“When are you thinking of starting out?”
“Oh, I’ve been looking.”
“For long?”
“Long enough.”
“And there’s nothing out there? I am surprised.”
“Oh, there are jobs. Sadly, they’re not always for me.”
“I don’t understand,” Susan said, before quickly her face changed as she did understand. “Oh, no. You’re not telling me it’s because you’re coloured, is it? That’s awful.”
“It has been said, yes,” Dziko admitted stoically.
“Are you sure that’s what they meant?”
“My experience working in a bank back home is apparently not transferable to working in a bank here. Apparently, our faces don’t promote the same level of trust in their customers.”
“They didn’t say that, surely?”
“Of course they did. And in earshot of the rest of their clientele too. Let them know that they don’t have to worry about the dark people coming to rob them.”
Joseph had heard that story before. Every time Dziko recounted it, it broke his heart a little inside.
“Dziko, dear, I am so sorry. That sort of thing, well, it shouldn’t happen. Not today.” Susan had both hands on Dziko’s now. “My dear, if you ever need anyone to go into a bank and give them a piece of my mind, I should be honoured.”
Dziko laughed gently. “Susan, you are very kind.”
“Well, it’s awful. A good job is an important thing to find. I’ve no doubt you’ve worked just as hard as anyone of my persuasion, so why should where you’re from be any impediment? You would like to think that the world had learned something in the last few years, but honestly, I do despair. I hope you get one, and I hope they value you and I hope you hold on to it for however long you want.”
*
Joseph and Dziko had intended to walk home but Susan had protested that it was far too late and made Ray call them a taxi. They thanked their hosts for a wonderful evening, before slipping into the back of the black cab for the short drive back home.
“Are you okay?” Dziko asked him, squeezing his hand. Joseph hadn’t contemplated that he wasn’t until then. He thought about Harry. He wasn’t sure what had brought the young man back into his mind. Their conversation had not covered work all night, but here he was, in the back of a taxi with the most incredible woman he knew and all he could think of was that young man.
“I’m fine, thank you. It’s just work.” He offered a smile.
“I hate to say that you’re a liar, but you know I don’t believe you, right?” Dziko smiled as she said it, letting him know that it was all right to share what was on his mind.
He looked forward at the driver who remained completely disinterested in their conversation.
“You don’t have to say,” Dziko said, having followed his gaze. “I understand.”
“It’s nothing,” Joseph smiled at her, trying to do his best to be reassuring. “I’ve been working too hard on this bloody thing. I should be able to switch off, but you know what it’s like.”
“I’m learning,” she held his hand tightly. “Every day I learn more. And the most important thing I’ve learned is that it is good that it matters to you. That it means something. If every police officer took their cases to heart like you do, we’d all be a lot safer.”
Joseph smiled again but said no more. He wanted to let Harry go, let him drop from his head, but he couldn’t. Something nagged him about the whole thing. Something he hadn’t seen yet. He needed to work out what.
34.
Saturdays were always a strange day to work. Whilst the rest of the world began getting their lives back in order after the week, Joseph always felt cheated when he had to clock in for a weekend shift. True, whilst Saturdays were bad, Sundays were even worse, but that didn’t stop the resentment as he spied the different people going about their days off as he took the bus into work. Perhaps it had been exacerbated somewhat by the fuzzy feeling he had in his head after the drinks that accompanied the meal the night before.
He still couldn’t shake what had been gnawing at him on the taxi ride home. Something about Harry. About the situation he had found himself in. He really didn’t think Harry had killed Gerald. He was certain that he had been telling the truth when he said he didn’t think Peters had any involvement. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still holding something back and he couldn’t understand why. He had nothing left to lose after all. Peters would be coming after him if Ray had his way. His job would be gone when Derek Nadderley found out about his connection with Peters. Just who was he protecting?
There wasn’t much time for a pick-me-up cup of tea when he got to the office either. Ray hurried them both out of the door well before Joseph would have liked, forcing him to choose between leaving his tea and gulping it down. He went for the latter, regretting it as it scalded the back of his mouth.
“Peters will have an excuse, of course,” Ray warned once they were in the car and on their way. “If he is linked to this, he’s had plenty of time before and after to cook up a story to make it damn near impossible for us to put him or anyone around him near the scene.”
“So how do we prove otherwise?” Joseph had been wondering this on the way in. Pinning crimes like this onto the people at the top had historically been nigh-on impossible. Too many people were willing to protect their kingpin, through loyalty or fear.
“We shake the tree and wait and see what falls off.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Sometimes people panic. No matter how well he thinks he’s planned this out, he’ll soon start thinking about ways he might not be watertight once we start asking questions. Then he’ll look to plug those gaps.”
“You mean Harry?” Joseph found it unconscionable that they would consider using him as bait.
Ray had other ideas. “If that’s his weak point, that’s his weak point.”
“You know he could get really hurt?”
“I don’t much like it either. We won’t let anything happen.”
The way Ray said it so dismissively did little to placate Joseph. If anything, it made his mind race more.
