Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

weeks later, he had taken a beating of his own from two thugs who were never found—
    ‘Andy?’
    Gilchrist was aware of a silencing in the room, a subtle change in the mood, as if someone had eased the doors shut on an outside noise. Chief Superintendent Greaves stood half in, half out of the office.
    ‘You got a moment?’ Greaves said.
    Not a request, but an instruction, evident by Greaves closing the door on his way back to his office. By the time Gilchrist stepped into the hallway, Greaves was already marching up the staircase without so much as a backward glance. Gilchrist reached the upper landing in time to catch Greaves slipping into his office.
    Gilchrist opened the door.
    Greaves lifted his suit flap and sat on the edge of his desk, facing Gilchrist. ‘Come in, Andy. Just had a word with Randall and MacIntosh.’ He clenched his jaw, shook his head. ‘Randall’s not buying it, I’m afraid.’
    ‘And Tosh?’
    ‘The same.’
    ‘How about you?’
    Greaves paused, as if giving consideration to his question. But Gilchrist knew that his decision had already been reached. This face-to-face was only a matter of courtesy, the way Greaves always liked to handle things. Silent, Gilchrist waited for the words that could end his career.
    He did not wait long.
    ‘Under the circumstances, Andy, I don’t believe I have any option but to remove you from the case.’
    ‘I really don’t—’
    ‘Andy.’ Greaves raised his hand. ‘Let me finish, please.’
    Gilchrist struggled with the urge to turn around and walk from the office. But he had known Greaves for many years, found him to be fair and reasonable. Better to sit tight, he thought.
    ‘I don’t believe you have any ulterior motive for removing evidence,’ Greaves said. ‘I want to make that perfectly clear. Your record speaks for itself, and I would stand by you to the death in support of that. But . . .’ Greaves raised his eyebrows as if seeking some revelatory explanation, ‘. . . as Jeff pointed out, we really are in a bit of a dilemma.’
    Greaves slid his backside off his desk and shuffled around to the other side. ‘The dilemma being,’ he continued, ‘that we can’t be seen to have the slightest influence in the outcome of any ongoing investigation.’ He studied Gilchrist. ‘Do you get my meaning, Andy?’
    ‘You can’t have your SIO being suspected of cooking the books, is what I believe you are trying to tell me.’
    ‘I wouldn’t want to use the term
cooking the books.’
    ‘What term would you want to use?’
    Greaves frowned. Two lines creased his forehead. Gilchrist thought he had never before seen a man so torn. ‘Regrettably, there appear to be some question marks hovering over this one,’ Greaves went on. ‘And regrettably, Andy, they’re hovering over you. I will say that Jeff’s a good policeman, a strong man to have on your side, but he seems disinclined to believe you. I’ve challenged him on your integrity, of course, but until we clear up what I’m hoping will be nothing more than a simple explanation, I have to carpet you, Andy. I’m sorry.’
    Well, there he had it. Suspended once again.
    ‘You’ll be on full pay, of course.’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘Yes. Well. Any questions?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    Greaves leaned forward, resting both hands on his desk. ‘I don’t like this, Andy, not one bit. It upsets me when I see a ready willingness to find blame among our own. That would never have happened in the old days. We were all part of a team back then, and proud as punch to be cops. Don’t let anyone know I told you this, but if you need to lay your hands on anything to do with this investigation, let me know and I’ll do what I can to get it to you. God forbid if the press ever got hold of that. So, I’m relying on you to keep that between us.’ His eyes burned. ‘All right?’
    ‘Thank you, sir.’
    Gilchrist strode towards the door, gripped the handle when Greaves said, ‘One other thing, Andy.’
    Gilchrist stood in the open doorway. ‘Sir?’
    ‘Why
did
you remove the cigarette lighter?’
    ‘Do you believe in ghosts?’
    Greaves frowned, tilted his head, as if looking down his nose. ‘Can’t say that I do.’
    Gilchrist backed from the room. ‘I never used to either, sir.’
    He closed the door.
     
    ‘Same again, Andy?’ asked Fast Eddy.
    ‘You talked me into it. You don’t happen to have a phone book in here, do you?’
    ‘Sweetheart,’ Fast Eddy shouted to a woman Gilchrist had