The Puppet Show (Washington Poe)

Prick.

He sensed someone else looking at him from across the room. He was about to give them the same treatment, when he recognised who it was.

‘Shit,’ he muttered.

‘What is it, Poe?’ asked Bradshaw.

‘It’s Cumbria’s chief constable.’

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘So what?’

‘He hates me.’

‘Wow, what are the odds?’

Whoa . . . who was this sassy girl? Bradshaw had just taken the piss; the first time she had. He grinned to show he didn’t mind. ‘He’s a spite-filled fool. Wanted me to stay in Cumbria and tried to block me joining the NCA.’ He paused. ‘Bollocks, he’s coming over.’

The chief constable walked like a man badly in need of a stool softener. He was in full uniform – including medals Poe was sure he hadn’t earned ?

? and carried his hat under his arm. His hair was thinning and subject to a criminal comb-over. He had a drinker’s nose and his upturned chin resembled a jester’s boot. His name was Leonard Tapping and he had all the charm of an East German border guard.

‘Poe,’ he said.

‘Leonard,’ Poe replied.

His nostrils flared. ‘That’s Chief Constable to you.’

Poe could have said he wasn’t his chief any more, but decided not to have a fight. He put his new-found maturity down to Bradshaw’s influence.

‘What the hell are you doing at an event like this?’ Tapping asked. Before Poe had a chance to respond, he added, ‘I thought the Carmichaels had standards.’

‘Obviously not,’ Poe replied. He took a sip of his pint and said, ‘Tilly and I are here as guests.’

Bradshaw offered her hand but Tapping ignored it.

‘Which moron invited you, Poe? I’ve a good mind to have a word with them.’

‘Feel free, sir,’ Poe said. He turned to Bradshaw. ‘Tilly, could you see if the Bishop of Carlisle’s free?’

The colour drained from Tapping’s face.

She nodded, ‘May I tell him what it’s about, Poe?’

‘Certainly. You can say that the Chief Constable of Cumbria wants to have a word with him.’

Tapping paled even further. He glanced at Bradshaw then turned back to Poe. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’ he hissed. ‘And you were told not to approach the bishop!’

‘Oh, was that what DCS Gamble’s message was? It was a bad signal, sir.’

Bradshaw began walking towards the bishop.

‘The Bishop of Carlisle has the ear of the archbishop doesn’t he, sir? I wonder how he’ll feel about you calling him a moron?’

Tapping’s jaw tightened.

‘And doesn’t the archbishop sit on the advisory board for the Met’s vacant deputy commissioner position?’

Tapping’s ambitions were well known. They didn’t include staying in Cumbria.