13. Oratorio
Love is the sunshine that brings forth life
Love is the darkness that stabs with a knife
“Right” said Detective Superintendent Tatton as he gathered his team around him for a briefing. “Let’s review what we’ve got so far: Drug dealing at the night club, John Simmons, a known dealer dies from an overdose possibly self inflicted, possibly not and a drug crazed girl that runs out in front of a car. Now are those isolated incidents” he said drawing arrows across the blackboard with wide sweeps of the chalk
“The girl, Sarah-Jane Sullivan” Jenkins observed, “Still in hospital in a coma won’t get much out of her yet,”
“If ever, from what I hear” one the junior officers joined in “what about the statements we took from the kids and that fire at the Ink factory, what’s the story there?”
“We’re working on that,” said D.S. Tatton “meanwhile we can find out about this girl, drag the boyfriend in and anyone else. Make ‘em sweat a bit. Arrange it will you Pete?” He looked over towards Jenkins who nodded an acknowledgement “And you two”, Derrick Tatton eyed the two female detectives” I’ve got the ideal job for you.” The two women in the team were both younger than Pete Jenkins was, but were brought in by D.S. Tatton because of their experience in the drug squad, anyway the political correct brigade insisted on equal rights and police women had to be included in all operations. He was just about to brief them on an undercover operation at the Roostertail, when he got the call from Inspector Cook
The Inspector had asked to see D.S. Tatton, he knew what that meant, “the old man’s been chewing Charlie’s ears off again and now he wants a go at mine.” He told his team. “Bloody figures again! Here Jenkins take over will you”. He threw the chalk over to his Sergeant and walked briskly towards the office of Inspector Charles Cook. Derrick Tatton was of the old school of policemen who actually believed it was their job to solve crimes and apprehend criminals, unfortunately, time had moved on and Derrick had not moved with it. The force was now far more interested in statistics of crimes rather than the crimes themselves. Derrick Tatton did not really give a tinkers cuss for graphs and charts or the Home Office targets but he was only a couple of years away from his pension and wasn’t going to blow it now.
“Come in” Inspector Cook bawled as D.S. Tatton knocked on the door
“Hi, sit down Derrick” he said pointing to a small upholstered chair on the far side of the room, which was dwarfed by his leather recliner “Just had the Chief on the line – Do you know where we stand again this month Derrick?”
“No Sir, Have we improved on last month?
“No Sir, we have not, bottom three months in succession. I’ve just had a rocket up my arse” the inspector stood up and began pacing the over-sized office “But that is only half of it. What’s this job you’re on at the moment ’Operation Bullshit?’”
“Operation Bullfrog Sir” the detective corrected
“Whatever, how many personnel have we got on it? He looked over his spectacles at the bemused officer
“Six plus me and Jenkins, Sir” Derrick answered his superior
“And how’s it going, this Bullshit?”
“Bullfrog Sir” The Detective Superintendent was used to his superiors mispronunciations but they annoyed him nonetheless “We are on the verge of a breakthrough, I think Sir” he continued “The Ink Factory on Townsend’s estate we think that’s a local source”
“Do you” Inspector Cook took off his spectacles and glared at his minion
“Yes Sir we have…”and Derrick was about to explain his thinking so far when the inspector interjected “Have you any evidence?”(Now there’s a concept new to policemen)
“Not yet, but we’re on to it”
“No Derrick, you are not on to it. I’m on to you. Keep away from Pointers”
“Sir?” D.S.Tatton queried the Inspectors tone
“It’s not a request, do you understand. I do not want the Chief on my back again about Jack Forman got it?”
“Yes Sir”
“What on earth were you playing at, marching in there without a search warrant. The Chief has just spent two hours and a crate of whiskey calming Jack Forman down to stop him suing
“We had a tip off Sir” explained Derrick
“Well it wasn’t very reliable then was it?” the inspector growled
“No Sir”
“Look, I’m halving you team, I need three more officers to back up the traffic boys. We need some white-liners quickly. The Chief wants results, figures; bums on seats know what I mean?
“Derrick knew exactly what the Inspector meant. Clear up a few missing items, lost cats, stray dogs, catch a dozen or so motorists and the graph begins to look a whole lot better. God he hated this job sometimes
“Can I keep the team together for a couple more days, got some lose ends to tie up?” the detective finally conceded”
“Ok but I want it wrapped up by the end of the week. We can’t afford to waste any more time on this “Inspector Cook was at the door opening it for his Detective Super to leave “And keep right away from Jack Forman’s place, got it?”
“Yes Sir, Thank you Sir” Derrick departed the office to return to his team. He marched straight into his own office, opened the filing cabinet and got out a bottle of Jack Daniels. Jenkins followed him “We’ve been pulled” he announced to his fellow officer” Two days to wrap it all up and then traffic” he took a swig of whisky “And” he continued we’ve been warned off old Forman’s’ place”
“He reported us then the old bugger,” said Jenkins smirking
“Don’t laugh this is serious, the Chiefs ordered us off. Bloody Masons!”
Listen to the beating of a shallow heart, deep within its morbid cage
Listen to the words from silken lips and try not to turn the page
Between the lines of written prose, that forms the basis of her dreams
You’ll see a message hidden there and life’s never all it seems
Father O’Malley’s prayers did not appear to have been answered. Sarah-Jane remained in a coma, much to the annoyance of the local police who unable to get a statement from Sarah took it upon themselves to pester all of Chesford’ club goers on the pretence of trying to establish a link between the accident, John Simmons’ death and the Roostertail. Mark sat and watched as the girl he had spent most of his short life with stared blankly into the hi-tech space around her.
Although the doctors had mentioned an improvement in the oxygen levels in her blood or something like that Mark was not really listening he was waiting and watching for the flicker of an eyelid or the quiver of the lips. He spent long periods talking to Sarah-Jane in a low murmur in an attempt to raise her subconscious from its dream. He wanted to be with her, really with her, not beside her bed but inside her head sorting out the problem for her, showing her which direction to travel, finding the right path for her journey back to the world of reality
“I know I could bring you back if I could get inside your pretty head and help you,” he said to Sarah. She didn’t answer.
“You’ll tell me one day, won’t you what it is you were dreaming about all this time?” he went on and recounted the happy times they had spent together remembering the doctors words about pleasant associations of places ,people and things
“Her favourite clothes, music and people – just keep probing away,” the consultant had said.” It will work eventually. We just have to create the climate; her body will do the rest, when it’s ready.” Edna had brought in some familiar objects from her room at home, a picture or two and a cassette player for music to soothe gently the roaring waves of her mind Mark divided his time between his work at the Velvet Sun Factory and visiting Sarah-Jane at the Trauma Centre. On a couple of occasions he popped down the corridor to see Bob Simpson and chat to Lucy, more as a change of scenery than anything else although he did feel responsible in a strange kind of way. After all his Sarah had caused the accident by all accounts and this poor woman’s husband was going to be a cripple for the rest of his life, whereas Sarah-Jane would be fine once she woke up, and Mark was confident she would wake , it was surely only a case of when. It was during one such visit to Bob that Mark discovered Detectives Jenkins and PWC Thomson had visited Bob to ask questions about the accident. The car had been thoroughly checked over and was perfect. – Facts that did nothing to make Bob feel any better – the only other explanation for the tragedy was driver error, but the police assured Bob that their investigations were now complete and his speed and stopping distance were correct. He just had not had enough warning or time to brake or take evasive action, when the maniacal girl ran out.
Mark looked deep into Sarah’s glistening eyes he could see the machinations of her inner mind, the cogs churning away. He fancied, in fact he was convinced her eyes moved, but perhaps it was just his imagination
The wind, the wind, the soft sweet wind, is dead
But the rain is still falling
The sun, the sun the warm wax sun, is asleep
But the fire is still burning
The moon, the moon, the cold coy moon, has gone
But the lovers are still sleeping
The sky, the sky, the blind black sky,is angry
And the kissing is over?.............
Michael had woken up in a worse mood than when he went to bed, if that was possible. He had been in the depths of depression for several days now. The flat was bringing in a nice £400.00 a month; Christmas was just around the corner and today his new toy was arriving, the camera for his computer, but none of that made him feel any better. He was getting less attention from Lucy, understandably so; but Michael did not understand. The substitute she had arranged to cover for her absences did not meet with his approval, few people ever did. Moreover, to top it all he had started drinking again Lucy had witnessed his moods in the past and was aware that they could last for days if he chose them to do so. She knew the only way forward was to ignore him, keep out of his way, and try to carry on as normal. He wanted an argument when he was like that and would pick on the slightest thing to start one. Lucy did not like the silent treatment and spent less and less time with Michael and more time visiting Bob in hospital; this of course only made matters worse. She hated conflict; she had had enough of that in her life already and thought everything was just beginning to settle down nicely. Then Bob arrives, like a bolt from the blue and Michael does a moody. “I’m not sure I could live with a man like that,” he thought to herself, then realised she was getting like her husband and beginning to argue with herself. The replacement help was taking most of the ‘flak’ as a result, and she soon began to tire of Michaels moods. From Michael’s perspective, he felt hurt by Lucy sudden interest in her long lost husband: a man who chased half way across the country to find her and then crashes his car, probably deliberately to gain her sympathy, he began to hate Bob without even meeting him
“I really don’t know how you could have put up with him all this time” Marsha said to Lucy when they were alone “He’s always rings for me just as you settle down for the evening, you know it will only be something trivial but you have to go and check,” “Yes I know, he knows it too, that why he does it, he really is a wonderful person underneath all that moroseness. You just have to dig deep” Lucy replied defending Michael, although she had no idea why, when some of his moods were indefensible.
“Remind me to bring my Black & Decker next time” Marsha quipped Michael spent more and more of his time up in his office, particularly after the delivery of his web-cam. The nice young man from Computex had even fitted it all for him, not that Michael would have let him go until he had. Michael was one of those people who assumed that everyone else in the world was there to serve him, and always took full advantage of any generosity that came his way. To be fair he was generous himself and rewarded the deliveryman appropriately. He went away happy, having done his good deed for the day.
Michael began his exploration of the cameras software. He spoke into his diary relating the events of the past few weeks, catching up on the news of his life: Lucy and the ring; his proposal and her acceptance as he saw it, then the traffic accident, and a sudden appearance of a husband from nowhere. He had a lot of catching up to do and spoke with increased zeal, despite his state of mind. It was only as the whisky began to take effect that he slipped back into the bitter lake of self-pity and darkness crept upon him. The diary entries became more colourful as the liquor took hold. The equipment was accurate enough to pick up the slurred speech and red complexion that accompanied his drinking spree. The radio sang out its miserable tune. Michael always resorted to Mahler when he was depressed. That in turn fed his depression and he drank more whisky to alleviate it.
Twilight peeps through Bourbon clouds, then screams with eyes ablaze
Knotted sinews twist and turn “It’s just a passing phase
Silence infiltrates the mind to hide the truth from tears
Blackness colours all his dreams then empties out his fears
………………………………………………………
“Are you positive about that?” Jenkins said into the mouthpiece nodding towards D.S.Tatton who was listening on the extension
“Look” the voice said “everything I’ve given you has been kosher, it’s you lot who fuck up”
“There was nothing in those tins, only ink, I checked them myself,” Jenkins argued
“Did you check all the tins? Did you scrape the top layer off?”
“Well, no we didn’t have time Jack Forman came down” the detective got defensive
“The stuff was there – you owe me –I can’t be responsible for police inefficiency”
“Ok, just get the next shipment date,” Jenkins said
“It’s too risky, I don’t think I want to involved anymore” The Detective Superintendent nodded an affirmative to Pete Jenkins, who looked over to his boss
“What about an extra payment?” he finally said
“It will cost double. I’ll give you a bell in a couple of days” The line went dead
“Any joy?” Jenkins shouted over to his colleagues
“No, not enough time to trace it. His voice is heavily disguised, but we’ve got it on tape” the reply came back.
“You’ve really no idea who our chummy is then Pete?” asked D.S. Tatton
“No, never met him we always use a safe drop and he phones out of the blue either here or on my mobile” the detective sergeant replied
“Get me a list of employees at Pointers’ will you Sheila” Derrick Tatton said to a WPC
“It will be in the folder with the Fire Report on my desk “
“What you up to gaffer” Pete Jenkins was curious.
“Why do you think old Jack Forman turned up like that just at that moment?” the Super said with his patronising habit of answering a question with a question
“Dunno really, bit of a coincidence I suppose” Jenkins shrugged his broad shoulders
“Too much of a coincidence, Pete I don’t believe in coincidence, I think someone tipped him off we were going to be there.” The penny finally dropped in the detective sergeant’s brain
“Do you think our man is playing both sides then?
“Quite possibly, that’s why I want a full list making out of all the employees. I want to know who started when and where they came from. Work on it with Sheila will you Pete. I’m off to lunch with the old man to get my ear chewed off again