Chapter Sixteen
“It’s a sad thing, Barbara,” he said, “but it has nothing to do with your investigation.”
Superintendent Wilson’s office – again. He had invited me to sit down and had subsequently done so himself – legs crossed and hands folded on the uppermost knee. How confident he looked, how assured. Was it all just a silly, absurd game that two other actors might so easily have played out in our stead? Same substance, different style – talking around disasters we had failed to avert.
“Really, sir?” I said; “I rather thought it had. Perhaps I’m too tired for the subtleties of nuanced agenda.” I was thinking: I wonder how long it will take us to find Samantha. I assumed, was assuming, that she was dead – something to do with her mother’s fatalism, her air of utter, abject defeat. That and the fact that rather a lot of proximate young people seemed rather keen on taking their own lives. So? So what, then? What was he talking about? ...but it has nothing to do with your investigation. Did it not? What was I being told?
He said, tentatively, “You’ve established a connection?”
“Yes, sir,” I said; “I think we have.” Actually, not quite, or not quite yet; but he didn’t need to know that – yet, or ever. I was assuming that the Caroline mentioned in Chloe’s blog was Caroline Meadows, a fact – if such it turned out to be – that would connect all the local deaths. But this was, I fear, missing the political point.
“Think you have?” he said.
Oh, dear. I was obviously missing something. Not getting the hint, as it were. I said, “Sir, I’m getting the impression there’s some conclusion you don’t want me to draw or reach. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to tell me what it is.”
He smiled ruefully. “You have a way of making political considerations seem insalubrious, Barbara. Unfortunately, those are what I have to consider. We don’t want stories in the local press about an epidemic of teenage suicides, do we? That benefits no-one, and is the sort of thing likely to be picked up and exploited by the national media on a slow news day. The press love a good moral panic, especially where young people are concerned. It’s the kind of thing that ends up as a topic for debate on those awful morning television programmes they have on in doctors’ surgeries.”
I smiled and said, “I’m surprised you’re so exercised by things over which you have no control, sir. The story’s already out there for anyone who wants to run with it. Martha Bottomley’s probably writing a book on the subject as we speak.”
“Yes. My point is, Barbara, I don’t want any serving officer quoted in it, or anywhere else for that matter, unless they’re stating facts. We don’t address why questions, nor do we engage in philosophical speculation.”
“Perhaps, sir, in the interests of constabulary PR, we should refrain from thinking as well. Even if we’re prone to having thoughts, we don't want to be going around expressing them, do we?”
“Don’t be cute, Barbara,” he said. “You’d be the first to complain if DS Brightly went to the press with his opinions.”
“Should I gather from that that he’s been less constrained about coming to you with them, sir?”
“He’s asked to be removed from the case, Barbara. He wants to manage it informally, without fuss or bother, or without criticism, implied or otherwise. He was – is – hoping that I can persuade you to allow him to be reassigned – to something rather more morally straightforward, I think, though he didn’t say that.”
“And are you, sir – persuading me, I mean?” I was making an effort not to sound prickly.
“I told him it was up to you, of course, Barbara.”
“But, sir. There must be a but or you wouldn’t be raising it with me.”
“Well,” he spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture, “don’t you think he’s a bit too phlegmatic for this sort of thing, Barbara? Lacks the necessary refinement of sensibility that an investigation such as this requires. Brightly’s an A to B to C sort of man, a bit join-the-dots and paint-by-numbers. Smart enough in his way, of course – the sort that retire after a solid career as a DI – but not what you’d call sensitive or discerning.”
I said, “You missed out the bits about his getting married, having children, getting divorced, and becoming a booze-dependent workaholic. Don’t you think you’re doing him something of a disservice, sir? He has a long way to go before he retires, and has – one would hope – a lot of personal development to do along the way. It's a little ungracious – not to say patronising – to map his life out so disparagingly.”
“Perhaps it is, Barbara,” he said, smiling. “Perhaps he'll eventually leave the service to pursue a career in music or poetry. In the meantime, I’ll leave you to deal with him howsoever you see fit. If you’d prefer to be shot of him, though, Chandler will be happy to take him off your hands. He’s always bleating about manpower.”
“And would I get a replacement for him?” I asked.
“DC Sayer would jump at the chance,” he said. “She’s young and idealistic, and thinks you’re the embodiment of all that’s good in modern policing. She’s not happy where she is, and has requested a transfer. She’s yours for the asking.”
“Why does she want the transfer?” I asked.
“Between ourselves, Barbara,” he said, “I think she was hoping for something rather more intellectually stimulating than DI Rodgers and DS Keane, both of whom are rather plodding and – well, shall we say traditional. It’s an open secret she’d like to work with you.”
“Which is fine, sir,” I said; “and much appreciated – but shouldn’t I at least try to keep Simon on board? Wouldn’t that be better management? You can’t transfer every time you don’t like the nature of the case you’re on, or the manner in which your boss is handling it. Similarly, it would be unrealistic and unreasonable of me to seek to work only with people who like and admire me.” I paused. “You look unconvinced, sir.”
“It’s all about teams, Barbara,” he said. “Why wouldn’t you want to create a team built on mutual respect and admiration? A talented footballer may not work in some team set-ups yet flourish in another. It’s important that we as a service produce teams and team leaders that maximize individual talent. I know you’re sceptical, Barbara, but it does matter. There are plenty of talented officers who struggle horribly in some teams – perfectly good teams – and yet flourish when moved to another. It’s important that we acknowledge and recognise that, and match the most suitable individuals to the most suitable teams. This isn't to deny that there are some individuals that are ultimately – and regrettably – unsuitable to any team, nor that some teams are weak and unfit for purpose; it simply acknowledges that a group of talented people doesn't necessarily make a team and that not all talented people fit in everywhere, which should be obvious. Our objective is to build good teams. We waste time and energy if we put people together who simply can’t get on.”
I said, “What do you do with the talented individual who can’t flourish in any team, sir?”
“Well, if, notwithstanding, they have something substantial to contribute, you would allow them, where possible, to work alone because that’s the situation in which they’re most likely to be effective. But there is surely something to be said for the ability to work with others, and to be part of a team that’s greater than the sum of its parts because of the way its parts interact. There’s always going to be the place for the individual, Barbara, even the loner, but nothing is better or more satisfying – or more effective – than the chemistry of a good team.”
“No, indeed, sir,” I said. “But a good team doesn’t happen overnight. It has to gel and grow together, and part of that growth is overcoming individual differences and responding effectively to new external stimuli. This case discomfits Simon because of its complexity and moral ambiguity. Coming to terms with it will help him grow as an individual and a police officer, and he needs our support to do that. Simply to transfer him would be to deny him this opportunity, and would be neglectful
and expedient on our part. If he definitely wants to be transferred, I wouldn’t want to stand in his way; but by transferring now, he simply avoids an issue that makes him uncomfortable. I think we owe it to him to see that he confronts and overcomes his issues with this case because it will make him a better officer and future team member and a greater asset to the service.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Barbara,” he said; “but do bear DC Sayer in mind. She would certainly benefit from working with you, and I’ll have to move her soon anyway. Can’t leave her with those two buffoons for much longer.”