Juan Foot in the Grave

by Roger Keevil

  “I did not.” It seemed that Constable was absolutely determined not to sound wistful. “My next-door neighbours are away on holiday in Mauritius, the pub is closed for refurbishment because they’re in the middle of turning it into some sort of family carvery… ” The lack of enthusiasm in the inspector’s tone was evident. “… and in case you hadn’t noticed, it rained most of the time on Christmas Day. So I had a very pleasant time roasting a pheasant, washing it down with one of my nicer Burgundies, and watching old films and the dancing on television. Thus fortifying myself for the exciting task of ploughing through this pile of reports on my return to work this morning. Which, if you will excuse me, I intend to get on with.”

  Copper was not to be put off. “Sorry, guv, but isn’t that all a bit dull?” he asked. “No disrespect, sir,” he added hastily. “I mean, I reckon Christmas is probably one of the only chances we get to escape from the job and enjoy ourselves. Well, apart from the poor guys on duty, scooping up drunks in the precinct, but we got away with that one, didn’t we? I had a great time.”

  Constable pushed away the papers in front of him, leaned back, and smiled, amused almost against his will by his colleague’s earnest enthusiasm. “Which you have decided to tell me about in great detail, by the sound of it. Well, go on then. Give me the blow by blow. What have you been up to?”

  “Well, I went out on Christmas Eve with Lorraine… ”

  “Just a second. Who’s Lorraine?”

  “My girlfriend, sir.”

  “Another one? It’s only five minutes ago you were going out with that other one… what was her name? Jackie?”

  “No, sir, that was the one before.” Dave Copper had the grace to look faintly embarrassed. “I think you’re thinking of Caroline.”

  “And what happened to her?”

  “Dumped me, sir.” Copper sounded remarkably cheerful as he imparted the information.

  “Sergeant, what on earth are you doing to these girls?” asked Constable in exasperation. “On second thoughts, do not on any account answer that. I do not wish to know.”

  “Oh, just the usual problem, guv. She couldn’t be doing with the hours. Got stood up once too often, so it was the job or her.” Copper chanced a grin at his superior. “Of course, sir, I blamed you.”

  “I don’t doubt it for a moment, Copper. That is the cross I bear as your mentor and master. So where have you got this new one from?”

  “She’s not really that new, sir.”

  Constable was intrigued. “So, you’re branching into the cougar market now, are you?”

  Copper hastened to explain. “Do me a favour, sir! No, it’s nothing like that. She’s a friend of mine from when I was away at college.” And in response to Constable’s raised eyebrow, “Not that sort of friend. I mean we never actually… well, you know…not then. But we found each other on Facebook the other week, and it turns out she’s moved back here to work for an estate agent… ”

  “Good steady reliable job, then,” remarked Constable wryly.

  “And she’s only living on the other side of town, so we just met up for a drink and it sort of developed from there.”

  “Which was how you came to spend Christmas together.”

  “Exactly. We went out to a club on Christmas Eve, and then on Christmas morning… ”

  “Breakfast in bed?”

  “I went round to her place,” continued Copper with heavy emphasis and a stern look at the senior man, “and we opened our presents…” He broke off, turned away, and started to rummage in his holdall. “Hang on a sec, sir. You’re going to love this. Look what she got me!” He turned back to face the inspector, proudly wearing a fur hat with ear-flaps, whose front bore the face of a grinning chimp. Copper’s own grin was no less delighted. “Isn’t that brilliant, sir?”

  Andy Constable, against all the odds, just managed to keep a straight face. “Well, sergeant, it seems the young lady has you weighed up perfectly. She obviously knows you far better than you’re admitting.” And, unable to sustain the pretence any longer, he burst into peals of laughter. “Thank you, Copper,” he said, wiping his eyes. “That has made my Christmas. You have just rescued me from being a grumpy old sod. I needed that.”

  “Anything to oblige, guv,” smiled Copper. “So do you think I ought to wear this when we’re next out on a case, just to liven things up?”

  “Best not,” replied Constable. “There are probably limits to what the brass will put up with, even from you. So…” He resumed a more business-like manner. “On the subject of cases, I suppose we ought to be earning our living. I’ve been looking for the forensics report on that business at the chocolate factory, and I can’t find the file. Have you got it?”

  “I’m sure it’s here somewhere, sir,” answered Copper, not sounding completely confident. “I’ll have a look.” He gazed helplessly at the heap of files on his desk, and started to burrow through them.

  *

  “Andy, you’re tired, and you need a break.”

  “I really don’t, sir.” Andy Constable looked across the Assistant Chief Constable’s desk at his boss. “I am absolutely fine. And it’s not as if we aren’t short of manpower already, so if I take time off it only makes things harder for the other guys.”

  The Assistant Chief snorted. “Come on, Andy – granted you’re a brilliant officer, and yes, I know, flattery will get me nowhere, but you’re not going to try the old ‘crime never sleeps’ line on me, are you?”

  “It did cross my mind, sir,” said Constable, smiling ruefully.

  “For goodness’ sake, man, you’re a one-man detection machine,” replied the other. “Give the rest a chance once in a while.” He smiled, and his voice softened. “Look, I’m not blind and deaf, despite what most of the other ranks might think about me. I do have a vague idea of what goes on in this force from time to time. And I happen to know that you haven’t had a proper holiday in years. And I also know that you haven’t had more than a couple of days off since the Dammett Hall Fete court case. So do us all a favour, take some time off, and don’t burn yourself out.”

  “But really, sir… ”

  “I’ll make it an order if I have to, Andy. Take a holiday. Hard as it may be to believe, we’ll cope.”

  *

  When Andy Constable returned to his office, it was to find Dave Copper with his feet up on his desk. The young sergeant swiftly swung into a sitting position and hastily picked up a recently-issued memo on the subject of local crime statistics. The fact that he was holding it upside-down did not help the pretence.

  “What was all that about, then, sir?” he enquired. “You don’t very often get a summons from the A.C.C. He hasn’t been tearing you off a strip about something, has he? Although I can’t think why he would.”

  “No, Copper, he hasn’t,” replied Constable. “Far from it. In fact, it appears that I am a brilliant officer, but I am in danger of burning myself out, and I am in need of some time off.”

  Dave Copper leaned forward earnestly. “Well, of course, he’s right, isn’t he, guv? I mean about the ‘brilliant officer’ bit.”

  “Copper, if I for one moment suspected that your famous sense of humour was getting the better of your good judgement in sending up your superior… ”

  “Honestly not, sir.” Copper was insistent. “I’m dead serious. I know I muck about a bit sometimes, but I really have learnt a hell of a lot from working with you. It’s the best time I’ve had since I joined the force, even if you do give me a hard time every so often. But you have to take a break sometimes – even you, sir.”

  Constable smiled. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, sergeant. But you’d better pack it in before you end up embarrassing both of us. And as for taking a break, it doesn’t seem as if I have a lot of choice. The A.C.C.’s practically ordered me to have a holiday. Although lord knows where and when.”

  Copper jumped to his feet in excitement. “That’s brilliant, sir. You could�
� ”

  “Could what?”

  “No… maybe it wouldn’t be such a brilliant idea after all.”

  “What wouldn’t? Stop talking in riddles, man, and tell me what you’re on about.”

  Dave Copper took a deep breath. “Well, sir – you know that holiday I won in the draw at Christmas. Why don’t you come with me on that?”

  Constable laughed in incredulity. “You are kidding, I assume! Don’t you think we get to see enough of each other at work, without having holidays together like some sort of Odd Couple? Anyway, what about that girlfriend of yours… what’s her name again? Aren’t you taking her?”

  “Oh, Lorraine?” Copper’s voice was elaborately casual. “Actually, sir, we’re not seeing each other any more.”

  “Don’t tell me – dumped you?” Copper nodded. “Couldn’t stand the hours?” Another nod. “And now you know why I never got married myself, sergeant. They never stick around long enough for you to ask them the question.”

  “So why not, sir?” persisted Copper. “If we’re both at a loose end and there’s a holiday going begging. And if I promise faithfully not to talk shop…?”

  Constable sighed. “Okay, tell me all about it. But I’m promising nothing.”

  *

  “All passengers for DerryAir flight KY69 to Alicante, please proceed immediately to gate 17 where the flight is now boarding.”

  Dave Copper looked up at the Arrivals and Departures board. He grinned. “Hey, that makes a nice change, guv. Our flight’s actually on time.”

  “I’m very pleased to hear it. Just one thing though. Do you suppose you could break the habit of calling me ‘guv’ while we’re on holiday? For one thing, it makes you sound as if you’ve been watching too many 1970s television kitchen-sink cop-shows, and for another, I don’t particularly want everyone to know that I’m a policeman.”

  “Why not, sir?”

  “It alters people’s attitudes. They either want to moan at you about how long it took the local station to send someone round after they’d had a garden gnome nicked, or else they feel obliged to tell you about that dodgy bloke round the corner that they’re sure is dealing drugs because he’s got a pit bull and they can see suspicious-looking characters calling at his house every time they twitch their net curtains. So if you don’t mind, less of the ‘guv’.”

  “Righty-ho, sir.”

  “Copper!”

  “Sorry, si…, I mean, sorry. So what do I call you? I can’t really call you Andy, sir, can I? It wouldn’t feel right. I can’t call you ‘Mr. Constable’. And Andrew still sounds a bit formal. It is Andrew, isn’t it, gu… isn’t it?”

  “Never you mind what it is. Let’s not go there.” With a sudden brisk move, and an evident firm intention of changing the subject, Andy Constable stood, picked up his flight bag, and looked up at the bright yellow signs to check the direction to the departure gate. “Speaking of which, if we don’t get a move on, neither of us will be going anywhere. I think there’s a pair of aircraft seats waiting for us.” He set a smart pace towards the exits, with Dave Copper trotting along half a pace behind.

  “Yes, but really, sir,” persisted Copper. “I can’t keep saying ‘Oi, you’, can I?”

  “Look, why don’t you call me ‘A.C.’? It’s what one of the instructors at the police college used to call me. Evidently it was his idea of a joke.”

  “How so, sir?”

  “The name, sergeant! Call yourself a detective? Apparently he found it enormously amusing that there should be a police recruit called Constable, so what with the first initial, he thought it would be fun to upgrade me to Assistant Commissioner. Oh, how we laughed!”

  “Got you! Mind you, sir,” gurgled Copper, “it could turn a bit embarrassing if we run into the actual A.C.”

  Constable raised an eyebrow. “I seriously doubt, Copper, that the Assistant Commissioner of the Met takes his holidays in Benidorm, or wherever it is that we’re going.”

  “It’s not actually Benidorm, guv… ”

  “A.C.!”

  “Sorry, A.C. It’s just along the coast, and according to the guide book, it’s quite easy to get to, once we pick up the hire car at the airport. So all we have to do is…”

  “First things first, Copper. Stop burbling and get your boarding card out and show it to this nice lady.”

  “Righty-ho… A.C… ” Copper fumbled in his bag for his passport and boarding card. “This is going to be great. I’m really looking forward to this – you know, unwinding and getting a bit of sunshine. How about you, guv?”

  “Oh yes,” replied Constable. His tone held reservations. “Enormously.”

  Chapter 2

  The gigantic gleaming glass and steel cavern that was the new terminal at Alicante’s El Altet airport effortlessly swallowed the hundred-or-so passengers arriving on the same flight as the two detectives. The mixture of families, returning English-language students, business travellers, and a group of giggling supermarket checkout girls whose matching pink T-shirts declared them to be ‘Courtenee’s Pussy Posse’, formed a straggling line of marching ants as they followed the arrows towards Baggage Reclaim.

  “Hen party, do you reckon… er… A.C.?” asked Dave Copper in an undertone, obviously still uncomfortable in his role of friend rather than subordinate.

  “Not exactly the most difficult piece of deduction you’ve ever had to do in your career,” responded Andy Constable in similar fashion. “Let’s just hope to goodness that they’re not going to the same place as us.” As the luggage carousel clunked into life and suitcases began to appear, it became clear that his fears were not to be realised, as the brightly-coloured labels of a well-known tour operator were visible on each suitcase that was claimed with squeals of delight, and the group’s intended destination was plainly the notorious party resort some twenty miles and an entire cultural world away. Constable breathed a sigh of relief.

  Cases safely collected, Copper led the way through the Blue Channel, where the two women apparently on duty seemed to be more concerned with comparing the merits of each other’s nails than identifying customs defaulters, and towards the line of booths where the names of every car hire company he had ever heard of, and not a few he hadn’t, competed for the early-season market. “I’ve only booked the small basic car,” he explained to his colleague as they stood in the queue at the only company which was doing any business. “I didn’t really see the point of getting anything too big, and I got a great deal online.” He gazed at the people ahead of him. “So did everyone else, by the look of it. This is going to take forever.”

  It didn’t. The clerks behind the windows were brisk and efficient, and the line of customers was swiftly disposed of as, switching effortlessly from Spanish to English to German to Norwegian, the car hire personnel sent each client more or less happily on their way. The only hold-up seemed to be the repeated invitation to take out extra accident insurance at a substantial, and evidently unexpected, cost, but when Dave Copper’s turn came, a brief and almost accidental flash of his police identification led to not only an instant waving aside of the need for any unnecessary expense, but a surprise complimentary upgrading to an open-top car, complete with electric roof, air conditioning, and an i-pod dock.

  “That was a bit of luck, wasn’t it, sir?” grinned Copper, as the two men headed for the multi-storey car park in search of their vehicle. “Fancy them running out of Group A’s just before we got to the desk.”

  “Ah, the innocence of youth,” smiled Constable. “You never cease to amaze me, sergeant.”

  “How do you mean, guv?”

  “This may come as a surprise to you, but not every police force in the world suffers from the same lack of respect which we sometimes get at home. I think you’ll find that, in this neck of the woods, people still tend to jump about a bit when they are dealing with the police. It’s probably a left-over from the past. So that very nice young lady thought it would do no harm at all
if she did you a little favour. Plus the fact that they’ve got three different sorts of policeman… ”

  “Three??”

  “Yes, three. Try not to sound so envious. There’s the Guardia Civil, which is national, the Local Police, which you will be astonished to hear is local, and the Traffic Police, which is a bit of both.”

  “So how do we know which is which? And which ones get the guns?”

  “All of them, I think. Let’s hope we don’t need to find out.”

  “How come you know all this, guv?”

  “Because I read the Police Gazette, which believe it or not actually contains some very useful and interesting articles from time to time, the occasional perusal of which would do your career no harm at all.” And as an afterthought, “And don’t call me ‘guv’.”

  “Sorry, si… sorry, A.C. But look, it’s not easy, what with you calling me ‘Copper’ and ‘sergeant’ and so on. Why couldn’t you just call me ‘Dave’ like everybody else?”

  “Exactly how chummy am I required to be on this holiday?”

  “How about ‘David’?” Copper’s face was that of a puppy hoping to be thrown a ball.

  “We’ll see.”

  The car was a boy-racer’s dream – a low-slung two-seater, bright scarlet in colour, with a long bonnet and just enough space to squeeze the bags into the boot and behind the seats. Dave Copper’s attempts to conceal his glee as he slid behind the wheel were not entirely successful.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind if I drive?” he enquired carefully, desperately trying to keep the grin off his face. “After all, it is hired in my name, and you’re only down on the paperwork as the second driver. I mean, if you’d rather drive, I suppose I could do the navigating… ”

  “Oh, stop burbling, man.” Andy Constable’s smile was good-humoured. “You would never forgive me if I took your toy away from you. Get on with it, and let’s get out of here. According to the instructions, you turn right out of the car park, up to the roundabout, join the dual carriageway, and then bear right on to the main road and go through the tunnel… ”