Dishonour. Helen Black

was a total prat. He couldn’t just pick up the phone, could he? No doubt he wanted to go over a list of dead cases for archiving or review the latest figures for youth offending. Ticking boxes was something the man revelled in.

      Jack refused to hightail it up to the super’s office. He’d finish his coffee first.

      To be fair, Jack knew full well it wasn’t the email that was making him cranky. It was Lilly. The woman was beyond infuriating.

      He’d be the first to admit that her pregnancy had come as a bit of a shock. Becoming a dad was never something he’d wanted. He couldn’t look after himself, never mind a kid. All those years living alone and he still never managed to have fresh milk in the fridge or pay his gas bill on time. How on earth would he remember all the stuff you had to do for a baby? The poor wee fella would probably starve if it were left to Jack. But after a couple of months he’d settled into the idea. The two of them, with Sam and now a baby, seemed somehow right. A family.

      It should be a time of joy, shouldn’t it? Anticipating the big day, buying prams, choosing a crib. He’d even bought one of those baby names books. So why was Lilly so determined to carry on as usual?

      Setting up a new office, taking on cases, were not what women ought to be doing at a time like this. She should be taking care of herself, letting him take care of her. Maybe he didn’t put it across well but he only ever wanted to look out for her.

      He took another sip of his now cold decaf and pulled out his phone to call her.

      ‘It’s Jack,’ he said.

      ‘Right.’ She sounded distracted.

      ‘Are you OK?’

      ‘Mmm,’ she said. ‘Just right in the middle of something.’

      ‘Sounds important.’

      ‘Yes,’ she said.

      Jack knew he should leave it there but he just couldn’t help himself.

      ‘Have you taken your folic acid?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Have you taken your folic acid? It’s very important for a growing baby.’

      There was a small silence.

      ‘I put the tablets next to the kettle,’ he said. When she didn’t answer he added, ‘In the kitchen.’

      ‘I know where the kettle is, Jack.’

      ‘Of course you do. I’m just saying.’

      Lilly heaved a sigh down the phone. ‘I have to go.’

      Jack stared at the phone for a few seconds after Lilly hung up. He could picture the brown bottle of tablets, untouched, exactly where he’d left them. Lilly couldn’t possibly have missed them. He slapped his mobile back in his pocket. It made him so angry that Lilly wasn’t prepared to do such a small thing for their child.

      Today was not looking good and a meeting with the biggest penpusher of them all would just about finish him off. Sometimes he was tempted to walk out of the door and never come back.

      ‘Take a seat, Jack.’ The chief super pointed to the chair at the opposite side of the desk.

      Jack slipped silently into his place. Something about the chief super’s office, with its clean lines and heavy paperweights, made Jack uncomfortable. Every visit increased his discomfort.

      ‘I won’t beat around the bush,’ said the chief super.

      That’ll be a first, thought Jack.

      ‘You’ll have heard about the death of Yasmeen Khan.’

      Of course Jack had heard about it. Every copper in Luton knew there were rumblings that the girl’s suicide wasn’t all it seemed. A short-arse called Bell had been swanning around making sure everyone knew just how big this was going to be.

      ‘I understand DI Bell is heading the investigation,’ said Jack.

      The chief super nodded. ‘I’d hoped—well, we’d all hoped—that this could be sorted out.’

      ‘And can’t it?’

      ‘It seems not.’ The chief super steepled his fingers. ‘It seems that the girl was murdered.’

      Jack raised his eyebrows. ‘Who’s in the frame?’

      ‘I’m not at liberty to divulge that at this stage, Jack,’ said the chief super, ‘but believe me when I say this situation is going to need to be handled with the upmost care.’

      Jack nodded. He thought the tragic death of any young woman merited the upmost care, whatever the current political situation, but he knew this was not something the senior officer wanted to hear.

      ‘And this is where you come in, Jack.’

      Jack was stunned. The chief super wanted him to assist on a murder case. He’d been involved in only one other—when a young girl in care was accused of killing her mother. That case hadn’t exactly gone to plan. Still, he couldn’t help feel a warm glow of satisfaction. Perhaps his talents were being recognised after all these years.

      ‘I’ll do whatever I can to help,’ he said.

      The chief super touched the bridge of his nose with his forefingers. ‘What’s needed here is someone with a delicate touch. We can’t go stamping around with size tens.’

      ‘You can count on me,’ Jack beamed.

      ‘Excellent.’

      The chief super tapped his keyboard and the printer sprung into life. He motioned for Jack to collect the printed document. Jack read it.

      Bury Park Community High

      Denleigh Secondary Lealands St Joseph’s Roman Catholic High.

      It was a list of the local secondary schools. Jack nodded in what he hoped looked like a thoughtful way.

      ‘Didn’t the Khan girl attend Beech Hall?’

      ‘Two of her siblings still do,’ said the chief super.

      ‘It’s not on the list,’ Jack pointed out.

      ‘Like I say, Jack, this is all very sensitive. Which is why you need to steer clear, for the present time at least.’

      Jack wasn’t so sure. If he was being tasked to talk to people who knew Yasmeen then Beech Hall was the obvious place to start. He didn’t want to argue with the chief but wasn’t convinced the other schools would prove anywhere near as useful.

      ‘I wouldn’t want to leave it too long, sir,’ he ventured.

      ‘A couple of months should do it.’

      ‘A couple of months?’ Jack couldn’t disguise his surprise. ‘That would normally be considered far too late in the day to start gathering evidence.’

      The chief super frowned. ‘What evidence?’

      ‘It’s difficult to say, sir.’ Jack shrugged. ‘Maybe her fellow pupils know something. Maybe she said something to her friends.’

      The chief super pursed his lips. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Jack.’

      Jack felt heat seep around his collar in embarrassment. He didn’t consider himself the most articulate of men, he wouldn’t win a debate with Stephen Fry, but most people could understand him.

      ‘I think, sir, that in a murder case it would be fairly standard procedure to speak to everyone who came into regular contact with the victim,’ said Jack, ‘and in this instance that would be the pupils and teachers at Beech Hall.’

      The light of recognition came on in the chief super’s face. ‘Of course, of course.’

      Jack heaved a secret sigh of relief. He was beginning to think he was going mad.

      ‘DI