Stalkers. Paul FinchЧитать онлайн книгу.
finally fixing on Superintendent Piper. ‘You’re not shutting it down?’
‘It’s not my choice.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ he said. ‘Laycock. What a surprise.’
‘It’s a nothing case,’ she retorted. ‘You’ve admitted that yourself.’
‘In moments of frustration I may have admitted that.’
‘There seems to be more frustration than anything else.’
He stood up. ‘Look, what’s the problem? I’m working every hour God sends, but most of it’s for free. I haven’t made any unreasonable requests for overtime.’
‘The problem is you could be better used elsewhere,’ she said. ‘Crime doesn’t stop just because you’re involved in something you find more interesting.’
‘“Interesting”?’ Heck could hardly believe what she’d just said. ‘We’ve got thirty-eight missing women here! Surely it’s more than “interesting”?’
Superintendent Piper responded by rifling through a few files and print-outs, of which there were plenty strewn across the desk. ‘Where’s the evidence they’re connected? Where’s the pattern? Some of them are four hundred miles apart, for God’s sake! Sorry … I’ve trusted you on this for nearly two years, but that’s it. The trust’s run out.’
‘Look, ma’am …’
‘Don’t give me the usual blarney, Heck. You’re one of the best detectives I’ve got, but these hunches of yours are proving an expensive luxury. And look at the bloody state of you! For God’s sake, tidy yourself up!’
‘Don’t you even want to know why I’m in this state?’ he wondered.
‘No.’
‘I’ve been on an all-night surveillance operation. And guess what, I had to do it all myself because there’s no one else to help.’
Voices could now be heard out in the corridor; one of them had a distinct South London twang, distinguishing it as that of DCI Slackworth, who ran the CID office here at Deptford Green.
‘I’ve got one new lead in particular, which is looking really good,’ Heck added. ‘But I haven’t even had a chance to start following it yet.’
‘Put it all on paper,’ Superintendent Piper said, half-listening to the voice outside and looking again at the notice that had been pinned to her officer’s door. ‘Each case is being referred back to the divisional CID or mis-pers department that originally dealt with it. Your new stuff can go with them.’
‘Thirty-eight missing women, ma’am.’
‘You think,’ Palliser said.
‘But how can we just close it down?’ Heck asked. ‘We’re the Serial Crimes Unit, for Christ’s sake!’
Superintendent Piper stood up. ‘We’ll keep it under review. But at present we haven’t got the resources.’
‘How about if …’
‘I’m not arguing with you, Heck. I’ve actually done you a courtesy coming down here to tell you in person. I could’ve sent Des, I could’ve told you on the bloody phone. Just deal with it, alright.’
She marched to the door, pulling on her suit jacket.
‘You know, it’s a miracle anyone stays in this job,’ Heck said. ‘And I’ll tell you another miracle – that we ever catch anyone with some of the clowns we’ve got in charge.’
‘Watch it!’ She rounded on him fiercely. ‘Just watch it, Sergeant!’
‘I didn’t mean you …’
‘I don’t give a damn! I won’t have insubordination! Now your work here is done. So do us all a favour, get your paperwork in order and, following that, get your head in order. Then get your scruffy arse back to the Yard, pronto.’
And she was off, storming down the passage to catch up with DCI Slackworth – a burly, foursquare slaphead with flabby cheeks and pig-mean eyes – who was busy chatting up a pretty young female constable from the day-shift.
Heck watched her go, sourly.
‘Do you think anyone’ll mind if I light up in here?’ Palliser wondered, edging out of view of those in the corridor.
‘How should I know?’ Heck replied.
‘It’s your office.’
‘Not anymore.’
At the end of the corridor, Superintendent Piper was standing arms folded, yet still managing to wave the notice around, as she gave both barrels to Slackworth. The familiar whipcrack voice came echoing along the passage, and Slackworth, a tough-nut in front of his own crew, was soon shuffling awkwardly and looking abashed.
‘“The Lioness”,’ Heck said. ‘Talk about well named.’
‘She has a softer side.’ Palliser was now beside an open window, blowing smoke. ‘If anyone should know that, it’s you.’
‘That was a long time ago.’
‘She still cares about you though.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘For one thing, she reckons you need some leave.’
‘What?’
‘You’re in a state, Heck. You haven’t had a break in two years.’
‘I haven’t been able to.’
‘Beside the point.’
‘No it isn’t.’ Heck indicated the empty desks and tables. ‘I used to have six officers working for me in here, Des. One by one, I’ve watched them get shunted to other duties. All I’ve had for the last nine weeks is an admin assistant, part-time.’
Palliser shrugged. ‘Understanding why you’re knackered isn’t really a solution to it. She’s the gaffer and she reckons that your judgment’s become impaired. You’re losing sight of the wood for the trees.’
‘So I’m a burn-out as well?’
‘Not far off.’
‘This is bollocks.’
‘No, she’s genuinely concerned.’
‘I mean this whole thing.’
‘Oh that, yeah. That’s definitely bollocks.’ Palliser suddenly glanced up at the ceiling, wondering belatedly if there was a smoke-detector present, and relaxing when he saw that there wasn’t. ‘You’re a DS, Heck, that’s all. Yet for two years you’ve been working under your own steam, authorising your own hours and resources. It was inevitable someone was going to whinge about it. It’s politics, typical office bullshit. But it’s not unimportant.’
‘Especially not when someone like Laycock’s involved, eh?’
While Superintendent Piper was head of the Serial Crimes Unit, her immediate supervisor, Commander Jim Laycock, was director of the National Crime Group and was, to all intents and purposes, God. Despite this, Heck had managed to bump heads with him on a number of occasions.
‘Laycock’s answerable to a higher power as well,’ Palliser said, as if this was some kind of consolation.
‘He’s a pencil-pushing suit.’
‘Which is all the more reason to fall in line for him. He has to balance the books somehow. Given the history you and him have got, it’s a wonder he’s let it drag on this long.’
Heck walked back to his desk, his head aching with frustration. He sat down heavily. ‘At the end of the day, all I’m concerned about is these missing women. I can crack this, Des. I know it. I can find