Opening pages

1. Lockdown

‘Occupational Health!’ DCI Jonah Porter snarled, ending the unwelcome call that had come through on the mobile phone attachment on his wheelchair and looking towards his friend and Personal Assistant, Bernadette Fazakerley (“Our Bernie” to her friends). ‘What business have Occupational Health got saying I’m not fit to work? And what does the Chief Super think she’s playing at hiding behind Health and Safety like that? If she thinks I’m past it, why doesn’t she come straight out and say so to my face?’

It was March 2020. The new coronavirus, first reported in Wuhan – a Chinese city unheard of by most westerners until then – in December, had spread to Japan and various other far-eastern countries by mid-January and made landfall in Europe by the end of that month. During February, cases were reported in Britain, but with all the victims having contracted the disease abroad.

Then things seemed to speed up dramatically. Every day brought new and increasingly worrying news and it began to dawn on the British public that this was not one of those things that only happened to other people.

By mid-March it had become clear that efforts to contain the outbreak had failed. More than a thousand cases had been confirmed in the UK and thirty-five deaths had been reported. There were suggestions in the media that the disease had originated much earlier than first thought and could have been active in Britain as early as the previous autumn. Older people and those with underlying conditions were being advised to stay away from crowded places and employers were considering ways of enabling staff to work at home. And yet, the Cheltenham Festival went ahead and Prime Minister Boris Johnson vowed that he intended to visit his elderly mother on Mothering Sunday. The atmosphere in the country was a strange mixture of impending doom and a determination not to allow “a bit of flu” to affect our way of life.

‘Oh Jonah!’ Bernie protested with a sigh, raising her eyes from the upturned bicycle that she was engaged in repairing. ‘You know perfectly well it’s not like that at all. It’s all about keeping you safe so that you’ll be able to go back once this is all over. It’s no good trying to pretend you’re not high risk, because you know people with spinal cord injuries are susceptible to respiratory infections and you’ve even had a fair share of them yourself. You’re just going to have to put up with being stuck at home with us for a few weeks.’

‘But why couldn’t I work from home?’ Jonah argued petulantly. ‘Other people do. Andy and Monica could do all the leg work.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Bernie pulled a rag out from the pocket of her overalls and wiped her oily hands. ‘They’d do the exciting stuff – interviewing witnesses, viewing crime scenes, interrogating suspects – and you’d be content with the paperwork? You ought to realise by now that you’re not even very good at that side of things.’

‘I could do interviews by videoconference,’ Jonah contended, well aware of the futility of this argument but unable to stop himself from venting his frustration. ‘We often do that when suspects are arrested by other forces. And Andy could use his phone to show me round crime scenes.’

‘But it’ll be a whole lot simpler for everyone if they don’t have to organise all that,’ Bernie argued, bending down to pick up the bicycle and turn it over on to its wheels. ‘Look at it from Alison’s point of view. She’s already got officers and staff off with coronavirus symptoms or self-isolating because of family members with symptoms. She doesn’t need the hassle of sorting out new technology for you, just because you’re too stubborn to just take some time off.’

‘Jonah stubborn? Surely not?’ Peter exclaimed in mock astonishment, coming round the corner of the house with his two grandchildren. ‘What’s all this about?’ he added, sensing that something serious had happened.

‘The great detective has been sent on gardening leave for his own protection,’ Bernie explained, ‘and he’s afraid they’ll try to pension him off again permanently. Try to convince him that the world hasn’t ended, will you? I want to take my bike for a spin to test the gears.’

She pushed the bicycle towards the back gate, leaving her husband staring down at Jonah and wondering what to say.

Four-year-old Ricky broke the silence, striding up to Jonah’s electric wheel chair and looking him in the eye. ‘We’ve been to the nature reserve. I saw a butterfly!’

‘Really?’ Jonah adjusted his face and looked benevolently towards the little boy. ‘It’s early for butterflies. What sort was it?’

‘It was orange and white,’ Ricky informed him.

‘Ah!’ Jonah smiled back. ‘That’ll be an orange-tip butterfly. It must be this warm weather that’s made them hatch out.’

‘Butterflies start off as eggs,’ Ricky told him earnestly. ‘And then they hatch out into caterpillars. We’ve got some of those at Nursery. We’ve got to feed them the right kind of leaves until they grow big enough to make a cocoon. And then they’re going to go to sleep until they turn into butterflies.’

‘Like the very hungry caterpillar,’ his sister, Abigail, added solemnly, holding on to the arm of Jonah’s chair and looking up into his face with wide green eyes. Eric Carle’s picture book was one of her favourite stories.

‘But that caterpillar ate lots of silly things,’ Ricky declared. ‘Our caterpillars only eat special leaves.’

‘Come on, you two!’ Peter ushered his grandchildren through the French windows into the house. ‘We’d better get you cleaned up. Daddy will be here soon to take you home.’

Once he had seen both children safely inside, he turned back to address Jonah. ‘I won’t tell you it’s for your own good, because you know that already. The way things are shaping up, you won’t be the only one confined to barracks for the duration, so just try and get used to the idea, can’t you?’

Jonah sat in the sunny garden watching the three figures disappearing into the relative gloom of the house. Then he dropped his eyes to the screen in front of him and pressed keys on the pad beneath his left hand to make a phone call.

‘Yes, sir?’ Sergeant Andrew Lepage answered after a few seconds.

‘How’re you getting on with tracing the owner of that car?’ Jonah asked briskly. ‘And what about the smears on the window latch?’

‘No joy with the car, I’m afraid, sir. Either the number plate was false or the witness misremembered something. There’s no car fitting the description they gave with a registration that agrees with the partial number.’

‘And the smears?’

‘Still waiting on forensics,’ Andy replied promptly. ‘They say it’ll be a few days before they can identify the substance. DCI Davenport tried to jolly them along, but they told her they’ve got a backlog and there’s nothing they can do.’

‘Anna?’ Jonah demanded. ‘What’s she-?’ He broke off, suddenly understanding the import of his sergeant’s words. ‘Is she the SIO now? Am I off the case?’

‘Well … yes, sir,’ Andy replied hesitantly. ‘I thought it was your idea. I mean … Chief Superintendent Brown told us you were in isolation and Anna was taking over your caseload for the foreseeable.’

‘I see,’ Jonah murmured, trying unsuccessfully to keep the resentment out of his voice. ‘Yes, the Chief Super rang me a few minutes ago to tell me not to come in tomorrow, but I hadn’t realised … What time was it she briefed you about all this?’

‘The middle of the morning,’ Andy answered reluctantly. ‘I suppose she wanted to be able to tell you that everything was under control, so you wouldn’t feel you were letting anyone down.’

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Jonah did not sound convinced. ‘OK. I suppose that’s it then. I’d better let you get on. I’m sure DCI Davenport has plenty of jobs for you to do.’

‘Yes sir. I’m sorry about this, sir. I’m sure the Chief Super’s only … Well, as you say, I’d better get on.’