One Bad Turn Read Free

fifteen minutes later. A bit like Coupland, from the outside the station seemed barely to have changed since it was built in the seventies, although the interior had had a major refurb over the last five years, first to bring the building in line with modern safety regulations, secondly to reduce heating and lighting costs, make it run more efficiently. Apart from five years spent at Stretford which he’d rather forget, Coupland had spent his entire career stationed here. Starting out as a young cop on the beat, in the days when that meant pounding the streets alone, never certain of what was round the next corner. Some of his contempories looked back on that time with nostalgia, reckoned it was better back then, safer, the public held the police in high esteem. Coupland wasn’t so sure. Hard faced men have stared him in the eye for as long as he can remember, all that’s changed are the fashions, not the attitude.
    Coupland enjoyed one last cigarette before leaving the car. Yes, he was tired, he could sleep on a clothes line given the chance, but two hours kip wouldn’t even make a dent in it. Might as well work through his exhaustion. They’d be setting up an incident room by now and he had a chance to read through the early statements that had been taken, get some momentum going under this investigation before he called it a night. Or day, depending how you looked at it.

Chapter 2
    Coupland’s desk was scattered with files, biscuit crumbs and reports needing sign off but he’d seen worse. The lack of paperwork didn’t reassure him, his inbox would be full to bursting with circulars from HR he wouldn’t bother reading and incident updates he’d been copied into in the general arse covering way that the senior ranks preferred, all marked ‘High Importance,’ making it impossible to prioritise. There was a card on his desk from Alex Moreton, thanking the team for baby Todd’s gifts with a post script which read: ‘The nipple cream you sent has really come in handy.’ She’d added a smiley face after that bit. Coupland looked around the night shift officers setting up a dedicated incident area for Sharon Mathers’ murder, holding the card aloft in his hand, ‘And who was the joker?’ He demanded, ‘I thought I’d checked everything we’d bought from the whip round before it got posted?’ Coupland stared at the men around him half-heartedly, time was when he’d have been the instigator, sending a rubber ring or cabbage leaves to the new mother but what was once harmless fun between colleagues was now seen as harassment. Mallender would be all over him like a rash in an STI clinic if he got wind of this. He returned the card to his desk. He wasn’t going to make a big deal of it, the team knew he was displeased and that would have to do for now. DC Turnbull had been pushing a desk from one end of the room to the other. He stopped, raised his hand sheepishly. ‘It was me, Sarge,’ he pulled a face, ‘I just wanted to lighten the mood a bit, you know, after everything…’ How could any of them forget the murder of a young DC on their watch? It had hit everyone hard, including Alex, who’d named her new baby after him. ‘Fair enough,’ Coupland grunted, locking his drawer, ‘but best not to draw attention to it, though, just to be on the safe side.’
    ‘Good holiday?’ DC Robinson called over, preparing the incident wall with the photograph and scant details of the victim they’d gathered to date. ‘Not too shabby at all,’ Coupland responded, trying but failing to supress a grin. ‘Lynn took to Blackjack like a duck to water, and I had my first ever full body massage in a spa. Thank Christ for the twin centre holiday.’
    ‘And Amy?’
    ‘She spent all her money shopping in Vegas then all her time on the beach texting some lad from college.’
    ‘Expensive,’ Robinson sympathised.
    ‘You don’t know the bloody half of it,’ Coupland grumbled but his eyes told a different story.