by Jim McGrath
Turning, Agnes bowed deeply and was hit on the side of the head by a snowball thrown by Collins. ‘You swine, sir. You’d hit a lady when she was unprepared?
‘Yes,’ said Collins, and threw another that missed.
Jamie immediately sided with Agnes and Ruth, and they attacked Collins and Clark. Ruth, in particular, was amazingly accurate and managed to hit both men several times. However, what Clark and Collins lacked in accuracy, they made up for in speed. Their constant barrage was slowly pushing Jamie and the women back. Defeat seemed inevitable, but then the backdoor burst open, and led by Sheba, Gloria, Mary and the latest arrival Susan stormed to the rescue. While Sheba ran around Collins and Clark, yapping and jumping, the Agnes force regained the initiative and within minutes were rolling both men in the snow.
Knowing he was defeated, Collins shouted, ‘Stop. We surrender.’
‘What do yoe mean wi surrender? I’ve never surrendered in me life.’
‘Well, this is a good time to start,’ said Collins. Standing up, he raised his hands.
Ruth and Clark were just leaving when the phone rang. Agnes picked it up, listened briefly and then held it out for Collins. ‘A Mr Begley wants to talk to you.’
At the mention of Begley’s name, Clark closed the front door and waited.
Collins took the receiver. Even before he had finished introducing himself, Begley cut him short. For the following three minutes of the conversation he just listened. The call ended when Collins said, ‘We’ll be there, 10 tomorrow morning.’
By this time, Clark’s impatience was obvious. ‘Where are we going to be tomorrow at 10?’
‘He wants to see us. He suggested we meet at his house.’
‘OK, but what’s he found?’
‘From the sound of it, quite a bit,’ said Collins, dragging the moment out.
‘For goodness sake, Michael, stop teasing Clive and tell him what Mr Begley has found – before he starts chewing my carpet.’
‘Sorry, I couldn’t resist it. He’s found a link between Tobin, Bishop and Burgess.’
Clark’s face broke into a wide grin.
‘It seems that Detective Sergeant Burgess was the arresting officer when Bishop tried to rob the jewellers and Tobin was the magistrate that granted Bishop bail pending his appearance at the Assizes. He’s also found some interesting notes on Morrison, Young, Carver and a couple of other characters.’
‘I love that man,’ said Clark, with feeling.
‘Agnes, can we borrow the car again tomorrow?’
‘No,’ said Agnes, sternly. She paused just long enough for disappointment to register on Collins’ face before continuing, ‘I’ll drive you. Why should you have all the fun?’
Ruth suppressed a giggle and Clark glared at her. ‘Well, we know whose side you’re on.’
Monday 25th February 1963.
Stratford-upon-Avon, 09.55hrs.
Agnes, Collins and Clark pulled onto Begley’s drive just before 10. Begley was standing by the front window waiting for them and had the door open before they reached the step.
‘Come in, come in. You had no trouble finding the place then?’
‘None at all,’ said Collins, ‘but then Agnes was driving. Mr Begley, this is Mrs Agnes Winters – a friend of ours.’
‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Begley.’
‘And I you, my dear. You’ve just turned a very good story into a great one.’
‘How so?’ asked Clark.
‘Why, gentlemen, every great story needs a beautiful woman and here she is.’
‘I can see we’re going to have trouble with yoe,’ said Clark.
Begley led them into the dining room before excusing himself. He returned minutes later with a tea trolley containing a pile of freshly buttered bread, a bowl of crisp bacon and two racks of toast, along with a selection of jams and honey.
‘You’ll have to forgive me, Mrs Winters, I wasn’t expecting a lady. I was only expecting two policemen, who, from my experience, have never been known to refuse a bacon sandwich. I hope I can interest you in some toast and honey, though. The honey is made locally.’
‘Well, actually, I think I may succumb to a sandwich myself. The bacon smells gorgeous, and please call me Agnes.’
‘I’ve always found that the smell of bacon and coffee promise far more than the taste can deliver, but it’s never stopped me from enjoying both. Please help yourselves.’
As on the previous Saturday, no mention of the case was made until after all four had finished eating. Collins wondered if not talking business while eating was a habit that Begley always followed. If so, it was a very civilised way to behave and one that Collins thought he might adopt.
‘So you enjoyed yourself in the archives yesterday?’ said Collins.
‘Oh yes. One of the very best days I’ve ever had as a reporter. Come,’ he said, ‘the results of my search are on the table.’
Begley had arranged his findings in four neat rows of paper. In its symmetry, it reminded Collins of someone playing a careful game of patience. Each folder and slip of paper was aligned exactly with the page above and below it, and each row was as straight as a newly made ruler.
Pointing at the first row of material, Begley said, ‘These documents are the various stories we ran on the jewellery robbery, including our coverage of the trial and Bishop’s acquittal. As you can imagine, it was a big story back in the early fifties and Bishops acquittal was something of a scandal. The last document, you might find particularly interesting. It’s a letter from Colonel Reginald Quinn. It was never published because in it he suggests that Tobin had known Bishop during the war when Bishop was briefly seconded to his office as a supplies clerk. He surmises that it may have been Tobin who supplied Bishop with the witness’s details. Of course, such information could have been obtained in any number of ways.’
‘But why make such an allegation? British colonels are not renowned for making unsubstantiated claims,’ said Agnes.
‘My thoughts exactly, Agnes. That’s why I called the Colonel after I spoke to you last night.’
‘What did he say?’ asked Collins.
‘He wanted to know why I was investigating something that had happened over ten years ago. I told him I was doing a profile on Sir Marcus and had been intrigued by his claims against a respected member of local society.’
‘What did he say about Tobin and Bishop?’
‘Tobin joined his regiment as a Lieutenant at the end of the war and was assigned a logistical role while awaiting return to England. Bishop was his Sergeant. Under their control there was a very significant increase in stock losses, but despite ordering a snap audit he couldn’t prove anything – though that wasn’t what worried him the most.’
‘What did?’ Clark asked.
‘There were stories that if you wanted a woman, Bishop and Tobin could supply one.’
‘Nowt strange in that,’ said Clark. ‘Most regiments have a supplier of Toms.’
‘The Colonel said the same. His concern was that a couple of twelve-year-old girls were discovered in one hut. They wouldn’t say who’d brought them onto the camp or who they’d been with, but it was obvious that they’d been “used”, as the Colonel put it, by more than one man.’
‘Desperate people do desperate things,’ said Agnes. ‘I saw a lot of child prostitution while I was in Berlin. Sometimes, mothers even hawked their own children around the bars and streets.’
‘Yeah, I saw that too – but what wi got here is another bit of information that links Tobin to Bishop and underage girls,’ said Clark.
‘There is more to come,’ said Begley, picking up the second row of paper. ‘I found this spiked story from 1959. A young girl complained to the police that her boyfriend and another man had raped her at a party. Morrison and Young wer
e questioned under caution at the police station following the alleged assault. One of our trainee reporters was hanging around the station when they were brought in. They were never charged, which is why it was spiked.’
‘How come they weren’t charged?’ asked Clark.
‘It seems that one of the officers on duty recognised the girl. He’d arrested her for soliciting four months earlier while she was on the run from an approved school.
‘The Custody Sergeant told our lad that she was probably trying it on with Young and Phillips. Looking to scare a few pounds out of them.’
‘If circumstantial evidence were allowed in court, we’d already have them by the short and curlies,’ said Clark. Then, realising what he’d said, he started to apologise.
Agnes cut him off, ‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘If that’s circumstantial, the last piece of information is pure speculation,’ said Begley, holding up a 6 by 8 picture. It showed a group of men about to board a coach. The caption underneath read “Local Chamber of Commerce Members look forward to a day at Wolverhampton Races”. ‘Recognise anyone?’
Clark took the photo and, with Collins looking over his shoulder, said, ‘That’s Morrison and Phillips. And that looks like Tobin in the back row. The guy at the end looks like Carver, but may not be.’
‘Correct on all counts and the man standing next to Tobin is Trevor Keel.’
‘So, other than confirming that Carver knows Tobin, Morrison and Keel, what does it prove?’ asked Collins.
‘Maybe nothing. Maybe just a bit more circumstantial evidence.’
Collins could sense that Begley was holding something back. Like the good reporter he was, he was building suspense and saving the best until last.
‘It was the date that caught my attention, the 1st August 1960. I’ve always been good with linking dates to stories. Give me a date and I can usually tell you what was making the news around then.’
‘So what story broke on the 1st August?’ asked Clark.
‘None, but by Friday 5th August, we were leading with the story of an eight-year-old girl from Wolverhampton who’d gone missing the previous Monday. She was never found.’ Begley dropped the newspaper on the table.
No one spoke. Everyone was thinking the same thing.
Much of the drive back to Birmingham was made in silence. Agnes in particular seemed quiet and withdrawn. When asked a question her responses were monosyllabic. Finally, as they reached the outskirts of Birmingham she said,’ I have a friend from the war. He’s just a clerk, but he may be able to provide us with some additional information about Tobin and his friends. I’ll call him when I get home.’
Collins was about ask who the friend was but an imperceptible shake of the head by Clark cut him short.
Handsworth, 12.30hrs.
After dropping Clark off, Agnes drove home and parked in her usual spot. Michael climbed out of the car and immediately spotted a trail of blood leading from the porch to where a car must have been parked near the garage. Agnes quickly unlocked the front door and was confronted with more spots of blood on the hall’s parquet floor.
Fearing that Gloria’s pimp had come calling in her absence, Agnes rushed to the kitchen where a cacophony of excited voices could be heard. Collins followed closely behind. Gloria was on her knees wiping blood from the linoleum. Mary was cradling Sheba in her lap and the new girl, Susan, was waiting for the kettle to boil. All three were speaking, but no one was listening. The window over the sink was smashed and broken cups littered the floor.
‘What’s happened?’ demanded Agnes.
‘Yous missed it, Agnes. It were great.’
‘It was amazing,’ said Susan.
‘Wonderful,’ said Mary in agreement and tickled Sheba’s tummy.
‘What did I miss?’ All three woman started to speak at once. ‘One at a time, please.’
‘Mary, it were your husband. Yous tell her.’
‘About twenty minutes ago, there was a knock on the door. Susan was in the kitchen, so she answered it.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Susan. ‘I didn’t know who he was, but he looked so respectable that I let him in.’
‘He said he just wanted to talk to me,’ continued Mary, ‘so I came down. Gloria and Susan were here so I felt safe, but as soon as I came in the kitchen he started shouting at me. Calling me a whore and a bitch for walking out on him. He said my leaving was just a pathetic attempt to embarrass him and gain attention, but that now he’d come to take me home.’
‘So I told him to fuck off,’ said Gloria. ‘Yous ain’t taking Mary anywhere, I said, unless she wants to go. That’s what I said.’
‘That really annoyed him and he called Gloria all sorts of names,’ said Susan.
‘Water off a duck’s back, love.’
‘Poor Sheba was so terrified by all the shouting that she hid under the table,’ said Mary.
Collins looked reproachfully at the dog. So much for Clark’s assertion that pound for pound Staffies were the toughest dog in the world.
‘I said I wasn’t going and there was nothing he could do to make me. That made him really angry and he started to smash the cups and saucers, and hurled one of the chairs at the window.’
‘That’s when he made a grab for Mary,’ said Susan.
‘I managed to get in the middle of ‘em, but he punched me in the face and grabbed Mary by the hair,’ said Gloria.
‘I was shouting and trying to slap his hand away,’ said Mary.
‘But then he started screaming in agony. Like he had his balls in a wringer or sommut.’
‘That’s when I saw Sheba. She’d got hold of his leg and sunk her teeth into his calf,’ said Mary.
‘Yeah, he were screaming like a stuffed pig. Hopping about on one leg trying to get Sheba to let go.’
‘He hit poor Sheba with the kettle, but she wouldn’t let go. He even smashed her against the cabinet but she still hung on,’ said Mary.
‘Sheba was wonderful. He tried to get out of the kitchen, but she wouldn’t release him. She just shook her head and the more she did, the more blood was sprayed around the kitchen,’ said Susan.
‘He dain’t like the sight of his own blood, I can tell you. Scared him shitless, it did,’ said Gloria.
‘I think it was Sheba that scared the living daylights out of him,’ said Mary, and laughed. It was the first time Collins had seen her laugh and he found himself laughing with her. ‘Finally, he sort of half ran, half hopped to the front door with Sheba still attached to his leg. It was like a scene out of the Keystone Cops. I’ve never seen anything so funny. She only let go when he opened the door.’
‘Then she trotted back in here like cock of the walk. I tell yous, that dog is a bloody marvel.’
Collins looked down at Sheba again and conceded that Clark’s judgement about Staffies had been correct. She was asleep again, her left ear twitching as she dreamed of sinking her teeth into another leg.
‘Well, it seems that the ladies of the house now have two protectors,’ said Agnes. ‘We need to get this place cleaned up, check Gloria’s eye and see if Sheba has any injuries. So let’s get on with it.’
Mary gently lifted Sheba off her lap and placed her in the cardboard box by the radiator that had become her home.
As Agnes led Gloria away to look at her latest black eye, she turned to Clark and whispered, ‘I think you can assume that Sheba has passed her probation.’
Collins smiled and joined Mary and Susan in cleaning the kitchen and hall.
Collins met Clark by the Park Gate Stores and the two men walked the remaining 300 yards to the station. Collins relayed the news of Sheba’s heroics and Clark was only too pleased to say, ‘I told yoe, Staffies were the best dogs in the world and them great with kids.’
‘I’m not so su
re about that. If Sheba got hold of a kid in those jaws, she’d kill it’.
‘No chance. Them known as the Granny Dogs in West Brom. Yoe see, for years, if an owner saw any hint of aggression from a Staffie towards kiddies, he’d kill it. No messing. Shoot it. Drown it. That way, any aggression towards babbies was bred out of them. In fact, yoe got to be careful about hitting a kid around a Staffie. He’s likely as not going to go for yoe if yoe do.’
Sergeant Ridley entered the Parade Room four minutes late. No one could ever remember such an occurrence. Standing at the desk, he cast his eyes around the assembly. Spotting Clark and Collins at the back, he stopped and slowly shook his head. ‘I need to see you pair after Parade.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that. What you been up to, Mickey lad?’ Clark whispered.
Collins didn’t have the time to reply before Ridley launched into his briefing.
As the afternoon shift filed out, Collins and Clark hung back. When the room was empty, Ridley closed the door. ‘Super wants to see you and he’s right pissed off. He’s had Chief Superintendent Wise from Central CID with him for the last hour and you pair were the topic of conversation for most of it. What the fuck have you been up to?’
‘Honest, Sarge. I ain’t got a clue. Nowt we’ve done is connected with anything Central would be interested in.’
‘So you admit you have been doing something?’
‘Us, Sarge? Never. It was just a figure of speech, like.’
‘Well, for your sake, I hope so. Get in there and get it sorted, and then I want you to deliver a death message to Mr Fred Hopkins. His wife, Edith, passed away at 12.45pm today in Dudley Road Hospital. Here’s the details.’
Clark took the message slip and, folding it twice, he placed it carefully in his breast pocket. As they walked out, he said, ‘This is the worst part of the job, Mickey, delivering a notice of death. It never gets any easier. I’ve done dozens of them. The worst is when it’s a kiddie or a young mother. There’s nowt yoe can say then.’
Collins nodded and remained quiet. He’d never had to tell anyone that someone they loved had died, but he remembered how he had felt when his father had woken him at 2 in the morning to tell him his mother had died. It was the feeling of total devastation, of a loss so great that it didn’t seem to have a beginning or an end. It was anger at an unseen God. The wish that it was his father lying on some cold mortuary stone and not his mother. He pushed the memory of that night from his mind and pulled his tunic down as Clark knocked on the Superintendent’s door.