The Cop Killer

by Harry Nankin

  “Oh, I see, what is it DORI5 for Doris?” He asked.

  “I am afraid not, worse, I have one brother who is a monk and another who is a monkey, wait until you see what he has done to me, the boys at the nick including Sergeant Tom Striker will have a field day with me.”

  Jack pressed the burglar alarm button to set the system then secured the front door and they walked off to the car which as he drew closer he could see was definitely a sports model, Ferrari.

  “It was indeed a very nice and expensive car,” thought Jack, a ride of a lifetime he thought.

  As they arrived at the vehicle, he looked and then frowned but she could see he had a sneaky smile at the index number it was PEN15 the five had been slightly altered so that the number read PENIS,

  “You are correct in your assumption you will to quote a rather common phrase, get some stick”. He said.

  They were seated and the car shot off, as it did so he could see the various heads turn from the Cheshire neighbours as the car drove by, worse, as they looked, it back fired with loud bangs.

  This caused them to jump out of their skins and he laughed and heaven forbid a loud breaking of wind, which nearly matched the similar noise made by the car.

  “Christ" he thought, “What am I doing?”

  If Anne sees this lot my pension will be reverted to alimony payments?”

  They arrived in Chester to the odd car horn blast, several thumbs up as car loads of yobs drove past, the reason being it was either because they were overtaking a Ferrari or the number plate attracted them.

  Parking in the police station car park, they alighted and Jack lacking courage walked away at a brisk tempo directly into the museum, followed in close pursuit by Doris. Several police cars were arriving, Doris realised it would not be long before the word was out.

  Inside the police station Striker who was temporarily promoted to acting Inspector in the absence of the Chief Super who was now away on his Senior Command Course.

  Jock Peters the Coroners officer arrived and on seeing Striker said.

  “Have you seen the Ferrari in the yard and better still have you seen the number, not yours is it Acting Inspector?”

  Striker looked up and replied, “Don’t come that Scotty or you will be beamed up, back to bloody Scotland where you came from”

  “It’s the idiot Ling; she was seen getting out of it”.

  It didn’t take long for Striker full of jealousy to decide he would put a spanner in the works of dear Doris, what better than to botch this expensive car.

  “Right lads” he said, “outside, let’s put a spanner in Ling’s wheel, get some paint ready we will give it a face lift.

  Striker and two constables went outside walking near his old common Ford car. Constables Davies and Williams in hot pursuit.

  They approached the Ferrari, Striker with paint and brush in hand.

  Constable Williams asked, “What will you paint on it Sergeant Striker?”

  He replied, “Watch it Williams, I am acting Inspector, call me sir now lad, if you know what is good for you”.

  A voice coming from the direction of the car said, “What will you paint on it Sergeant Striker. Watch it Williams, I am acting Inspector, call me sir now lad if you know what is good for you?”

  They stopped in amazement when a voice from the car called, “Attention, this car is a test vehicle of British China Aero industries. All images and voices of persons approaching this car are being recorded; details are stored in the company control room”.

  They stopped in their tracks then turned and tip toed away as if that made any difference.

  What Striker couldn’t do or get one way he would get another.

  Jack was seated at his desk ready to take the next steps in the investigation. The phone rang he answered it.

  “Jack Richards, can I help?”

  “This is acting Inspector Striker let me speak to that bloody lunatic Ling.”

  “Inspector”, called Jack, “Striker is on the line he wishes

  to speak with you”.

  “I thought he wouldn’t be long”, she replied with a sigh.

  “Yes sergeant, how can I help?” was her reply.

  “Forget the Sergeant, Acting Inspector if you don’t mind”.

  “Well, as I am a substantive Inspector, your acting rank does not hold much with me, at any rate”.

  “What did you say?”

  “These comments will be brought to the attention to those that matter; bare in mind whilst you are playing over there in the museum, in here is where the real police work is being done”.

  “What did you want Acting Inspector Striker?" She replied to pacify him.

  “That bloody car you have and in particular the number, what the hell are you playing at?”

  “This is a police station, we don’t want a car with a number like that in our back yard so to speak, and of course you will not be able to use it on your enquiry, there will be hell to pay”.

  He banged down the phone and Doris realised it would be only moments before Headquarters would be informed. Jack had said nothing but felt the whole thing was to be frank becoming a distraction for the task in hand.

  “Ling are you there?”

  It was Sergeant Reg Large the commander of the museum, she laughed to herself, “what next?”

  “Yes” she called.

  Get down here,” called Large, “a man giving his name as Peter alleged he is from your fathers research department at the factory he left a note for you, he said it is urgent.”

  “Christ what now?” She thought.

  “Better see what he wanted we have to get on with the enquiry.”

  Interrupted, Jack who was now looking a little agitated.

  She left the office and ran down stairs where Large was waiting envelope in hand.

  She took it, turned and ran upstairs, she could see his face drop, Mr Nosey had hoped to hear of the contents, he and the others were awaiting a call from Headquarters at any moment, hopefully it would be the end of this bloody woman Inspector he thought.

  Arriving inside the office, she read the note, smiled and handed it to Jack who read it and for a change, he actually gave the semblance of a smile.

  The note read, “We hope you like the car and its new devices, oh the number plate it being your birthday the lads in the office made it up but things went wrong, we all forgot to tell you. We hope you didn’t get into any bother.”

  “I have just visited and changed it to the one your brother had intended you to have, it is DOR15, altered a little to give the impression of DORIS.”

  “The sat test voice recording equipment has also been disabled, enjoy the car, steady with the right foot or you will have the cops after you?”

  The note was signed Peter Clarke, Chief Engineer.

  In a flash Doris was out of the office running downstairs and into the police station car park, Clarke had done his work the personalised number had been fitted.

  “What is all this Ling?” Came the raucous voice of Tom Striker.

  She looked behind her. Striker was there camera in hand, he looked saw the change of number plates and was taken aback.

  His first thought was to dash inside and call the Chief- Constables` Secretary, to get her to forget telling the Chief.

  There would be a row if someone came over only to find the abusive number was gone, they may even think it had been a figment of his imagination.

  She went back to the museum and on her arrival Jack was seated and obviously waiting.

  “Right, Inspector, if you are ready, we will make a start?”

  May arrived, brooms and brushes in hand, “I will make a drink" was her contribution to proceedings.

  “Thank you May,” replied Doris.

  Jack picked up the telephone and opening his briefcase took out a small book, written upon it was the word, contacts.

  He dialled a number then after a few moments, he spoke.

  “Hello, can I please speak wit
h Professor Idris Webster please; yes tell him it is Jack Richards”.

  There were a few moments of silence, when he continued.

  “Ah Professor, yes I am officially retired but I have been called in to investigate several suspicious deaths on behalf of the Home Secretary.”

  “It would be a great help if you would agree to carry out second post mortems on all five dead victims.”

  “I will of course get the necessary authority; my assistant will make the arrangements.”

  There was a reply and he said, “That would be great; I will send you a full report of all the circumstances and get back to you”.

  He replaced the telephone handset when there was a knock on the door.

  “Come in May” he called.

  “How on earth did you know it was me Mr Richards?”

  “I can tell your knock anywhere” he replied.

  She put down the drinks and left, mumbling “Very clever man he is, he can even tell a knock”.

  “”Right Inspector, I was just speaking with Professor Idris Webster from the North Wales University”.

  “He is the world renowned pathologist, described as great and above all others in his field.”

  “I intend to get him to carrying out post mortems on all the dead officers.”

  “May I ask you if you will go through the papers and type up a full report as to the circumstances of the cases, end the report by saying we will be attending the examinations and will give him any update at that time?”

  “I will get onto that immediately” she replied, realising there was serious police work a foot, this was her chance to get involved right at the hub of a major enquiry.

  “I might ask you, when done ensure the file is sent direct by secure carrier not through the post, and do four copies,” he added.

  “I will,” she said.

  “Now”, he said, “I need a word with May” Due to Mrs Richards being away I need more help at home.”

  He left the office a search of the building revealed May had taken the opportunity to visit the police station and so off he went in search of her at the only other likely place, the police station.

  On his arrival, he asked for May being told she was upstairs cleaning.

  He turned and took the lift, on arriving at the desired floor he left and saw May inside the office of Chief Super Denton-Smyth.

  “Ah May a couple of favours please”.

  “Oh hello again, I thought I would just give this office a bit of a tidy it is kept locked whilst the boss is away. He did say he wanted a little dusting, if he comes back and finds anything amiss there will be blood for supper”.

  “I am sure he will. Well done May, you do a good job”.

  “What favour can I do for you Mr Richards?”

  “Well firstly I was going to ask you if you might be able to spend a few more hours at my house. Mrs Richards is away and your additional help with bed making and washing up would be gratefully accepted”, he said with a prayer.

  “Why, yes take it as done, I have a key so leave it with me Mr Richards. I will ensure everything is done right and proper, what is the other thing?” she asked

  In the museum Doris was busy going through the case papers and typing up the report to Professor Webster when Jack arrived, he had been gone nearly half an hour.

  On his arrival he took out his brief case and the next, she saw he appeared to be organising the inside of it. It appeared to her they would soon be off somewhere.

  He picked up the telephone and dialled a number, after a moment he spoke.

  “May I please speak with Professor Simon Bolister, please, yes, it is Jack Richards of NSY fame, tell him.

  “Hello Professor, yes you are correct, I am retired officially but at the request of the Home Secretary I am carrying out an enquiry into some unusual deaths of police officers”.

  “I would greatly appreciate it if you might agree to assist us, that is, Inspector Scott-Ling and myself.”

  There was a pause when he said, “Well thank you professor, I will get a full copy of the file over to Gooch Street Laboratory immediately by carrier”.

  “I will come back to you as regards anything further as and when it occurs.”

  He replaced the phone and then said.

  “Inspector if you would print out four copies of the file you are typing and then get the carrier to take another copy to the Forensic Science Laboratory at Gooch Street in Birmingham marked for the personal eyes of Professor Bolister”.

  “Will do sir”, she replied. He had already told her once, he was getting old she thought, starting to lose it possibly, she dare not say anything.

  Jack looked up and said, “You don’t need to call me Sir”, but then added, “Mr Richards will suffice”.

  This caused her to smile, bloody old CID officer’s straight-laced, miserable buggers, no sense of humour and seemingly they never change from generation to generation”.

  It was certainly a morning for phone calls for when she arrived back in the office having taken the cups away he was making yet another call,

  “Hello may I please speak with Mr Christian Woodcock, if you would tell him it is Jack Richards”.

  “Just a moment please” came the reply.

  “Hello Jack not long to go before the conference how are you progressing?”

  “I am progressing well, with the help of Inspector Scott-Ling of course, progress is the reason I am calling you Christian”.

  “How can I help Jack?” Replied Woodcock.

  “I need to get the bodies of the dead officers exhumed and a second post mortem done. I have provisionally requested Professor Idris Webster to carry them out.

  “My, Jack you have reached the top of the tree, Professor Webster no less, a very good choice”.

  “I will need an exhumation order”, said Jack “can you get the go ahead from the powers to be for me to visit the Royal Courts of Justice and seek such an order from a High Court Judge?"

  “Again Jack, a good decision, better to get it from a red coat judge than an order from the Home Secretary, he may get windy if you find nothing and the families cause a fuss.”

  “Can you arrange everything, Christian?”

  “Yes leave it with me Jack, I will call you back”.

  Woodcock then asked, “Forensics, have you considered them”.

  “Yes”, replied Jack, “I have asked Professor Simon Bolister from the Home Office Lab., at Gooch Street, in Birmingham to assist me, he has also agreed”.

  “Again Jack a top choice. Leave this all with me I will get back to you”.

  The call ended, he replaced the handset and sat back in his chair.

  There was a knock on the door; it was Sergeant Reg Large,

  “This despatch has just arrived for you Mr Richards”

  “Ah, thank you sergeant”, he took the package and looked up to find Strutter Large was waiting with baited breath for the package to be opened, he was to be disappointed for Jack simply inserted it into his brief case.

  After a moment of disappointment, Large turned and left.

  “Inspector”, called Jack.

  “Yes, here am I” she replied.

  “Is May around, a drink wouldn’t go amiss”.

  “I have thought ahead, here is one already,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes.

  “Ah just the job”, he said, “Now sit down and I will update you”. He had only just finished telling her all that had occurred including the arrival and origins of the mystery despatch so eagerly wished to be viewed by Strutter, when the telephone rang.

  “Hello Jack Richards here.

  “Ah, Jack its Christian Woodcock, I spoke with my boss, he in turn spoke with the Home Secretary and he confirmed the plan”.

  “In addition there will be no need for you to visit London there is a High Court Judge sitting at Shrewsbury in Shropshire”.

  “He is staying at the judge’s lodgings in a street called, Belmont with his wife.”

 
“He has agreed to see you there this evening in chambers. It will save the glare of the public at the crown. It is Judge Stevens, which I almost forgot to tell you.”

  “Thank you” replied Jack he had appeared before this judge many times, with that, the call ended.

  “Well Inspector some additional information, we have to travel to Shrewsbury this evening an appointment with Lord Justice Stevens. Hopefully we will get the exhumation orders and from then on it will be night work and a busy time too.”

  “Right”, replied Doris, “but why night work?”

  “Exhumations are normally done at night more discreet you see.”

  “I would like you to make enquiries to find a suitable person with a mini digger and a large amount of discretion to carry out the work. We will require a tent of course.”

  “Might suggest you contact that fellow who does our garden, Bill or Ben something or other he runs a firm called Garden Rescue. I would suggest he seems to fit the bill, not wishing to be smart, thinking of the famous flower pot men”.

  “Leave it with me, I know of the fellow, I will contact him and come back to you” she replied reassuringly.

  She rose from her seat and was gone leaving him alone to contemplate once again.

  “Once the post mortems are done I may know more,” he thought to himself.

  At 3pm later that day, they were heading south along the A41 trunk road travelling the 40 miles to the Shropshire market town of Shrewsbury, it being their second visit it was much easier to find.

  The satellite navigation easily found the town and the street known as Belmont.

  What was not easy to find was somewhere to park their car, it took some time to locate a car park.

  Once found it was left to Doris to pay the exorbitant car parking fee which she thought accounted for the reason the town appeared quiet compared to Chester.

  They eventually arrived once again in Belmont Street but on this occasion on foot.

  It was an area similar to Chester in its features, cobbled narrow streets and ancient buildings. Arriving at the house it was easy to find, as there was a Shropshire county badge upon the house wall.

  A knock on the front door was answered by a man who might have been in distance times past. He was dressed in a black suit with a ruffled frontage shirt, clearly a butler.