A Need To Kill (DI Matt Barnes) (9 page)

“
I’ll run down all her friends and acquaintances.  I’ll team up with Marci and―”

“
Take Errol.”

“
Wouldn’t Marci be better to handle any girlfriends Marsha had?”

“
Okay, I can see that.  But we need to talk.”

“
About what?” Pete said guardedly.

“
You know what.”

“
You mean Marci and me?”

“
Yeah.  I drew the short straw and got told to impress on you two that it’s against policy for...you know.”

“
It doesn’t compromise how we work, boss.”

“
That’s not how I or the DCI see it.  One of you will be transferred out of SCU if you don’t cool it.”

“
I don’t believe you’re saying this to me, boss.  What about you and Beth Holder?”

“
She isn’t on the team, Pete.  Beth is a civilian, remember.  She consults for various departments if the need arises and the case falls within her area of expertise.”

“
You’re splitting hairs, boss.”

Matt
didn’t like being the mouthpiece for Tom.  This was an area that made him squirm inwardly.  He was poking his nose into people’s personal lives.  It would have been easier to deal with if Pete had a problem with drink or gambling.  And his DS was right.  He
was
splitting hairs.  He had put procedure aside and gone off like a loose cannon on two occasions when Beth’s life had been at risk.  That was why he knew he was right in knowing without the slightest doubt that given the circumstances, Pete or Marci would let their feelings for each other interfere with how they carried out their duty. It had been no big deal when his sergeant had been having a fling with one of the lab technicians in ballistics, which was not off limits, but this was.

“
Pete, I don’t know how tight you are with Marci, and don’t want to go there,” Matt said. “But you know the policy.  I didn’t just make it up.  Everyone on the team knows that you two are an item.  You should have kept it under wraps.  I don’t want to be having this conversation, so go away and think it through.  The worst that can happen is that Marci would have to move over to Vice or CID.”

Pete was angry.  Not at
Matt.  He knew that his boss would have turned a blind eye if he could have done.  He was angry for being less than discreet over his and Marci’s relationship.  It had just somehow got serious between them.  They had a history together, and had become closer than ever after Pete got himself shot and was lucky to survive it.  The near fatal experience had focused him; matured him.  He saw his single and carefree life as being shallow and without substance.  The resulting shift in his character had caused him to see everything in a new light, including Marci.  She had been there for him, visiting the hospital every day.  One thing led to another.  That’s what life is, he supposed, a chain reaction that was just a series of events unfolding.  Some things you don’t plan.  It was like a complex pattern of upright dominoes.  Push the first one over and the rest fall one by one until the end of the line.

“
Leave it with me, boss.  I’ll sort it,” he said.

Matt nodded.  “
Good.”  He knew that Pete was lying.  At best, he and Marci would pretend to break off their relationship and go under deep cover.  Bollocks, he thought.  What the eye doesn’t see...

Beth
saw Alec sitting at a booth in the corner of the bar.  He was watching the pianist play a jazzed-up version of
Try a Little Tenderness
, and seemed to be mouthing the words under his breath.  She recalled that it was an old Sinatra number that Matt had on vinyl.  He had kept many of his late father’s collection of LPs and singles, and the ancient Dansette record player that was circa 1962.  They had spent one evening at Matt’s place listening to the likes of Crosby, Sinatra, Dean Martin, Nat King Cole and a dozen other crooners that had been Arthur Barnes’s staple aural diet.

“
I saw him here in town at the Riviera, the Paramount and the Copa,” Alec said, standing up as Beth slid into the booth next to him.

“
Who, the piano player?”

“
No, Old Blue Eyes.  Must have been a million years ago. Seems like another lifetime.  You like him?”

“
As a person or a singer?”

“
Either.”

Beth shrugged. 
“He struck me as being a very complex kind of guy, with a lot of insecurity festering under the macho image he wore like a glove.  And I never rated him as being the best at what he did.  He was a legend in his own mind, but I’d rather listen to Michael Bublé.”

Alec grinned. 
“So why’d you come across the pond, Beth?  You we’re distracted today and gave the impression that you’d rather be back in London.”

“
It showed?”

“
Like a clown at a funeral.  You had a thousand yard stare and you were chewing the inside of your lip while I was up there imparting my new findings on the ever-changing environment and its link as a trigger to precipitate an increase of violent schizophrenia in the juvenile population.”

“
Sorry, Alec.  You’re right, I wasn’t focused on the seminar.  But I’ll read your notes on―”

“
This isn’t about you not paying attention, Beth.  My little lecture was just an extrapolation of what we already know.  I’d rather know what it is that has changed you from the upbeat and happy-go-lucky person I’ve known for so long, into the pensive young woman who is sitting next to me now.”

“
It’s called life, Alec.  It has ups and downs, peaks and troughs like waves at sea. I’m just in a trough at the moment.”

“
So tell me about it.  A problem shared is―”

“
Still a problem.”

Alec caught the attention of a waitress, ordered another vodka martini for himself, and
then looked to Beth.

“
A JD on the rocks,” she said.

The waitress nodded imperceptibly and withdrew.  Beth leant back against the soft leather of t
he seat and listened to the pianist playing a gentle arrangement of
Mack the Knife
.  Alec meant well, and was a good friend.  He was also a shrewd and highly gifted man; a world-renowned behavioural psychologist who even tutored at the FBI academy at Quantico.  Alec was in his seventies, hailed from Chicago and, when not working, could be found playing golf at his local club in Arlington Heights.  He maintained that any weakness in the human psyche was amplified out on the course, and that golf rage was much more common than road rage, but did not result in such dire consequences.  Alec saw the fairways, greens and sand traps as Petri dishes, where anger, frustration and despair were prevalent, breeding at a faster rate than any bacteria.  He maintained that the true nature of most men was laid bare on a golf course.

“
I’m in love, Alec.  Does that explain why I might be a little more contemplative than usual?” Beth said after the drinks had been set down in front of them, and she had taken a large sip of the Jack Daniel’s.

“
Who is the lucky son-of-a-gun?  One of the shrinks at the nuthatch you’re affiliated to?  Tell me it isn’t a patient, Beth.”

“
Worse, a cop.”

“
Some high-flying head of CID.”

“
A murder cop.  A DI who I’ve worked with on a couple of cases, and nearly ended up dead on both occasions.”

“
Tell me about him.  I’m fascinated.”

“
There’s not a lot to tell, Alec.  His name is Matt Barnes.  He’s one of those hard-headed coppers on a mission, who lives and breathes whatever case he’s on.  He has a knack of drawing serial killers to him and making it personal.  Anyone close to him becomes fair game for a psycho who wants to hit back at him.  I don’t know if I can spend the next twenty years being in the firing line of every monster who decides to go head-to-head with Matt.”

“
That’s heavy shit, Beth.”

“
Is that a profound and specialist assessment of my predicament?”

“
Of course.”

“
So what do you see as being the way to go?”

“
Start at the beginning and tell me all there is to know about you two, and then I’ll be better able to give you my take on what might be the right road for you to go down.  Although it will be very subjective on my part, and therefore probably of no help whatsoever.”

Once started, Beth couldn
’t stop.  She used Alec as a conduit to purge her of the fears and apprehension that was threatening to overwhelm her.  By the time she ran out of words, she felt exhausted, wrung out like a dishcloth, but more at ease for having unburdened herself.  The relaying of the good, bad and ugly components of her relationship with Matt had lessened the impact of it and smoothed off the sharp edges that had been burrowing into her consciousness.

“
What do you think, Doc?” she asked, surprised to see a fresh drink on the napkin in front of her.  She had been too absorbed to notice Alec order another round with a gesture to the waitress, or to be aware of the girl setting the glasses down on the table.

“
Well, Doc, I get the picture,” Alec said, smiling.  “You hardly mentioned yourself.  It was all about this Barnes character, and his work.  He’s like most professionals in any field of endeavour, Beth.  What he does isn’t a job of work to him, it’s a vocation; a quest he is on that will never be concluded.  It’s part of the package.  It comes with him, and I suspect that an element of his courting extreme danger makes him what he is, and is a key factor in your being drawn to him.”

“
Then why am I feeling hesitant and reluctant to fully commit?  I shouldn’t be having second thoughts.”

“
Commonsense is telling you to avoid being placed in danger again.  But if you walk away, you will be one sad psychologist.  You need to sit down with Matt and work out a way forward.  If he loves you half as much as you obviously love him, then he will approach his cases with no less gusto and motivation, but will refrain from allowing it to become personal between himself and the quarry he hunts.”

Beth knew that Alec was right.  She could not properly look ahead into a future without
Matt in it.  But what he did was so dangerous.  A part of her would always be waiting for a knock at the door, and for someone like Tom Bartlett to look into her eyes and impart the news that Matt had become a victim.  A lot of his team had been killed in the line of duty, and he had been more than lucky to survive grave injuries.

“
It might be that because I love him so much, I’m more scared for him than myself, Alec.  I look at the law of averages and wonder how many times he can come face to face with death and walk away in one piece.”

“
You’re beginning to sound like a layman, Beth.  You are a highly qualified psychologist who studies the phenomena of the human mind and analyses its workings.  You know that there are no happy endings, and that it is the journey that counts, for whatever duration it might transpire to last.  You can drift along in some stagnant backwater, or get into the raging current and take the blows that are sure to follow.  Whichever way you go, you still have a lot of bruises to suffer before life is done with you and spits you out.”

“
You think I should go for it, and damn the consequences?”

“
What I think doesn’t and shouldn’t matter.  But for your own peace of mind, you need to reach down deep into your soul and ask yourself what you really want, and how you might feel in a year’s time if you go against the flow of what your heart and mind desires.  Most times in life, you don’t get a second chance at true happiness.  You end up making do with something less, and have to live with regret that’ll eat you up.”

“
I think I feel better for having talked it through, Alec.  Thanks for being a real friend, and for being there when I needed reminding that everything comes at a price.”

“
You’re welcome.  Shall we have one for the road?  And I’ll ask the pianist to play a request.  Is there any tune you’d like to hear?”

“
How about...
Young at Heart
, and I’ll try to remember the time I believed that fairy tales could come true.”

“
They can, Beth.  But they’re not often served up on a plate.  You’ve got to work for them, and have the strength of will to turn what you want from dream to reality.”

It was one a.m
. when Beth got back to her room, undressed and pulled on a fluffy courtesy robe.  She was not smashed, just a little squiffy and mellow, and fumbled for a good ten seconds to find the armhole of one of the robe’s sleeves, before falling back across the bed.  She giggled.  Felt more relaxed than she had for days; maybe weeks. Alec had loosened the deadlock that had stopped her from climbing out of a self-imposed quagmire of negativity.  What the hell was she doing in New York?  She was running away from everything that mattered, which was Matt.  The distance between them was now a wide gulf that she found almost unbearable.  She rushed over to the easy chair next to the window, snatched up her handbag and delved among the contents until she found the small presentation box.  Opening it, she removed the solitaire diamond ring and pushed it onto her finger.  Just wearing it again made her feel closer to Matt.  She had removed it on the flight over to JFK, and could not now understand what had possessed her to do so.  Cold feet!  Her commitment to a man with such a turbulent history, and who being with had been such a violent and risk-filled experience, had struck home and caused her to question her own emotions.  She had gone into psychologist mode and begun to evaluate the relationship.  But you could not put love into any equation and expect to come up with a rational solution.  The human condition was not one that could easily be governed by logic.  It made no real sense at all.