Death at Rainbow Cottage Jo Allen (digital book reader .TXT) 📖

had got tired of coming second to his job and picked out an excuse to throw him over, and it had taken him longer than he’d expected to get over her. Even now his feelings for Becca Reid lingered, because the blunt truth was that she still attracted him, and her slavish devotion to everyone else’s goodwill and her redoubtable community spirit conspired to throw her in his path. With Ashleigh out of the way for three weeks, he’d run out of excuses not to go down to the village where Becca lived in the cottage opposite his mother. Whenever he came or went he’d risked running across his former lover’s scathing, scornful stare.

In those three weeks he’d missed Ashleigh, and it unsettled him. Caring too much for other people inevitably brought more pain than caring too little. Caring about his younger brother, Mikey, had brought about the final split with Becca when she disagreed with how he’d dealt with Mikey’s teenage experimentation with drugs. He had no regrets over that, he reminded himself as optimism asserted itself. Caring was positive, too. The very reason he was in the police was that he cared.

He allowed himself a wry smile. Becca cared about Mikey, too, recognising the pressure that David Satterthwaite’s absence had placed upon Jude himself to be a substitute father, and this fundamental difference of opinion about how he handled it had been symptomatic of deeper problems in their relationship. When he thought of Becca it still hurt, but he’d learned the lesson. It was too late to go back and try again even if he wasn’t too proud to do so, and it was the right time to learn from the experience, build a new relationship and get the balance right. With that thought, he consigned his personal life to the back of his mind and set off to begin building a relationship of an entirely different kind — a professional relationship with his new boss.

Faye Scanlon had left the door to her office wedged open. That looked like a statement of intent, a notice of accessibility. For form’s sake he tapped on it, but she was already looking up from where she sat behind her desk and motioning him in. ‘Come on in, Jude, and have a seat. Shut the door behind you, would you?’

He did so, trying to judge how deep her apparent friendliness ran, how much it was a mask for something else. It hadn’t escaped him that she’d been mightily put out when Ashleigh had appeared in the canteen that morning.

‘Obviously you’re busy with the Pierce case, but it’s important that we talk. I’m making a point of having a chat with all of my inspectors and chief inspectors. I want to be sure we understand one another.’

He nodded. Faye’s predecessor had been stiffly formal with colleagues he didn’t like but erred too far on the side of unwelcome informality with some — mainly younger and exclusively female. It was only to be expected that there would be some sort of correction. Sitting behind her desk, with ringless fingers clasped in front of her as she matched his quizzical gaze, Faye showed every sign of being the antidote to the recent past.

‘I didn’t know Detective Superintendent Groves,’ she went on, taking off her glasses and twirling them between her fingers as he pulled up a chair, ‘although I understand that, on his own admission, he was…shall we say… of a different generation.’

‘I know what you mean.’ It wasn’t just generational sexism. Groves had always had favourites, and anyone who didn’t fit his profile of the right sort of policeman struggled to achieve promotion. His disapproval had held them back, the grit in the machinery of advancement that should otherwise have run smoothly. To be a favourite you didn’t have to like him, or be liked by him – merely to have a face that fitted. Young women of childbearing age somehow never won promotion under Groves and Doddsy had remained at his level for 15 years, during which Jude had made a meteoric rise to outrank him.

‘I might as well be blunt with you, Jude.’ In an over-deliberate pause, she looked out of the window behind him towards the town. ‘There are a number of officers here who’ve been promoted because of what they were rather than on the basis of their skills and capabilities. While we can’t undo those mistakes, we won’t repeat them. When I was appointed, it was on the basis that my job would involve a clear focus on redressing the imbalance which has built up within this force. It’s a strategic decision taken at a very senior level and I’m playing a small part in the process. Things are going to change.’

She looked at him as if she was expecting a reply, but when he opened his mouth to speak she cut straight across him. ‘One of the proposals I put forward at my interview to correct this issue was to introduce a series of workshops on equality and diversity for all officers, as a matter of urgency. I’m glad to say the idea was well received and implementation began even before I arrived. Those workshops will begin this week.’

‘An excellent idea.’ A smile flitted across his lips as he thought of Doddsy’s pained tolerance of the Rainbow Festival.

‘Thank you.’ His smile must have irritated her. She scowled in response. ‘I can speak frankly to you. You’re young to be a DCI.’ An upheld hand stopped his reply. ‘I’m not questioning your competence. Merely saying that some of your junior colleagues might be equally competent and vastly more experienced.’

She meant Doddsy. Jude stayed silent.

‘I want you to be aware that the system has previously worked in your favour and won’t do so in the future. I’ll be honest with you. I’ve heard that you can be quite a disruptive figure, and I’m assuming I’ll get