ever justifies the damage they do. So, who are we talking about here? Just tell me it’s not one of mine.’
‘It really isn’t one of yours,’ I said, knowing it was pretty bleak as reassurances go. ‘It’s a DI in Vice. Peter Lovell? Heard of him?’
Della’s answer had to wait. Rasul came through to the fridge for another tray of sliced ham. ‘All right?’ he asked cheerfully, far too polite to indicate that the expressions on our faces showed the exact opposite.
‘Fine,’ we chorused.
When he’d left, Della said, ‘I know who you mean. I’ve never had anything to do with him directly, never met him socially, but I have heard the name. He’s supposed to be a good copper. High body count, keeps his patch clean. What’s the story?’
‘I’m not too sure of the exact wording on the charge sheet, but it goes something like threatening behaviour, assault, illegal possession of firearms, conspiracy, incitement to cause an affray, obtaining money with menaces, improper use of police resources…Oh, and illegal billposting.’
‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were winding me up,’ Della said wearily. She looked at her half- eaten sandwich. ‘I just lost my appetite.’ She was about to bin it, but I stopped her. For some reason I was ravenous this morning. I had the last mouthful of my paratha and started on her leftovers. Ignoring every environmental health regulation from Brussels to Baltimore, Della pulled out her cigarettes and Zippo and sucked on a Silk Cut. ‘Details, then,’ she said.
Lal stuck his head round the door into the shop. ‘Can you crack the window if you’re smoking, Del?’ he asked. I was astonished. I’d never heard anyone contract Della’s name and live. Not only did she ignore his liberty-taking, she even opened the window a couple of inches. Either Della was in a state of shock or there was something going on between her and Lal that I knew nothing about.
‘It all started when Richard came home with Dan Druff and the Scabby Heided Bairns,’ I began. By the time I’d finished, Della looked like she was about to have a second close encounter with the half-sandwich she’d already eaten. ‘So right now, Lovell’s winning,’ I finished up. ‘He’s got the muscle to get what he wants, and the gangsters can’t beat him the usual way because every time they make a move, their shock troops end up behind bars.’
‘I can’t believe he’d be so stupid,’ she said. ‘He must be looking at having his thirty in when he retires. That’s a good pension, and he’s young enough to pull something decent in private security. And he’s risking the lot.’
I helped myself to a Kit Kat from an open box on a shelf behind me. ‘He’s risking a hell of a lot more than that,’ I pointed out as I stripped the wrapper off. ‘He’s risking his life. The people he’s dealing with can’t afford to lose that much face. If the normal ways of warning someone off aren’t working with Lovell, somebody is going to shell out the requisite five grand.’
‘And then there
‘I think they realize that,’ I said quietly. ‘They’ll have to be desperate before they go for a hit. But every week that goes by where money goes into Lovell’s pocket instead of theirs is a week when the ratchet gets screwed a notch tighter. I don’t know how far away desperation is for the likes of Collar di Salvo’s lad, but I know some of the other players are really hurting.’
Della thumbed another cigarette out of the packet. ‘So Greater Manchester Police has to put a stop to Lovell on humanitarian grounds? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Something like that. But I’m not talking GMP, I’m talking DCI Della Prentice and a small handpicked team. If Lovell’s been on the force this long, he must have a fair few in his corner, and I don’t see how you can be sure who they all are. You need outsiders like you’ve got in the Regional Crime Squad.’
Della did the time-wasting thing that smokers do to buy some space: fiddling with the cigarette, rolling the lighter round in her hand, examining the filter for holes. ‘So what do you suggest?’ she asked.
‘An undercover operation?’
‘Nice of you to volunteer.’
I shook my head. ‘No way. I’m not sticking my head above the trench on this one. Remember, I’m the one who doesn’t believe in private health insurance, and the waiting list for key organ transplants is too long for my liking.’
Della took another hit of nicotine then said, ‘Bottle gone?’
‘Cheeky bastard,’ I growled. ‘My bottle’s as sound as it’s ever been.’
‘Really?’ she drawled. God, I hate Oxbridge graduates. They learn that sarcastic drawl at their first tutorial and they never forget it. Those of us who grew up in the backstreets shadowed by the dreaming spires never got past the snarl.
‘Yeah, really,’ I snarled. ‘You’re the police, it’s your job to catch criminals, remember?’
‘Problem is, you’re not bringing me any hard evidence,’ Della said.
‘So mount your own undercover operation. Leave me out of it.’
‘It’s hard for us, Kate. We don’t have any way into an undercover. We haven’t got some tame club manager who’s going to roll over and help us. And from what you’ve said, your contacts are not going to welcome Officer Dibble with open arms. They might well think it’s better to deal with the devil they know. Whereas you…’
‘Call yourself my friend, and you want me to go up against an animal like Lovell with his army of hard cases?’
Della shrugged. ‘You know you’ll have all the back-up you need. Besides, from what you tell me, there’s been a lot of mouth but not a lot of serious action. Nobody’s been killed, nobody’s even had a serious going-over. Mr Lovell’s merry men seem to specialize in violence against property. When it comes to sorting people out, he seems to go for remarkably law-abiding means. He calls the police. I think you’d be perfectly safe.’
‘Gee thanks,’ I said.
Della put a hand on my arm. Her eyes were serious. ‘I’m not asking you to do anything I wouldn’t do myself. I’ll handpick the back-up team.’
‘You think that makes me feel any better? Everybody knows you’re an even madder bastard than I am!’ I pointed out bitterly, knowing I was beaten.
‘So you’ll do it?’
‘I’ll call you when I’ve got the setup sorted,’ I said resignedly. ‘I’m not a happy camper, I want you to know that.’
‘You won’t regret this,’ Della said, pulling me into a hug.
‘I better not.’
Della paid for the Kit Kat on the way out.
I thought it was about time I showed my face in the office lest Bill got to thinking he could start the revolution without me. With luck, he would still be busy showing Sheila the delights of the North West.
I don’t know why I indulged myself with the notion that luck might be on my side. It had been out of my life so long I was beginning to think it had run off to sea. When I walked in Bill was sitting on Shelley’s desk, going through a file with her. Given that I wasn’t speaking to Bill and Shelley wasn’t speaking to me, it looked like an interesting conversation might be on the cards. ‘Kate,’ Bill greeted me with a cheerful boom. ‘Great to see you.’ And I am Marie of Romania.
‘Hi,’ I said to no one in particular. ‘Has anything come for me from the Land Registry?’
‘If you checked your in-tray occasionally, you’d know, wouldn’t you?’ Shelley said acidly. It probably wasn’t the time to tell her I’d gone through it at one that morning. Not if I wanted to keep my office manager.
‘Have you thought any more about the implications of my move?’ Bill asked anxiously.
I stopped midway to my office door, threw my hands up in mock amazement and said, ‘Oh dearie me, I
The letter from the Land Registry was sitting right on top of my in-tray. Their speed these days never ceases to amaze me. What I can’t work out is why it still takes solicitors two months to convey a house from one owner to another. I flipped through the photocopied sheets of information that came with the covering letter. It confirmed the suspicion that had jumped up and down shouting, ‘See me, Mum, I’m dancing!’ when I’d interviewed
