Read Online Still Waters by Judith Cutler - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Judith Cutler
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multinational, which is now selling it off to some offshore holding company. Venture capital… Do you want allthe details? The story was in the
FT
the other day – I can look it up if you want.’
‘I’m not sure that’s necessary, thanks, Jon. But the gist of what you’re saying is that they’re currently in a sort of financial limbo—’
‘That’s right. It’s no one’s baby at the moment, and all people are interested in is the price of shares. But that shouldn’t affect the day-to-day running of the company.’
‘I should hope not – it’d be bad if they turned the taps off until they’d completed their negotiations.’
‘What were you going to complain about, guv?’
‘The village water supply tastes odd and smells a bit, some people claim. Would it reduce the share price if there was a water-quality scandal?’
‘Only if it was big enough.’
‘So they might be covering something up until the deal goes through?’
He looked her straight in the eye. ‘I don’t see them covering you up, guv.’
‘Like a noisy budgie in a cage? I should like to see them try!’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Reaching at long last for the file that Mark had asked her to read, and this time getting to the stage where she even checked her pencil was sharp, Fran was again interrupted by the phone. It was Simon Gates’ secretary, inviting her to yet another meeting.
‘This afternoon? Sorry, I can’t possibly. Would you send Mr Gates my apologies and tell him I’m tied up with a job for Mr Turner?’
Two minutes later the phone rang again. It was Gates himself.
‘I wouldn’t have requested your presence if it hadn’t been essential,’ he said without preamble.
An essential meeting with no prior preparation? Surely not. All the same, she temporised. ‘We’ve got a case coming up for appeal shortly. Mark wants me to check the validity of our case before the CPS start picking holes in it.’
‘Such reviews are Henson’s responsibility.’
Surely he knew about Henson’s heart problem? Lest he hadn’t, she spelt it out. ‘Detective Chief SuperintendentHenson was off sick for some months after major heart surgery. OK, he’s back now, but he’s still very much on light duties, and he’s only on seventy-five per cent of his hours.’ With the connivance of both the chief and Cosmo Dix, head of Human Resources, Fran, who’d had to take over a case or two from him, had continued to stand by to pick up odd bits and pieces so that Henson wouldn’t be under too much pressure. ‘So I support him whenever—’
‘I’ll expect you at three, DCS Harman.’ He cut the call.
The bastard. Double bastard for betraying her belief in him.
Even she had to respond to direct orders, so, with great reluctance leaving the file behind, she took herself off to the meeting. Predictably it overran lamentably and predictably made not a jot of difference to the sum total of things. She’d have done more for the world by touting a collection box outside Sainsbury’s for the Police Benevolent Fund.
Two hours later, then, gasping for a cup of tea, on her return to her office, she was greeted by an A4 internal post envelope. Forget the tea! A quick look inside told her it was what she’d been awaiting for some time, the background information on the Alec Minton suicide. She knew local CIDs were overburdened not just with cases but with the concomitant paperwork; all the same, Pete Webb had been decidedly dilatory. She glanced at her watch – it was now nearer seven than six. Mark would be waiting for her. Hell’s bells, they were supposed to be meeting Maeve and little Bill at eight. All the same—
‘No you don’t,’ Mark announced, popping his head round the door just as she lifted the flap.
She dropped the envelope guiltily on the desk.
‘If you open it now, Fran, you’ll still be here at midnight, scribbling here, jotting there.’
‘And of course, I’m not supposed to be looking at cases – I’m Meetings Woman
FT
the other day – I can look it up if you want.’
‘I’m not sure that’s necessary, thanks, Jon. But the gist of what you’re saying is that they’re currently in a sort of financial limbo—’
‘That’s right. It’s no one’s baby at the moment, and all people are interested in is the price of shares. But that shouldn’t affect the day-to-day running of the company.’
‘I should hope not – it’d be bad if they turned the taps off until they’d completed their negotiations.’
‘What were you going to complain about, guv?’
‘The village water supply tastes odd and smells a bit, some people claim. Would it reduce the share price if there was a water-quality scandal?’
‘Only if it was big enough.’
‘So they might be covering something up until the deal goes through?’
He looked her straight in the eye. ‘I don’t see them covering you up, guv.’
‘Like a noisy budgie in a cage? I should like to see them try!’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Reaching at long last for the file that Mark had asked her to read, and this time getting to the stage where she even checked her pencil was sharp, Fran was again interrupted by the phone. It was Simon Gates’ secretary, inviting her to yet another meeting.
‘This afternoon? Sorry, I can’t possibly. Would you send Mr Gates my apologies and tell him I’m tied up with a job for Mr Turner?’
Two minutes later the phone rang again. It was Gates himself.
‘I wouldn’t have requested your presence if it hadn’t been essential,’ he said without preamble.
An essential meeting with no prior preparation? Surely not. All the same, she temporised. ‘We’ve got a case coming up for appeal shortly. Mark wants me to check the validity of our case before the CPS start picking holes in it.’
‘Such reviews are Henson’s responsibility.’
Surely he knew about Henson’s heart problem? Lest he hadn’t, she spelt it out. ‘Detective Chief SuperintendentHenson was off sick for some months after major heart surgery. OK, he’s back now, but he’s still very much on light duties, and he’s only on seventy-five per cent of his hours.’ With the connivance of both the chief and Cosmo Dix, head of Human Resources, Fran, who’d had to take over a case or two from him, had continued to stand by to pick up odd bits and pieces so that Henson wouldn’t be under too much pressure. ‘So I support him whenever—’
‘I’ll expect you at three, DCS Harman.’ He cut the call.
The bastard. Double bastard for betraying her belief in him.
Even she had to respond to direct orders, so, with great reluctance leaving the file behind, she took herself off to the meeting. Predictably it overran lamentably and predictably made not a jot of difference to the sum total of things. She’d have done more for the world by touting a collection box outside Sainsbury’s for the Police Benevolent Fund.
Two hours later, then, gasping for a cup of tea, on her return to her office, she was greeted by an A4 internal post envelope. Forget the tea! A quick look inside told her it was what she’d been awaiting for some time, the background information on the Alec Minton suicide. She knew local CIDs were overburdened not just with cases but with the concomitant paperwork; all the same, Pete Webb had been decidedly dilatory. She glanced at her watch – it was now nearer seven than six. Mark would be waiting for her. Hell’s bells, they were supposed to be meeting Maeve and little Bill at eight. All the same—
‘No you don’t,’ Mark announced, popping his head round the door just as she lifted the flap.
She dropped the envelope guiltily on the desk.
‘If you open it now, Fran, you’ll still be here at midnight, scribbling here, jotting there.’
‘And of course, I’m not supposed to be looking at cases – I’m Meetings Woman
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