In The Name Of The Father

Chapter 4

4

Wendy curled a nostril in disgust at the state of the coffee mugs, and rifled through the cupboard to try and find one that could pass as almost clean. She needed to get another one of her own, with her name plastered over it. The last one had gone walkabout, as did everything else in the office sooner or later, and she hadn’t got round to replacing it yet.

Eventually, she found one that didn’t look too bad. She ran the hot tap until it was scalding, squirted a good quarter of a cup of washing-up liquid into the mug and scrubbed at it with a handful of scrunched-up paper towels. She rinsed it with the boiling water and sat it in the sink for a minute or so, hoping the steaming liquid would kill off the rest of the germs lurking in the porcelain.

The major incident room was quieter than usual — even quieter than it would usually be following the closure of any large case — and Wendy put this down to Jack Culverhouse’s absence. She didn’t know if he’d booked a holiday. She doubted it. But then again she tried to block out a lot of what he said. It wasn’t that she disrespected her boss; she just needed to try and keep her sanity occasionally.

‘Righto,’ Steve Wing said into the phone, raising his hand to stop Wendy as she walked past. ‘I’ll pass it on. Cheers. Bye.’

Wendy looked at Steve, waiting for him to tell her what he wanted.

‘A report of a body,’ he said. ‘The caller reckons it’s a murder.’

‘Good job we don’t need to pay pathologists, isn’t it?’ Wendy joked. ‘What did they discover at the scene?’

‘Uh, nothing,’ Steve replied.

‘What do you mean nothing?’

‘Nothing. The first responders can’t get in. They’re calling for backup.’

‘What, backup from CID?’ Wendy said, raising her voice.

‘Well, no, uniform are waiting for more of their own, but there’s only one reason the owners would deny access, isn’t there? If they’re trying to hide evidence or whatever, we’ll need CID on the scene sharpish.

Wendy narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you serious? What if it’s a hoax? Uniform just want to call CID out on a whim?’ She considered how lucky Steve was that Culverhouse wasn’t around to have this conversation with him. ‘Where is it, anyway?’

‘That’s the thing,’ Steve replied. ‘It’s at Hilltop Farm.’

The name rang a bell. Most local people knew of Hilltop Farm. There were stories about it being some sort of hippy commune or home to a religious group. But the farm had never fallen across the police’s radar, as far as Wendy knew. It was just another idiosyncrasy that made up the quirky fabric of the Mildenheath area.

‘And they’re denying access?’ Wendy asked.

‘Yep. Something about only allowing people in if they’re part of the Kingdom of God. The first responders said they’re allowed to enter private land if they believe someone’s committed a crime. Their response was that it’s not private land; it’s God’s land.’

Wendy sighed. ‘Sounds like fun. Get the DCI on the phone and tell him. He’ll make a call on it.’

‘Tried that,’ Steve replied. ‘Got no reply, so I sent a text.’

Wendy shook her head. She was often tempted to make a move away from Mildenheath and join a police force that operated in the same way as the rest of the country. Policing in Mildenheath was often a law unto itself. That was something that was changing, but not quickly enough for Wendy’s liking. That a Detective Chief Inspector could just ignore phone calls and not turn up for work would be unthinkable elsewhere. Proper procedures would have to be put in place, rules followed. But not here. She’d had something of a change of heart in recent months, wondering if perhaps Jack Culverhouse wasn’t such a bad bloke after all. That was quickly starting to change again.

‘Looks like you’re in charge for the moment,’ Steve added.

‘Me? I’m a DS, Steve. The same as you.’

‘Yeah, but you’re more... Well, you’re more senior. In a way, I mean.’

‘More senior?’ Wendy asked. ‘Is that meant to mean old?’

‘Well no, obviously not,’ Steve replied, adding that he was well aware he had a good few years on her. ‘But you’re kind of his right-hand woman, aren’t you? His second-in-command.’

Wendy raised her eyebrows. ‘Steve, if this is your way of getting out of making decisions, you can stick it up your arse. If you want us to attend the scene, we can attend the scene. But I’ll be buggered if I’m going to be the one to make that decision.’

Steve looked at her and smiled. She knew exactly what he was thinking. Never mind being Jack Culverhouse’s right-hand woman; she was starting to become him.