For two seconds, I haven’t the faintest idea what she’s talking about.
‘She called me last night, said you’d been asking about Serena Bailey’s statement.’ Ah, DI Susie Grainger. I wouldn’t have had her down as a ‘Suze’. ‘Seriously, Cat, you could have warned me.’
‘I’m . . . I’m sorry.’ I stutter an apology, before deciding fuck that, this is our case. ‘But I had legitimate questions, ma’am . . .’
‘Drop the ma’am, it’s Tess, or T. And I’m not saying you didn’t. But you didn’t get Steele’s permission, did you?’
The grin is still there, broader even, and her tone is warm, conspiratorial. I can’t work out if I’m being chastised or congratulated. I turn to face her, chin high, confidence shaky.
‘Fine, I should have checked with the boss when I realised Grainger was a DI, but I was there and she was happy to talk. And I didn’t mention it afterwards because I didn’t want what I’d found out from Serena’s head teacher to get lost under a bollocking for not following protocol.’
‘Steele’s a stickler for that, I hear.’
I’m not comfortable with this Steele-bashing, but then I’m not comfortable with being caught out either. Sitting firmly on the fence, I say, ‘Sometimes, but that’s not a bad thing.’
‘No, no, of course not.’ She pushes herself off the sink, gives me a friendly poke on the shoulder. ‘Well, listen, anyway – you owe me a drink, Cat Kinsella. Several drinks. ’Cos I only narrowly avoided dropping you in it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Like I said, you should have warned me. I happened to mention to Steele that you’d met with Suze, but then I could tell from her face that she hadn’t got a clue what I was talking about. Lucky for you, I thought on my feet, said you’d been introduced in the Harp & Fiddle the other night.’
Shit. ‘Oh right. Thanks. I mean it.’ And I do. I’m still not convinced that Steele’s altogether fine about Aiden. She hasn’t mentioned it since and I’d been expecting the Spanish Inquisition, or at least a bit of ribbing. So if she’s feeling weird about that, I could do without this. There’s no doubt about it, Dyer saved my bacon. ‘And look, I’m sorry if it seemed like I was going behind your back.’ I risk a grin. ‘You’re not too annoyed, are you?’
‘I’m annoyed Suze was upset. She might play the tough cookie, but she was shaken up. We all are. Just remember, it’s easy to make judgements with the benefit of hindsight. Suze did nothing wrong, and even if she did, she was following my lead. If anything got missed, it’s on me, not her, OK?’ I nod, knowing Steele would say the same. She turns to face me in the mirror. ‘But I like your initiative. I think we’re cut from the same cloth, Cat, you and me. And that was good work on Serena and the bank card too. I mean, I’m one hundred per cent certain we got the right man and Bailey’s sound, but it’s still good work. I like that you question everything.’
‘So does Steele.’ I turn on the tap, splashing my face with cool water. ‘Well, she says she does after the event. At the time, I think she wishes I’d shut up.’
She hands me a paper towel. ‘Kate’s been a good mentor to you, hasn’t she?’
‘The best.’
‘She’ll be retiring soon, though. What is she? Mid-fifties?’
‘Fifty-three.’
‘She’s done her thirty years, it must cross her mind now and again.’ Not once, but I don’t want to quibble, not after ‘Suze’-gate. I crouch down and rummage through my bag for a hairbrush to avoid giving an opinion. ‘And you heard her, she’s not interested in promotion. She’s happy to sit out the rest of her career.’
I shoot up. ‘Hold on, that’s not fair. That’s not true.’
She nods, her face immediately softening. ‘Sorry, that sounded worse than I meant. Steele’s great, she really is. It’s just . . . you need to think of yourself, Cat. You need to be working with people, learning from people, who are going places. Steele’s got bags of experience, but . . .’ She presses her lips together, closing her eyes briefly. ‘But with experience comes complacency. I saw it with Olly Cairns. A reluctance to keep learning, to keep up with new technologies, new cultural and social phenomena. A desire for a quiet life, to keep the powers-that-be happy above everything else.’
I let out a high-pitched laugh. ‘Have you met Steele? She’s more worried about keeping the canteen staff happy than the powers-that-be.’
Dyer laughs too, but it sounds hollow. ‘You’re probably right, but that’s not ideal either. There’s an art to keeping all sides happy. I could teach you.’
Suddenly, Parnell’s voice in the corridor outside. ‘Catrina Kinsella! Come out, come out, wherever you are . . .’
I’m not sure whether I want to kiss him or kick him.
‘In here,’ I shout. ‘Be out in a sec.’
I pick up my bag and make a beeline for the door. Dyer grabs me as I walk past, a loose grip on my wrist.
‘Look, Cat, what I’ve made a complete mess of saying is that I think you’ve got great potential, and SO15 needs officers like you. People who question everything, who think critically. I’m going for superintendent and if I get it, recruitment’s going to be one of the first things I look at.’
Did she just offer me a job?
‘Counter-Terrorism?’ As soon as the words leave my mouth, I’m embarrassed, sure that I’ve picked her up wrong.
‘Just think about it, OK? Don’t let your loyalty to Steele hold you back.’
The door bangs open: Parnell.
‘Whoa, where’s the fire?’ I say, taking a step away from Dyer. If Parnell’s curious, he doesn’t show it. There’s something else on his face – white-hot excitement.
‘We stirred up a fire in Brandon Keefe, that’s for sure.’
‘Eh?’
That attention shift again. Peters to Fellows to Bailey, now back to Brandon Keefe.
‘We’ve had a call from Kentish Town station. Seems Brandon Keefe had one too many and went berserk. Threw a brick through the window of an ex-girlfriend’s flat in the early hours of the morning.’
‘Not very Godly,’ I say, my head still swimming. ‘But why have they called us?’
‘Because when they ran his fingerprints through the system, a big red flag popped up.’ Parnell’s eyes gleam. ‘They match a set of prints taken from 6 Valentine Street. He was in that house, Cat. Funny he forgot to mention it.’
18
It’s late afternoon before Brandon Keefe is deemed sober enough to be interviewed – not surprising given he ‘couldn’t see a hole in a ladder’ when he was booked in to Kentish Town at 4 a.m., according to their custody sergeant. It’s early evening before he arrives into our care, flanked by his mum and dad, a docile couple in their early sixties who appear utterly sideswiped, gawping around reception like they’ve just landed on the moon. It’s then another two hours before the Duty Solicitor, Colin Gaffney – AKA ‘Juicy Fruits’ on account of his constant chewing – arrives to do his duty. Which effectively amounts to sharing his gum, nodding his head, and reminding Brandon that he’s under no obligation to speak.