‘It’s not about what we believe, Erika,’ said Camilla. ‘It’s how public opinion is formed, and in this day and age much of what we do and the decisions we make are led by public opinion. Budgets are decided… policy… The press will now zone in on the targeting of a gay man, the damage to his livelihood, and the cost to the taxpayer of deploying two teams from the Specialist Firearms Unit at short notice!’
‘Why are we even having this meeting?’ snapped Erika. ‘You’ve decided to take a rather blinkered view of the facts: you’re looking at them through a tabloid lens.’
‘Erika, watch your tone,’ said Melanie.
‘So now you decide to speak, and pull rank,’ said Erika, unable to stop herself.
‘Melanie is your Superintendent,’ said Mason, speaking for the first time.
‘Acting Superintendent,’ said Erika. ‘And forgive me, sir, but you were involved in our decision. Do you have anything to contribute?’
Mason shifted in his chair. ‘I don’t appreciate being placed on the spot,’ he said.
‘Placed on the spot!’ cried Erika. ‘This is a meeting about a Specialist Firearms Operation that was ultimately authorised by you, sir!’
‘Could you please wait outside, Erika,’ said Camilla.
Erika thought back to what Sparks had said, the night before he died, how he’d been unfairly hauled over the coals by Camilla, and she wished he were here. If only because he had balls. Melanie was sitting like a meek church mouse.
‘Can I please add on the record that, whilst having the support of the public is essential to the job of policing, the public never have the full picture of what it takes to run a police investigation—’
‘Erika.’
‘Please don’t let this investigation be dominated by the upset of one of the victims. My team has been working tirelessly to apprehend the killer of these three young women. That is our priority, ma’am.’
Camilla gave her a thin smile.
‘Thank you, Erika, now please, that will be all,’ she said.
Melanie merely stared ahead as Erika walked out of the room. Fuming.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Erika was waiting for Melanie in an unmarked police car outside the New Scotland Yard building. It had been arranged before the meeting that they would travel together to Sparks’s funeral. Melanie emerged ten minutes later, and got in beside her. There was a nasty atmosphere as the car set off.
‘From now on I want to know everything that’s going on,’ she snapped. ‘I want to be informed of every decision you make.’
‘So I’ll just continue what I was doing, and it’s up to you to make sure you answer your voicemails,’ Erika shot back.
‘I am your senior officer!’ shouted Melanie, turning to her.
‘Then act like it! Erika roared back. They stared at each other, then turned away and stared out at the buildings whipping past.
‘Sorry, I just have to check – what time’s the funeral?’ asked the uniformed officer driving.
‘It starts in an hour, so you better put your foot down,’ said Erika.
‘You have my authority to blue light it if necessary,’ added Melanie. The driver eyed Erika in the mirror.
‘You know that’s unlawful. There’s no justification for us to use blue lights to go to a funeral,’ said Erika. Melanie looked at her and the driver.
‘Of course. I just wanted to make sure we didn’t miss our colleague’s funeral.’
‘I’ll get you there as fast as I can,’ said the driver.
‘Thank you,’ said Erika.
They passed the rest of the journey in silence.
* * *
Superintendent Sparks’s funeral was held at a small church in Greenwich, high on the hill overlooking the Royal Naval College and the city. They arrived just as the service started and slipped into a pew at the back of the church. It was well attended, for a man who had been a bully and a divisive colleague. Erika wondered how many people had felt obliged to attend. Sparks’s wife was on the front row with an elderly couple and a little girl in a sombre black velvet dress with a matching ribbon in her hair. His coffin shone under the bright lights of the church, and a large spray of red and white roses sat on top amongst a cloud of gypsophila.
Did Sparks like roses? thought Erika. Was he religious? How many people in the congregation really knew him? All of these thoughts went through her head. Funerals were a time to remember the dead, but very often they struggled to do just that. Erika thought back to Mark’s funeral; of having to pick flowers and hymns, and who would say what. It all felt so alien, so unlike the youthful, vibrant man who had died.
The most poignant part of the service was when Sparks’s childhood friend gave the eulogy and told how they had been close growing up, and had gone travelling for a year after high school.
‘Andy was my buddy. He was a complex bloke, but he had a heart and he cared. Life and work got in the way of all that towards the end… I just wish we’d been able to talk more. Sleep well, mate,’ he said.
Erika looked to Melanie beside her, and saw a tear running down her cheek. She grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Melanie nodded and Erika let go. When they stood for the next hymn, Erika spied Marsh sitting a few rows forward with a few other senior police officers she recognised, but didn’t know by name. She leaned forward in the hope of catching his eye, but the organ started to play, ‘I Vow to Thee, My Country’.
An hour later, the service finished. Erika and Melanie left the church and hung around close to the entrance, as mourners filed out. There was an awkwardness between them, and Erika didn’t know how to broach it.
‘I’m going to give my condolences to Sparks’s wife,’ said Melanie, peering back through the church door to where she was surrounded by well-wishers.
‘Look, Melanie, earlier I was out of order. Sorry.’
‘It’s okay. It’s like Sparks’s friend said back there. This job, it…’ She looked like she was going to say more, then checked herself.
‘It gets in the way sometimes of being decent,’ said Erika, adding, ‘I’m talking about myself here.’
‘Let’s try to touch base a couple of times a day. I’ll make sure I’m available, when I’m not in the office.’
‘Sure.’ Erika nodded and smiled. Melanie went off back through the crowds, and she waited for a few more minutes as the church cleared out, and finally Marsh emerged. He looked exhausted, but still quite handsome. His short sandy hair was cropped close to his head and he’d lost some weight, emphasising his square jaw. He looked more like the officer she and Mark had trained with back in Manchester all those years ago, before his ambition had driven a wedge between them.
‘Finally I get to talk to you,’ she said. He leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek.
‘Why haven’t you been answering your phone?’
‘Sorry, Erika, things haven’t been all that good.’
‘I’ve heard. When were you going to tell me you’ve been suspended?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Can you keep your voice down?’
‘Can you return my calls, and then I don’t have to skulk around outside a funeral to get to talk to you.’
He ran a finger around the collar of his shirt. ‘Are you going to the wake?’
‘I don’t know. I wasn’t planning on it.’
They stepped out of the way as a large group emerged from the church to shake the priest’s hand. They started to move off towards the gates.