by Edward Figg
Monday 13th September
The two new DCs, Jill Richardson and Luke Hollingsworth, arrived on the Monday morning.
Carter took them into his office. He’d already read through their files the day before.
‘I’m glad to have the pair of you here. As you know we're in the middle of two murder investigations and there's still plenty of work to be done.’ He glanced from one to the other, studying them.
Hollingsworth was thirty years old, he wore a well-cut, expensive, pinstripe suit. If he had a brief case, he could've easily been mistaken for a city lawyer. He was well built and stood just a little over six foot. He had a good record as a thief taker.
Jill Richardson, on the other hand, was the total opposite. She was what Carter would describe as ‘plain but strangely attractive’. She was short, five foot seven and dressed in a sombre grey pant suit. Her auburn hair was set in a ponytail. Carter had read in her file. One of her assets was that she had trained as a Family Liaison Officer.
‘I see you've done FLO training? That's excellent,’ he said, looking at her from across the desk. ‘I'd like you to take over as FLO on both these cases. I'll give you both files later so you can familiarise yourself with them. OK. That's it for the moment.’ He stood up from his desk. ‘Welcome to Kingsport CID. Let's go outside and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the gang. They're not a bad bunch. I'm sure you'll get on well with them.’
After they'd been introduced to the team, Carter said to Reid, ‘Mike, sort them out some desk space and then bring them up to speed on the investigation.’ He turned and walked back to his office. He returned a little while later with two files and handed them to Jill Richardson.
‘Let me know if you have any problems with these?’ he said. ‘I'll let you contact the next of kin and introduce yourself when you're ready.’
‘Yes sir, I'll do that.’
She took them straight to the desk that Reid had given her and started reading. She noted how slim the Newman and the Connor files were.
Hollingsworth had been given a desk next to hers.
Hollingsworth looked over and spoke to Reid. ‘What kind of canteen do you have here?’ he said, pulling a Mars Bar out of his pocket and unwrapping it. 'Only, I skipped breakfast this morning and I'm bleedin’ starving. I could eat a horse.’
Tom Crane, having just walked in, heard Hollingsworth. ‘If it's horse you want then you've come to the right place lad. In our canteen, it's their speciality.’
Laughing, he walked past Hollingsworth and went to Carter's office, tapping on the open door. Putting his head in, he said, ‘Had a message from HQ sir. They said Superintendent Watkins has been held up and won't be here till later this morning.’
‘Right, Tom, thanks. Did they give any reason?’
‘No sir, they didn't.’
Tom Crane turned and walked over to the two new comers. ‘You must be our new DCs, Hollingsworth and Richardson. I'm Sergeant Crane, Tom to my friends, but you can call me Sergeant.’ He smiled, shook hands with the pair, then sauntered off.
Richardson and Hollingsworth exchanged uncertain looks
Reid said them, ‘Don't mind him, he has a strange sense of humour, you'll soon get used to it. His bark’s worse than his bite.’
******
It was just after midday when Carter and Baxter walked out of the court room. They stood in the marbled hall looking at one another. ‘Better than I expected, Ted,’ said Carter. ‘Good result all round, a ten stretch. Bloody marvellous’
‘I felt like standing up and applauding.’ Baxter said. He smiled, thinking of what would have happened if he had.
‘The British justice system, however flawed, has for once, come out on the side of the victim,’ said Carter. To his way of thinking, far too many villains walked away scot-free. They just got a slap on the wrist and were told not to do it again. Not this time. Everything had turned out right.
Carter was aware of all the CPS's work done to secure the conviction. He and Baxter had worked closely with them over the months. It was a good result.
‘I think a celebratory drink's in order later, Ted. What d'yer reckon?’
Baxter nodded in agreement. ‘Too right.’
Carter looked up beyond the tall ornate pillars that held the great, glass domed roof of the Court House, only to see, once again, the British summer had not let them down. It was raining. Even that could not dampen his spirits. The pair walked across the marbled floor, heading for the swing doors, when a familiar voice called out.
‘Inspector, Chief Inspector, Mister Carter!’
Carter turned towards the voice of Mary Timms. She had been talking to Wally Short from the Kingsport Advertiser. She hurried towards him. Mary Timms was a small, grey-haired, busy sort of woman.
She came towards him clutching her handbag to her chest with one hand while trying to straighten her hat and tuck in hair with the other. Her hair seemed to have a mind of its own. It never seemed to go where it should. The hat just seemed to serve as a temporary barrier desperately trying to hold back a grey avalanche.
At least they now had compensation money and a pension to see them through, thought Carter. ‘Thank you for all you have done for us Mister Carter. You too sergeant. God bless the both of you. My Alf and I are real proud of what you and those lawyers have done. Alf's still not feeling his best that's why he couldn't get here today,’ she heaved a big sigh. ‘That trial has taken a lot out of him. Six months after the attack Alf still suffers from headaches. It's only the medication and a few hours in bed that give him any relief. He had one of his turns this morning that's why he’s not here now. I know he’d liked to have been here and thanked you himself. He’ll be pleased that that bloody hoodlum, Hall, has gone to prison for long time. Sorry about the language but…’ Carter moved restively, then said, ‘It's OK, we understand. Sorry Alf's not too good again, Mary. I promise, if I get a chance I'll drop over and see him some time. Maybe take him out for a pint,’ he said, smiling. ‘You're a good man Mister Carter. He doesn't get out much since the attack. I'm sure my Alf would love that. It would do 'im the world of good to relax, now it's all over.’
And with that, Mary patted him on the arm, smiled and walked off through the swing doors and out into the rain. She hesitated for just a brief moment at the top of the court steps, look skyward and then continued on down to the street. At the bottom, she turned, waved to them, and walked off.
Baxter watched her disappear around the corner. ‘Hope they can both find a bit of peace now it's all over,’ he said.
‘Let's hope they can put it behind them and move on. They're a strong couple,’ commented Carter.
Looking at his watch, Carter made a decision. ‘Ted, to hell with celebrating later… it's lunch time. Fancy a swift half before we go back? I'm in the chair.’ Carter looked up at the overcast sky and then moved off down the steps.
Following closely behind, Baxter smiled, ‘I never disobey a superior officer. I always do as I’m told.’
*******
Superintendent Janice Watkins was busy sorting out her desk when Carter walked into her office.
‘Bob,’ she said. She came around the desk and shook his hand. ‘It's been a long time. You look great.’
‘It's nice to see you as well. You're looking well too, Ma'am,’ he said.
She walked past him and shut the door. ‘Bob, just because I'm your boss, there's no need for that ‘ma’am’ business here in this office. We’ve known each other long enough to drop the formalities. It's plain Janice when we're alone. Leave the formalities for when the troops are about.’
‘Sounds fine to me.’
‘Your sergeant, Kirby, said you were in court? I could have only missed you by few minutes. I did see the duty inspector when I arrived, McPhee? He gave me the Cooks tour of the station. I’ve introduced myself to your crew. They seem a good bunch?’
‘Yes,’ said Carter, ‘they are. They're all doing a grand job considering the pressure they're un
der. Some of them have never had a murder to deal with before They've been putting in some bloody long hours lately. But now that I have two more DCs to help, it might take some of that pressure off.’
‘Maybe tomorrow when I've got myself sorted, you can fill me in on that. Looks like I have a lot to catch up on. Talking of catching up, we must go to the Black Bear for a drink one evening. Talk over old times,’ she said, staring out of the window. That is your watering hole, is it not?’
‘Yep, that sounds a good idea.’
As he left her office later and was walking back up the corridor, he frowned. ‘How the hell did she know where my favourite watering hole was? She’s only been in the station less than two blasted minutes. Then again, not much gets past our Janice.’ He wondered if she been keeping an eye on him over these past years? Nah!
Tuesday 14th September
It was dark and overcast that morning. The temperature had dropped dramatically overnight and low black clouds scudded across the sky bringing with them the threat of rain. Mother Nature was sending the people of Kingsport a message that the summer was nearly over. She was warning everybody to dig out their winter woollies. Her message was clear: I’m on my way.
The department store into which Luke Hollingsworth and Marcia Kirby had just walked had turned on its central heating, as if predicting the early change in the weather.
The store was the biggest in town, selling furniture, electrical and all manner of white goods.
Hollingsworth and Kirby were there after the manager had called the night before. He called just after they closed, insisting they send someone around first thing the next morning. The manager had told the desk sergeant that money had gone missing from the day's taking. He was adamant he knew just who the culprit was and wanted the person arrested.
After receiving the call, Tom Crane decided it was not his problem. He happily passed it on to CID. Kirby read the note that had been left on her desk, and after calling Tom Crane, walked over to Carter's office and tapped lightly on his open door.
Carter looked up from the file he was reading as she entered. After she told him what was in the note, and what Crane had told her, he smiled and looked thoughtful for a while then told her of his suspicions and how best to proceed. Kirby left his office after they’d finished and called Hollingsworth over.
‘Grab 'yer coat, Luke, we’re going out.’
He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and hurried after her as she quickly disappeared through the swing doors.
******
The manager of Hartman's Department Store was a small, rotund, middle-aged man with rounded shoulders.
‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘I'm Roger Satterthwaite, the manager. If you would be so kind as to follow me to my office, we can talk there?’
After what seemed an age of walking along endless aisles of televisions, counters full of radios, then upstairs and past rows of new fridges, they finally found themselves in a large, glass-fronted office.
Indicating the two wooden chairs in front of his desk, Satterthwaite said, ‘Please, sit.’ He went around the desk and plonked himself down in a high-backed swivel chair. The man looked haggard. ‘I hardly slept a wink last night worrying about this. Head Office was on the phone first thing this morning. They are not happy.’ He took a hanky from his pocket and mopped his brow. The overhead light set beads of sweat sparkling on his bald head. ‘I want this man arrested, officers. I want him prosecuted. He must be made an example of.’
‘Sir,’ Kirby smiled. ‘We can’t just go around arresting people. It doesn’t work like that. The public tends to get a bit grumpy if we do. We have to have evidence.’
‘Yesterday, when we cashed up, there was a discrepancy in one of the tills. It was short two hundred and ten pounds. I checked it twice. I matched it against the sales dockets.’ He went on to explain. ‘You see, each cashier starts the day with a float. Last night when the float was deducted from the receipts, that amount did not match what was in the till.’ Satterthwaite put his hands to his head in despair. ‘Surely that’s enough evidence. What more do you need?’
Without looking up from making notes in his pocketbook, Luke Hollingsworth said, ‘How many people used that cash register?’
‘There are only two in that department. Mr Armstrong, who is been with us for fifteen years and who is beyond reproach and fully trustworthy. The other one, the one I suspect, is that young Wilfred Dunmore. He has only been with us for two weeks.’ He wrung his hands anxiously. ‘It’s my fault entirely. I should not have taken pity on him and taken him on in the first place. They’re right what they say. A leopard cannot change his spots. Head Office will have my head for this,’ said Satterthwaite.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Kirby, looking at him quizzically ‘I don’t understand.’
‘We advertised for an assistant. He was one of six that applied. He’s been unemployed since he left school twelve months ago; he was honest enough to tell me he’d been in trouble with the police. It was nothing too serious. Caught smoking marijuana,’ (He pronounced it Mary Joanna). ‘As I said, I took pity on him and thought I’d give him a chance. I should have known better.’
Hollingsworth looked at Kirby, then at the manager. ‘With all due respect sir and in my experience, if that had been me that had taken the money, I’d be a mug to turn up next day for work. I’d be long gone.’
Kirby said, ‘Do you have a list of your employees please Mr Satter… err…’ She knew she was about to mispronounce his name, ‘err… sir? Do you mind if we call you Roger?’
‘Yes, by all means, please call me Roger.’ He rose from his seat, went over to one of the filing cabinets and took a sheet of paper from one of the files. He came back and handed it to Kirby. She read it then handed it over to Hollingsworth. The name she was looking for was not there. Cater had been right. She then opened her shoulder bag and handed Satterthwaite a sheet of six photographs.
‘Do you recognise any of these faces?’ she said, hopefully.
Clearly surprised, Hollingsworth gave her an enquiring look.
Satterthwaite took from his top pocket a pair of wire-framed glasses, put them on then studied the photos for a minute. Shaking his head, he handed them back, saying, ‘No. I’ve never seen any of them before. Who are they? What have they got to do with my missing money?’
‘It’s OK, don’t worry. Just something I needed to verify. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to talk with Dunmore. In private please. Is there somewhere we could go?’ she said.
‘Yes, certainly. Use this office.’ He got up from his desk and went off to get Wilfred Dunmore.
Hollingsworth sat with his arms folded, staring at a spot high up on the wall, seeming not to take any interest in what was going on around him. He was clearly annoyed at not being told what was going on. ‘What’s with the photos? What’s going on?’ he said, watching her as she put them back in her bag.
‘You’ll find out soon enough. I’ll explain after.’
They both sat waiting for Dunmore to arrive. After a few moments, Hollingsworth turned and was about to say something when Kirby, anticipating it, said. ‘I know you’re a bit pissed off about not being told about the photos. It was the DCI’s idea, not to keep you in the dark, you understand, but to show them to Satterthwaite. Anyway, with any luck our young Mr Dunmore might provide the missing piece of the puzzle.’
His scowl told her in no uncertain terms that ‘a bit pissed off’ was an understatement.
Satterthwaite had told Dunmore that he was wanted up in his office by the police. When Dunmore got there, he knocked and went in. Looking worried and apprehensive, he stood before the two detectives. ‘I believe you wanted to see me?’ When Marcia Kirby told him, that all they wanted him to do was to look at some pictures, he looked visibly relieved and started to relax. She handed him the sheet of photos. He recognised one of the faces. He pointed to the photo, saying to Kirby, ‘I saw this man in the store yesterday. He works here?’
After telling the stunned manager that Dunmore was not the spotted leopard he had first thought he was, the pair left the store.
Out on the pavement, Kirby walked a few paces from Hollingsworth, turned her back on him, pulled out her mobile and called Carter. After, she walked back to the car and got into the driver’s seat. It was clear to Kirby that Luke Hollingsworth was still sulking. He had said nothing since leaving the manager’s office. He sat there in the car, arms folded, staring out of the side window. Kirby said in an annoyed voice, ‘Luke, for God’s sake, get over it. It’s not the end of the world. Stop acting like a child. I’ll tell you.’
She set about telling him about the previous day’s sighting of Reggie Hunter and Carter’s theory.
When she finished, Hollingsworth said, ‘I’ll forgive you, on one condition only.’
She put the key in the ignition and started the engine.
‘And what is that?’
He turned and smiled at her. ‘You buy me lunch?’
She shook her head. ‘Jesus, Luke. All you ever think about is bloody food.’