‘Personnel, or rather the lack of it.’
‘We’re already stretched tighter than I don’t know what,’ said Charlesworth. ‘And the idea of assigning a large team to a task force for the duration is just—’
‘Impossible.’ Potter completing Charlesworth’s sentence for him. ‘Devon and Cornwall are sending eight, so we have to match that. There’s you and Mark Pearce. I’m guessing you’ll want Sergeant Winter to run the incident room. I’ll continue to do her pregnancy risk assessments. Who else?’
‘Louise Willmott.’
‘Really?’ Charlesworth frowned. ‘I had understood DC Willmott was questioning your judgement on the graffiti thing.’
‘That’s precisely why I want her,’ replied Dixon. ‘Someone who agrees with everything I say is no use to me.’
‘That’s four so far then.’ Potter was chewing the arm of her reading glasses. ‘Including you.’
‘I’ll have the probationer too, Sarah Loveday. She’s a bright kid and it’s down to her we’ve got anything at all.’
‘Won’t that leave the Rural Crimes team short-handed?’ asked Charlesworth.
‘No more than it is already,’ replied Dixon. ‘And I’m guessing you’ll get no objection from Nigel Cole.’
‘We need to find three more then.’
‘We can take them from the Portishead major crime team,’ offered Potter. ‘Won’t be till the start of the week, though.’
‘Call on uniform in the meantime, Nick,’ said Charlesworth. ‘For cameras and stuff like that. I imagine you’ve got a few of them doing house to house this morning?’
‘Twelve, Sir. And a couple of PCSOs watching the cameras. A neighbour’s doorbell camera picked up a car at the right time and we’re trying to track that.’
‘Press conference at five,’ said Vicky Thomas. ‘Then we can catch the evening news.’
Chapter Five
‘He’s setting you up to fail.’
It wasn’t long since Dixon had crossed swords with Charlesworth, and both of them had been on their best behaviour in the weeks since. The confrontation had come in the yard behind Dixon’s cottage, Jane watching from the upstairs window as words were exchanged. She had occasionally tried to ask him what it had been about, but he always dodged the question. She knew something had been said, but had no idea what. No one did.
‘You do know that,’ continued Jane.
‘“Congratulations on your promotion” would be traditional, dear,’ said Dixon.
‘Of course, congratu-bloody-lations.’ Jane pecked him on the cheek. ‘Just be careful, that’s all I’m saying.’
‘Where’s Sarah?’
‘Here, Sir.’
‘You’re not on the major investigation team, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh.’ She looked crestfallen.
‘You’re on the regional task force. Go and get changed out of that uniform. You’ll be working with Mark for the duration.’
‘What about Nige?’
‘I’ll clear it with Nigel, don’t you worry.’
‘What about me, Sir?’ asked Louise, hesitantly. She had put on her coat and was sitting on the edge of her chair, ready to leave by the looks of things.
The last case had tested their partnership, Dixon knew that. He had still been raging after his arrest for murder, even though the charge had been dropped, and Louise had borne the brunt of it. To her credit, it hadn’t stopped her questioning his judgement when she thought he had got it wrong. ‘Barking up the wrong tree’ was the phrase she had used.
‘You look like you’re going somewhere,’ he said.
‘Well, I just thought you’d—’
‘Superintendent Small and a colleague from Devon and Cornwall are down in reception, if you’d like to go and get them. Then we’ve got the PM at ten. All right?’
It was a feeble attempt at hiding surprise. Dixon could imagine the cogs going round, the thought plain for all to see: God, even the superintendents are getting younger. Louise noticed it, managing to stifle a chuckle.
‘Superintendent Dixon?’ asked Small, his hand outstretched while he glanced around the room, looking for someone older, presumably.
‘Nick, please.’
Then Small spotted Sarah Loveday, sitting at a workstation. He turned to his sidekick to see if he had noticed, the exchange of glances saying it all. It’s like a bloody kindergarten in here.
‘Most people look but they don’t see,’ said Dixon, quietly. ‘She may be young, but she has an enquiring mind way beyond her years. She’s keen, too; worth any five clock-watchers. What’s more, she doesn’t know how good she is.’
‘Lucky you,’ said Small. Now he was staring at Jane’s bump.
