A Necessary End by Peter Robinson Page B

Jenny, and Banks knew he was filing her away for future use. Banks now found it hard to look her in the eye himself. He was only a chief inspector and Burgess was a superintendent. When things were going his way, Burgess wouldn’t pull rank, but if Banks let any of his special feeling for Jenny show, or tried in any way to protect her, then Burgess would certainly want to humiliate him. Besides, she had her knight in shining armour in the form of Osmond. Let him take the flack.
    â€œWhat were you charged with on Friday?” Burgess asked.
    â€œYou know damn well what I was charged with. It was a trumped-up charge.”
    â€œBut what was it? Tell me. Say it. Just to humour me.” Burgess reached into his pocket and took out his tin of Tom Thumbs. Holding Osmond’s eyes with his own all the time, he slowly took out a cigar and lit it.
    â€œI said I don’t want you smoking in here,” Osmond protested on cue. “It’s my home and—”
    â€œShut up,” Burgess said, just loudly enough to stop him in his tracks. “What was the charge?”
    â€œBreach of the peace,” Osmond mumbled. “But I told you, it was trumped up. If anyone broke the peace, it was the police.”
    â€œEver heard of a lad by the name of Paul Boyd?” Banks asked.
    â€œNo.” It was a foolish lie. Osmond had answered before he’d had time to register the question. Banks would have known he was lying even if he hadn’t already learned, via Jenny, that Osmond was acquainted with the people at Maggie’s Farm.
    â€œLook,” Osmond went on, “I’m starting an inquiry of my own into what happened on Friday. I’ll be taking statements, and believe me, I’ll make sure your behaviour here today goes into the final report.”
    â€œBully for you,” said Burgess. Then he shook his head slowly. “You don’t get it, do you, sonny? You might be able to pull those outraged-citizen tactics with the locals, but they won’t wash with me. Do you know why not?”
    Osmond scowled and kept silent.
    â€œI said, do you know why not?”
    â€œAll right, no, I don’t bloody well know why not!”
    â€œBecause I don’t give a flying fuck for you or for others like you,”
    Burgess said, stabbing the air with his cigar. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re shit, and we’d all be a hell of a lot better off without you. And the people I work with, they feel the same way. It doesn’t matter if Chief Inspector Banks here has the hots for your Dr Fuller and wants to go easy on her. It doesn’t matter that he’s got a social conscience and respects people’s rights, either. I don’t, and my bosses don’t. We don’t piss around, we get things done, and you’d do well to remember that, both of you.”
    Jenny was flushed and speechless with rage; Banks himself felt pale and impotent. He should have known that nothing would slip by Burgess.
    â€œI can’t tell you anything,” Osmond repeated wearily. “Why can’t you believe me? I don’t know who killed that policeman. I didn’t see it, I didn’t do it, and I don’t know who did.”
    A long silence followed. At least it seemed long to Banks, who was aware only of the pounding of his heart. Finally Burgess stood up and walked over to the window, where he stubbed out his cigar on the white sill. Then he turned and smiled. Osmond gripped the tubular arms of his chair tightly.
    â€œOkay,” Burgess said, turning to Banks. “We’ll be off, then, for the moment. Sorry to spoil your afternoon in bed. You can get back to it now, if you like.” He looked at Jenny and licked his lips. “That’s a fetching shirt you’ve got on, love,” he said to her. “But you didn’t need to leave it half-unbuttoned just for me. I’ve got plenty of imagination.”
    Back in the car, Banks was