by Harry Nankin
She did all she could to sound enthusiastic but had her doubts he could settle to such a project as writing a book.
“There is the problem of getting it published of course, being a nobody, finding a publisher will be difficult” he now sounded a little pessimistic, but qualified it by saying “there is always the internet I suppose.”
“Why of course, surely with all your experience you could think of something, all those cases you have dealt with I would have thought it would be easy to find a subject of interest to readers”.
“I will certainly give it some thought” he replied.
“I am told the problem with publishing books is that everyone wants to read them but no one wants to pay even a pittance to do so”, he replied.
“I think that might well be the case, you will just have to do it for your own interest”. She said soothingly.
He came back, “I recall speaking with an ex copper. He wrote a book uploaded it, but it did not get a single download. He then heard of this system the internet has of promoting books free, so he tried.”
“What he didn’t realise was, the free bit was not charging him for the promotion it was giving his book away free”.
“In a week well over 1000 people down loaded it, all for free, since then he didn’t get a single download”
“Such is life Jack with such free loaders”.
“One thing for sure”, he mumbled, “they won’t get mine for free even if no one reads the bloody things, on principal”.
“I am told a book can take six to twelve months to write all for some bugger to read for nothing, no way”.
She smiled but said nothing.
He then added, “Not only that having got the bloody book free some leave cryptic comments so as to prevent the author ever selling. Worse, if you look these bad reviewers up you will see some make a hobby of it. They go from book to book leaving cryptic comments, destroying the dreams of some person who at least tired to achieve something”.
She left the room and began to do the ironing, after some time she could hear him in his study it appeared he was up to something.
Two hours later Anne arrived in the study. Jack was now asleep, head back, mouth open, slight dripping from the side of his mouth. At first, she wondered if he had succumbed to a stroke attack.
She spoke, “Jack”,
He awoke with a jolt almost knocking the cup over.
“Are you ok my love?” She asked
“Yes, yes, just nodded off”.
She put down the drink, turned and left but as she did so, she saw, he had moved around the items in his room, desk, chair, drawers and cupboards all rearranged. As long as it suited him, that pleased her.
“Ah” he thought “when I go to Chester I will get some kit, a note pad, dictating machine for notes, two reams of paper, oh additional cartridges for the PC”.
The following morning the weather remained chilly but the sun was shining, breakfast had been cleared away. Golf today he thought. His clubs were cleaned after he last used them so were his golfing shoes, a dual colour black and white.
He had seen some bright red ones, he thought and giggled to himself, what a load of old rubbish really, did it really make any difference what colour one’s shoes were to the relevance of getting that ball in that hole using up more or less shots than someone else.
“Jack are you there?”
“Yes in the garage” he called, “I was thinking of having a round of golf”.
“Oh I see, I was thinking of a journey into Chester but it will do again”.
He thought and called, “I tell you what we could combine the two”.
“Oh I don’t think so”, she said, “I really don’t fancy driving into Chester alone”.
“No, no” he said, “what I meant was, we could drive to Chester but first I could call at that golf club outside the village, make an enquiry to become a member then afterwards we could continue into Chester”.
“What about the golf?” she asked.
“Oh I could play another day once the membership is sorted”.
It was agreed, she was already dressed and ready in anticipation, and he put away his golf clubs and shoes, and then went inside had a quick brush and polish then put on a white polo neck jumper. His blazer sporting the Farnham Golf club badge, just in case he thought, better to have been a member already, after all, Farnham was a world championship course and had several celebrity members.
They pulled up outside the club, there were numerous cars already parked, he noted the several personalised number plates and two in particular were very familiar being in the same road as where they lived. Anne noticed it to, pointed, but then didn’t speak.
“I won’t be long,” he said as he left the car and within moments arrived in the room containing the enquiry desk.
The room was divided into two parts by a bookshelf down the centre.
Having entered, he looked up saw a notice, which said group enquiries this was on the left of the book display; there was another on the right announcing enquiries. Not knowing which way to go he sauntered forward.
The lady on the desk was speaking on the telephone, saw him arrive so put up a hand holding a pen in a “please wait, I won’t be long, stance”.
He looked at her, a lady in her late forties, possibly early fifties, long nose, with reading glasses on the end, typical he thought, bullshit only moments away. She was sporting a name badge Primrose Pym, “yes” he thought “she was definitely going to be a Primrose Pym”, once he heard those familiar words in the conversation she was having, “I say, rather ooff, quite, quite”. He was not to be disappointed.
Having replaced the telephone on its handset she hesitated, looked at him, adjusted her spectacles then said, “I say do you wish to speak with me?"
“Ah yes” he said and was about to step further forward and utter another word when her hand went up once again to stop him advancing.
She then smiled and said, “The queuing is done the other side you have to join the queue, and you must take your turn”.
He hesitated then leaned forward looking to the left then at her and said “But there is no one here, just you and I, there is no queue”.
“Never the less you must go that side if you wish to speak with me”.
He looked and repeated, “But there is no one here”
“Other side” she repeated.
He turned went back to the door, around the corner and walked along the row of books and stopped.
When he arrived Miss Pym, he guessed she was a Miss not only from her attitude but she was wearing no rings, which did not surprise him now.
He stepped forward and spoke “I have called to enquire about becoming a member”
“A member” she said looking him up and down, repeating “a member”. “You can’t walk in here and become a member; heavens forbid this is not some municipal golf club, good gracious no"
“How do I join then?” he asked.
“Sponsors man, sponsors, one has to have sponsors two at the very least”.
“Oh thank you,” he said, realising his golfing dreams were going in the same direction as his hopes of growing begonias.
When all hopes of having a local round of golf were fading, by almighty providence a voice sounded.
“Hello Jack”
He turned it was none other than his old colleague Christian Woodcock.
“Hello Christian whatever are you doing in this neck of the woods?”
Christian spoke again but did not answer his question; he turned to the man with him and said
“May I introduce you to Miles Ridwell, Chief Constable of the Cheshire Constabulary, this Miles is no less a man than Jack Richards, the best detective NSY ever had.”
“Please to meet you Miles”, replied Jack
“Likewise” said Miles”.
“Well now Jack we can catch up later. Are you a member here?"
“He was making an enquiry” interrupted Primrose, �
�I was telling him he requires sponsors and there is a waiting list even then”.
“Ah well now Jack that won’t be a problem you can count on me and you will give support won’t you Miles”, he said patting Miles on the back.
“Yes, Yes, of course,” said Miles, giving Jack the impression he wasn’t so sure
“What are you doing in this neck of the woods then Jack”? Asked Christian.
“I have just retired, it was the wife’s idea she wanted to be near her sister, a recent widow she lives not far away, and you Christian what is your excuse for leaving the great metropolis”.
“I retired as Chief of Thames Valley and was made up to HMI; this is my area so it was convenient to move up here. Well old chap I must get on we are booked in, I will contact you about the membership”.
With that he and Miles were gone, leaving Jack to bid Miss Pym a very good day, he hesitated then asked
“Excuse me, a question?”
“Yes?” she exclaimed
“Have you ever worked for the local council?” He enquired.
“Why yes” she replied, “Why do you ask?” She replied.
“I could tell by the efficient manner you have”
“Thank you” she replied
“Do you know the most dreaded words in the English language?” He asked.
“What may they be?” Was her next reply
“I work for the council and I am here to help you, when you hear those words you know you are in trouble”.
She looked aggressive but made no reply
He smiled and on leaving, parted a final shot, “The rule of going that side of the book stand when there is no one else here, typical council bullshit”, he said, took off his hat bowed and left.
When he had, gone Miss Pym looked him up and down and mumbled to herself “What a rude and coarse man, expecting to join.”
“Here and now like some municipal club”.
“I don’t see him getting in; I will check him out anyway, what was the name on his blazer?”
“Farnham” and she made a note of it.
He arrived in the car, a Skoda.
Anne had noticed several members arriving and on seeing the car took a closer look at the make badge, then smiled shook their heads as they spoke with each other as they left their BMW cars.
One car was a white Rolls no less, and better it was the one he had seen some time ago only then it had been covered in manure gifted by a rare breed of farmer who could lip read, this caused him to giggle to himself.
The happy couple drove away into the sunshine his belief was that he would never see the first green of that club.
At Chester police station things were getting hectic, information had been received that there was to be a large demonstration in the city centre against cuts to the NHS.
“Ling” said Striker “I don’t want you meandering around the centre on your own with this demo coming off”.
“We will have enough to do without having to keep an eye on you, if you have some paper work to do keep on with that otherwise take out the probationer and have a walk down by the river side”.
“There is some sort of boat trial going on; a police presence there wouldn’t go a miss.
“Very well Sergeant” she replied
“Oh” he called as he left the parade room for his office, “get the pot on, the usual good brew and take the Chief Super one up, he’s just arrived in a bloody foul mood I don’t know why”.
“Yes Sergeant, very well” she said.
She knew she was not doing very well and ought to put Striker in his place, but with the same attitude from the Chief Super, it seemed likely it would make things worse.
Worse was what she thought when she arrived in the kitchen and whilst pondering on the situation another insult was added to injury when Ethel the counter clerk arrived
“I say don’t forget me when you make the brews. What a blessing it is for you to arrive, to make the tea and do odd jobs”.
“Thank you” replied Doris
She had been startled and spilled some hot water; she was obliged to remove her tunic to dry off the wet area with a kitchen cloth.
When she looked up she saw Ethel staring at her bare arms and the tattoo on the inside of each arm, but nothing was said.
After a few moments the tea was made, “You are such a nice quiet girl, not like the last woman Inspector we had a real battle axe. It was like world war two between her and Striker it if hadn’t been for the Chief I think Striker would have been long gone.”
That told her a lot, it seems Striker and the Chief were hand in glove, to quote a phrase, she thought she might try and contact her lady predecessor and discuss things.
“Oh I forgot” said Ethel “coming back to your tea making your reputation is going before you, may I ask if you would be sure to make mine just as you make it for the Sarge and the boss, they sing your praises over your tea making”.
“Ethel it will be my pleasure, your tea will be made exactly like theirs”.
She smiled having prepared the tea, this time in a pot and then dropped her additive into the mixture making sure they would all sample the same brew.
Ethel went downstairs to await its arrival she took the packet of biscuits from the side of the table, with her.
Doris first of all went upstairs and knocked on the door of Chief Superintendent Craig Denton-Smyth, she could see the letters QPM just waiting to be imprinted on the door.
She knocked and received the immediate response “Enter”.
She went inside and saw her boss seated, he was reading, he looked up, smiled and said
“Ah Ling with my tea, another great brew I hope?”
“Well I made it the same way,” she answered, very respectfully.
“I see”, replied the boss, “ keeping out of harms way I take it, oh try to keep an eye on things that are happening, try to get some practical experience. Striker is a mine of information and experience, I myself even use him”.
“I am certainly watching and noting everything he does sir”.
“Fine that is fine”. He replied.
She saw the highly polished shoes on the floor, “heavens” she thought, there on the floor where he normally keeps his pride of place footwear there was trace of mud on the carpet, she must have a word, seemingly, he must have trodden in something, God how she hoped it was dog shit.
She thought she had better have a word with May Day the cleaner; better get her to move it even though it was only a small amount of mess. I wouldn’t like him to get that back on his shoes” Then she thought, “shit why bother?”
On his desk, she saw a catalogue from the world famous Saville Row tailors Jacob and Co; her father used the same company.
It appeared her boss must have his uniforms made privately, no wonder he always looked so immaculate.
She guessed he had something coming off, shoes being prepared, his stick polished and now the hand made woollen uniform to add to those he already had, and of course, no one else did, they were far too expensive.
It seems he was set to impress someone, bullshit always baffles brains she thought.
She then kicked herself as she realised it was the funerals of Bob Friday and Sid Upton, officers she never knew but like the rest would attend the funeral, so would the Chief-Constable and the newly appointed Police Commissioner.
It was clear now why the Chief Super was gathering his finery.
She closed the door to his office as she left and ran down the stairs.
The tea made not only for the obnoxious but also for the minions.
When she arrived, Ethel was whispering that the new lady Inspector was literally covered in tattoos.
“I think she has them everywhere,” said Ethel excitedly realising she had pleased the officers with her gossip, the more they imagined the better they enjoyed it and the more Ethel felt praised.
“Any on her boobs and arse?” Said Striker, “no wonder the Chief Super gets the first
cup of tea.”
Doris realised over hearing the malicious talk “that would be her next burden to carry, but such is life” she thought, “the chance of any of them investigating to reveal anything further was non existent”.
It was the funeral today of Bob Friday and Sid Upton sad affairs from all accounts.
“Ah Ling” said Striker “You will be aware of the funerals today, we are all going, but you stay here in command so to speak.”
“Officers from the next door force in Shropshire will arrive to keep things ticking over to allow all us to attend; you didn’t know them so you can stay behind”.
She smiled and said, “Would you like more tea Sarge?”
“Ah yes I will, you do make a special brew”.
She poured out the tea at the table on the side of the room and quietly dropped a further sample of saliva into the cup, walked over and handed it to him then smiled as he nodded his approval after taking the first sip.
Doris later stopped Ethel in the corridor, “Why did you tell them all those lies about me?”
“What lies would that be?” replied Ethel.
“You know full well, the tattoos, a complete set of lies”
“Well not really”, came back Ethel, “I saw one on your arm so made it more interesting and flowered it up, they like thinking of the boobs and bums bit, they are men”.
“I am not much pleased Ethel, every man and his dog will know of your ridiculous story by the end of the day.”
“It was only a joke,” replied Ethel as she walked off.
Over the coming days, there were other solemn ceremonies as the other dead officers in the other forces were put to rest.
None of the officers or the circumstances or causes of death being known to each of the other forces or those involved.
They were all laid to rest, the ceremonies although unrelated of course still followed similar lines, as the police forces recalled their military type days.
Guards of honour, helmets, caps and flags on coffins, officers lining the routes, salutes and orations of how popular all the officers were and their good conduct and devotion to duty
The official enquiries all closed due to the cases being natural causes, the families left to mourn and pick up the remnants of their lives, it was business as usual in the various police forces and stations.