She felt herself grow hot as he stared her down.
“Do you really have space for me on the team?”
“We always need new blood,” came Flotsam’s voice from behind her. “I think it’s in your best interest to tell the Guv’nor what he needs to know. He’ll find out anyway, and then you will have thrown away the last chance of what might have been a very worthwhile friendship.”
“I found the slug,” she stammered at last. “It’s a .44. With Spatchcock’s evidence it’s enough to keep the case open.”
Chymes and Flotsam exchanged looks.
“We concur. Bravo, Mary. We have underestimated you. A good DS is worth her weight in gold, whoever she works for. Now, the question you have to ask yourself is what exactly are you going to do next? Think carefully. Your career depends upon it.”
She swallowed hard and held up her head. “Well, I kind of thought I’d call… um, SOCO and… I don’t know—DI Spratt?”
There was silence for a moment.
“That’s a very disappointing choice, Mary. You’re new to all this, so I’m going to cut you some slack. These sorts of potentially high-profile crimes are good for the justice system. For the most part, the public can’t be bothered to understand what we do, so there is nothing like a couple of easy-to-understand, solved celebrity murders to keep them in the picture and supportive of our efforts—especially during the summer season. Police approval always leaps up after the successful conclusion of one of my cases.”
“Are you saying I shouldn’t call my DI?”
“Look at it this way,” said Chymes as he glanced at his watch. “It’s ten to ten. Jack will be speaking to Briggs on the hour. If you had found that slug a half hour later, we wouldn’t even need to have this conversation. I think it would be better for all concerned that Jack doesn’t hear about the slug or Spatchcock’s statement until he has officially closed the case. There is nothing quite like one detective closing a case only for another to awaken it with a dramatic flourish, don’t you agree?”
“Is it really necessary to make Spratt look such an idiot?”
“Spratt is an idiot, Mary—haven’t you figured that out yet? Listen, the public needs its heroes. And I want you on my team. We’ve got the best facilities and the best cases—the cream of not just the Oxford & Berkshire force but most of the others, too. We often do international consultancies, and His Eminence the Jellyman frequently asks for advice. Do you to want to meet the Jellyman, Mary?”
He put out his hand.
“Here is my hand. Shake it and stand by my side. I won’t offer it again.”
Mary Mary working for Friedland Chymes. She had dreamed of this since she was nine. She stared at Chymes with his winning smile and perfect teeth. It was the easiest decision she ever made.
24. Briggs v. Spratt
MAN RECOGNIZES SUSPECT IN RECONSTRUCTION
Mr. James Tuffnel was in custody yesterday, having been recognized when he appeared in a reconstruction during Network Toad’s popular PerpCatch UK program. He was spotted by eagle-eyed, public-spirited father of three Desmond Miller. “There was no doubt in my mind,” said Mr. Miller at his home in Morecambe Bay today, “but the man in the armed-robbery reconstruction was definitely an actor that I had seen once before in a custard commercial.” Out-of-work actor Mr. Tuffnel remained unrepentant and told us, “Okay, I admit that I did it. I’m not proud of myself, but I need the money. I haven’t worked for eight weeks. Do you want to hear me do the ‘What is a man?’ speech?”
—From the Morecambe Trumpet, July 2, 2003
Briggs beckoned Jack into his office and had him wait while he spoke on the phone to the workman redecorating his house. After an inordinately long ten minutes discussing the choice of wallpaper for the front room, he hung up and stared at Jack.
“You’ve got a confession note?” he asked.
Jack slid it across the table. It was in a clear plastic cover, and Briggs put on his glasses.
“Verified by the handwriting people?”
“Yes, sir. It’s definitely Mrs. Dumpty’s.”
“Well,” said Briggs removing his spectacles, “I think that’s fairly straightforward, don’t you?”
“But for the smaller-than-expected caliber pistol and the four missing cartridges, and—”
“And what?”
“I just don’t think she killed him. We interviewed her at ten-thirty the morning of her ex-husband’s death. Less than ten hours. She loved him, sir, even after the split—most people dump their ex’s stuff as soon as the papers come through, but everything that was his was still in her house. I’m not convinced that a crime of passion would leave her so calm.”
Briggs held up the suicide note. “And this? What do you make of this? I quote: ‘…I prayed for God to forgive me as I pulled the trigger.’ She had the motive, opportunity—but, best of all, she wrote a confession. This one’s over, Jack.”
“She didn’t kill him, sir.”
“Listen,” said Briggs, “I know the NCD means a lot to you, but we can’t justify the expense. We’ve got to make some hard choices, and I’m sure the budgetary meeting can make a generous settlement for early retirement. You’ve done good work, Jack, but it’s a question of priorities.”
“I thought it was just the department getting canned?” said Jack, rising to his feet.
“You are the department,” replied Briggs, also rising. “Where else were you going to work? CID? Don’t make me insult you by offering you traffic or something. The Humpty case is closed.”
“The budgetary meeting is on Thursday, yes?”
“Yes,” said Briggs sharply, wondering what he was up to, “why?”
“Just let me carry on until then to prove she didn’t do it and if I can’t, I’ll call it a day and the coroner can have a murder/suicide.”
“No.”
“Twenty-four hours, then.”
“Sorry.”
“Until tomorrow morning?”
“No!”
“Twenty years,” said Jack, “twenty years I’ve run the NCD, and while I admit I have made a few slip-ups and killed a giant or two—”
“Four. It was four, Jack.”
“He was barely six foot eight, sir. Listen, I’ve never asked you for anything before now. Geoffrey, please.”
It was the first time he had ever used Briggs’s first name. He hoped to God he had remembered it correctly. The Superintendent paused for a moment and stared at him, then finally shook his head.