by Mike Pannett
‘Aye, that’s what I said as I plummeted to t’ground. And a few other words I wouldn’t repeat in front of a lady. Ripped me hands all but to shreds, I should say. And sprained me wrist.’ He rubbed it gently and pulled his sleeve back to show us a series of dark scratches that ran the length of his forearm.
‘Oh, Walt. I really am sorry, mate. You should have waited for me. I’m off tomorrow, and the next day.’
‘Well, it’s a good job I’m not a man as bears grudges,’ Walt said, downing the remains of his pint and shoving the glass towards me. He was putting me on a guilt trip and loving every minute of it. He reached out and touched the paper parcel. ‘Go on, lad, you may as well open her up.’
‘Oh, I know what that is,’ Ann said as I pulled out a tall jar full of dark berries and pink liquor. ‘Sloe gin. Hey, thanks Walter. I’ve never had it before, but I’ve heard a lot about it. There’s one or two people I know who make it and they’ve been going on about it recently.’
I picked up the jar and held it to the light. It was a gorgeous warm colour. ‘Walt,’ I said, ‘that’s very generous of you. But I thought—’
‘I know,’ Walt said. ‘I told you to buy your own gin.
But that’s me, lad. All heart – even though you don’t deserve it. I don’t know, leaving an old feller like me to go up them steps all on his own.’ He took the bottle from my hand and passed it to Ann. ‘Here y’are, lass. You tek care of that – and if he behaves himself, mebbe let him have a little taste of it on Boxing Day, eh?’
‘He’ll be lucky if he gets to sniff the empty bottle, Walter. Don’t worry, it’s going to a good home is this.’ Then she nudged me in the ribs and pointed at Walt’s empty glass. ‘C’mon,’ she said, ‘don’t neglect him.’
But Walt was on his feet. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I haven’t time for another. Got a practice session with that there band of mine.’
‘Walt?’ Ann was frowning as she put the jar in her handbag. ‘How did you know we were down here tonight?’
‘I didn’t,’ he said. ‘Not for certain.’
‘Well, how come you had our bottle of gin ready for us?’
‘Ah well . . .’ He adjusted the bandage on his wrist, avoiding eye contact. And at that moment the landlord came over.
‘Walter, mate. Thought I heard your dulcet tones. You got that sloe gin you promised us?’ He turned to Ann. ‘Started up his own distillery, y’know. Not that I should mention it with an officer of the law present,’ he laughed. ‘We weren’t planning to sell it or anything. It was for me and the missus.’
Walt had stationed himself between the landlord and the bottle. ‘Aye, tell you the truth, lad, I forgot it. I’ll maybe come down tomorrow.’
‘Oh, any time.’ The landlord took our empty plates and went back to the bar. Walt put his hat on and slipped away, just as Algy came in.
‘Ah, Michael, m’boy! And your good lady.’ Algy took off his fore-and-aft hat, adjusted his cravat and gave a little bow in Ann’s direction. Then he turned to me. ‘Mine’s a large one, as they used to say before we got all politically correct.’
‘Yeah yeah yeah – the old ones are the best,’ I said. ‘Is this where I say “Are you ordering or boasting?” and then everyone laughs?’
‘Probably so, old chap, probably so. Anyway, we’re supposed to be talking turkey, as our American friends would have it, so perhaps just a half measure of the amber nectar for me, for the moment, eh? But it looks as though the good lady’s glass needs refreshing too.’
‘This is turning into an expensive night,’ I muttered to Ann as Algy hung his coat up over a chair and stood there with his back to the fire, raising and lowering himself on his toes.
‘Mike, will you stop whingeing about your wallet,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll be wearing a kilt next! Go on, get him his drink.’
As soon as I’d got the drinks in and we were all sat down, Ann laid our cards on the table. ‘This is the way we see it,’ she said. ‘We’ve enjoyed living at Keeper’s Cottage, so much so that we were attracted by the idea of buying it. And we did, as you remember, make you an offer for it.’
‘You did indeed. Although, as I believe I said at the time, it fell regrettably short of my expectations.’ Algy grinned. ‘But a good try, all the same. I admired your spirit, I have to say.’ He nudged me, and added, ‘She’d make a splendid businesswoman, m’boy.’
Ann ignored this remark and carried on. ‘Yes, but circumstances have altered since we made that original offer, haven’t they?’
‘You mean the dismal performance of the property market in recent months?’
‘Well, partly that, but I was thinking of the general state of repair of our humble abode—’
‘Ah, you refer to the late troubles with the roof?’ Algy winced and sipped at his beer.
‘For which you, as our landlord, are solely responsible.’
‘Regrettably so. Yes, Soapy’s final invoice was enough to make a strong man weep.’
‘Oh,’ I said, ‘so he’s billed you for it, has he?’
‘Naturally, Mike. I am the owner.’
‘’Cos last we heard he was round our place huffing and puffing—’
Ann kicked me under the table. ‘Yes, he’s convinced he left some tools behind. In the roof space. You checked it out yet, Mike?’
‘Oh. Not yet, no.’
‘Well . . .’ Algy was twiddling his empty glass in his hand. ‘To tell you the truth, the slump in the market, and certain pressures on the pound sterling – well, let’s just say that cashflow has become an issue for yours truly.’
Ann spotted the opening and was in like Flynn. ‘And Soapy’s invoice has come at a bad time, I suppose.’
I knew Ann wanted me to play it cool, but I couldn’t help myself, I’ve always been the same. I like a bit of haggling – it’s a Yorkshire thing, just comes naturally.
‘Well, look, I’ve got an idea,’ I said, making it sound as though it had just popped into my mind. ‘How about if you agreed to our original offer—’
Algy almost yelped. You could feel his pain. ‘But that was a long way short of my original valuation,’ he said.
‘Yes.’ Ann leaned forward and stared him straight in the eye. She spoke slowly, as if explaining a simple calculation to a seven-year-old. ‘Yes,’ she repeated, ‘but that valuation was based on the property being sound. Then the roof caved in. Not only is there the cost of repairing it, but there’s the material damage we suffered.’
‘And the setback to my studies,’ I added. ‘Not to mention the emotional wear and tear. I mean, how would you feel if you were sitting there after a hard day’s work and a shower of rubble came down the chimney, followed by a builder?’
Ann was nudging me under the table. I didn’t need to go any further. We both sat there waiting for Algy to respond. There was just the ticking of the clock above the fireplace and the faint clack of cue against ball from the pool room.
‘I see,’ Algy said. He sounded tired, and resigned. ‘So you’re offering to accept the costs of the repair, and pay Soapy his due – if I agree to that earlier offer?’
‘In a nutshell, yes. It’s like meeting halfway, don’t you think?’
Algy shook his head. ‘Well, you two, it’s a difficult one this.’
‘It is Algy, but it would suit all of us right now, don’t you think?’
Algy clutched his head. ‘I think I need another drink,’ he said.
And that was that. We could’ve gone home there and then, but we couldn’t resist a celebratory drink or two. So it was late by the time we made our way up the hill, having secured a verbal agreement that would be followed within a few weeks, according to Algy, by the legal documents.
‘Only one question,’ I said, as we walked the last hundred yards up the lane to Keeper’s Cottage.
‘Which is?’
‘Soapy’s bill.’
‘What about it?’
‘Well, if it brought a tear to old Algy’s eye . . .’
<
br /> ‘Don’t worry about that,’ Ann said.
‘But—’
‘Just don’t worry about it.’
‘You can’t just tell me not to worry, Ann. Come on, what’s the deal?’
‘Mike, I have an idea and all will be revealed, OK?’
‘In due course, am I right?’
‘Right.’
Chapter 11
A Strange Encounter
Several days passed, and we heard nothing. I really didn’t know how to feel. Ann and I knew we were on the brink of a major change in our lives, but had been left on tenterhooks. From worrying that we might have to move on if we wanted a home of our own, suddenly it seemed that our future at Keeper’s Cottage could be secured. We had the verbal agreement with Algy, and we knew we could trust him as a man of his word. There was just this matter of Soapy’s bill to sort out. It felt so close, and yet so far away. But Ann said she had a good feeling and I shouldn’t worry, so I tried not to.
I did my best to put such thoughts out of my head, to try to keep work life and home life separate. As I drove into the station car park to start a night shift I wondered whether there might be some good news waiting for me there. Maybe something would be resolved. Had there been a breakthrough on the smash-and-grab raid we’d caught on CCTV a week or so earlier? Had the offenders been caught – or the stolen goods recovered?
No, no and no, was the answer I got off Chris Cocks as soon as I walked in the door. So what had they got away with?
‘Eight leather jackets,’ was his answer. ‘Value three or four hundred apiece. Plus a couple of very expensive crash helmets. The main thing is, the jackets: we’ve got the maker’s name – brand name, whatever – and it’s been fed into the intelligence system, as have the helmets. It’s upmarket gear.’
‘Did SOCO manage to get anything?’
‘Not really, but they took samples of the broken glass just in case. You never know.’
‘Damn. We were so close to having them. What about the CCTV? Has that come up with a getaway vehicle or anything?’
Chris shook his head. ‘Nothing. Nothing to say there even was a car. They could have been on foot for all we know. Opportunists.’
‘Hmm . . . I don’t know. I’d say it was a pretty well-thought out operation. I mean, they disappeared sharp enough, didn’t they? You think about it. We were down there before you could say knife – and we never caught sight of them. If they’d been lugging a pile of jackets—’
‘Eight jackets? Four apiece? Wouldn’t weigh a huge amount.’
‘Maybe . . .’
My opinion was that we might have been dealing with a fairly smart pair of operators – always assuming there were only the two of them. There could well have been a look-out, and there could well have been a driver. Maybe even both.
‘They’ll come again,’ I said, as Ed and I drove through town later on.
‘You reckon?’ he said.
‘They always do, buddy. If these lads have got a taste of it, if they think they’ve got away scot-free – which they have, for now – they’ll be feeling good. They’ll be wanting more. Another throw of the dice.’ I switched on the wiper blades and gave the windscreen a wash. It wasn’t raining as such, but there was a heavy dampness in the air. It had been one of those dull, grey days when it never actually rains but everything’s wet and grimy. It was now a thoroughly gloomy night, with every streetlight surrounded by a halo of mist, the black trees dripping onto greasy pavements. ‘I mean, when you look at what’s on offer, you wonder why there isn’t more of the smash-and-grab sort of crime.’
‘How d’you mean?’
We were coming down Wheelgate and all the shops were lit up with attractive window displays, getting into their stride for the festive season. ‘Well, it’s only a sheet of glass separating the burglar from all sorts of goodies, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, you can see how people get tempted. Still quite unusual round here though, smash-and-grabs.
We crossed the lights and headed into Castlegate. ‘Look at that,’ I said. ‘Just what I’m talking about.’ In Yates’s window was a brand-new, gleaming quad-bike, draped in tinsel.
Ed laughed. ‘Yeah, but not exactly at the top of everybody’s shopping list, is it?’
‘May not look very exciting to you or me, buddy, but there’d be plenty of takers out there if it was on offer cheap.’
‘Fair point.’
‘Must be worth three four grand, easy. I think that’s the first time they’ve put one of those right in the shop window. Look at it, sitting there like a little jewel. Might as well have a label on it. Come and get me. I could quite fancy one of them to ride around on, couldn’t you?’
‘Steady on, Mike. You’re on our side, remember?’
‘Ed, I’ve said it before. It pays to think like a criminal. Get inside their heads.’
‘Yeah but . . .’
‘You think about it, coppers and crooks – we’re in the same business, in a way. Our minds run along similar lines.’
‘To a point.’
‘Take me, when I was a kid. Seven, eight years old. I used to quite fancy being an outlaw.’
‘You what?’
‘No, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t want to be a criminal as such. But that was the dilemma. I was brought up to respect the law, of course I was. But I was a young lad with a taste for adventure. Do you know what I’m talking about?’
‘Course I do. I was the same. I wanted to be a pirate. Swinging through the rigging with a sword between my teeth. Boxes full of gold coins.’ Ed laughed. ‘Pieces of eight, and a black patch over my eye. Yeah, that was the dream all right.’
‘There you go. Adventure, action, danger. It’s what little boys fantasise about. I used to sit there watching the TV, and night after night what was it? Cops and robbers. And who had the most fun? The bad guys. Blowing things up, smashing through fences in getaway cars. The cops – well, the way I saw it they were spoilsports.’
‘Yep, the poor old baddies never quite got away with the loot, did they?’
‘Just like in real life, Ed.’
We were passing the motorbike shop now, a new steel grid covering its front window. ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘I was always looking for excitement. A challenge. That’s why I joined the T.A., in the end.’
‘I didn’t know you were in the Territorials.’
‘Yeah you did. Must’ve told you about it.’
‘Can’t say I remember.’
‘I did seven years. Then I decided to go for the police and I had to give it up. Yeah, really enjoyed my time in the Terriers. And Lumley barracks? Right slap bang next to York City football ground? Just the job, lad.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘If you sat on top of the barracks roof you could see right into the ground. Watch the match for nowt!’
Ed yawned. We’d driven up the Beverley road as far as the last row of houses and were now making our way slowly back through the deserted streets of Norton. It seemed as though everybody was treading water, knowing that the Christmas rush would soon be upon us but hoping it wouldn’t hit just yet. From a policing point of view, there was that feeling that most of the burglars and break-in merchants would be lying low, hoping for richer pickings in the not too distant future.
‘Makes you wish you could hibernate,’ I said, giving the windscreen another wash.
‘Wake up about April time, eh?’
‘Yep. Either that or give us some action. Something to liven things up. Where’s an enterprising criminal when you want one?’
‘Hey, careful what you wish for, Mike. I thought we were aiming for a crime-free society.’
‘Yeah, OK – the voice of reason. But I get bored, that’s all.’
Nobody wants to see a surge in criminal activity. It’s simply that you like to do the job you’re paid for and trained for. If the criminals aren’t at it, so to speak, you’ve precious little chance of catching them.
We had an early break back at the
station, taking advantage of the lull to catch up with a bit of paperwork, and set off again around two o’clock. ‘Oh well,’ I said, as we left town along the York road, ‘at least the weather looks as though it’s changing.’ The wind had got up, the mist had dispersed, and a few stars were peeking through the ragged clouds. We drove out onto the A64. At the bottom of Golden Hill, where the road leads off to Huttons Ambo, I pulled up. ‘Let’s stay here for a bit and see who’s out and about, shall we?’
‘Clutching at straws, aren’t you? We haven’t seen a vehicle since we passed the showrooms.’
‘Hey, you never know,’ I said. ‘Let’s just wait and see.’
We sat up, as we call it, for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. A paper van passed us, heading towards town. I got out and lit a cigarette. A fox darted out from the hedge bottom, spotted me, and slipped quietly away out of sight. That was about as exciting as it got. Back in the car Ed was yawning extravagantly.
‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘point taken. We’ll head back to town, shall we?’ I put the car in gear and was about to move away when a bright light caught my eye. ‘See that?’ I said. It was about four hundred yards away above the hedge, near an old stone barn of some sort. My first thought was that something had set a security light off.
Ed was peering through the windscreen. ‘I see it, but . . . what the hell is it?’
‘Search me.’ I could see something – something that looked like a kind of vehicle about the size and shape of a double-decker bus – but I was dazzled by the light that surrounded it.
‘Weird. Is it on the road, or in the field?’
‘No idea. It’s got to be on the road, surely. Or . . . is it above it?’
‘Looks like a bloody combine. Except it’s airborne. Isn’t it?’
‘I think you’re right, Ed.’
‘No, it can’t be. Couldn’t be lampers, could it?’
‘Way too big and bright.’
We’d probably been looking at it for no more than ten or fifteen seconds. Then, as suddenly as the light had appeared, it was gone. Vanished.
‘Come on, we’d better check this out,’ I said, putting the car into gear.