‘Oh, I mean it all right.’ He caught her gaze and held it until she broke away.
‘We used to make fun of you all the time. I mean, when you were with the Met.’ She always felt it was best to be honest. ‘We thought being a desk sergeant all those years had got to you. We knew we could tease you about your name, because you’d never read Bram Stoker’s Dracula.’
‘Yeah, well, I’ve read it now. I don’t think I’m quite the same bloke anymore. The Met feels a long way behind me.’
‘I know what you mean.’ Longbright smiled at the thought. ‘I think of those long nights collating records, avoiding male attention, doing my fitness training for postings on the Territorial Support Group, then drinking bottles of whisky left in the CID offices. I did a lot of ops for TSG, surveillance jobs lying on my stomach among the corpses of pigeons on the flat roof of some windy council block, peeping over the side of what seemed to be a cliff, looking down on some estate agent’s about to be robbed or watching some dozy drug dealer do business from his house. Not the best way to spend your life. The smell of bird shit cleared my sinuses, though. I never had a problem staying detached—I think we all had a good sense of black humour—but the work got to me at times. Don’t get me wrong; I enjoyed being operational. I still love pulling down a long shift. But John and Mr Bryant were my salvation.’
‘Some of the riots were bad,’ said Renfield. ‘I remember a lot of West End officers got hurt after an anti-capitalist clash in Oxford Street—they were sitting around the yard in bloody bandages, deathly quiet; it was like a field hospital. And the commissioner came round in plainclothes with his Personal Protection Officers, like some general inspecting the troops. I think one of the PPOs told him they wouldn’t be able to protect him, ’cause they all turned tail and walked out in the street. The Met took the fall for that particular outbreak of civil unrest, but it was really the economy that was the cause. I don’t want to see that happen again.’
It was the longest speech she had ever heard from Renfield. The sergeant had made an error of judgement in the course of his duty that had ultimately cost a life, and knew he would have to live with the mistake forever. He had been appointed a therapist, and although he had only recently started attending sessions, Longbright could already see he was changing.
‘Anyway, we talked about you as well,’ he told Longbright. ‘We had a nickname for you at the station.’
‘You did? What was it?’
‘Frostyknickers.’
‘Oh, cheers.’
‘But I always liked you.’
‘I can’t think why.’
‘You’re strong. There’s something real about you, sort of sturdy—’ Renfield broke off.
‘Sturdy is not a word women long to hear used to describe them, Jack.’
‘Solid, then.’
‘You’re digging a hole for yourself.’
‘You know—womanly, only more of a—’ At the point where he enlisted the help of his hands in trying to describe her, she stopped him.
‘If you’re going to call me a rough diamond I’ll clout you.’
‘No. You’re more of a pearl than a diamond.’ Renfield did not realise that he was almost endearing when he was being honest. ‘There’s a soft lustre about you.’ He looked embarrassed now.
Longbright broke the awkwardness between them. ‘Jack, listen, one of us should stay here and wait for Dan.’
‘Why, where’s the other one going?’
Longbright held up the laminated ID card. ‘Highbury. Got a coin?’
Renfield flicked the ten-pence piece and slapped it on his wrist. ‘You call.’
‘Tails.’
‘Tails it is.’
‘I’ll go. I could do with the exercise.’ Longbright turned up her collar and stepped out into gently sifting rain.
22
GHOSTS OF VIOLENCE
As soon as Longbright was on her way, Renfield called Leslie Faraday to inform him of the day’s events. He was ashamed about having to sneak behind the Detective Sergeant’s back, and wondered how many days he would manage to avoid giving the Home Office any useful information.
Faraday: You were supposed to call me last night, Renfield.
Renfield: I couldn’t get away. Everyone was still in the office.
Faraday: Couldn’t you have slipped out for five minutes? What have you got for me? Have there been any irregularities so far?
Renfield: We’ve got an identity on the first body. The one in the freezer.
Faraday: I’m not interested in the victim, I just need to know that you’ve caught someone. Have you?