Flawed Beauty Page 3

  “Yes, of course I did,” Erin replies, sounding insulted by the question. “Without my endorsement, you would never have been considered for promotion in the first place.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Tony snaps back. “Endorsing and countersigning my application is one thing, but did you speak up on my behalf when you were contacted by the board for more direct feedback?”

  She hesitates to answer and looks uncomfortably guilty, which is response enough for Tony to shake his head in disgust again. “Yep, I thought so. Thanks, boss. Thanks a bloody lot.”

  He angrily turns to leave again, and Erin nervously gets to her feet. “Tony, please wait a minute. There’s one more thing that you need to know.”

  “What is it?” he snaps dismissively. “Oh, don’t tell me. I’m being sent back to Hendon to redo my basic training?”

  Knowing she is about to make an already uncomfortable situation even worse, Erin hesitates once again as she searches for the kindest way to deliver yet more unwelcome news.

  Tony raises his hands impatiently. “Well? What is it?”

  Biting the bullet, Erin blurts it out. “I wanted you to know that the vacant DI position in the team has been filled.”

  His interest piqued, Tony begrudgingly sits down again and orders himself another drink before turning back toward his colleague. “Well, you didn’t waste any time, did you? Go on then. Who is it? Anyone I know?”

  “Actually, yes. And I’ve invited them here for a drink with the team tonight. I obviously wanted you to be the first to know, though.”

  “That’s very gracious of you,” Tony snipes sarcastically. “So, put me out of my misery then. Who is it?”

  At that same moment, the door to the bar opens and Tony swivels his head in the direction of the newcomer. When he sees who it is coming in, he turns back towards Erin in absolute disbelief. “You have got to be kidding me? She’s got even less experience than I have.” Then sneering viciously, he adds, “Or is it that you were more interested in a different kind of experience?”

  “Watch your bloody mouth, Tony,” Erin warns. “I know this is tough for you, but I’m still your senior officer.”

  Backing down only slightly, he shrugs. “Fine, but please tell me this is your idea of a wind-up?”

  “It’s no wind-up,” Erin replies. “Detective Sergeant Marchetti will be joining us in the new year as my number two. I hope that won’t be a problem?”

  “A problem for me, or a problem for you?” Tony sneers again. “This all makes sense now, though.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?” Erin asks. “I had nothing to do with DS Marchetti’s promotion to detective inspector. That decision and the appointment to my team was made well above my pay grade.”

  Unconvinced, Tony shakes his head. “Maybe so. But how hard did you fight to oppose that decision? Not too hard, I’m guessing.”

  Before either can say anything else, Marchetti spots them and approaches the bar. Standing up, Erin awkwardly offers her hand. “DS Marchetti, thanks for coming. I believe you’ve met DS Bolton before?”

  Tony nods to his rival but doesn’t offer his own hand. Ignoring the obvious and deliberate slight, Marchetti smiles anyway. “Yes, ma’am, our paths have crossed once or twice before.” Then to Bolton, she says, “You’re looking good, Tony. Life treating you well, I hope?”

  Shrugging with indifference, his reply is childishly petulant. “No. My life is actually pretty shit, if you must know. But then, I guess that’s the price of being born a man.” Looking her up and down dismissively, he asks sarcastically, “What about you, Terri? Still pumping the iron, I see.”

  “I can’t complain,” Marchetti replies. “I don’t compete much these days, though. I’m more just into general fitness and a bit of fitness mod—”

  “Like I actually give two shits about you,” Tony interrupts. Sulkily getting to his feet, he grunts, “Sit down, Terri. I’m sure you two old friends must have a lot of catching up to do.”

  Without another word, he skulks away to join the rest of the team, and DS Marchetti innocently asks, “What’s got him so fired up?”

  “I’ll give you three guesses,” Erin replies, suggesting that the answer should be obvious. “Ignore him, though. He’ll get over it. What are you drinking these days?”

  Smiling, Marchetti says, “Still gin and soda. With ice and a slice. Just the way we like it.”

  Her comment causes Erin to blush. Looking and feeling uncomfortable, she’s pleased for the distraction when the barman arrives to take their order.

  Alert to her discomfort, Marchetti quietly waits for him to leave before asking, “I’m sensing that you’re not exactly over the moon to see me, are you?”

  “What do you expect?” Erin hisses from the corner of her mouth. “For pity’s sake, Terri, what were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking this is a bloody good step up for me. I’ve worked damn hard for this promotion. I’m a good copper, and I wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity like this just because we have history.”

  Shaking her head in disbelief, Erin says, “History, is that what you call it? We had an affair that ended my marriage and that somehow half the force bloody knows about. What kind of a position do you think you joining my team puts me in?”

  “Seriously?” Terri exclaims. “That was nearly two years ago. This is not the Middle Ages, Erin. Nobody gives a shit about what happened between us.”

  “Oh, grow up,” Erin snaps. “Why do you think Tony Bolton was behaving like a spoilt child just now? It was exactly because people do give a shit about other people’s private lives.”

  Conscious that they have started to garner some unwanted attention from their colleagues, Erin lowers her voice. “Just understand this, Terri. If it had been down to me, you would never have been appointed to this team. But you’re here now, so I don’t have any other choice but to try to make this work. There’ll be no special treatment, though. I want to make that clear from the outset.”

  Frowning, Marchetti says, “I wouldn’t expect anything else. I got this promotion and appointment purely on merit. Not because of our previous relationship.”

  “Good. You’re my number two, and from this point on, our relationship is strictly professional. Which means in front of the team, you call me boss or ma’am. Is that understood?”

  “Understood. And when it’s just the two of us?”

  “When it’s just the two of us, you can call me Erin.”

  Smiling, Terri raises her glass. “Thanks, Erin. I am profoundly grateful for this opportunity to show what I can do. And I won’t let you down.”

  Not entirely convinced, but pleased at least to have cleared the air, Erin returns the smile and raises her own glass. “I’m sure you’re going to make a great DI. Welcome to the squad, Terri.”

  They both take a drink before Erin says, “Come on. I think it’s time that you met the rest of the squad.”

  . . . . . . . .

  While Erin was preoccupied at the bar, the team made the most of her generosity. Three more rounds of shots down, they are now boisterous and loudly singing along to cheesy Christmas songs. To gain their attention, Erin is forced to hammer on the tabletop. “Listen in, please. If I could just get a moment of quiet, I have an announcement.”

  One or two of the team break off from the impromptu rendition of “A Fairytale of New York,” but the others, including Tony, are well and truly in the moment.

  “It’s about your Christmas bonus,” Erin hollers above the din. The singing abruptly stops, and Erin sniggers, “Yeah, I thought that would get your attention. Sorry to disappoint, though. Merseyside constabulary are not that generous.”

  “So, no bonus, ma’am?” one of the team asks, clearly confused and a little inebriated.

  “It’s bonus enough being on my team, DC Potter,” Erin laughs. Then turning to face DS Marchetti, she says, “And speaking of bonuses, we have a new member joining the team soon, and I am sure she is go
ing to bring a lot of value with her.”

  All eyes are now on Terri, and Erin pauses a second before adding, “I’d like to introduce the soon-to-become Detective Inspector Teresa Marchetti. DS Marchetti is coming to the end of a three-year stint with the robbery squad in Manchester and she will be joining us in the first week of January. I’m sure you’ll all join me in making her feel welcome and a part of the team. DS Marchetti, would you like to say anything?”

  Smiling, Terri nods and steps forward. “Thank you, ma’am. I just want to say, I’m really excited to be here this evening, and I’m looking forward to spending time getting to know each of the team. This squad has an impressive reputation for success, and I’m looking forward to getting stuck in and being a part of that success.”

  Unable to contain his obvious annoyance, Tony Bolton looks up from his glass and mutters loudly, “Yeah, I bet you bloody are.”

  For her part, Terri chooses to ignore the interruption, but already irritated by his earlier behavior, Erin is unwilling to let the comment slide. “DS Bolton, you have something you want to say?”

  Clearly the worse for wear, Tony gets unsteadily to his feet and raises his glass to the newcomer. “Welcome to the murder squad, DS… sorry, I meant DI Marchetti. Best Christmas present ever. I don’t bloody think!”

  Chapter Two

  Monday 18th March 2019

  It’s barely six in the morning, but Erin has already been awake for nearly an hour pondering how best to approach Tony Bolton’s upcoming annual appraisal.

  Although team appraisals are now the responsibility of DI Marchetti, her relationship with Tony since her introduction on Christmas Eve has been strained, to say the least.

  While most in the team have openly embraced her experience and warmed to her style of investigation, Tony has stubbornly refused to accept or respect her appointment to the team as a detective inspector. Whilst mostly just cold and standoffish, his behavior has also on occasion crossed the line to the point of being deliberately rude or obstructive.

  Probably better she conducts his appraisal again this year, Erin decides. She’s still wondering how best to inform him without getting his back up when the cell phone ringing on the side table breaks her concentration. As she fumbles in the dark, the phone slips from the charging station and onto the floor. “Shit!”

  Fumbling again to find the switch for the table lamp, and now out of breath, she reaches over the side of the bed to retrieve her phone just before it rings off. “DCI Blake speaking.”

  “Erin, it’s Terri. Sorry to disturb you so early.”

  “That’s okay. I was already awake. What’s the panic?”

  “Uniform have just been called out to the body of a young girl over in Bootle. The body is pretty badly torn up, by all accounts.”

  “Any identification yet?” Erin asks.

  “No. Not yet. Mike Potter and Alice Thorne have also just got there. But no clear information as of now.”

  “What about DS Bolton? Has he been informed?”

  “I tried calling him a few times,” Terri replies. “No answer, though, and his phone kept going to voicemail. I think he was out with his rugby mates last night celebrating St. Paddy’s Day. He’s probably still sleeping it off.”

  “Okay, and what about you?” Erin asks. “Where are you now?”

  “On my way to your place, boss. I’ll be there in ten minutes to pick you up.”

  . . . . . . . .

  By the time they arrive on scene, it’s getting light, and a rapidly growing crowd of onlookers have started to congregate at the edge of the cordon. Clearing a path, Marchetti flashes her warrant card to one of the young constables holding back the crowd. He steps aside to let them pass and points down the alley. “It’s the fifth house on the right, ma’am. Some of your colleagues are already there.”

  Although helpful, the directions are not required. The peak of a white forensic tent is clearly visible over the top of a wall. Detective Constable Mike Potter and Detective Constable Alice Thorne are waiting to meet them at the entrance to the yard.

  Potter gives a short appraisal to Blake and Marchetti before Thorne hands them forensic suits, gloves, masks and over-boots. Erin thanks her and asks, “Who found the body?”

  Thorne nods across the alley toward a visibly distressed elderly woman clutching a small dog tightly to her chest. A young female officer and an elderly male civilian are doing their best to comfort and reassure her.

  “Is that the husband?” Erin asks her.

  “Yes, ma’am. They were out walking the dog when it slipped the leash and ran into this yard behind us. The dog must have picked up the scent of the body, and, unfortunately, the old girl went in to bring it out.”

  Erin shakes her head. “Bloody horrible way to start your day and not something she’s ever likely to forget.”

  Shaking her head again, she tells DC Thorne to go and take their initial statements. “Just get the main facts for now, Alice. Then arrange to take them both home. The wife looks done in. We can bring them in for further questioning later today if we need to.”

  Thorne leaves, and Blake turns to DC Potter. “Any luck with an identification yet?”

  Opening his pocketbook, Potter nods. “Yes, ma’am. Her purse and handbag were still with her.”

  “So, not a robbery then?” Terri asks.

  Potter shakes his head. “It doesn’t look that way, ma’am. The victim appears to be one Shreya Singh. Twenty-three years old according to her driving license.”

  “What do you mean appears to be?” Erin asks.

  Hesitating to answer, Potter then quietly says, “Shreya Singh is the name on the driving license… but, well, ma’am, her face has been very badly disfigured.”

  Taking a moment to digest what she’s just heard, Erin nods. “Okay, well, let’s just assume for now that our victim is Shreya Singh. Get to work on an address, where she was last seen and anything else that you can find out about her. Is the scene of crimes officer here yet?”

  Potter nods. “Yes, ma’am. It’s DI Malcolm Gladwell. He’s already at work inside the tent.”

  Erin nods approvingly. “That’s good. Thank you, Mike. Okay, you get to work. We’ll go and take a look at what we’re up against.”

  While they suit up, Terri asks, “You know DI Gladwell? Have you worked with him before, boss?”

  Erin nods. “Yes, a few times. He’s one of the better SOCOs I’ve worked with. Very meticulous and an avid proponent of innovation and out-of-the-box thinking.”

  Out-of-the-box thinking?” Terri asks curiously. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

  “It means that he knows when and when not to stick strictly to the rule book. He’s a guy that gets the job done.”

  “Sounds like a good guy to have on the team,” Terri smirks.

  “He is,” Erin replies. “He’s also a little bit eccentric, as I’m sure you’re about to find out. But he’s a top-notch investigator all the same.”

  . . . . . . . .

  The entrance to the forensic tent is flanked on either side by a stern-looking uniformed sergeant. After a thorough examination of their credentials, one of them smiles and hands the warrant cards back to Erin and Terri. The other officer helpfully pulls aside the heavy tent flap to allow them access.

  Although now fully light outside, the thickness of the tent fabric necessitates the use of portable lighting inside. The harsh halogen lighting being used offers extremely effective illumination. Its intensity, however, casts a ghostly and almost ethereal glow over the white plastic sheeting that has been used to cover Shreya’s body. Its effect on the crime scene is intense, to say the least.

  Conscious not to disturb him, Blake and Marchetti wait discreetly just inside the entrance to the tent and watch from a distance as Gladwell goes methodically about his work. They watch fascinated as he carefully and deliberately circles the body, taking photographs of the scene from all angles. Every now and then, something catches his eye, and he dro
ps carefully to his knees to inspect or collect something with his tweezers.

  Mindful not to miss anything significant and meticulous as ever, he works for another thirty-five minutes before he is finally happy with his work. Securing his camera and evidence in an aluminum case, he finally turns to acknowledge his audience. “Sorry to keep you waiting, DCI Blake. You can come closer now.” Although not necessary, he then adds, “I’ll remind you not to touch or pick anything up, please. Crime scene integrity is everything.”

  Gladwell is a weedy-looking man in his mid-fifties, with a wispy greying blond mustache. His head is covered by the hood of his forensic suit, but Erin knows from previous dealings that he is almost entirely bald. They move slowly forward, and Erin smiles behind her mask. “It always amazes me how you instantly manage to recognize someone even when they are suited and masked up. Anyway, it’s good to see you again, Malcolm.”

  Nodding politely, Gladwell says, “I never forget someone’s eyes. It kind of goes with the territory, I guess. Staring at faces and bodies for a living, I mean.”

  Looking her up and down in the same way that he might examine a corpse, he utters a statement that is almost clinical in its assessment and delivery. “You also have a very distinct shape and way of standing, DCI Blake.”

  Before Erin can respond to Gladwell’s clumsy appraisal, he points to DI Marchetti. You, however, I don’t recognize. Have we met before?”

  Offering a gloved hand, Terri says, “No. I’ve recently come over from the Manchester robbery squad. DI Teresa Marchetti. It’s very good to meet you, DI Gladwell. The boss speaks very highly of you.”

  Gladwell is a man unaccustomed to praise, and from his demeanor, it’s soon clear to Terri that he’s also a man who is unaccustomed to making small talk with a stranger.

  Ignoring her comment completely, he turns away from Marchetti and asks DCI Blake if she would like to take a closer look at the body. Before she can respond, he offers a warning. “It’s not a pretty sight, though.” Then looking deliberately towards Marchetti, he adds, “But if you think you can handle it, it may help to understand what kind of a monster you are dealing with.”