CHAPTER 48
That night, I lay once more with my lover, safe in our home, in my family, and tried to find the words for him. I had already walked him through my interview, but that was a doddle in comparison.

“I want in to see Lexie afterwards, love”

“How is she? I haven’t had time to pop round since she woke up”

“Gemma’s taken over her diet”

“That should help. It’s not what you want to talk about, though. Is it?”

He knew me. Not ‘too well’, but as well as I could ever have dreamt. I rolled over to face him, and he pulled my head to his chest, gently, with all the love I would ever need. I found the tears far too easy.

“No, love. That’s not it. It’s Pig, yeah?”

“Oh?”

“And Deb”

“Ah. What exactly did he do?”

“From all accounts…. No. I was going to say something, but I think you’d have made the wrong assumption. That piece of shit we banged away in Carlisle, yeah?”

I felt his arms tense slightly, and when he spoke it was softly, dangerously so.

“Oh yes”

“Well, not like him, but the words were the same. I didn’t tell the Complaints people why Pig did what he did, at the end”

Slow breathing, strong arms, love and patience. My man left me to find my own words, in my own time.

“Pig was ill, love. Same thing, he said, same as Terry Pratchett, Glen Campbell. Alzheimer’s”

“Christ! That wouldn’t have been his way at all”

“Yeah. He said about it not being a good thing, dribbling. Bu that’s not it”

“Explains a lot, though. But Deb… I see. I assume it was a while ago, aye? How is she?”

“Ah, hell, Blake! Broken, but still going, isn’t it? Just gives me a bit of a problem. She wants me at his funeral”

I could feel his nod.

“Tricky one. You will have to speak to Williams, possibly higher, sort the approval”

“You think I should go, then?”

“Fuck, aye! She needs her friends with her right now. Might have to rig up a getaway car, just in case, but yes. I suspect his brothers will know exactly why you’d be there. Tomorrow, then, we speak to Sammy, get Williams teed up. Who do you need to tell about Morris and Deb?”

So typical of him, using ‘we’, and I thought of my parents’ initial assessment of him as ‘one of the good ones’. Dawn was slow in coming, but I stayed close to him until we were child-bombed by our son, which simply reinforced my feelings for Deb.

So alone, for so long.

Sammy was dutifully curious, but I had already rung Deb for her permission, which extended to Blake, Sammy and Bev Williams and no further. Sammy got us a chat with Williams in less than half an hour, and after the expected questions about Lexie, I came to the point.

“Boss, it’s the funeral. Carl Morris. Not for beyond these walls, but Deb Wells is going, and she has asked if I will stand with her on the day”

Bev looked puzzled for all of two seconds, then nodded.

“I see. How long ago was the relationship?”

“From what she said, too long ago while still not long enough. She was still living with her adoptive parents, and he wasn’t President of that club”

“Right. Then we need some ground rules, and don’t look at me like that. I was half-expecting something like this, given how he used our Force for his little coup. You do not go in uniform. You do not take any form of tribute, formal or otherwise. You do not go on to any wake, reception, party, orgy or whatever afterwards. We have a car waiting nearby, just in case. And you don’t need to go to their place and tell them you will be coming”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. We got a note this morning”

He picked up a piece of folded A4 paper and started to read.

“To the Superintendent in charge of the unit involved in the unfortunate and unwelcome incident at the Dragon Drinkers’ rally. This Saturday we will be saying farewell to our brother Pig, who served us well for so many years. We deeply regret the unfortunate circumstances that led to his demise, but wish to put that matter to rest”

He sat, eyebrows raised, waiting for the snorts of disbelief to die down.

“We are grateful that our brother was allowed to leave this world with dignity, as was right and fitting. We recognise that one police officer was generous in her spirit, enough to allow this to happen. She honoured our brother, and we would return that honour by asking her, and no other police officers whatsoever, to attend Pig’s final journey. Please deliver our invitation to DC Diane Sutton”

He folded the letter once more, and offered me a twisted smile.

“In and out, Diane. Let Deb have her moment, but keep in mind who and what these people are. Keep chat to a minimum. I have already been onto the top brass, and they are content with the arrangements. I suggest civvies of the more comfortable sort, but not any form of ‘biker chic’. Be there, be comfortable, but be distinctly not of their sort. It’s on Saturday, by the way. Coroner released the body after the enquiry”

We took the hint and rose to leave, but in his usual ‘one more thing’ style, Williams stopped us as we opened the door.

“Di?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Be at the Senedd the following Friday. Best rig, nine sharp. Bring a camera, Blake”

He waited just long enough for us to share a quick what-the-fuck look before grinning.

“Commendation, girl. Chief Constable wants to do it in the Pierhead, but with a pic on the plinth in front of the Senedd. Nine sharp. Bring family and friends”

My mouth moved before I could rein it in.

“With all due respect sir, you can be a right sod!”

He grinned again, in an utterly natural way.

“Privilege of rank, Diane! Now, scoot. Any issues on Saturday, get out immediately. Good luck”

As simple as that? Shit. What to wear?

That Saturday dawned bright and clear, thank god, as I was hardly dressed for shitty weather. I had found a dark-grey trouser suit, cut for flat shoes, in the back of my wardrobe, and even after carrying Rhod, it still fitted. Deb was at the door at ten, in worn leather jacket and old jeans, Paul and Paula in the rear seats of his car. I gave him the eyebrows as I buckled in, and he shrugged.

“Same sort of thing as you, Di. Load of shit about looking after one of theirs, so I assumed they meant my beloved here. Deb set me straight. You got the same BS from Williams?”

“Yeah. In, be polite, get out ASAP. Back seat, mate?”

“Class. Deb drives. Deb decides how”

She decided to pull away from the kerb, just then, and spoke while looking straight ahead.

“Done a wreath, girl, but it’s with the hearse. No worries about you two being seen with it”

“Ta, love. Where are we off to?”

“Carl’s old place in Dinas Powys, then off to Caerau”

She said hardly a word as we drove down to the station car park at Murchfield community centre, where what looked like hundreds of bikes filled the parking area, and I wondered what the routine would be. I was used to conventional funerals, where the cortege went to a chapel or other place of worship, sometimes attached to a cemetery of crematorium, but this one promised to be rather different. Paul and I sat in the car while Deb and Paula stood outside, receiving hugs and handshakes from some seriously scary men and women, before a loud engine note announced the arrival of the hearse.

I say hearse, for that was what it was, but it was unlike any other I had seen. Essentially, it was the front end of a motorcycle, but with the driver sitting back, attached to a double-axle flat-bed truck body, A glazed enclosure had been erected over the load bed, which bore the coffin and a variety of floral tributes to the man inside. On top of the coffin was a wild boar made of what looked like holly branches. The two women re-joined us in the car, and the noise levels rose further as the bikes fired up. I did note a complete absence of crash helmets, but rather suspected that particular law wouldn’t be enforced.

We pulled out of the car park, the noise deafening, and there was no stately procession at twenty mph to the cemetery. We weren’t going particularly fast, but the mourners were definitely moving with purpose. Out of Dinas Powys, through St Andrews, past Wenvoe, other traffic blocked off by groups of bikers parked across the junctions. Up to the big roundabout at Culverhouse Cross, the side roads blocked off once more, and then into the Western Cemetery and park up.

I noticed several big men with partial badges on their backs walk away from the crowd, and Paul caught my eye.

“Prospects, aye? Off to secure the perimeter, make sure nobody comes in they don’t think should be here”

I nodded, turning my own eyes back to Deb, who was trembling. I squeezed her forearm, just as Elwyn had done for me, and she gave me the ghost of a smile.

“Showtime, Di. Stay with me, OK?”

Out of the car, and she made sure she had her arm in mine, the Sedakas close behind us, joined the same way, and we made our way over to the hearse, where a solid-looking older woman was waiting.

“Debs”

“Rosie”

Without warning, Deb broke down, nearly collapsing beside me, and I was struggling to hole her up when the other woman came forward.

“You’re that copper”

“Yes”

“You were there. Tell me our Carling died well”

“I don’t think…”

“Not a request, girly”

Class, DC Sutton. Their version of P, P.

“He sang to me just before, yeah? So, yes. He died well. He died with courage”

“What did he sing? No lies. I will know if you do. Stand up, Debs. Time to be strong”

“I don’t know the song. He was talking about Glen Campbell?”

“Ah. It’ll be Wichita Lineman, then”

I tried to remember the tune, and did my best to deliver it.

“I hear you singing in the wires…”

All of a sudden, as quickly as Deb, she was in tears. The two of them clung to each other for a while until they had some measure of control, Rosie turning to me and holding out her hand.

“Don’t think I like the filth, all of a sudden, but I will make an exception here. You, and that other copper behind you, aye? You looked after our sister here. You kept her safe. I know what you did for her in fucking Carlisle as well, and I don’t think that cunt has much time left to breathe. You two, I will make an exception for. For today only, though. Deb, darling, you walk with me. You too, Posh”

Paul whispered to me as the women turned away.

“Wildcat, Pig’s Old Lady. Don’t ever get on the wrong side of her”

The rest was weird, or at least very, very different to what I was used to, even more so than the hearse had been. Several big men carried the coffin to the edge of an open grave, where a much older man in some sort of robes spoke about Odin and Thor, before the coffin was opened and Rosie stepped forward. The sort-of-priest nodded to another man, who raised a thing that looked like a brass flagpole, but with a stylised boar’s head on it. It turned out to be a sort of war horn, and as he blew a series of loud and braying notes, Rosie placed an axe inside the coffin before once more closing the lid.

As the remains of Carl Morris went into his last home, Paul took my arm.

“The welcome won’t last forever. Paula’s heading back to the car. We get out now, OK?”