Peter Robinson - Bad Boy

“Zoo time back at the station, I see,” said Winsome.

“That’s why I wanted to get away for a while,” Annie said. “That and…”

Winsome raised a finely plucked eyebrow. “Come on. Give. I was thinking things have been dull around the place for a while now,” she said.

“Ever since you drop-kicked that drug dealer over a fourth-floor balcony?”

“It wasn’t a dropkick. And it was only the third floor.”

Annie took a sip of beer. Winsome had got quite a bit of press out of that escapade, which was probably the main reason why the locals knew who she was, and gawped at her. “There’s actually been quite a lot going on,” Annie said.

“Only I haven’t been in the loop. Doug and I have been investigating that hit-and-run on the Lyndgarth Road.”

“And?”

“Case closed. Witness got a partial number plate and it was easy sailing from there. Course, it didn’t help that our two victims weren’t talking.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Up to no good. Off their faces on drugs, weren’t they?” Winsome said with a smile.

“Well, it’s time to get you in the loop now. How’s Harry, I mean Doug, coming on?”

“All right,” said Winsome. “Yeah, he’s all right. Maybe he lacks the killer instinct and that extra edge you need if you want to be a good detective.” She shrugged and grinned. “In some ways he’s like a little brother. I try to keep him out of trouble.”

“I never took you for the maternal type, Winsome. Anyway, you can’t play nursemaid forever.”

“I know. I know. He’s a good detail man, though, memory like a steel trap. And let’s face it, how often does the job get physical around here?”

“We can’t all be fearless warriors, I suppose,” said Annie.

“It’s my heritage. My ancestors were fearless warriors. It’s in my genes. I’m thinking of investing in a spear.”

Annie laughed. “You’re scary enough without.” She drank some more beer. “Besides, I’d love to see Madame Gervaise’s face if you did walk in carrying a spear.”

“It would certainly give her something to think about.”

A pale skinny young girl who looked as if she ought to be in school came with their food: burger and chips for Winsome and cheese and tomato sandwich for Annie.

“So what should I know?” Winsome asked after the first bite. “It’s hard to know where to begin,” Annie said.

“What does the boss think?”

“Madame Gervaise? She’s being cagey. Wants to see which way the wind’s blowing. I can’t say I blame her with Matthew Hopkins running around like a man on a divine mission.”

“Matthew who?”

“Hopkins. The witch-hunter general. Chambers. It’s a pet name.”

“I wouldn’t have him as a pet. Or even name one after him.”

“Anyway,” Annie went on, “Chambers may very well be the least of our problems. Things are complicated, and it’s going to be difficult to keep everything in its proper compartment. First off, and high priority as far as I’m concerned, is that we found a gun on our patch, as you probably know already. Rather, the parents found it and shopped their daughter.”

“I do know about that. Wouldn’t you?”

“If I had a kid and I found a gun in her room?”

“Yes.”

“Probably,” said Annie. “I don’t know. Somehow it goes against the grain. Tough one, though.”

“Not for me,” said Winsome. “I’d do it in a shot. No pun intended.”

“Your dad’s a cop, mine’s an artist.”

“What difference does that make?”

“I don’t know,” said Annie.

“But we’re both cops.”

“I just meant that I might try and deal with the situation on my own. You know, talk to her, try to understand. The way things are between mother and daughter now, any chance of anyone understanding anything has gone right out the window.”

“Sometimes it’s not the most important thing.”

“What is, then?”

“That no one gets shot.”

Annie gave a little shudder. “Fair enough. Maybe I’m overplaying the liberal mum. Maybe I’d just shop the little bastard and have done with it. That’s probably why I’m lucky I don’t have any children.”

“Yeah, I could just see you turning in your own kid. Softie.”

“Anyway,” Annie went on. “The house is still in lockdown and we’re waiting on ballistics. Should know more by this afternoon. The girl’s on bail-bed-and-breakfast arrest-and the mother’s stopping with a friend. And you know what happened to Patrick Doyle.”

“Yeah,” said Winsome. “It’s terrible.”

“Plus I had a visit last night from one of the AFOs involved. Wanted to know if I was on their side.”

“Are you?”

“I’d like to say I was on the side of truth and justice, but somehow with Chambers around, words like that turn to ashes in my mouth.”

“But you’re not going to lie for anyone, are you? You don’t even know them.”

Annie put her hand on Winsome’s forearm. “No, Winsome, I’m not going to lie for anybody. Christ knows, I wasn’t in the house, I don’t know much to start with, but when Chambers gets around to me, I’ll answer all his questions honestly to the best of my ability, and if I don’t know the answers, I’ll say so.”

“Can’t say fairer than that.”

“Who said fair had anything to do with it?”

“Cynic.”

“Yes, well…Don’t forget, I worked with Chambers once.”

Winsome gobbled up her burger and started picking at her chips. “Where do I start?” she asked, glancing up at Annie from her plate.

“You know DCI Banks’s daughter?”

“Tracy? Is that her name?”

“That’s right. Though she seems to have taken to calling herself Francesca these days.”

“That’s nothing. Kids often go through periods of dissatisfaction with the names their parents gave them,” said Winsome. “I know I did. I called myself Joan for years in school.”

“Tracy’s twenty-four. She’s not a kid.” Annie shot Winsome a glance. “You did, though? Really? Joan?”

“Yeah. I wanted an ordinary name. I hated Winsome. Didn’t you ever change your name?”

“No. Somehow or other, I’ve always been just Annie. So you know Tracy, then?”

“I’ve spoken with her at the station once or twice. Nice girl, or so she seemed. I can’t say I know her. Is there a problem?”

“Maybe. Not only has she changed her name,” Annie said, “but she’s changed her appearance, too.”

“So? People do. Look at you. You got your hair cut and highlighted. You used to dress like a hippie and-”

“All right. I get your point.” Annie touched her head self-consciously. “True enough. I’m not trying to make anything out of it in itself. You’re right. Sometimes people just like a change. It’s just that she also seems to have disappeared.”

“Seems to have?”

“Yes, well, this is where we enter the realm of total conjecture, or fantasy, as Madame Gervaise would say. Which is why I’m talking to you here and not to her at the station.”

“Because I’m more gullible?”

“No. Because I can’t think of anyone more level-headed. Hear me out, Winsome. You can tell me if you think I’m talking rubbish.” Annie pushed her empty plate away and drank some more beer. Her glass was close to empty, and she fancied another. Given what chaos the afternoon might bring, though, she decided to abstain and ordered a coffee and some sticky toffee pudding and custard instead. “Juliet Doyle, the mother of the girl who had the gun in her room, told me that her daughter Erin shares a house in Headingley with two other girls,” she began. “Rose Preston and Tracy Banks. The Leeds police searched the place on the afternoon of Erin’s arrest. Rose was present. Apparently, when Tracy got home from work that evening and Rose told her what happened, she went ballistic. She seemed most concerned about some bloke called Jaff, Erin’s boyfriend. Erin’s not talking, so we can’t get anything about him from her. Tracy took off almost immediately Rose gave her the news, and she hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”