One Bad Turn Read Online Free PDF Page A

wasn’t just his waistline going soft around the middle. Ashcroft sighed, but it was petulant, the sound of a teenager made to do something against their will. Coupland tried not to let his irritation show in his voice. ‘It might help if you tell me what’s got you so bent out of shape, starting with why you actually left the Met. I always thought you had to grow an extra set of bollocks to work there,’ he added to lighten the mood, ‘what with you all being from the Alpha gene pool.’
    The DC shook his head. ‘Don’t,’ he squirmed, looking down at his hands.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because you’re not wrong,’ Ashcroft admitted, ‘I guess I did think I was the big I Am, but I also did a good job. Unblemished ten year record.’
    ‘Quite the mover and shaker,’ Coupland countered. In his experience everyone ended up with a reprimand at some point in time, some sort of bollocking recorded on file to keep you in the career sticky stuff. Your whole time in the job was one long assessment process; he’d be suspicious of anyone with a clean slate. Never mind blemishes, Coupland’s own personnel file was full blown acne ridden. He didn’t have a diplomatic bone in his body, didn’t like to see the way the force was going. There were too many coming into the service didn’t want to put in the graft, were all too happy to let someone else put their neck on the line. All wanting a fast track out of the front line and into somewhere much less accountable. ‘Look,’ Ashcroft spoke slowly, as though trying to make sense of his words before he said them, ‘The Met’s desperate about its reputation, especially in the wake of Mark Duggan.’ He was referring to the black man shot twice in Tottenham, north London, in 2011 after specialist firearms officers stopped the minicab he was in on suspicion that he had an illegal firearm. No gun was found on him. His death had sparked riots in cities and towns across England. Coupland said nothing. He hadn’t been there, he didn’t know the full story, but he’d needed DCI Mallender to explain the Inquiry’s verdict to him, and even he’d admitted to being confused and he’d gone to university. ‘Bottom line is top brass said I was ready for promotion,’ Ashcroft’s face took on a sour look, ‘only the boroughs they offered to me were, what’s the politically correct phrase…all ethnically diverse.’
    ‘And to quote Groucho Marx you didn’t want to be a member of a club that accepted you as a member.’ Ashcroft’s brow creased. ‘I guess not.’
    Coupland shot him a look, ‘Why not?’ he challenged, ‘Promotion’s promotion.’
    ‘What? And have half the division think I didn’t get there on merit? And the other half sneer at the patch I’d been given.’
    ‘Did you deserve the promotion?’
    Ashcroft nodded. ‘I think so, but I‘d been given a limited choice, unlike my fairer skinned colleagues.’
    ‘Be careful where you go round saying that,’ there was a tinge of warning in Coupland’s voice, ‘nobody likes a sour puss.’
    ‘Does that go for you?’
    Coupland laughed. ‘I don’t give a toss what race, region or shoe size you are, or whether you dress in your girlfriend’s underwear on your days off - or even if you have a girlfriend, for that matter. I mistrust everyone until they prove themselves. You’ll get no favours from me, but you will get the same treatment I mete out to everyone else, are we clear?’ Ashcroft’s shoulder visibly relaxed. ‘Yes, Sarge.’
    Coupland pulled up outside a row of terraced houses. He switched off the ignition and regarded Ashcroft once more, ‘Are we good, now? Because if I send you for a coffee you need to understand there’s no other agenda than I want a bloody coffee?’ Ashcroft nodded, ‘Loud and clear, Sarge,’ he replied, ‘loud and clear.’
    The Family Liaison Officer answered the door to them, ushering them through a narrow hallway to the living room where James Grimshaw had decamped since