CHAPTER 11
Alun snorted at that, for he had one of those stupid cartoon picture ties on.

“Um, Alun Benson. I’m with CID here in Cardiff”

A skinny, butter-wouldn’t melt blonde. “Candice Warren, sort of attached to ASBO admin, out by Porthcawl. I do the antisocial order background stuff”

A sandy-haired man, well over six feet in height, solidity made flesh. “Blake Sutton. Beat officer, plod like. Out of Bridgend”

A bald lad, nasty scars by his left eye. “Rhys Perkin. I was on tactical support down to Tiger Bay”

The inspector’s gaze settled on me. Oh. “Er, Diane Owens. Sort of new. Just done probation”

“Aye, but what have you done so far?”

“Er, a couple of bits, some time in CID, and a bit with traffic. Been covering the City Centre, beat”

She nodded, and her eyes moved onto the next victim, another rugby-player type, in a polo shirt rather than jacket and tie.

“Rob--Robat Williams, ma’am. I was with the firearms unit in the city”

Another woman, a few years older than me. “Ellen Saker, ma’am. I was in Customs out by the airport for years, then switched”

“Aye? Why the switch?”

“Crap pay, shit prospects, bloody awful management. Oh, been with CID as well, doing financial crime. Fraud squad as was”

The Inspector just nodded, no comments, no bait taken, and I saw that she wasn’t taking any notes at all. She was either very good, or didn’t give a shit who she had to work with. I suspected that it wasn’t the second.

“Right, Rhys, was it? Over in the corner there are the keys to my car. In the yard; first job is to work out which one, and then bring up what’s in the boot and on the back seat. Er, Alun? Ellen? Lend a hand with that, please”

Once three of us were gone, she turned to the tables lined up along the dividing wall.

“Rest of you, we’ve got white boards, pens, shitload of newsprint, flip charts, that sort of stuff. Get it in some sort of order on the tables. When the others are back, we’ll get down to it, or at least what the yanks call the orientation rubbish. OK?”

They weren’t too long about it, and to my astonishment what they brought up were a mini fridge, a hot-water boiler, a kettle and a bag full of tea, milk and other basics. Inspector Powell grinned at our reactions.

“Well, start as we mean to go on, I always say! Someone pop to the canteen and liberate some mugs, someone else get the urn filled, and the kettle. Get that boiling while the big one warms up”

Her grin went as quickly as it had arrived. “Boys and girls, we have a shitload of work to get through, and this is my way of keeping us together, together and sharp. No formal tea club set-up, aye? Just top up supplies as you see the need, and feel free to bring in biccies. Look after each other, is all I ask, all we’ll need as a team”

She was certainly pushing the team ethos; it was almost like being back at Cwmbran. I felt, however, that there was more to it coming from someone like her. Something was driving her, and I was getting overtones of a very dark current beneath the boys-and-girls bonhomie. This Inspector bore watching.

It wasn’t long before the tea was made, and we formed a little group of chairs around a table with a pile of press clippings and crime reports. She was straight to the point.

“Now, I know that some of you will remember me doing the rounds of the stations doing peace and tolerance sessions, diversity and fluffiness awareness shite, aye? Well, this is partly to do with that. Firstly, cards on the table. I am indeed a lesbian”

Her gaze locked on Rhys. “And? Was that a no-shit-Sherlock I heard? Don’t worry, lad. Not going to bite your head off. Just setting some ground rules here. No backbiting in the team. You have something to say, it is something for the team. It isn’t something for outside it, outside the team, aye? We work as a team, we watch backs, we support. We have a big job here, and no shite about one woman, one man, sleuthing their way through to a last-minute Cluedo moment”

She sat for a few seconds, warming her hands with her mug, and then picked up Adam’s mantra.

“Back-watching, boys and girls. We do it for the general public, but without our own arses being covered we wouldn’t be able to. So watch your backs, watch your mates’ backs, and keep it tight. Not everyone in a uniform is on your side, aye?”

Fucking right, Evans and Pritchard showed that one to be absolutely spot on. I had a flashback to a day right out West, with Bryn and Barry, where we had had to help out with a Dyfed-Powys job, a possible hard stop, and the two D-P in attendance for the stop were my favourite coppers. I had managed to whisper to my two boys not to call me by name, and they had each given the other a flat stare before we got down to business which was, in the end, mercifully brief in duration. We left the punter in a D-P van and set off home, without a flicker of recognition from either of them. We weren’t more than a hundred yards away from our stop when Bryn turned in his seat, giving me the hairy eyeball.

“You know those two cunts, Di”

It was most certainly not a question, but I gave a nod as an answer.

“Stay away from them, girl. Not our people, those boys”

Not another word from him, but I got the drift in clear, and it was all about backs the watching thereof. We had just left tow of them that would not be looked out for, certainly not covered, but that was the last time I saw them before they ceased to be coppers, or at least creatures who described themselves as such.

My attention was snatched back by a direct question from the new boss, which I had missed.

“I said: do you have any problems with people on my bus, Diane? Not a test question, not one for your line manager. Just yes or no?”

“Er, no”

“You seem to be hesitating a lot today!”

“Just a lot to take in. Anyway, my best mate, lesbian, married to an Aussie girl, she is, so, no. No issues with comfortable shoes”

Her face worked a little at that, but she was smiling.

“Right, then. This is what we are here for. There has been a series of homophobic attacks across the region, centred mostly in Abertawe a Chaerdydd—Swansea and Cardiff for those who talk funny. By homophobic, I mean gay-bashing. Not lesbians, not bears, but Bright Young Things. Skinny boys, camp boys, Nancy boys, as my uncle calls them. It’s been going on for a while, and it is bad for trade. Yes, Alun, I am aware of the puns available, but here’s the bottom line. Yes, thank you again.

“Young men, scarcely more than adolescents, children, are being violently attacked for no other reason than whose hand they might like to hold. It was dressed up to me as being frowned on because it is bad for trade, bad for the pink tourism business. I will be honest with you: I don’t give a shit about that. We are here to protect, and children are not being protected. I know it is business interest that has shaken the tree here, but our role is much clearer.

“Children and young men do not get put in hospital just because of who they fancy. We can’t protect all of them, so we protect those we can. Yup, we may be a local police force for local people, but that is the core issue: those boys are our boys, and we cover their backs, we protect our people. Now, you’ve got your tea, I’ve brought in the first load of biscuits. Settle down, read the press cuttings, work through the files. You are looking for similarities, and that doesn’t just mean what they all have in common but what they might all LACK in common. And sorry, really sorry, if any of you feel you are being taught how to suck eggs. Now, I have a management meeting in ten minutes, but that isn’t what it sounds like. I am off to sort vehicles, for starters, and a couple of maps of CCTV coverage. Oh, and can one of you see if you can find out where all the gents’ public toilets are in the two cities? There are some Ordnance Survey maps in the carrier bag with the biscuits. Get them up on the wall, cut to fit, I don’t care. HDC paid for them, or will be once I get the claim in”

She was gone, and the team sat for about ten seconds before the first of us could find the words. It was Candice.

“Bloody hell, er, boys and girls! Bloody driven or what? Anyone got the scissors? I’ll get the maps up”

Alun stood. “Off to CID, Di. Make that call to the Council about the bogs. Blake, can you do the Swansea ring-round? I’ll kick the IT people on the way back. Fuck doing this with one phone in the room!”

I smiled, and picked up the first of the files. There were photos attached to it.