Tainted Ground Read Online Free

Another thing; as you well know, we’re not two of a kind, Patrick and I, and we’ll be at one another’s throats in no time at all. He’s always worked to a different set of rules, ways that I simply can’t adopt. So he and I will have to keep a distance, work on different jobs, if that’s possible. Not that I won’t be there to advise him if he wants it.’ Carrick paused awkwardly and then continued, ‘I just want you to know there’s no ill-feeling, Ingrid, nothing personal, especially as far as you’re concerned.’
    â€˜Patrick only asked to be in the West Country because of his father’s illness,’ I told him.
    â€˜Aye, that’s as maybe. And I know that Patrick once saved my life – which makes it worse. I feel a right bastard being the way I am.’
    â€˜How can I help?’ I asked when he stopped speaking.
    â€˜You can’t. There’s nothing anyone can do. We’ll have to get by as best we can but I just wish everyone would understand that this isn’t helping me at all. But who knows? Patrick might soon decide the job’s not for him.’
    We rang off and I hoped I had been mistaken about the hint of hope in his voice when he had uttered those final words.
    Monday morning arrived and Patrick set off in dark suit and sober tie, the crooked smile he gave me as he went out of the door an indication of his apprehension. Everyone at the rectory was on tenterhooks all day and when he returned, quite early at just before six, and headed straight for the whisky we all imagined the worst.
    I left it to Elspeth to ask the question. ‘Well?’ she said quietly.
    Patrick swirled the golden liquid around in his glass reflectively for a few moments, chuckled humourlessly and then said, ‘It was interesting in many ways. I didn’t get to see James, just his sergeant, Lynn Outhwaite, who appears to have been delegated as messenger between us. And despite what I was told it would appear that I take orders from her. That doesn’t actually bother me much as she’s a nice girl and too busy to make things awkward. Anyway, I spent the first part of the morning touring the station with Sergeant Woods, who, by the way, has been told he can give me orders too but doesn’t like to. The pair of us are old enough stagers to get around that. So, yes, we toured the nick, finding out what everyone does, then I was allowed out to do a little checking on a couple of cases; a shoplifting lady who obviously genuinely forgot to pay as her mother had died the previous day and a yobbo, all of fourteen, who’d been arrested for being drunk and disorderly and then made a complaint that the police had roughed him up at the nick making him fall over and hurt his head.’
    â€˜I trust you were very careful,’ I said apprehensively, mulling over this potential nest of vipers.
    Patrick seemed to have recovered his sense of humour but I doubt it was anything to do with the single malt. ‘Oh yes,’ he replied. ‘There was no question of leaning on sonny boy to make him retract. Gone are the days of carte blanche. I just requested politely that he come to the nick, with his mother, who was present at this interview – Daddy’s in Parkhurst – to identify the people who had done him over. He said he couldn’t remember who they were. I then said that was very likely as a police surgeon who was present in connection with another case had remarked that as the arrested boy was out cold care must be taken to place him so he did not choke in the event of vomiting. Our man then kicked the wall a couple of times. After indulging in what went for thinking in his case, he admitted that he’d made it all up and had hurt his head falling into the gutter
before
he passed out. Would he get into trouble for wasting police time? his mother asked. I said we’d think about it but there was a slim chance he