Human Frailty, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (33 page)

"Are you trying to out cock the cock Gregg?
Don’t be silly man; you don't have the back bone".

"We'll see, won't we".

Matthews put down the phone before he got a
reply.

He looked around his office and took a deep
breath. Time to take some action he thought. Nevertheless,
Gallagher was right; it frightened him to think an unscrupulous
media, using snippets of sound bites to evoke outrage in the
public, could take everything he worked for away from him. He had
not done anything illegal, or morally wrong in his eyes, but that
would not stop the feeding frenzy for fresh blood. One thing that
the greater public liked more than anything was someone to fall
from grace. The higher they were the harder they fell and the
better the public felt about it, finding new ways to be morally
outraged.

The public had not evolved much from the
times of public executions, all sitting, watching, knitting and
cackling as head after head fell into the baskets.

He picked up the newspaper lying unopened in
front of him and threw it into the waste-paper bin under his
desk.

"Shit".

Matthews stood up and straightened his tie.
Time to talk to Mrs. Watson, he thought. However, he was going to
have to be smart about it. One thing he had learned in his career
was that you never play all your cards at once, always hold
something back to use later if needed. Sometimes it turned it that
you never had to reveal what you know. He was hoping for that
option.

Bridger's mind was working overtime. "Have
you not been listening to the commentary on the live feed Jo? It
matches Mrs. Watson's story almost too perfectly".

"I've had the sound turned off Sergeant; I
didn't want her to have to hear what was going on. She was
distressed enough".

"The only thing that doesn't fit is the fact
that this puppet master says that his mother died and he killed his
father for it. Mrs. Watson is saying her husband and child died and
she was put in a mental facility by the policeman who she was
having an affair with".

"It sounded more like she was being raped to
me", said Jo. "I don't care what she says about feeling desired and
wanted; she was being taken advantage of. That negates any consent
in my eyes".

Bridger looked at Jo, her eyes burning
fiercely with self-assurance in her assumption of the facts. She
would go a long way in this job, he thought.

"Well that's for another time Jo, what
matters is that the link in all this is the policeman that appears
in both stories. It is too much of a coincidence to discount that
the ex police officer called Glenn Gallagher Mrs. Watson talks
about is not the same person that the puppet master relates to in
his story. They must be connected what ever happened that
night".

Bridger smiled inwardly, his hunch was
proving to be right. Jo had done excellent work in getting Mrs.
Watson to open up about her past, it had provided the last piece of
the puzzle needed to cement in his mind the evidence he needed to
confront Matthews and then Gallagher. More importantly, he hoped it
took them one-step closer to getting Marion back. He looked over
towards the detective inspectors closed door. He imagined the red
puffy face behind the desk, he wondered if Matthews knew anything
of Gallagher
’
s involvement.

The door opened and the red puffy face
appeared in the now open space, Matthews
’
s eyes had a slightly haunted look
about them. He did not seem surprised to see Bridger staring back.
Something to subtle for either to register passed silently between
them.

"Sergeant…, my office. Could you bring Mrs.
Watson and Constable Williamson with you to please".

Bridger could detect nothing in
Matthews
’
s
neutral tone. He motioned for Jo to fetch Mrs. Watson, and then
stalked down the hall and into the lion
’
s den.

He did not sit down, Jo and Mrs. Watson
followed close behind but sat on the chairs provided, then the big
man himself completed the party as he shut the door on the confined
space. Bridger would much rather have confronted Matthews on his
own, confirming his suspicions before subjecting Mrs. Watson to
them.

Bridger was about to start when Matthews
cleared his throat loudly before sitting behind his desk and
placing his meaty hands in front of him, the whites of his knuckles
showing clearly as his fingers intertwined tightly.

"There have been some developments", he said
quietly, "It has come to my attention that there may be more to
this that meets the eye".

"No shit, Sir". Bridger was in no mood to
listen to Matthews; Marion did not have the time.

Matthews held up a meaty hand, "Just listen
will you". He looked directly at Mrs. Watson, "I know about you and
Glenn Gallagher, about what went on, he told me some of it, and I
worked out the rest".

Matthews looked at Bridger trying to gauge
his reaction to the admission.

Mrs. Watson looked stunned, before regaining
her composure a little.

"What did he tell you", she said, not
looking at him but at Jo with a questioning gaze.

"He lied to you Mrs. Watson; your son is
still alive. I think he may be the one holding Marion".

The statement had the effect of a knockout
punch. Mrs. Watson's mouth fell open; her eyes betrayed the fact
that her mind did not really comprehend what had just heard.
Bridger looked at Matthews; this was not what he had expected.
Matthews face remained expressionless; it was hard to tell how much
of his admission contained the truth. If he knew more, he was not
likely to let anything slip if he did not have to.

"Mrs. Watson, I know your
son
’
s name
was Daniel, I need to know what you’re married name was when you
had him".

Mrs. Watson just continued to stare at
Matthews open mouthed. Matthews looked at a loss for what to say
next, so he looked over at Jo.

Jo took the hint and placed a
comforting hand on her shoulder, "Mrs. Watson I know this is a
shock but it
’
s going to help us find Marion".

"Marion..., yes Marion, my daughter...,
Daniels sister... It cannot be Daniel. He is dead. Glenn told me...
Daniel would not do this to his sister. What are you trying to tell
me? He died. He is not here anymore. He did not get to live; he
never even met his sister. How did you know it is Daniel, I know
dam well that ghosts do not exist. Why are you saying this...?”

"Mrs. Watson, you have to trust us
right now". The look Jo gave Matthews was full of questions. She
turned back to Mrs. Watson. "I know it
’
s difficult, but we believe that
Daniel is alive, he may be holding Marion but we have no way of
knowing if he is aware of his relationship with her. If we know who
he is then we may be able to find him faster. You can speak with
him when we find them. Make your peace, whatever he's
done".

"Maine, it was Maine, but I thought
you would have known that already. You lot always stick together.
Close ranks when you need to. You just screw the public when their
problems do not fit within your silly little rules for the game you
are playing. You are all just boys who never grew up, all playing
cops and robbers. Well it is not a game, its other people's lives,
lives that matter. There are no rules in this life. The only thing
that matters is what is right and what is wrong. What is wrong with
life is what put Marion where she is now. At the hands of some mad
man you think is my son. Well if it is him, it was one of your lot
that made him like that, that and one man
’
s weakness". She was looking at
Matthews when she said this.

"Thank you", Jo said.

"Jo can you take Mrs. Watson through to the
other room, I need to speak with the inspector privately".

Jo and Mrs. Watson stood up and went towards
the door.

Mrs. Watson turned and looked back at
Matthews. "I know it was you that first night", she said, then left
the room.

Bridger had his phone in his hand, "Brian
the name we are looking for is Daniel Maine.... Yes, that is the
one. I will be down in a second. I just need to square something
away with Inspector Matthews".

Putting his phone away, he looked at
Matthews sitting behind the desk.

"I think you know more than
you
’
re
letting on, I don't really care what your involvement is at this
stage, the priority is Marion and the unconscious male. But if I
find out you’re holding something back that might make it easier
for us to find them, I'm..."

"You
’
re what, Sergeant; you are in no
position to bargain with me. You
are
not even supposed to be here.
There’s disobeying a direct order for a start. We have no room for
pissheads on the force; if I want you out, you will be out, simple
as that. But you are right on one thing; Marion is the priority and
as much as it pains me to say, I need you to get on with
it".

"There's a connection with you and Mrs.
Watson isn't there, I heard her almost say as much before she
walked out of the room".

"Don't go there Sergeant, she's upset, not
thinking straight".

"We'll see".

Bridger walked out of the room, something
had happened all those years ago, Mrs. Watson had said, 'you lot
all stick together'. He wondered if she had just meant what
Gallagher had done or if there was another connection.

Bridger saw Mrs. Watson and Jo sitting
across from each other next to the monitor in the office. Jo had
switched it back on and he could see the far away image of a
wretched puppet. Mrs. Watson was watching with renewed interest,
trying to make a connection with the scene and the memory of her
son Daniel. Bridger could see nothing had changed on the screen;
Marion was swaying from side to side, a bloodied knife in her
hands, like a deranged bride, drunk with bloodlust.

Jo had a look of confused concern on her
face. Matthews was a senior officer and what he revealed to them
was a little strange, a story with many unanswered questions. What
he had seen of Jo in the last couple of days he was sure it would
not have slipped her attention.

"Mrs. Watson, I realise I have not shown the
greatest sensitivity with you in the last few days and for that I
apologize. But believe me when I say it, I have your daughters best
interest at heart and I will do my utmost to find her and get her
back safe and sound".

Mrs. Watson looked at Bridger; her look did
not show any malice or emotion. "I know you are doing your best
Sergeant but you will have to excuse me, I don't have much faith in
the police as a whole. I have been badly let down in the past".

"I can only apologize again for what's
happened in the past between you and the police, I hope by finding
your daughter we can go some way to restoring some faith in
us".

"You will only be doing your job Sergeant,
something that should have been done all those years ago".

That is what I need to know about, thought
Bridger, the sins of the past.

"I do need to ask you a few questions
Mrs. Watson. What did you mean by what you said to Inspector
Matthews before?
”

"That's between him and I, Sergeant".

"You told us your married name was
Maine; can you tell me who your late husband was?
”

"I would have thought it would be common
knowledge between you lot, but I don't suppose you were working in
the police back then. You look to young. If you do not know
already, I think that is something you should ask your Inspector.
He was great pals with Glenn in those days. I certainly will not
get involved in any more cover-ups. That is all behind me now. He
told me that he died that night. I just want my daughter back".

Mrs. Watson turned back to the screen and
stroked Marion's face through the glass.

"Thank you", Bridger said, before retreating
to the door. "I will be down stairs Jo, if Mrs. Watson needs to ask
any questions just let me know".

Bridger walked into the open elevator. They
had a strong lead but where would that really lead them. It could
throw up a name, possible location maybe. If they were lucky, he
would be living in the address they had on record and it would all
be over.

Something was bugging him about the whole
situation. Who was the Maine person that both the inspector and
Mrs. Watson did not want to elaborate on? If the puppet master was
to be believed, he was dead anyway, so what would it matter. Then
the son was supposed to be dead as well and he turned up
unexpectedly holding his sister in some sort of revenge ritual
against his mother.

The past was a murky place and the
participants all had something to hide. What were they
protecting?

Bridger's phone rang in his pocket, the
annoying symphony again. I have to change that bloody ring tone he
thought angrily.

"Mike, its Grant, I've made all the usual
checks with our databases and we have no record of a Daniel Maine.
It is a dead end. He must be using another name, or he doesn't
exist".

"Shit, that's not what I wanted to
hear".

"I can check with outside agencies but that
will take time".

"Make a few calls; see what you can turn up.
I will see what else I can come up with in the mean time".

Bridger pushed the call cancel button and
looked at the blank screen.

It is not going to be that easy after all,
he thought.

Bridger looked at the key pad on the
elevator wall; the lable read 'Watch House' next to the ground
floor button. Maine was the surname they were looking for and John
Maine would be sitting in the watch house this afternoon.