

“I heard. Is her pregnancy significant? Complications?”

“You didn’t know the others were pregnant?”

“The other women? Sam might have mentioned one of them was. I didn’t make the connection.”

Cole’s pause went on too long, a silent condemnation. Eventually he said, “Three out of the four, I believe. He should have mentioned it.”

“Too fucking right.”

“You better get your act together. The chief is making threatening noises.”

Another hesitation. This time it was the thought of Chief Superintendent Marsh that did it. Eventually Wooderson said, “I’m on it. I appreciate the call.” Cole struggled with the next one. “I might have been the last person to have talked to Margaret. She was in my office yesterday morning.

You better get Sam over here. The super is talking to John, her husband. He might have something to add.”

“Right. I’ll get things moving.”

Cole replaced the handset and unconsciously reached for a JPS.

Down the dead line Jack Wooderson put a call out for DS Sam Butler and before realizing what he’d done, he lit a Benson’s.

An hour later Sam Butler walked into Cole’s office. Without a doubt Jack Wooderson had carved a strip out of him and told him that Cole was the source.

“Sam, let’s not waste time. Jack’s spoken to you, that much is obvious. Margaret called in yesterday morning. It was nothing more than a social call. From here she was going to buy a cooking pan in the High Road. The Gallery. Know it?”

Butler nodded.

“As far as I know that’s the last we’ve seen of her. Check out the Gallery. Let’s establish whether she ever got there.”

“Right.”

At the door Butler hesitated.

Cole picked up on it and said, “I got you over here to explain why I had to bring Jack into the frame. I had no choice. The top floor is about to cave in on us.”

DS Butler took it in, shrugged weakly, and left the office.

In Superintendent Tony Baxter’s office John Domey was in tears. He was a slim fragile man. Baxter wondered how on earth he put up with Margaret.

“I know it’s difficult,” Baxter said. “But I’ve got to ask you this.

Are you and Margaret OK, with the baby coming? What I’m trying to ask and making a complete arse of it is whether there are any problems I should know about?”

Sleepless eyes blinked up in surprise and met the super’s gaze. “Everything is fine, Tony. But something terrible has happened. I know it.”

Baxter knew the feeling, the utter helplessness, the cold fingers that tightened around the chest until you could barely breath. He moved around the desk and placed a hand on John Domey’s shoulder. It was the best he could do.

“You’ve got to help us find her. Let’s start with her appointment at the hospital. Who was she going to see?”

It was touching noon when Cole walked into Hinckley nick and sensed the excitement. DS Butler and DC Stanford, flanked by Inspector Wooderson and a couple of PCs, were concentrating on a screen where an indexer’s fingers were just a blur on the keyboard. Wooderson saw Cole and mouthed a silent ‘yes’.

“What is it?”

Sam Butler kept his eyes glued to the screen as he said quietly, “This is it, Guv. Christmas!”

Anian Stanford looked up to meet Cole’s fleeting acknowledgment and smiled nervously.

Butler went on, “The owner of the Gallery, one Mr John Lawrence, also known as The Underground Slasher. Did eight of a fifteen. Released on parole in eighty-four.”

Cole’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. Why the hell hadn’t Sheerham picked it up on the slasher case? This previous would have made him a prime suspect for the assaults, certainly top of the list to be TIED. Coppers didn’t believe in coincidence. There had to be a catch. Wooderson put in, “I remember him. Went after pregnant women on the underground. Used a knife on their bellies. Slash and run was his trademark.”

Anian asked, “Murder?”

Butler glanced up from the screen. “No, look, GBH, attempted murder.”

Wooderson went on, “There were headlines in the papers. He killed the unborn child, two I seem to remember, so it should have been murder.”

“A psycho?”

“Are you joking? Personality defect, what else?”

“OK,” Cole calmed the situation. “Let’s have him in. Get a warrant and get a team into the shop. Sam, get hold of the original crime sheets. Let’s wrap this up quickly.”

Butler cut in sheepishly, “There’s something you should know, Guv.”

Cole said, “Go on?”

“Anian’s already made contact. We saw a painting at Ticker’s place and she followed it up.”

Incredulity touched Cole’s eyes before they turned very cold. He looked from Butler to Anian and back again. Eventually he said, “The Gallery?”

Butler nodded.

Jack Wooderson’s mouth dropped open, then anger tightened his lips.

Cole turned to the DC. “And?”

Anian felt the heat on her face and hoped it didn’t show. She said anxiously, “It was just a feeling, Guv, nothing more than that. He’s painting my picture. Just like he painted Helen Harrison.” Butler coughed.

She threw him a leave-it-out look.

Butler explained, “The painting of Helen Harrison was pretty revealing.”

Cole shook away a fleeting image of Helen Harrison and said, “Does he know you’re on the job?”

Anian shook her head.

“What’s he like?”

She sighed relief and answered, “A bit old-fashioned, a bit of a gentleman. He’d open a door for a lady.”

Wooderson muttered, “And slash her in the belly as she came through. Why didn’t I know about this?”

Anian said defensively, “It was off my own back, Guv.”

Wooderson responded quickly. “Then how did DS Butler know about it? Don’t pull the wool, Anian, you’re not good enough and, what’s more, you’re in deep enough already. And it’s bat, off my own bat, not fucking back!”

Butler cut in, “I didn’t know until this morning.”

Wooderson shook his head and brushed ash from his jacket sleeve. His anger was not without reason. The chief would never countenance the role that DC Stanford was playing. Ever since the Wimbledon Common set-up and the judge’s ruling, senior coppers had been having nightmares about entrapment and even now they were unsure where they stood.