The Cop Killer

by Harry Nankin

  Having pulled the body to the side, George got out; soaking wet but it didn’t matter.

  Max arrived looked, saw, nodded and returned to the chopper calling in the result.

  There was the sound of sirens they looked up and saw a patrol car and an ambulance arriving, both vehicles entered the park and stopped only some ten yards from the water.

  The paramedic took a look, “Oh dear its my neighbour Rick Masterton, we play bowls together, I am sorry, nothing we can do he is dead, looks like a heart attack, no grimacing he seems at peace. I suspect he felt a bit rough, got off the horse and just flaked out.”

  He looked up, he saw the two senior policewomen.

  “I was saying Maam, he is dead, it looks like a heart attack, would you like us to remove him to Northenden Infirmary?”

  “Ah yes please,” said Chief Super Harris, “I will call Chief Constable Quinten Johns and update him, this will make his day”.

  “Hilda, this is Mary Harris get the Chiefs` Secretary to call me I need to speak to the Chief ASAP”.

  “Will do” came the reply”.

  Bob Wright and Joe Masters the paramedics loaded the body, secured it with the straps provided and were gone.

  “Chief Constable’s secretary, here, can I help?”

  “Oh yes put me through to the Chief, will you?”

  “Who is that please?”

  “Chief Super Mary Harris”

  “Just a minute please Miss Harris”.

  “Good day to you Chief Superintendent Harris can I help?”

  “Hello Sir, I regret to report that the body of Constable Rick Masterton had just been recovered from Chorlton Lake, he is dead.”

  “Do I have a murder or suicide on my hand? Said the Chief.”

  “Neither it appears. The paramedic says he thinks it is natural causes, no notes to indicate suicide, no marks of violence or a struggle either on the body or on the ground around".

  “Oh I see, well I presume you will put things in hand, Miss Harris, Coroner etc and of course the officers next of kin”.

  “Yes sir, I will and update you when all done, the public know of it so the press will be on soon”.

  “Thank you Chief Super I will tell my secretary to update the force press officer”.

  The scene at Chorlton Lake was getting back to normal, Spike the horse was removed in a trailer by Henrietta from the police stables, poor Spike she thought, a sad duty to follow in a few days. Dressed up in black with Rick’s boots on the saddle facing to the rear.

  In the mortuary at Northenden Infirmary, things were more active as the body of Constable Masterton arrived in the Post Mortem room, Professor Caswell was already geared up so decided he might as well do this one today as tomorrow.

  The Coroner’s officer, Miss Faith Hope an ex police officer injured on duty, had been pensioned off but had successfully applied for the civilian post as Coroner’s Officer.

  She arrived, put down her bag and folder then confirmed the Coroner had authorised the Post Mortem.

  This she thought would be a traumatic operation, seeing one’s colleague being dissected was never pleasant.

  She closed the door and the procedure commenced.

  In the Cheshire village of Tarporley, it was a fine bright Monday, now late morning Jack the Hat decided to take a walk into the village with Anne as a get to know them voyage.

  Anne was a little apprehensive since the glasshouse had been discovered they were bound to be the subject of conversation, referred to in more down to earth places as tittle-tattle.

  They arrived at the door of the hub of the village morning entertainment, Tarporley coffee shop. It attracted the better off but of mixed personalities.

  Some were women waiting their appointment time in the up market hair salon at the rear of the coffee and cake department.

  They were having morning coffee with, sour cream and strawberry preserve, it was really cream that had gone off over the week-end with jam but one had to keep up appearances so they smiled, ate and said nothing about the sour taste.

  Men who arrived alone although doing no harm sat for many hours at the front of the shop by the counter passing a brief conversation with the owner Mrs Delwright who in her youth had been voted a Queen of Ladies Day at Chester races.

  She was well spoken and appeared to have the look of the famous actress Kristen Scott-Thomas.

  Those male customers or rather clients were coffee connoisseurs due to the number of visits they made and appeared to be divided by Mrs Delwright from their reception by her, into two groups, those who were in and those who were clients.

  Those who were clients received a token good morning a smile and a long look if they spoke too long or too loud or knew too much of local history departing the same to the unfortunate victim on the receiving end of the impartation of the useless information.

  Those that were in received a brief kiss on one or other cheek as she passed with coffee pot or tray in hand.

  The ladies were of the type whose husbands had found success in business, they had made it in the city and with their newfound wealth had moved house from such common places in the metropolis with its long rows of never ending terraced houses.

  They now relocated to this rural pleasant land providing of course the remaining local non-yuppies such as farmers did not make those ghastly smells.

  The other irritants were those who served them, they lived in the nearby council houses they were fine. If, they kept their place.

  The yuppie men folk having moved to this pleasant rural area of Cheshire now joined the massive daily traffic queues at walking pace to and from the cities of Manchester or Chester commuting each morning and evening.

  Their wives meanwhile entertained themselves taking out the sports car, a Porsche of course; sporting some form of personalised number plates, those that had made it to the top had a simple one such as ME 1.

  “Others, who had not quite made it, had a make believe one such as their initials WTW M15 amended to read WTW MI 5, believing it would be confused as a James Bond throw away car.

  Without exception they all appeared to be well educated and thus by tradition their children were now despatched to private schools.

  Old Madge the cleaner and old Bill the gardener arrived daily in the village and once at the yuppie dwellings carried out the donkeywork so the ladies of the houses were at complete liberty.

  They met with diaries in hand consuming daily coffee and arranging various meetings and functions which required them to take up a table or tables from two to three hours, the contents of the one-cup, long since devoured.

  Due to they being ladies of importance Mrs Delwright did not seem to mind how much time they took up for such little money spent. On the other hand any unfortunate tourists, who arrived, were soon visited to be asked if they required anything further and if not had their plates cleared immediately, with a quick nudge, nudge, wink, wink, this business is run with bums on seats.

  As Jackson and Anne Richards took their seats, they noticed the displays around the walls.

  There were paintings, which to the uneducated appeared to have been done by the children in the midst of daily battle in the paint-throwing contest of year one at the local primary school.

  Splodges of paint battered onto thick white wood, depicting some form of figures of which only the children in year one and possibly the yuppies of Cheshire could decipher.

  The cost however dispelled the viewer’s initial opinion, for they were priced from £50 upwards.

  There were some with sackcloth as a background and upon which were nails with coloured thread wrapped around them all secretly coded as art, modern of course.

  “What you would like please?”

  Enquired the blonde young lady, tall with a high forehead and square face seemingly from her features and broken English she was of East European origin more than likely working for and being suffered for a pittance.

  “Ah, two cups of tea please,” replied Jack<
br />
  “You like tea, but it is morning. No you want coffee now and tea later?”

  “No thank you” replied Anne, “tea, two cups thank you?”

  “Oh you no want something to eat as well,” said Girda, an East European, according to her name badge at least.

  “Just tea” replied Jack the Hat.

  The lady turned and left, on arrival at the counter she spoke to her boss apologising “They say only they want tea no coffee, no food I sorry”

  The ladies at both tables had been staring in silence then with heads downs became huddled over the centre of their tables.

  The new comers downed the luke warm tea in the due time allocated, it appeared to have been made that way to ensure the drinkers did not stay too long, and the tea maker was correct for they were soon gone.

  The Richards couple walked off and when approaching their bungalow they saw a van parked nearby with a sign upon it, Garden Rescue.

  A rather over weight old man arrived he was whistling Dixie, very apt thought Jack, though working here for this lot he was surprised to see the man didn’t have a broom stuck up his posterior so that he could sweep the path as he walked to and fro collecting his equipment.

  “Excuse me, mind if I have a word?” Asked Jack.

  “Not at all” said the gardener “but don’t think I am being rude if I say, could it wait until I have finished this house, they time and observe me you know?"

  “That my friend does not surprise me in the least,” replied Jack, “We live at the Bungalow over there the one that’s not converted to a Colditz prisoner of war castle”

  It was half an hour later when a knock on the front door revealed the gardener; sporting blue working clothes all signed Garden Rescue.

  “How can I help sir?” he said.

  “I have a problem,” said Jack, “I bought a greenhouse, I will show you. I bought it without checking, it transpires, they are not permitted here, I wondered if you might consider buying it”

  The Gardener smiled and replied “I did hear, it seems there is a petition going around already, expect a visit. I will have a look at it”.

  They both went around to the rear and he said, “You are lucky I have a customer who needs one I will put you in touch, get me your number”

  Anne came scurrying out paper in hand their telephone number already written out, a war here is the last thing she wanted.

  The gardener smiled, “They are a funny lot here”, he said, “Tell you what, just wait a minute”

  He turned and went and in a moment he was gone his van with him.

  “What a strange man” said Anne “he has gone Jack”.

  “Another funny bugger” said Jack, “Fe fi FO fum back to Farnham, Surrey here we come”.

  They sat down and had just settled when there was a knock on the door, getting up Anne said, “Well I never look here, it is that gardener man he has some men with him and a large van”.

  Rising and walking to the door Jack smiled and said

  “Hello I thought you had bolted?”

  “No, it suddenly struck me; old Ted here wanted a glass house. If you can strike a deal he and his two lads will take it now”.

  The deal struck the garden was clear within the hour.

  There was soon yet another knock on the door “Who the hell is that now?” asked Jack, “It is like Clapham junction here”

  He rose from his seat opened the door to find two young people standing there note pads in hand. “Students” he thought “rag week more begging”.

  He reached into his pocket brought out his purse when the young lady announced. “Cheshire Planning, we have come as a result of a complaint that you have erected a building contrary to the planning regulations”

  “My word that is quick”, said Jack, “We have only lived here a couple of days, no, sorry you have arrived on a wasted journey no additional building here”.

  “I must insist on checking”, said the young man sporting an identity card around his neck indicating he was a Marmaduke.

  “Got a warrant?" asked Jack.

  “Why no” replied poor Marmaduke”

  “Need a warrant to come in here,” said Jack

  “Jack please, don’t be so stupid” called Anne coming to the rescue of poor Marmaduke. “Come with me both of you I will show you round, we have no building”.

  The three went round the back, cameras and note pads in hand, they looked, no building to be seen, just some bags of compost at the side of the house.

  “Well I never?” said Melissa the young lady, “our boss was so sure you had erected an unlawful building”.

  In moments, they were gone and Jacks hope of ever having a glasshouse and begonias with them.

  There was much relief in the administration offices back at Manchester Police Headquarters when Faith Hope the Coroner’s Officer reported that the cause of death in relation to Constable Rick Masterton was natural causes.

  This was due to a rare heart complaint to be precise, she told the Chief-Constable Quinten Johns.

  She added, “The officer had suffered a disturbed heart rhythm and so death ensued without warning. No cause for this is known. There was no evidence he had drowned, it appeared he had a heart attack and then fell into the water”.

  She then handed him a copy of the slip of paper giving the cause of death, as

  1a.Heart failure

  1b Due to heart arrhythmia

  Similar news reached Chief Constable Myers in respect of Constable Ifor Evans. “A sad case” he said, but as it was natural causes with no Inquest it was much the better for the family.

  On the Tuesday morning, Alex Renton, The Chief Constable of Shropshire was surprised when his telephone rang to be informed by Chief Superintendent Ralph Jackson that Constable Ted Yates known as “Spud” had been found dead whilst on duty.

  The officer, a dog handler had been found dead in his police van at the bottom of a county beauty spot known as the Long Mynd.

  “What happened Jackson?” Asked the Chief.

  “Well the duty Inspector Ron Thelwell has visited and checked the scene with accident investigation”.

  “There are no markings to indicate the van was speeding, in fact it appears to have been stationary in a picnic area and simply gone over the top.”

  “It appears to have rolled over, for when it was checked the van was in neutral, the engine was stopped and the ignition key in the off position.”

  “If I was to hazard a guess I would say Yates dozed off.”

  “I see, well what injuries did he appear to have?" Asked the Chief.

  “On the face of it none”, said Jackson “he was strapped in, seat belt fastened, he may have internal injuries or a broken neck of course but it won’t be until the PM is done later that we will know the answer”.

  “I take it you will be going to the PM Ron?"

  “Of course Sir and I will call you as soon as I know. Oh by the way, I have despatched two policewomen to break the news to the next of kin. I assume you will visit later sir.”

  “Naturally I will, just let us get the result known”, replied the Chief, adding “so if you will summarise once again Ralph, I will note the details and pass it to the force press officer to save him calling you”.

  “OK sir, here it is”

  “Not more than an hour ago a lady driving her car into Carding Mill valley was surprised to see a white van travelling down the steep mountain side, then crash into a bank on the other side of the road in front of her”.

  “It was a marked police vehicle, a dog van. It was witnessed by a lady driver; she and several customers at the café over the road ran to the scene, the officer seemed unconscious at first so a nearby ambulance about to deliver a day patient to hospital agreed to take the officer to hospital”.

  “Unfortunately on the journey he stopped breathing and on arrival at the hospital at Shrewsbury was certified dead by the casualty doctor”.

  “What about the dog?” asked the Chief, aware
of the possible consequences in the press if anything untoward happened involving the police dog?

  “Oh the dog is OK; another dog handler has visited and taken it to the kennels at HQ”.

  It was two hours later the post mortem completed when the pathologist Mr Russell Johnson handed Ralph Jackson the Chief Super a slip of paper with the cause of death and saying. “I could find no injuries at all, a perfectly healthy man yet for some reason his heart threw a wobbler and he simply died, the cause is on the note, I will report direct to the Coroner, there should be no need for an inquest.

  Jackson read the causes, which were

  1a.Heart failure

  1b Due to heart arrhythmia

  “Thank you Doctor” said the Chief Super and was very relieved as he took out his mobile phone to update the Chief.

  Jackson was also known as “No Marks Jackson”. For when he was a young officer in the scenes of crime department, in those days police officers did the job.

  No matter what anyone else suspected or could see when Jackson visited scenes of crime he rarely if ever found any finger prints or in police slang, “marks”.

  From those days forward through the ranks until now, nearly at the top of the tree, he retained the name, “No marks Jackson”. Out of hearing range of the speaker of course.

  PART FOUR

  PEACE AND TRANQUILLITY

  “I think it’s a real shame Jack you having to lose your small glass house. You were looking forward so much to growing those plants, still never mind here is a drink and a piece of fruit cake I made just before we left Farnham. It has matured very nicely", said Anne making all efforts to console him.

  He remained silent, thinking, but eventually rose from his chair, reached for the mug of tea then in quick time it and the cake was gone.

  “I think I might just start doing something else, what if I was to write a book?" said Jack in a rather apprehensive tone.

  “Well I never Jack that is a wonderful idea”,