by Mike Pannett
As I cautioned him his mother began to sob. His father was shouting at him. ‘Bloody burglary? That’s the final straw, Sam. What the hell are you trying to do to us, eh?’
There was nothing else of any significance in the bedroom, but before we went back downstairs we seized the rest of the clothing that he’d been wearing, including his trainers. It could all be helpful for forensics.
Downstairs we explained to the lad’s parents that we were taking him to Malton Police Station. Fordy had come in and was looking around the living room. ‘And I’m afraid we’ll be taking the car too,’ I said. ‘It’s been used in the commission of a crime. We need to have it examined by our scene of crime officer.’
‘Well, what we – what we gonna do for transport? I’ve a hospital appointment tomorrow.’ The mother was trembling. Her husband put his arm round her.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘but we’ve no choice. Can you get a lift off a friend, or a taxi?’
‘Don’t worry,’ her husband said. He seemed resigned to it all. ‘We’ll sort something out.’
‘Whose name is it in?’ I asked him. ‘Who’s the registered owner?’
‘That’s me,’ he said.
‘We’ll let you know when we’re done and you can come and get it back. I’m sorry,’ I added. You do sympathise with people like that, innocent people whose kids have gone off the rails and landed them in trouble – not to say shamed them. People tend to think that the only victim of a burglary, for example, is the property owner – end of story. But it extends further than that. This lad had traumatised his parents. In their own way, they were victims of his crime as well.
Thommo had taken the lad out to the car and was on the radio to control to arrange for the removal unit to collect the Cavalier. Just as I was about to follow, Fordy produced another find. ‘Behind the settee,’ he said, holding up a nice new leather motorcycle jacket.
‘Whose is this?’ I asked.
‘That’s Sam’s,’ the mother said.
‘Oh, is it? When did he get it? Do you know?’
‘Just a couple of weeks back, as far as I remember. He hasn’t stolen it, has he?’
‘I’m afraid to say I think he has.’ I said. ‘We’re going to have to seize it as well, as possible evidence.’
We took Sam back to Malton. At the station he didn’t ask for a solicitor, and even though there was only an hour or so of the shift to run we were able to get his interview completed. He didn’t have a lot to say for himself.
‘Can you tell us about this jacket?’ He made no comment.
‘So where have you been tonight?’ No comment.
Thommo then produced the exhibit bag. ‘See this hoodie?’
‘Aye.’
‘It’s yours, is it?’
‘Yeah. What of it?’
‘I wondered if you could explain what those fragments are. They look like glass to me. Any idea where they came from?’
No comment.
‘Tell you what,’ I said, ‘let’s get it matched up with some other fragments we have, from that window that was smashed in tonight.’
I was taken aback by what happened next. The lad slumped back in his chair and said, ‘Fair enough, like. It’s down to me, down to me.’
He then confessed to the Yates’s break-in. But no way was he going to give us the names of his accomplice or accomplices. No way at all. And as for the stolen biker jacket, he refused to give any explanation for that. We were unable to prove that he’d actually stolen it from the shop, so he was charged with handling stolen goods. He could have helped his cause at court by naming the others involved, and he was aware of that fact, but he refused to co-operate any further. Honour among thieves, I suppose you’d call it.
So we hadn’t managed to locate the youth from Leeds, let alone pin anything on him. After we’d arrested Sam, Fordy and Jayne had gone round and searched the house, but the ex-wife was adamant that he hadn’t been there that night and the search had proved fruitless. He was later located in Leeds a few days later, brought to Malton and questioned. But he said nothing, and with no forensics or other evidence to tie him in, that was that.
We only recovered one of the stolen biker jackets, so in that sense we’d failed. Still, the stolen quad-bike and trailer had been recovered. As far as I was concerned it was a draw. Sometimes that’s how it is. I’ll never know if young Sam did the job at the bike shop – he might have, or he may after all have just been given the jacket, to get him to do the quad-bike job. Policing is like that. Things aren’t always nicely wrapped up like they are on the telly. But then that, as we say, is just the job.
Chapter 12
Penny
‘It’s a big ’un, isn’t it?’
Walt didn’t answer me. He just stood there with his old dog Tess by his side and gazed admiringly at the turkey. I hardly recognised it from the thing we’d chased back inside earlier in the autumn. It was a fair size then, but it had been piling on the pounds, and now, with its brindled feathers all puffed out, it looked absolutely huge. Plump, sleek and almost as proud as its owner. And then, as I approached the wire fence, it flared out its magnificent tail.
‘By heck!’ I said. ‘He is a handsome beast, isn’t he? Looks like one of them Indian chiefs with all those feathers. Wouldn’t mind a few of those myself, cold day like this.’ I pulled my scarf out of my pocket and wrapped it round my neck. Winter had really kicked in the last week or two.
‘Aye, he hasn’t done badly.’ Walter beamed with pride. He looked like a man who’d lost a pound and found a tenner. Cold as it was – and with the sun going down you could feel another sharp frost coming on – he was a picture of health. He stood there with his hands in his trouser pockets, cheeks all rosy, a broad smile on his face, and I could’ve sworn I saw the slightest hint of a paunch under his donkey-jacket. ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘he’s been a good old bod. Eats everything I put out for him. A proper little gobbler,’ he added, then looked at me to see whether I appreciated the joke.
‘I can see he likes his grub. What you feeding it on?’
Walter pushed his hat back and scratched his forehead. ‘Bits and bats, like,’ he said, kicking the ice off a frozen puddle with the toe of his wellington boot. ‘Pellets . . . scraps . . . the usual going-on.’
There was no point pushing it. If he didn’t have a secret recipe he wasn’t going to admit it. And if he did he wouldn’t be parting with it.
‘All I can say is, when the time comes I just hope he fits in that oven of yours.’
‘Don’t you worry, lad. If I have to shave a few sharp edges off him there’ll be no shortage of takers. Will there, old girl?’ He leant down and tousled Tess’s head, then turned to make his way back towards the house. ‘You coming in for a minute?’
Through the skeleton outlines of the trees I could see the sun sinking into the murky horizon, painting the streaks of cloud and jet trails a pale red. I rubbed my hands together and shivered. ‘Course I am.’ I wasn’t going to stop out there any longer than necessary. I followed him into the kitchen and warmed myself on the stove. The old kettle was simmering away on the hotplate, the brown china pot beside it. As Walter spooned out the tea he turned and looked me up and down. ‘Not in uniform, eh. I suppose you’re working under cover, are you?’
‘Don’t be daft,’ I said. ‘This is my day off.’
‘Oh, and you’ve nowt to do, eh?’
‘I’ve plenty on, Walt. Just thought it was a while since I’d been round. Old bugger like you, you need checking on. No, I’ve been busy with the chainsaw most of the day, cutting logs.’
‘Best thing to burn, wood,’ he said. ‘My old dad always said the best thing about logs is you get warm twice over.’
‘I know,’ I answered. ‘Once when you’re cutting ’em and then again when you burn ’em.’ I watched as he emptied the kettle into the pot. ‘By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you, how did Muriel and them get on when they went to London?’
‘You mean for t
hat there march on Whitehall?’
‘Yeah. You did say she was going, didn’t you?’
Walt sniffed and handed me the pot. ‘Here – put this on t’table. And help yourself to them biscuits.’
‘Cheers, mate. So what did she have to say about it?’
‘She said it was a good turnout, and it showed them townies what us country folk think of their daft ideas.’
‘I saw there was a good turnout. What about the bother we saw on the telly?’
‘She said it were a lot of fuss about not very much.’
‘What, the trouble with my old lot? The TSG? I didn’t like the look of it. It didn’t sit well with me.’
‘She reckoned it were no more than a spot of bother. Then when you read the papers you’d think it was World War Three.’
‘So she steered clear of the troublemakers, did she?’
‘If you want my opinion, I reckon they steered clear of her. She isn’t a lass to tangle with.’
‘I can well believe it,’ I said. Walt got up to check on something he had simmering in his oven. He pulled out a big brown earthenware pot and lifted the lid.
‘What’s that?’ I asked.
‘Braised haunch of venison, lad. Shot in them woods up on t’Brow, barely a mile from here.’ He took a long-handled spoon and sipped delicately at the gravy, closing his eyes as he savoured it.
‘You got company tonight then?’
‘I may have.’ It was a typical Walter answer. He leaves you in no doubt when he isn’t taking questions. As if to underline the point, he shoved the pot back and slammed the oven door on it.
I let the matter drop and glanced around the kitchen. I went over to the dresser where he had a pile of Christmas cards. ‘Hell,’ I said, ‘you’re keen. I haven’t even bought mine yet. Creeps up on you, doesn’t it, this festive-season malarkey.’
‘Lot of blooming fuss,’ he said. ‘And expense if you’re not careful.’ He picked up the pile and sat down at the table across from me with a pair of scissors, a roll of Sellotape and a sheet of white card.
‘What you doing?’
‘Saving money, lad.’ He started snipping pieces out of the Christmas cards. ‘These are last year’s,’ he said. ‘What people sent me.’
‘You surely don’t send them back out, do you?’
‘Aye, just cut out where they’ve signed ’em, like, or stick a blank bit over it.’
‘Well!’ I said. ‘It’s no wonder people think Yorkshiremen have deep pockets.’
‘Good housekeeping,’ he replied. ‘Like fattening your own turkey. Besides, I’m trying to reduce me environmental footprint, d’you see?’
‘And damping down the economy at the same time, matey. If everyone were like you, why, half the shops would be out of business. Just make sure you shuffle them around though.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Don’t send people the same card they sent you, is what I mean. Anyway, when you going to – you know, deal with Mr Gobbler out there?’
‘Won’t be long now,’ Walt said. Then he leaned back in his seat and shoved his cap to the back of his head. ‘Although, d’you know, I reckon shall miss him. I’ve tekken a lot of pride in that bird.’
‘Aye, but that won’t stop you eating him, will it?’
‘Course not.’ He carried on snipping. ‘It has to be done, lad. We don’t feed our livestock for the love of ’em, do we now?’
I glanced at Tess, plump as a little porker and curled up next to the stove. ‘Not in every case,’ I said.
We chatted on until we’d drained the pot and cleaned out the biscuit tin. I was just thinking I ought to be getting back home when my mobile rang.
‘Hello?’
‘Mike, it’s Fordy here – Gary. Sorry to catch you off duty, like, but . . .’
‘What is it, mate? Something on your mind?’
‘There’s been an armed robbery over at Hovingham. At the post office. And I think the people are friends of yours.’
‘Anybody hurt?’
‘No, thank God. But one of the women, she works in the shop—’
‘Not Penny? The gamekeeper’s wife?’
‘That’s her. Lives in a little cottage just off the main street?’
‘What’s happened, mate? She all right?’
‘She’s at home now. But the intruders tied her up. She’s pretty badly shaken.’
I was on my feet, putting the phone down for a moment while I squirmed into my coat. ‘Walt, mate, I’ve got to go. Bit of a crisis. There’s been a robbery at the post office over at Hovingham. Yeah, carry on, Fordy. Where you calling from, anyway? Are you dealing?’
‘Yeah. It was me and Jayne got the call. And Cocksy’s come out as backup. We’re waiting for the SOCO, and the CID.’
‘I suppose the robbing bastards have got away, have they?’
‘Yeah, we never got the call till a customer came in. She untied them – the women in the shop, I mean.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘I’ll be over soon as I can. Don’t worry, I shan’t interfere, but I want to see how Penny is – and we’ll need to speak with Rich. He there yet?’
‘That’s the point, Mike. He hasn’t shown. She said he was on a shoot, out of mobile range, somewhere up on the moors.’
‘Well, listen, if he comes back before I get there just be careful how you handle the lad. He will not be impressed when he hears that his wife’s been hurt. Not impressed at all.’ I gave Walt a wave and was out the door, making my way across the darkened yard to the car.
It took me the best part of half an hour to get through town. First I had to clear the frost off my windscreen, then once I got on the road I didn’t dare push it. The thermometer on my dashboard was showing minus three degrees and there was every chance of black ice on the roads. In town I ran into the early-evening traffic, and of course Sod’s Law said the railway crossing barriers had to come down right in front of me. After that, though, it was pretty much plain sailing.
I saw the blue flashing lights before I’d even turned the corner into the main street at Hovingham. Fordy was outside the shop, with two or three villagers standing talking to him. I pulled up beside him, got out and took him to one side.
‘Go on, then. Tell us the tale.’
‘Nasty business. There were three of them, they reckon, in balaclavas. Just came bursting in. Threw the staff to the floor, then tied them up and threatened ’em. One of them had a sodding great rock to break the safety glass. It’s still in there. And one of them was brandishing a meat cleaver.’
‘Hell-fire. What did they get away with?’
‘Quite a bit, they reckon. They do a lot of business on pension day.’
‘Got anything to go on?’
‘Not really. We’ve got brief descriptions of the suspects circulated. We’re going to be doing house to house, see if we can get anything else – like a description of their vehicle.’
I nodded towards the shop. ‘So is everything in hand?’ I said.
‘Yeah. The CID and SOCO’s in there now.’
‘What about Rich? He shown up yet?’
‘You mean the woman’s husband, the gamekeeper?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not that I’m aware of. Don’t even know what he looks like’
‘You’d spot him OK. Drives a Land Rover? Fore-and-aft cap? Green wellies?’
Fordy shook his head. ‘No. Unless he’s at home. Jayne’s there, with Penny, she’s really shaken up.’
‘Right, I’ll go and have a word.’ I turned the car round and splashed through the little beck, skidding slightly on the icy ramp as I got to the other side, then turned up the darkened lane to the house.
‘You home?’ I shouted, opening the side door and walking in through the utility room.
‘Mike? Come in.’ Penny’s voice sounded subdued, distant. I found her in the sitting room, sitting in the easy chair with a duvet wrapped round her shoulders, her hands clasping a steaming mug. Jayne was beside her, squa
tting on a little stool with her notebook in her hand. The fire in the grate looked more dead than alive.
‘Now then,’ I said, ‘what happened to you?’
Jayne looked up at me as Penny dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. Her nose was all red and her hand was shaking.
‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I dare say you’ve told Jayne here all about it.’ I reached out and felt her hand. ‘You’re freezing half to death, girl. Here.’ I went to the fire and gave it a good poking, then put some fresh coal on and opened the damper. ‘That should help. You got any spot heaters about the place?’
She pointed to the door. ‘Under the stairs. Oh, thanks for coming by, Mike.’
I fetched an electric heater through. Just as I was plugging it in I heard a vehicle draw up outside.
‘Here he is at last,’ Penny said. ‘I was starting to worry.’
I hurried outside and met Rich at the front gate.
‘Mike,’ he said. ‘Wasn’t expecting you, mate.’ He grinned and held up a brace of pheasants. ‘You should’ve said. Could’ve got you some birds. They killed about fifty-odd.’ In his other hand he had his shotgun.
‘So you haven’t seen the police cars out on the main road?’
‘Police cars? No, I’ve just come down through t’woods.’ He frowned, and swung the door of the Land Rover shut. ‘What’s been happening?’
‘Look, the first thing to tell you is, Penny’s all right. She’s in the house. Really shaken up, but . . .’
‘Penny?’ He was already brushing past me, in through the gate and up the path to the door. ‘What the bloody hell’s happened to her?’
I hurried after him. ‘There’s been a robbery at the shop. But look, it’s all right. Nobody’s been seriously hurt. It’s all under control now.’
He was in the house, not even bothering to kick his muddy boots off. ‘Pen, love. What happened? What they done to you?’
She got as far as, ‘Oh Rich,’ before she started sobbing into her hands.