Mummy's Favourite (11 page)

‘Bastards! Didn't even give me a chance,' he groaned, trying to open his swollen eyes. ‘If they hadn't gone straight for my bleedin' crutches, I would have beaten the crap out of them all with them.'

He turned away from her and punched the pavement, before hauling himself on to his elbows, wincing in pain as he did so and upending his ‘Help for Heroes' collection box. Nothing came out.

‘And they've got the day's takings, the gits.'

She could hardly bear to watch. She wanted to help but didn't want to hurt his already injured pride even more by doing so, but the anger was welling up inside her. Ben Jacobs was an honourable young man, mentally maimed in the name of his country and obviously fighting his own demons. He didn't deserve this. The worse thing was that none of it was his fault; he'd been used by the government and, after a cursory term of recuperation, had been left to fend for himself. With a family who didn't understand mental illness and who had quickly disowned him, he'd ended up using drink as a way of dulling the pain. Now here she was, wanting to help but feeling useless in the knowledge that he wouldn't allow her to.

The sirens of the ambulance were getting closer now. She couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief. She knew the basics of life support and first aid, but she was always relieved when the paramedics arrived to take over the responsibility. She couldn't just leave him though.

Ben was looking towards her as they arrived. She quickly gave them a rundown of what had happened before trying to answer their next question out of his hearing.

‘Yes, I think he's had a few. His speech is a little slurry and his breath smells of alcohol.' Ben turned away; he'd obviously heard her. She cursed silently that she hadn't refused to answer the question, or moved further out of earshot. The last thing she wanted was to make Ben feel she was judging him. God only knew what she'd be like if she'd seen the things he had.

Bill Morley strode towards them.

‘Well I never, Charlie, I don't see you for ages then I see you twice in two days. You're like a bus. Not that I'm complaining.'

‘More like the back of a bus.' She pulled her T-shirt down subconsciously.

Bill ignored the comment, taking his notebook from his pocket. ‘So, what's happened?'

She explained again what she had seen as Bill took notes. As an ex-serviceman, she knew exactly what Bill would want to do; it was the same as she wanted. She finished by giving him as full a description of all the suspects as she could remember, concentrating particularly on every little detail of the main attacker.

‘I got a good look at him, Bill, and you know what I'm like when I've seen someone.'

‘Never forget a face!'

She had a reputation for remembering faces. If anyone wanted to identify a suspect, the first port of call would always be Charlie. Whether it was a photo that needed to be ID'd, a description of a distinctive person, or even an unusual tattoo or feature, she was the one to whom everyone turned. Hence her being nominated by Hunter to attend an independent, external course at the University of Greenwich at their campus in Eltham to test her powers of observation and identification. She'd been required to pick out people in crowds, faces from all angles, in poor visibility, for long periods of time or split seconds. After hours of tests she had emerged with the proud title of being a ‘super recognizer'. Having failed at school, any acknowledgement of her worth meant a lot to Charlie, and as this was a talent crucial to her job, she was particularly pleased with the accolade.

‘When I get a name for the face I'll let you know, Bill. In the meantime though, a quick sample of the main suspect's spit might be a good back-up. He spat on the ground down there.' She pointed at where the thug had spat at Ben. ‘Whichever way is quicker, you can come and help me bring him in when we've got a name.'

‘It'll be my pleasure, Charlie.'

‘Hopefully we'll be seeing quite a lot of each other in the coming weeks then.' She glanced back at Ben. The paramedics were ready to leave for the hospital. He looked lost, strapped onto the stretcher, clutching the crutches that had now been retrieved, as if expecting another attack.

‘I'll go with him.' She couldn't bear to see him on his own. She pulled Bill to one side, out of Ben's earshot. ‘At least until his family arrive; if any of them can be bothered to turn out for him.'

Bill looked towards her quizzically.

‘They've sort of disowned him since he turned to booze.'

‘Bloody disgrace,' Bill shook his head. ‘After all he's been through.'

She walked back to the ambulance and climbed in, taking Ben's hand and squeezing it encouragingly. Bill Morley smiled towards her.

‘You're a good kid, you know?'

‘Yes she is,' Ben agreed. ‘The best.' He pulled her hand up towards his lips and gave it a kiss. She felt her cheeks burning, especially when she saw the conspicuous wink Bill gave her as he shut the ambulance door.

Ben was just a mate. She hadn't given anything more than that a thought. But he was still holding her hand tightly and suddenly she didn't quite know what to do. She was just doing her job, and if that meant making sure he was safe and bringing the scum that had done this to him to justice, well that's what she would do.

Pulling her hand gently away, she tried to busy herself with a pen and paper, aware of his eyes watching her every move.

‘Right then, Ben,' she tried to get back to a more formal level. ‘Give me a few days and I'll have these bastards locked up. You know I always get my man.'

Charlie slept in the office that night, curled up in the corner on a pile of bright blue, prisoners' blankets she'd borrowed from custody. It had been her favoured option after finally leaving Ben in the early hours of the morning, having been admitted to a ward for observations. Her family home was too far away and her own flat, although near enough in distance was the last place she wanted to be. It was too quiet. She needed to be around people and noise.

Bet woke her with a cup of tea.

‘Charlie, are you OK? The guvnor saw you here and asked me to check on you.'

‘I'm fine. Is he in already?' she sat up far too quickly, almost shouting the words.

Bet reached over and pulled the earphones out of her ears. The iPod playing her favourite playlist had long since died.

‘Yep he's just been called to a briefing on the Hubbard case. The others have all agreed to come in too, even though it's Sunday. They'll be turning up shortly. You might want to jump in the shower quick before they all arrive.'

She hauled herself up, yawned and brushed some blue fluff off her T-shirt, before glancing at the clock above the door. It was less than four hours since she'd first lain down. She'd jump in the shower, have a quick freshen-up and then start looking through the list of known robbers operating on the South Bank. By the time Hunter was finished at his briefing, hopefully she'd have a name for Ben's assailant. She pushed the blankets into a pile with her foot.

Bet bent down, picking one up to fold.

‘They are clean ones, I hope. Or shouldn't I ask?'

Charlie shrugged and headed for the door. ‘I guess you shouldn't ask.'

Ten minutes later and she was back sitting at her computer, smelling of tangerine and ylang-ylang, with wet hair, hastily combed into place and wearing clean, although not expertly laundered, clothes, salvaged from the bottom of her locker. The tea had been reheated in the office microwave and as each image flicked on to the screen, she took a sip, shook her head and moved on to the next.

‘Oh my God, I ache in every part of my body. In fact, I ache in parts of my body that I didn't realize could ache.' Paul pushed the door open with his foot, hung his jacket on a peg and tucked his shirt back into the rear of his trousers all in one continuous movement, as if still asleep. He looked as if hadn't slept at all. ‘I was in Heaven until a few hours ago.'

Heaven was Paul's favourite night-club, situated under the arches at Charing Cross. He loved it as much for the double entendre whenever he said the name, as for the dark, throbbing beat of the house music.

Sabira smiled. ‘I've been in heaven too.' She happily tapped a code into her phone and quickly flicked to a photo of a rather butch-looking girl sat astride a shiny black Triumph motorcycle. ‘Hot eh? Had my first date with her yesterday evening.' Charlie glanced up from the computer images of a group of recently arrested robbers to look at the photo. None of them were her assailants.

‘Nice bike,' she commented.

Naz peered over her shoulder.

‘Lucky for some; though not sure she's quite my type.' Naz was clearly not happy. She threw herself down on her chair moodily. ‘Well, I've been in hell all weekend. In fact, I'm glad to have got out of the house this morning. Even work is better than being cooped up there. I managed to persuade a friend that I was indispensable at work and had to come in. She's looking after the boys for the day.'

‘What's the problem then, Naz?' Bet scooped up the mugs to make a fresh cup for everyone.

‘My mum's been away on holiday so I've had the kids all by myself and Nathaniel is being a right little git at the moment. I don't know if it's his age or what? I can't remember the last time I've had to be in on a Friday
and
Saturday night. And I don't want another weekend like it again for a long time. In fact, ever.'

‘The joys of motherhood, eh. Good old grandparents.' Bet flicked the switch of the kettle. ‘At least we're good for something. Baby-sitting and making tea!'

‘You could always send him to me, Naz.' Colin sidled over. ‘I'll put him to work digging and wear him out. I've been spending every spare moment putting a new fence up down the back of my garden. The neighbours have got a new bloody dog which keeps knocking holes in the old fence and coming and crapping all over my grass. If it carries on, I'm going to start posting it back through their letter box.'

Hunter came in quietly, standing for a few minutes to listen to the conversation.

‘Do you lot ever actually get any work done? Charlie said it was like working in the
Jeremy Kyle
studio and it really is.'

Charlie spun away from some more images on her computer and held her hands up in mock surprise.

‘Hold it, guys, before you all accuse me of snitching. I'm allowed to say that because you're always telling me I should be on the programme. “
My colleague gets on better with animals than people! Is there something wrong with her?
”

‘One day you'll make a lovely wife, Charlie,' Paul crowed. ‘Just not sure who to?'

‘Whoever it ends up as, they'll need a bloody medal to put up with her.'

‘And a good deal of stamina,' Bet agreed with Hunter. ‘She wears me out just listening to her antics.'

‘Yes, I've just been hearing about your heroics last night.'

The others all stopped and looked towards her expectantly. Her cheeks immediately started to burn.

‘I'm going to have to escort you to your doorstep from now on, to stop you putting your life at risk.' Hunter shook his head at her, but she knew by his expression that he wasn't cross. He turned back towards the others.

‘Apparently, she single-handedly stopped a robbery in progress, chased off the four suspects and then did first aid until the cavalry arrived. She even accompanied the victim to hospital and stayed with him until he was OK. I'm sure she'll tell you all about it when I've left the office.' They all turned towards her expectantly. She looked down at the floor, embarrassed. ‘Or maybe you'll have to find out from a different source. Oh, and have you all heard the latest?' He switched back to their upturned faces. ‘Charlie and I have Justin Latchmere on the ropes, don't we?'

‘I'll be phoning him very soon to arrange for him to come in, guv.' She was glad the subject had changed. ‘He's got to explain why his home number is logged for incoming calls to Keith Hubbard, after Julie and her son disappeared.'

On cue, her phone rang. It was the front office clerk. Mr Latchmere was waiting, with his solicitor downstairs for them now. She hung up and looked towards Hunter.

‘Talk of the devil. We must have got him worried. Latchmere and his solicitor are waiting for us now.'

‘He's so fucking slippery,' Hunter shook his head, obviously annoyed. ‘He was supposed to phone to tell us when he was available so we could arrange a time that suits us both. He's trying to get us on the back foot. Charlie, get everything together and check whether there have been any more calls since we last spoke with him. I'll go down and tell him we've got a few things that need to be done first. We'll see him when
we're
good and ready, and not before.'

*

Justin Latchmere looked thoroughly irritated when she and Hunter eventually collected him and his solicitor forty-five minutes later.

‘Sorry to have kept you.' Hunter smiled sweetly.

Charlie had used the time to prepare thoroughly, checking the latest call data and compiling a full list of dates and times on which the previous calls had been made.

The solicitor, a portly, bald headed man with thick glasses and an ill-fitting suit, sighed heavily. Latchmere scowled, making a play of checking his large Rolex watch.

‘We are busy people, you know, and I don't want to have any more of my weekend wasted than I must.'

‘So are we,' Hunter replied evenly. ‘And if you'd phoned, as arranged, we would have been ready for you. You should know as well as we do what Saturday nights throw up for us to deal with.'

Latchmere frowned harder but said nothing.

Charlie led them into a small interview room off the front office, barely large enough for the four chairs that were needed and a small table which was clean but showed the results of too many people being left for too long on their own. Several names were scratched on to the table and other names and dates were graffittied on the walls and door with marker pens. Some attempts had been made to remove them, leaving darkened patches on the wall, but on the whole they stayed stubbornly present, making the room look shabby. The table was the standard black top with dark wood edging and none of the chairs matched. Altogether the look was more like a junk room at a charity shop than a cutting-edge service welcome.