* * *
A cheer went up as Frank Welch walked into the CID office flanked by Detective Inspector Doug Simpson and Detective Sergeant Fred Clarke. Welch raised a hand in acknowledgement. There were two cases of lager on a side table, along with half a dozen bottles of red wine, stacks of paper cups and a few packets of crisps. Clarke headed straight for the lager.
“Drink, Frank?” asked Simpson.
“Get me an orange juice and lemonade, Doug. I’m going to have a word with the governor.”
Welch went down the corridor and was waved through to Superintendent Simon Edwards’ office by his secretary. “He’s been waiting for you, Chief Inspector,” she said.
Edwards was buried in paperwork, but he stood up and shook Welch’s hand as soon as he walked in. “Great work, Frank. First class. Pass on my congratulations to the team. I took the liberty of arranging a small libation.”
“Much appreciated, sir.”
“Not every day we see a villain like Terry Green sent down.”
“No, sir.”
Edwards sat down and picked up his fountain pen. When Welch didn’t move towards the door, Edwards put his pen down again. “Something on your mind, Frank?”
“Greene’s wife, Samantha. She lied through her teeth. The judge gave her a tongue lashing, but I’d like to send the file on to the DIP.”
Edwards winced. “I’m not convinced that’s in anyone’s best interests, Frank. You’re not married, are you?”
It was a rhetorical question. Edwards was well aware that Welch had never been married. Welch answered anyway.
“No, sir.”
“Wives stand by their husbands. That’s what they do, bless ‘em. For better or worse.”
Welch put his hands on the superintendent’s desk and leaned towards him, but he could see from the look on his boss’s face that he resented the territorial encroachment, so he stood up again and folded his arms. “The judge said he thought there was a case of perjury to answer, that’s all I’m saying. She lied in court.”
“But it didn’t do any good, did it, Frank? Greene still went down. Let sleeping dogs lie. Okay?”
Welch said nothing. He wanted to argue the point, but he had worked with Edwards long enough to know that there was no point. Once the superintendent had made his mind up, it was like a steel trap. Nothing would budge him, and he’d regard even reasoned argument as a challenge to his authority. Welch nodded slowly. “Okay, sir.”
“Good man,” said Edwards, and returned to his paperwork.
Back in the main CID room, Simpson held out a paper cup to Welch. “There you go, boss.”
Welch took it but didn’t drink.
“What’s up?” asked Simpson.
“Difference of opinion with the governor,” said Welch. “He thinks Sam Green’s a sleeping dog. I think she’s a lying bitch.”
The Stretch continues with Sam Green taking over her husband’s criminal empire, trying to recover his money while at the same time keeping her family together. It’s a delicate balancing act that is much harder to pull off then she at first realises. And there’s a cop on the case who wants her behind bars with her husband.
THE TUNNEL RATS