And it was because of her state of mind that she did not want any further contact with John Kelly for a bit. Indeed, as soon as Kelly’s name had flashed on her mobile earlier, she had not only deliberately ignored his call but also instructed the clerk who answered her office phone to field any further calls from him. She was not yet ready for Kelly. She had inquiries of her own to make and quite possibly a major investigation to launch, one that was not going to be easy. The sort of investigation that makes and breaks careers.
Karen was no coward, and certainly no jobsworth. She was not at all adverse to taking risks. And, by God, how she wanted to give Parker-Brown the shock of his smug smooth life! None the less, she was starkly aware that she had probably already taken quite enough risks in her career to last most senior police officers a lifetime. On more than one occasion she had put herself in a situation where her job had been on the line, and at least twice John Kelly had been involved.
And now, she realised, she was on the brink of diving into the deep end yet again. She knew that she should not make another move on this one until she had authorisation from the chief constable to delve further into military matters. However, if that authorisation did not come, Karen also knew, all too well, that she would probably not be able to stop herself taking some kind of action.
Her reflections were interrupted by having to attend a meeting concerning liaison between uniform and CID, and Karen, forcing herself to put Hangridge out of her mind, at least for the time being, made her way over to the main station about half an hour before Kelly had arrived outside.
When her meeting finally ended, shortly after 7.30, she left through the back door next to the custody suite. And only then did she remember that the coroner’s clerk had not returned her call.
Kelly, who wished he was able to compile his novel with half the fluency he had found while attempting to write down the Hangridge story so far, was in mid-sentence when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Karen’s MG pull out of the police station car park and turn left into Lansdowne Lane towards him. How the hell had she got across the road from CID without him noticing, he wondered. Then, with that surprising alacrity he so often displayed for a man of his size, years, and lifestyle he swung open his car door, jumped out and stepped smartly into the road in front of Karen’s car, causing her to break sharply in order to avoid hitting him.
She lurched to a halt with a screeching of tyre rubber, wound down the window of her car and leaned out. Kelly continued to stand stoically in front of the little MG. He expected an earful and he got it.
‘Exactly what the fuck do you think you are doing, you moron?’ she yelled.
‘I had to see you, Karen,’ he began.
‘OK, but is there any particular reason why you also wanted to kill yourself today?’
‘Uh, I was afraid of missing you,’ Kelly responded lamely. ‘I’ve been trying to get you on the phone all afternoon. I thought you were deliberately dodging me...’
‘And so you decided to doorstep me, did you, you arsehole? I don’t suppose it occurred to you that I might just be busy?’
This was a blatant lie, of course. Karen most certainly had been avoiding him. But she was always inclined to be inventive when she was in full flow.
‘I think you’ll forgive me when I tell you everything I’ve found out.’ Kelly gathered his courage, walked round to the side of Karen’s car and leaned against it, looking down at her steadily. But Karen was not, it seemed, in an altogether forgiving mood.
‘Listen, Kelly,’ she countered. ‘I haven’t got time for you in my head, right now. You’ve handed me a potential atomic bomb. There are procedures...’
‘Since when have you wasted time worrying about procedures?’
‘Since I came close to losing my job, the last time I got involved with you and what you were up to, and the time before that.’
‘Oh, come on, Karen...’
‘No, this is serious stuff, Kelly, and this time I’m doing it by the book. We go through the chief constable, we go through the MoD, we go through the proper channels. There is a set procedure for police involvement in an army case, and I intend to stick to it. Now, thank you for drawing my attention to this matter, and please get the fuck out of my way.’
With that, Karen slammed the gearstick of the little MG into first, let go of the clutch with a deliberate jerk, and lurched forwards with another screech of her tyres. Kelly pulled away, stepping swiftly back in the nick of time. However, he still only just managed to avoid his left foot being run over by the rear nearside wheel of Karen’s car. Keeping his balance with some difficulty, he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled with all his might.
‘I’ve found out about another one, Karen. There’ve been four deaths. At least, Karen... four deaths, at least.’
The car stopped with a bump again and yet more screeching rubber. Kelly winced. He was very fond of MGs and, although he rarely admitted it, he even had a certain limited affection for a modern imitation like Karen’s.
There was a nasty crunching noise as she changed gear again and suddenly the little car lurched into reverse, roaring back alongside Kelly, only narrowly missing both his feet this time.
The driver’s window was still open.
‘Get in,’ she snapped.
Kelly hurried around the back of Karen’s car and quickly climbed into the passenger side. He wasn’t giving her time to change her mind. No way.
‘Right,’ she said. ‘What have you been up to, you bastard?’
He didn’t prevaricate.
‘I went to see Jocelyn Slade’s mother.’
‘Yeah, I might have guessed it. Even though I asked you not to.’
He shrugged. ‘What did you expect, Karen? We both knew exactly what would happen if you started going down the red tape route, and it’s already happening. You’ve been avoiding my calls all afternoon. Because you didn’t know what to say to me, did you? Your hands are tied, aren’t they, Karen? And if I hadn’t gone to see Mrs Slade neither of us would be any further forward, and you know that’s the truth...’
‘So, thanks to you, we are now further forward, are we? You’re sure of that?’
‘Mrs Slade knows of another alleged suicide,’ he said bluntly. ‘A Hangridge soldier told her of a young male recruit who’d topped himself six months before her daughter died. He was trying to comfort her, to make her not blame herself...’
Kelly was interrupted by the horn of a white Transit van, the path of which was blocked by Karen’s car, still stationary and parked at a crazy angle across the road.
Karen glowered at the driver, passed her left hand briefly across her forehead, slammed the car into first gear again and gunned it suddenly forwards to the main road junction, where she turned towards Kelly in a resigned sort of way.
‘OK, Kelly. You can tell me everything over a fish supper. I haven’t eaten all day.’
‘Fine,’ said Kelly, reflecting that this was just the way things always were between him and Karen Meadows. Naturally, she hadn’t asked him if he wanted to eat. But, as it happened, the prospect was quite an appealing one. He suddenly remembered that he, too, had eaten little all day except a packet of plastic-wrapped sandwiches from a motorway service station and a couple of chocolate bars. And now he was heading for a fried fish supper, just to complete his healthy eating programme, he reflected wryly.
They ate cod and chips, accompanied by bread and butter and washed down with numerous cups of tea, in what both considered to be their favourite chippy, tucked away in a little backstreet not far from the railway station. Kelly told Karen all he knew.