The Corpse Bridge

17

In the CID room at West Street, Cooper found a message waiting for him that Detective Superintendent Branagh wanted to see him ASAP. And that meant before the morning briefing took place on the Sandra Blair inquiry.

All of his team had come in for the briefing, except Luke Irvine. Cooper had a couple of jobs he needed doing. First of all he asked Becky Hurst to hunt out a photograph of Walter, 9th Earl Manby.

‘There should be something on the internet,’ he said.

‘Everything is on the internet, Ben.’

‘So I hear.’

‘The ninth Earl,’ said Hurst.

‘Yes, the living one. Walter. If you find something and I’m not back before the briefing, pass it to DI Walker.’

‘Okay.’

Cooper turned to Carol Villiers and asked her to produce a list of residents in Bowden.

‘All of them?’ she said.

‘If possible. The adults anyway.’

‘Okay, Ben.’

Cooper straightened his tie. ‘I won’t be long. I hope.’

Down the corridor the door of the superintendent’s office was standing partly open, but Cooper knocked anyway. Detective Superintendent Hazel Branagh got up from her desk and waved him to a chair.

‘Come in, DS Cooper,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing to worry about. I just want to catch up. Tell me how things are going generally.’

Cooper sat down, not entirely reassured. Rumours around the station said that Branagh had been on a diet recently, though she would never have admitted it. She seemed to have lost weight around her face, though, and the combination of broad shoulders and lean cheekbones made her even more intimidating. Cooper was actually glad when she sat down again.

‘Fine, ma’am,’ he said. ‘I’m very happy with my team in CID. They’re doing nicely.’

‘Ah, yes.’ Branagh consulted a note on her desk. ‘You have DC Villiers — I’ve heard very good reports of her since she joined us.’

‘She’s a valuable asset,’ said Cooper, conscious that he was immediately falling into management speak, but unable to prevent himself.

‘And DCs Hurst and Irvine. Very promising, would you say?’

‘Absolutely, ma’am.’

She paused, placing a finger on the list in front of her. ‘And I see you still have DC Gavin Murfin at the moment.’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, we’ll be giving him a good send-off soon,’ said Branagh. ‘There’s no point in going over his faults now, is there?’

‘I’ve found Gavin’s experience useful,’ said Cooper.

Branagh glanced up at him. ‘Very loyal, DS Cooper. Of course, we’ll look at the possibility of finding you a replacement for Murfin when he goes. But I’m sure you understand, in the present circumstances … The budget cuts…’

‘With respect, ma’am, there should be five detective constables in my team, according to the official establishment. I’m already one down.’

‘I know. But I’m afraid we have to get used to these reductions across the board. It’s the same for all of us.’

Cooper said nothing. He’d heard a lot of officers express the opinion that Derbyshire Constabulary was a victim of its own success. The crime rate in the county had been reduced by about 15 per cent in the past year. And this was despite the fact that all the neighbouring forces had higher rates of crime and larger urban centres of population, with the result that Derbyshire was often a target for travelling criminals from Greater Manchester, Nottinghamshire or South Yorkshire. If your crime rate was falling, even in those circumstances, then clearly you didn’t need so many police officers. It seemed counter-intuitive and very short-term thinking.

But Superintendent Branagh had probably heard that view plenty of times. There was no point in Cooper repeating it now.

Branagh pushed her list to one side. ‘But what about you, DS Cooper? How are you doing yourself?’

That was a question he couldn’t hesitate in answering. Not for even a second.

‘I’m absolutely fine, ma’am,’ said Cooper firmly.

‘Good. Excellent. That’s what I like to hear. But could I suggest, perhaps…’

‘Yes?’

‘That you need to push yourself forward a bit more. You’re in danger of getting overlooked.’

‘Overlooked?’

‘For promotion.’

‘Oh.’

Cooper hadn’t really thought about further promotion yet. There didn’t seem much point. There was already a log-jam in human resources since promotions were frozen by budget cuts.

‘You’ve talked up all the DCs in your team,’ said Branagh. ‘Even DC Murfin, who we all know about. But you don’t talk yourself up at all.’

‘I suppose that’s true,’ admitted Cooper.

Since he’d been promoted to Detective Sergeant, Cooper had concentrated on taking the trouble to bring his DCs on. He wanted to let them take responsibility and get some credit for their work. Not everybody did that. But it was true what Branagh said. The police service had become a competitive business. Like lots of people working in private sector businesses, you had to be able to justify your job these days.

‘You can be too self-effacing, you know,’ emphasised Branagh. ‘In this profession you have to get yourself noticed if you want to get on. Otherwise they’ll just bring somebody in over your head. People who lie down get walked over.’

‘Yes, I do know that,’ said Cooper.

Branagh watched him carefully, then nodded. Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

‘Well, if it does happen, Ben,’ she said, ‘let’s hope it’s a police officer at least, and not someone brought in from managing a supermarket.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Cooper.

He realised the interview was over and got up to leave. Branagh was exaggerating, of course. But only a bit. The government’s new scheme would soon bring in twenty direct-entry police superintendents from other businesses and professions, along with eighty fast-tracked inspectors, graduates on a three-year scheme taking them straight from constable rank to the first rung of the management ladder. Many were already on training courses at the College of Policing.

There were very few police officers who didn’t believe that experience working on the frontline was essential for anyone holding a senior management position on the operational side. How could you expect someone to make high-pressure decisions in an emergency situation when they’d never had to respond to an emergency themselves? Surely they needed first-hand knowledge.

But it was too late to fight the changes. The new scheme would allow outsiders to leap over thousands of officers who’d spent years building experience, working in a variety of roles across the force. One day a chief constable would be appointed who had never made an arrest.

Those new inspectors had to be graduates with good degrees, but would at least have spent a short time as constables and sergeants. But neither of those was a requirement for a direct-entry superintendent, though that was two ranks above inspector. The new batch of supers might be from the armed forces or the intelligence services. They could be prison governors or existing members of civilian staff. But the guidelines said they could equally be ‘people with experience of running private sector operations’.

So Branagh’s half-joking reference wasn’t quite accurate. A newly appointed inspector couldn’t come straight from being a supermarket manager. But a new superintendent could.

It’s time to get out.

Cooper had heard those words said more and more often over the past few months. And it wasn’t just from Gavin Murfin either.

‘By the way,’ said Branagh as Cooper left her office.

‘Yes, ma’am?’

‘Detective Sergeant Fry is with us for the briefing. Representing the Major Crime Unit, of course.’

‘Yes.’

Cooper waited, sensing that Branagh had something else to say. If it was in connection with Diane Fry, it might be something he didn’t want to hear.

‘It would be good,’ said Branagh, ‘if we could manage without the assistance of the MCU on this occasion.’

He nodded, not sure what she expected him to say in response to that.

‘I feel it would be good for the division,’ she said. ‘And especially … Ben, it would be especially good for you. It would be wonderful if we could fill a vacancy at inspector level before those direct entrants start to arrive.’

Cooper swallowed at the enormity of the challenge he was being presented with. Was he ready for this? But Branagh was waiting for an acknowledgement of some kind.

‘Ben, remember what I said, won’t you?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said.