Call & Response Read online

  ‘That’s not fair, boss. She’s just trying to take care of her family.’

  ‘Cobblers. Do you know how much she gets in benefits, every week? Have a guess.’

  ‘I don’t know. Honest, I don’t.’

  ‘Go on, how much?’

  ‘All right, a hundred quid.’

  ‘No way. I bet it’s £400 at least. Cash in hand that is, too.’

  ‘That can’t be right, boss. She’d be able to feed the kids on that, no trouble.’

  ‘Exactly, and that’s my point. Well, I’ll tell you what, Henry. You go back in there and you ask her how much it is. And then you get her charged, OK? We can carry on with this conversation later. Because I’ll tell you one thing for nowt. If you don’t get on with it PC Jackson will leave you holding the baby. Literally.’

  DC Armstrong was a little flushed when he returned to the interview room, and he almost knocked PC Jackson’s empty mug off the table when he sat down. And then he asked the question, straight out.

  ‘What’s it to you?’

  ‘Come on, Amanda. It’s a simple question. How much do you get?’

  ‘I’m entitled, I am.’

  ‘I didn’t say you weren’t. I bet it’s £400 a week, isn’t it?’

  ‘Aye, about that’ said Amanda. ‘But it don’t go right far, not these days.’

  ‘Gotcha’ said Pepper, from the observation room. She did enjoy it when she was right and a subordinate was wrong. In fact, the only thing that she enjoyed more - at work at least - was when she was proved right, and a superior officer was shown to be wrong. And that happened all the time too, now that she came to think about it.

  PC Jackson managed to book Amanda out at just before noon, and DC Armstrong went looking for Pepper Wilson. She wasn’t in the observation room, and she wasn’t at her desk on the open CID floor, nor in the DI’s office. A PC who was using one of the empty desks, which had previously belonged to a DC who’d taken voluntary redundancy a couple of month before, said that Pepper had been called in to see the Super. So he returned to his own work-station, and before he set to on his accumulated paperwork he had a look online to see how benefits were calculated. Surely no-one had more children just to avoid having to go to work?

  Superintendent Mary Clark wasn’t yet comfortable in her uniform, and it showed. It just looked like rather convincing fancy dress on her, she thought. She was sitting stiffly at her meeting table when DS Wilson walked in, and Pepper told herself - not for the first time in her career - to keep an open mind. Just because the new Super had been recruited from outside the job didn’t necessarily mean that she’d be utterly shit at it, although Pepper had to make an effort not to call to mind the jokes about Mary Clark that had been going round the station for weeks. But then, what could the bosses expect? Because the Super’s round-robin introductory email had explained that she’d come from a senior role in Supply Chain Management at one of the major supermarkets. As a result she’d already gained the nickname BOGOF, but as she sat down Pepper thought that it could be worse. One of her predecessors in the area commander’s chair had been known simply as ‘the arse’.

  ‘I’ve been reading your file, Samantha’ she began. ‘You do like to be known as Samantha?’

  ‘Sam is fine, ma’am. But most people call me Pepper.’

  ‘Do they? Well, Pepper, I’ve been looking at your record, and I can’t help but notice the high number of complaints made against you by members of the public. The highest number in the Division, in fact.’

  Here we go again, thought Pepper, and started to open her mouth. But the Super held up a well-manicured hand.

  ‘But I also notice that you have by far the highest arrest rate in the Division as well. Top of every single chart in fact, right across the board. I wonder if those two facts might be correlated, or connected, in some way?’

  ‘I think so, ma’am.’

  ‘Well, as a matter of fact so do I. I’ve been having a look at all of the key metrics around officer performance, and there does seem to be a clear correlation. There is, for example, an officer at this very station with not a single complaint against his name, which of course would be excellent if he also boasted an equally outstanding arrest record.’

  Pepper smiled. She knew who the Super meant, and so she already knew what was coming next.

  ‘But, unfortunately, that officer has made fewer arrests over the past twelve months than any other front-line officer in the whole of the Constabulary. Now I know that I’ve not been here for five minutes, and I’m very aware that I’ve got a very great deal to learn, but I’d have said that arresting offenders is pretty much the core function of a Police officer.’

  ‘I agree entirely, ma’am.’

  ‘Can we drop the ma’am, please? Mary is fine, when we’re on our own.’

  ‘It is customary, ma’am.’

  ‘Is it? If we must then, I suppose. But it’s first name terms outside work, is it?’

  ‘Aye, of course.’

  ‘Good. But a word to the wise, Pepper. Try not to add too many more complaints to your tally. I know that none of any significance have gone against you, but it’s not doing you any favours. You’ve got a bit of a reputation, reading between the lines. And it is a thin line between straight-talker and pain-in-the-arse, isn’t it? And you do want to get on, I expect.’

  ‘I do, ma’am.’

  ‘And you’re currently acting DI, is that right?’

  ‘Yes. Bill Murray is away on long-term sick leave, I’m afraid. Stress, ma’am.’

  ‘What a shame.’

  Pepper let the Super’s considerate comment hang in the air, even though she wanted to add that the old bastard was playing the system, and that his stress wasn’t preventing him from golfing three times a week, except when he was at his villa in Spain, of course. Because then it was five times a week.

  ‘Sickness levels here are a worry’ the Super continued, ‘but I see that you’ve barely had a day off during your whole period of service to date. And you only took three months off after your child was born.’

  ‘That’s right, ma’am.’

  This time it was Mary Clark who paused, but Pepper had no intention of filling the silence, no matter how long it lasted.

  ‘And I also see that you had a period on attachment at HQ last year. Tell me about that.’

  ‘I spent six months instructing on the self-defence team, ma’am. We worked with everyone from the Specials and PCSOs right through to senior officers on refreshers.’

  ‘Really? I don’t want to be personal, Pepper, but you don’t look like the type. You’re so slim, I mean.’

  ‘That’s why I did it, ma’am. Good technique, combined with fitness and the right attitude trumps brute strength every time, believe me. The female officers needed to understand that. We can all look after ourselves, when we have to, like.’

  ‘I see. But back to the matter in hand. I’m a little concerned about the utilisation level in your team at present.’

  ‘Come again?’

  ‘I’m worried about how hard you’re working, Pepper.’

  ‘I do my bit, ma’am. That’s all.’

  ‘You do a good deal more than that, Pepper. Do you know how many hours per week you’ve worked, on average, over the last few months?’

  ‘A few more than I should, I’ll grant you. Forty-five I’d say, about that.’

  ‘You’re miles out, I’m afraid. You and a DI called Jane Francis, down in Kendal, are in joint first place, or should that be last place? You’re working far too many hours. And that tells me something, Pepper.’

  ‘I can’t work any faster, ma’am. You can put one of those time and motion people on me, if you like.’

  ‘Operational research? Christ, do we have those parasites too? No, I don’t think so. That’s the last bloody thing you need. In fact, I think I have a solution.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Yes. You’re getting a new DC on your team. And he’s got a bit of experien
ce, too. Take a bit of the weight off, if you follow me.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ Jane smiled, but didn’t get her hopes up. But then she knew most of the DCs on the Constabulary’s total strength, and she’d take a keen youngster like Henry Armstrong over any of the old-timers.

  ‘Don’t worry, he’s not from Cumbria. He’s from London, actually. We’re lucky to get him, by the looks. I’ll send you the file, and you can see what you make of him.’

  ‘Great’ said Pepper, and this time she almost meant it. ‘When does he start?’

  ‘Tomorrow. I know, it’s short notice, but it’s not down to me. A personnel cock-up, I’m afraid. They thought he was going to South Division, for some reason.’

  ‘Say no more, ma’am.’

  ‘It’s not just me, then? That’s a relief. I thought that they were just being obstructive because I’ve come from outside the force.’

  ‘It won’t be anything personal with personnel, ma’am. They’re like that with everyone.’

  ‘That’s a relief.’ Mary Clark smiled. ‘Not that I really give a shit what they think, to tell the truth.’

  Pepper smiled back. Mary Clark was a year or two younger than her, if the rumours were to be believed, but she wouldn’t hold that against her.

  ‘Well, I mustn’t keep you, Pepper. But I will make a point of coming out with you on a job sometime soon.’

  ‘Of course, ma’am. But it won’t be very exciting, I can almost guarantee it.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. And I won’t be a liability if things get physical.’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘I mean it. My arse may have been polishing a chair for my whole career but I’m pretty good at judo. Been doing it since I was a girl.’

  ‘I’m sure it’ll come in handy, ma’am.’

  ‘By which you mean it won’t.’

  Pepper smiled again. ‘Honestly? Most of our techniques are a bit more basic. There’s an old PC out west who has never even got his stick out, not in thirty years. All he does is wrestle the con to the ground, and then he just sits on them ’til help arrives. He swears by it. I think if we started doing judo throws and that it might just encourage some of the shit-heads, to tell the truth. Botchergate on a Saturday night isn’t always a pretty sight, but the punters are usually so pissed that you only really need to know a bit of origami to nick most of them.’

  Mary Clark laughed and stood up. Pepper did the same.

  ‘Remember what I said about the complaints though, Pepper. And if DI Murray isn’t well enough to come back soon, then there’ll be a vacancy here. I’m sure of it. It would be a shame if you weren’t in a position to apply.’

  ‘Thanks, ma’am. I’ll certainly do my best.’

  ‘Good. And let’s go out for drink sometime soon, if you can spare the time. Other than my little house in Stanwix, the gym, the supermarket and this place I wouldn’t know Carlisle from a hole in the ground yet.’

  ‘An easy mistake to make, some would say.’

  ‘Would you?’

  ‘Absolutely not. I’m Carlisle born and bred, not that it’s any reason to stay. But so long as you keep away from a few spots this is as good as any city to live in, and better than some, I dare say.’

  ‘And you’ll show me some of the places that a respectable woman shouldn’t ever be seen in then, Pepper?’

  ‘Aye, ma’am. I will that. They’re all my regular haunts, like. But if this new DC is no good at the job then the drinks will be on you, OK?’

  ‘Fair enough. Send me an email when you’ve had a chance to decide. But, judging by his file, it’ll be you who’s buying.’

  DC Rex Copeland was driving slowly, trying to get his head round Carlisle’s one way system. He’d already been past the floodlit castle twice, and that couldn’t be right. And it was just so quiet, it was making him nervous. Like there’d been a zombie apocalypse or something, and no-one had told him. It was only just after eleven, and the roads were almost completely empty. Back in Tottenham they’d still be busy, and there’d still be people on the streets. He’d hardly seen a soul, so there was no-one to ask for directions.

  So when the blue lights lit up behind him he was almost relieved, and he pulled over into a bus stop and looked down at the address of the hotel he was trying to find. By the time the traffic officer had reached the car he’d checked the address, and had the window rolled down.

  ‘Good evening, officer.’

  ‘Is this your car?’

  ‘Yes, it is. Actually I’m a copper, and I’m trying to find my hotel, on William Street. Could you point me in the right direction please, mate?’

  ‘Turn off the engine and get out of the car, please.’

  Copeland shook his head, turned off the engine, and got out of his shiny but middle-aged BMW coupe. He smiled at the copper, but it didn’t seem to help, so he reached into his pocked for his Warrant Card. It was from the Met, and while the traffic cop was big he didn’t look the brightest, although Copeland was still pretty confident that he could read. But Copeland didn’t even have time to open it.

  ‘You’re not big enough to be a bobby, son. You’re more drug-dealer size, I’d say.’

  ‘There’s no size limit in the job, mate. Not any more. And there’s no colour bar either, if that’s what you’re getting at. You need to learn a few manners, mate. Look, let me show you my ID and we can all get on our way, how’s that? I’m sure I’ll see you down the nick sometime, and we can have a laugh about it.’

  Copeland took a conciliatory step forward, felt the Warrant Card between his fingers, and started to open it. ‘Here, look.’

  What happened next amazed him, because the cop went for him, stick suddenly out, and swung hard at his head. Copeland ducked the blow easily, grabbed the cop’s outstretched arm and used his weight and momentum to throw him onto the ground, so that the man landed on his back, the breath rushing from his lungs. Copeland moved forward, pinned the man’s broad shoulders to the ground with his knees, pulled out his Warrant Card and shouted ‘Police, and you stay right where you are’ to the other cop, who was only half out of the car. He did exactly as he was told. ‘Radio in and check if you like. I’m DC Rex Copeland, and I’m starting work at Carlisle nick tomorrow. So thanks a bunch for the warm welcome, lads. You shouldn’t have bothered, though. You really shouldn’t.’

  Five minutes later the cop who Copeland had put on the ground was still apologising, with what little breath he could muster.

  ‘So why did you stop me, John?’, Copeland interrupted. It had been a long drive, and he didn’t want to hear it all again.

  ‘Why? Going too slow, I suppose.’

  ‘What’s the limit on here?’

  ‘Thirty.’

  ‘And what was I doing? You were recording, I take it.’

  ‘No. It was just a hunch, like. You know, out of area car, a bit flash, going slower than we expected.’

  ‘And a black man driving it?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘We didn’t notice that. How could we? We’ve not got super-powers, like.’

  ‘Because I drove past you, didn’t I? You were parked up somewhere back there. Don’t bullshit me, mate.’

  ‘All right, aye, we were. We saw you drive by.’

  ‘And you do know what racial profiling is, don’t you?’

  ‘Aye, we know.’

  ‘And did you do that, do you think? Stop me because of my colour, I mean. You don’t get many IC3s around here, I expect.’

  The bobby literally squirmed slightly, his big, fleshy body wriggling like a worm on a hook.

  ‘You just didn’t seem tall enough, that’s all. That’s why I didn’t believe you were a copper, like.’

  ‘You must have got us confused with giants, mate. Black people come in all shapes and sizes, just like you. On my island most people are actually pygmys, so I’m actually really, really big. It’s all relative, see.’

  It was a long five seconds before the other cop
laughed. ‘Joke, right?’

  ‘That’s right, mate. Got it in one. My dad came over from Barbados on the Windrush in the ‘60s to drive a bus for London Transport, not by canoe from Borneo or somewhere.’

  ‘So no hard feelings?’ asked the cop he’d thrown. ‘Will you need to report this?’

  ‘Will you?’

  ‘Fuck, no.’

  ‘Well, that’s fine then, lads. And I hope I didn’t do any damage when I threw you, John.’

  ‘No, I just tripped and fell, really.’

  Rex laughed. ‘Of course you did. Well, listen lads, nice to have met you, and don’t worry, I won’t mention this to anyone down at the nick. Unless I hear that one of you two has, in which case all bets are off. You get me?’

  ‘Aye, we get you, Rex. We’ll say nowt to no-one. Pretend it never happened, like.’

  ‘OK. That’s your best bet, I’d say. Now would you lads do me a favour and give me a Police escort round to William Street? I just want to get a few hours kip. I’m on duty in the morning, and I don’t want black circles under my eyes, now do I?’

  The two cops didn’t laugh, so Copeland smiled, to indicate that he’d made a joke. And then they did. It was the sound of relief.

  ‘Very good, Rex. Aye, very good.’

  PC John Foster looked in the rear view mirror as he drove away from the hotel. They’d offered to help Copeland in with his stuff, but he’d said he’d be fine.

  ‘Decent bloke.’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘I’m still surprised they let them into the job though, when they’re that small, like.’

  ‘He still put you on your arse, John.’

  ‘Like I said, I tripped. He was lucky, that’s all.’

  ‘Aye, well.’

  ‘And I expect you need to be pretty handy, if you’re on the job down there. What with the gang wars, and all. I expect he’s come up here for an easy life, like. Bit of fresh air, and that.’