CONSTABLE ALONG THE LANE a perfect feel-good read from one of Britain's best-loved authors (Constable Nick Mystery Book 7)
Page 18
“No luck?” I met her in the shop one day.
She shook her tousled head.
“Paul’s been asking all over,” she said, her pretty face drawn with anxiety. “We got chance of a council house over at Scalby, but it was too far for Paul to get to work. If you see anything, Mr Rhea, you’ll let us know? They can’t put us on the street, can they? Me being pregnant and that?”
“No, I’m sure they can’t and I’m also sure something will turn up . . .”
“We only need something till we get a council house near here,” she said. “There’s bound to be one soon, isn’t there? The council said they come up fairly often.”
I did feel concerned for them. There were lots of suitable cottages in the surrounding villages, but this was the period when rich folks were buying them for holiday homes. Some were purchased as personal holiday homes or weekend cottages, and others were bought as investments to be rented weekly or for mere weekends to holiday-makers.
There is little doubt that the merits of this upsurge in buying country cottages did have a dual value; it did prevent many old cottages from falling into ruin and it did bring some welcome business into the village stores and inns. But on the other hand, it denied many young people a village home, either for rent or for purchase, because it made fewer local homes available.
This was brought home to me by the case of Jill and Paul Knight. I felt sure the council would never allow them to be thrown onto the street or taken into a hostel of some kind, but the wheels of official departments turn so very slowly and with such a lamentable lack of feeling or compassion. The officials would have no concept of the heartache involved in the long periods of waiting and hoping.
As I worried about the future for Jill and Paul, I received a visit from the postman.
“Mr Rhea,” he said as he knocked with my morning mail, “somebody’s broken into that little cottage down the village, St Cuthbert’s.”
My heart sank.
“Much gone?” I asked.
“Dunno,” he shook his head. “They got in by smashing a window at the back, in the kitchen. It’s still open.”
“Right, thanks,” I said. “I’ll go and have a look.”
As he’d said, entry was by smashing a pane at the back. The burglars, or housebreakers, had opened the kitchen window and climbed through. Once inside, exit had been through the kitchen door by unlocking the Yale catch. I could not tell whether anything was missing for I had never previously been in the cottage, and the intruder(s) had not made a mess.
I now had a crime in Aidensfield. If the breaking and entry had occurred after 9 p.m. and before 6 a.m. it would be classified as a burglary. Outside those times, it would be recorded as a housebreaking. Since 1968, due to a change in the law, all such breakings have been categorised as burglary.
I contacted the key-holder, Miss Cox, who lived two doors away and together we made a brief examination. I asked her not to touch anything, but to look around and tell me what was not in its usual place.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” she muttered as she surveyed each room at my side. “Oh, dear, oh dear, how awful.”
She was a fussy little woman of indeterminate age, probably in her sixties.
“Can you tell me what’s been taken?” I asked, notebook at the ready.
“The television,” she said, pointing to an empty corner.
I quizzed her and found out it was a black and white Murphy set, with a twelve-inch screen.
“The radio,” she said in the kitchen. This was a Bush portable in a red and cream case, with a plastic carrying handle. “And a vase, a nice old vase in green glass.”
“Thanks.”
We searched the entire cottage, but nothing else seemed to have been stolen. She checked it regularly but could not say it was secure at 9 o’clock last night. So we recorded it as housebreaking, a lesser crime than burglary. I thanked her and obtained the telephone number of Mr Porteous; then called in our CID and Scenes of Crime experts; they would examine the cottage for fingerprints and other clues.
My next task, apart from completing the formal written Crime Report, was to make house-to-house enquiries around Aidensfield in the hope that someone had either heard or seen something. The CID would do their skilled work after obtaining a key from Miss Cox and I asked the local plumber to re-glaze the broken window.
From my office, I rang Mr Porteous to break the bad news. After assuring him that all possible had been done, and that his cottage would be secure before nightfall, he decided not to drive up from Leicester. I said it was not necessary.
Funnily enough, another two cottages in a deep moorland village were raided about a fortnight later, but in each case, the MO was different from the Aidensfield crime. I was sure the Aidensfield housebreaker had not broken into the others but those crimes did prompt a telephone call from Mr Porteous.
“Ah, Mr Rhea,” he said. “I’ve just seen the paper — two cottages have been burgled on the moors. Is this a regular happening in your area?”
“It’s becoming more commonplace,” I had to admit. “Some of these holiday homes, with expensive furnishings, are easy meat, you know. They’re empty for long periods and it doesn’t take a genius to realise they’ve got things like TVs and radios inside; all easily disposable.”
He paused. “We’re going abroad for the summer,” he said, “so we won’t be using St Cuthbert’s Cottage for our fortnight’s holiday. It’ll be empty from now until October; that’s six months. Miss Cox will pop in from time to time, but you’ll keep an eye on it for me, will you?”
“Of course,” I said, “but it’s always at risk, you know that.”
“I know. I’ve heard about these people who live in houses for you, house-sitters or something. Have you anyone in your area who would do that? For a fee, of course.”
I was about to say I knew of no one, when I remembered Jill and Paul Knight.
“I know a young couple who would do a good job for you,” I said. “They’d be willing to house-sit for you, for six months or whatever it takes.”
I told him all about Jill and Paul, and how they were now waiting for allocation of a council house. He recalled their pleading letters.
“I didn’t commit myself before,” he said. “After all, I don’t know them and at that time I did intend using my cottage most weekends . . . but, well, for a gap of six months . . .”
“They are on the council waiting-list,” I stressed, “but this would be useful to both you and them.”
“Ask them to ring me,” he said, “I’ll discuss terms; I was willing to pay someone, so I may decide to allow them the cottage rent free or possibly a nominal rent, for legal purposes . . .”
Three days later, they moved in.
Five days afterwards, the stolen goods were found in an old van which was rotting in a quarry. They were quite undamaged and after successfully testing them for fingerprints, they were restored to St Cuthbert’s Cottage. It was good news for Mr Porteous.
My enquiries into the crime drew a complete blank but it was a remark I overheard from a drinker in the Brewers Arms which caused me to think.
“By gum,” said the man over his pint one night, (he was chatting confidentially to a pal, but I heard him), “it’s a rum sort of a do when you’ve got to burgle a house to get folks to take notice of you. Still, yon lad’s got a roof over his head now.”
From time to time, I still reflect upon that unsolved crime.
THE END
ALSO BY NICHOLAS RHEA
CONSTABLE NICK MYSTERIES
Book 1: CONSTABLE ON THE HILL
Book 2: CONSTABLE ON THE PROWL
Book 3: CONSTABLE AROUND THE VILLAGE
Book 4: CONSTABLE ACROSS THE MOORS
Book 5: CONSTABLE IN THE DALE
Book 6: CONSTABLE BY THE SEA
Book 7: CONSTABLE ALONG THE LANE
Book 8: CONSTABLE THROUGH THE MEADOW
Book 9: CONSTABLE IN DISGUISE
Book 10: CONSTABLE A
MONG THE HEATHER
Book 11: CONSTABLE BY THE STREAM
Book 12: CONSTABLE AROUND THE GREEN
Book 13: CONSTABLE BENEATH THE TREES
Book 14: CONSTABLE IN CONTROL
Book 15: CONSTABLE IN THE SHRUBBERY
Book 16: CONSTABLE VERSUS GREENGRASS
Book 17: CONSTABLE ABOUT THE PARISH
Book 18: CONSTABLE AT THE GATE
Book 19: CONSTABLE AT THE DAM
Book 20: CONSTABLE OVER THE STILE
Book 21: CONSTABLE UNDER THE GOOSEBERRY BUSH
Book 22: CONSTABLE IN THE FARMYARD
Book 23: CONSTABLE AROUND THE HOUSES
Book 24: CONSTABLE ALONG THE HIGHWAY
Book 25: CONSTABLE OVER THE BRIDGE
Book 26: CONSTABLE GOES TO MARKET
Book 27: CONSTABLE ALONG THE RIVERBANK
Book 28: CONSTABLE IN THE WILDERNESS
Book 29: CONSTABLE AROUND THE PARK
Book 30: CONSTABLE ALONG THE TRAIL
Book 31: CONSTABLE IN THE COUNTRY
Book 32: CONSTABLE ON THE COAST
Book 33: CONSTABLE ON VIEW
Book 34: CONSTABLE BEATS THE BOUNDS
Book 35: CONSTABLE AT THE FAIR
Book 36: CONSTABLE OVER THE HILL
Book 37: CONSTABLE ON TRIAL
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GLOSSARY OF ENGLISH SLANG FOR US READERS
A & E: Accident and emergency department in a hospital
Aggro: Violent behaviour, aggression
Air raid: an attack in which bombs are dropped from aircraft on ground targets
Allotment: a plot of land rented by an individual for growing fruit, vegetable or flowers
Anorak: nerd (it also means a waterproof jacket)
Artex: textured plaster finish for walls and ceilings
A Level: exams taken between 16 and 18
Auld Reekie: Edinburgh
Au pair: live-in childcare helper. Often a young woman.
Barm: bread roll
Barney: argument
Beaker: glass or cup for holding liquids
Beemer: BMW car or motorcycle
Benefits: social security
Bent: corrupt
Bin: wastebasket (noun), or throw in rubbish (verb)
Biscuit: cookie
Blackpool Lights: gaudy illuminations in seaside town
Bloke: guy
Blow: cocaine
Blower: telephone
Blues and twos: emergency vehicles
Bob: money
Bobby: policeman
Broadsheet: quality newspaper (New York Times would be a US example)
Brown bread: rhyming slang for dead
Bun: small cake
Bunk: do a bunk means escape
Burger bar: hamburger fast-food restaurant
Buy-to-let: Buying a house/apartment
to rent it out for profit
Charity Shop: thrift store
Carrier bag: plastic bag from supermarket
Care Home: an institution where old people are cared for
Car park: parking lot
CBeebies: kids’ TV
Chat-up: flirt, trying to pick up someone with witty banter or compliments
Chemist: pharmacy
Chinwag: conversation
Chippie: fast-food place selling chips and other fried food
Chips: French fries but thicker
CID: Criminal Investigation Department
Civvy Street: civilian life (as opposed to army)
Clock: punch
Cock-up: mess up, make a mistake
Cockney: a native of East London
Common: an area of park land/ or lower class
Comprehensive School (Comp.): High school
Cop hold of: grab
Copper: police officer
Coverall: coveralls, or boiler suit
CPS: Crown Prosecution Service, decide whether police cases go forward
Childminder: someone who looks after children for money
Council: local government
Dan Dare: hero from Eagle comic
DC: detective constable
Deck: one of the landings on a floor of a tower block
Deck: hit (verb)
Desperate Dan: very strong comic book character