Chapter 21
848 Words
21
There was just enough time left before closing time at the Prince Albert for the team to grab a quick drink before heading off home for the night. Sometimes, a pint or a glass of wine was vital at the end of a long day.
Culverhouse had ordered a round of drinks and was busy trying to carry four glasses at once, whilst offering two banknotes to the barmaid with his teeth.
‘Muchas gracias,’ he said, as he clutched the glasses tightly, careful not to spill any liquid on the floor.
‘What’s your gut feeling on the Freddie Galloway case, then, guv?’ Steve called out as Culverhouse made his way slowly towards the table.
‘My feeling is you should keep your f*****g voice down in the middle of the pub, Steve,’ Culverhouse grunted. ‘Do the words “active investigation” not mean anything to you?’
‘Well there are only a couple of possibilities, aren’t there?’ Steve said, now talking much more quietly, as Culverhouse dished out the drinks. ‘I mean, there’s the obvious theory that Lucas finally managed to get out and get his revenge. But he must’ve known he’d be the main suspect. Surely he wouldn’t be that stupid.’
‘Yeah well they don’t call it “thick as thieves” for nothing,’ Culverhouse remarked.
‘What if he was being set up, though?’
‘By who? He’s just spent eleven years in the slammer.’
‘We should try to remember that there’s nothing actually tying Lucas to Galloway’s death in any way, too. Not until forensics have reported back, and that won’t be until the morning,’ Wendy said.
‘Yeah, well I’ve got a pile of cat s**t in my back garden and I’m not blaming it on the sparrows,’ Culverhouse said, taking a gulp of his pint. ‘Speaking of which. Back in five,’ he added, before standing and making his way to the toilet.
Ryan leaned forward and spoke quietly. ‘What’s up with him? He’s even grumpier than usual.’
‘Someone probably put milk in his coffee two weeks back,’ Steve joked.
‘Reckon it’s anything to do with one of the others? I mean, Debbie went into his office to speak to him earlier and he’s been pissed off ever since. Frank’s gone straight home, too.’
‘Frank’s pretending he’s semi-retired,’ Wendy said. ‘When in practice all that means is he works the same hours but just doesn’t go to the pub afterwards.’
‘It’s not like Debbie not to join in, though,’ Ryan said.
Wendy leaned in and spoke quietly. ‘She’s having a bit of trouble with her mum. She’s ill, and lives down on the south coast somewhere. I’m not meant to say anything, so don’t tell her I told you this. She reckons she might not have long left, so she’s spending a lot of time down there when she’s not working. I don’t think that’s enough, though.’
‘Here, why’d she tell you that and not me?’ Steve asked, seeming offended.
Wendy raised her eyebrows. ‘I wonder.’
‘Is that why he’s pissed off?’ Ryan asked.
Wendy took a sip of her drink. ‘Possibly. I asked him about taking my inspectors’ exams. I’d need to move some shifts around to do the exams and to prepare, and he turned it down. Even though it was his idea in the first place.’
‘Can he even do that?’
‘Course he can. Especially if it would be to the detriment of a case. You know what it’s like here by now. With our staffing levels, even pausing to sneeze is to the detriment of a case.’
Ryan raised her eyebrows momentarily. ‘I reckon he just needs to get laid.’
Wendy, almost choking on her drink, tried her best to convince Ryan that Jack Culverhouse and women didn’t tend to mix well. ‘His wife left him years back. Went abroad and took the daughter with her, apparently. Then she came back a year or two ago rattling with anti-depressants. Turns out the daughter never went anywhere and had been with his in-laws the whole time while she was off on her jollies. I hear the daughter is back living with him now, but this is all just hearsay. He never talks about any of it. I wish he would. It’s clearly not doing him any good keeping it all bottled up.’
‘Like I say, he just needs a good shag.’
‘You offering?’ Steve said, chipping in.
Wendy gave Steve a glance that told him that wasn’t really the right thing to say.
‘Not really my type,’ Ryan replied. ‘He’s got one too many c***s for my liking.’
‘Maybe you’ve just not met the right man yet. I reckon you could be turned.’
Wendy glanced at Steve again, hoping for his sake that Ryan wasn’t the sort of woman who made complaints against colleagues.
‘Even if that were true, I don’t think Culverhouse would be the man to do it, do you?’ Ryan replied, smiling at Wendy to let her know that she was taking this all in good jest. ‘But seriously. Don’t tell me we wouldn’t all be better off if he had something else to occupy his spare time other than a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and old re-runs of Minder. Plus it’d be fun watching it all happen.’
‘Watching it? Jesus Christ, you’re perverse,’ Steve muttered, curling his upper lip.
‘Not watching that, Steve. I mean setting him up with someone and watching it all unfurl. See what happens. Might make a nice psychological study at the very least. You know, we should set him up on one of those dating apps. There’s loads of them. Gay ones, ones for people in uniform, ones for widowed pensioners. I’m sure there’ll be one for overweight middle-aged bigots.’
‘How the hell are you going to manage that?’ Wendy asked, speaking quietly as she noticed Culverhouse walking back from the toilet.
Ryan smiled. ‘Just watch and learn.’
- Writer
