by Edward Figg
While all the activity had been taking place, Dolly had turned to her sister and said. ‘Isn’t this all exciting? It’s just like that programme we watch on the television on Saturday nights,’ she said. ‘You know the one I mean Maisie? ‘What’s it called? That Inspector Barney fellow. Midseason Murders. That one.’
‘Oh Dolly, for heaven’s sake. It’s Inspector Barnaby, not Barney and it’s called Midsomer Murders, not Midseason Murders.’
The crew from the recovery truck set about forcing open the boot. Then as the sisters watched, two paramedics carefully took a body from out of the boot. From the clothes, the sisters could see quite clearly it was a man.
The paramedics, assisted by Khan and his mate, then laid the inert figure onto a stretcher. The medics bent over him. The two police officers stood, with arms folded, and watched. It was quite some time before the medics finally stood up, nodded to each other then set about moving the body on the stretcher into the ambulance. One man from the recovery truck payed out the long cable and set about hitching it to the rear axle of the car. His mate jumped up onto the back of truck the and started the winch.
Just as the ambulance, with lights flashing and siren wailing, was pulling out of the carpark, a TV crew arrived. Two men got out of the car, walked over, and spoke to Constable Khan for a while. After a few minutes, the other man walked off and started filming the car as it was being winched up the bank towards the truck. The policemen who’d been talking to the other man, the one in the suit, pointed to where the sisters stood. The man in the suit then started to walk towards them beckoning to the cameraman to follow.
Maisie patted her hair and said. ‘Dolly, it looks like we are going to be on telly, so I think it best if you let me do all the talking.’
‘That’s not fair Maisie,’ she said, feeling a little hurt. ‘After all, I was the one that found it.’
Maisie looked at her sister and sighed. She saw no point in arguing.
It took the crew of the recovery truck thirty minutes to winch the car up to the top of the embankment and onto the back of the truck.
Some twenty minutes later, the two sisters were standing by the bus stop next to the carpark. All thoughts of getting to Appledore for afternoon tea had been abandoned. Maisie had decided it would have to wait for another day.
‘We must be home in time to watch the news Dolly,’ said Maisie. ’I think I explained our part in it very well, don’t you?’ She never gave her sister chance to answer and continued speaking. ‘But as for you.’ She paused as she shifted her haversack from one shoulder to the other. ‘I was lost for words. You should have known better. It was embarrassing. I told you I should have done all the talking. If they include that bit about your blasted badgers, we’ll be the laughing stock of the village.’ And how many more times must you be told?’ Slowly she spelt out the words. ‘It’s S- E- T- T- S, setts and C- U- B- S, cubs.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘You had that poor man totally confused.’
*******
Carter up turned the bottle of HP sauce and glugged it all over his egg and chips. He impaled a couple of chips with his fork, dipped them in the egg and put them in his mouth. He’d only just managed to make it to the canteen before they stopped serving lunch. All the meat pie, which Luke Hollingsworth, who had returned from his lunch earlier, said was yummy, was all gone. The other alternative was the fry up, egg, chips, sausage and beans. He was lucky to get that according to the dinner lady behind the counter. ‘This is the last plate in the warmer,’ she said. ‘I was going to take it home for my Albert’s tea. He’s partial to bangers and beans.’
Some twenty minutes later he’d just finished his jam roly-poly pudding and custard and was putting the spoon back in the bowl, when his mobile rang. He pulled it from his jacket pocket. He looked at the displayed number.
‘Marcia.’
‘Sir. They’ve found Richard Austin. He’s alive.’
‘OK, great, I’m on my way up.’
He closed his phone, put the plate and bowl back on the tray and took it back to the counter just as the dinner lady started to pull down the shutter.
‘Thanks dearie,’ she said, and slammed down the shutter, narrowly missing Carter’s hand.
‘And good afternoon to you,’ he muttered.
Walking quickly, he left the canteen and headed for the stairs. Just as he reached the first step, Janice Watkins walked through the security door that led to the reception area.
He turned to her, held up his phone and said, ‘Just got some news about Richard Austin. He’s alive.’
‘That’s great news,’ she said.
‘I was beginning to think the worst,’ he replied.
I see you had the roly-poly?
‘Pardon? What?’
‘Roly-poly. It’s on your tie, the jam?’
‘Oh.’ He looked down at his tie then pulled out his hankie and proceeded to wipe it off.
They got to the top of the stairs and headed down the passage and walked into the CID area. They went over to where DCI Baxter and Sergeant Kirby stood reading from a sheet of paper Baxter held in his hand. Both Baxter and Kirby greeted the superintendent.
‘Ma’am,’ they both said, in unison.
‘So, what’s the news? said Carter, looking from one to the other.
‘Marcia took a call from Folkestone CID. They fished Austin out of the Hythe canal a couple of hours ago, seems Harris just drove the car into it with the bloke still in the boot, poor sod. He’s suffering from exposure, hypothermia and severe concussion. Right now, he’s under guard in the Royal Victoria at Folkestone. He’s expected to make a full recovery,’ said Baxter.
‘Thank God for that,’ said Carter.
Watkins looked at Kirby and said ‘Has his wife been informed?’
‘Yes ma’am. Folkestone are doing that as we speak. I told them to get on to the Family Liaison Officer, a WPC Winters, she’s the one who’s looking after the family. They’re going to get in direct contact with her. I gave them Winters’s contact details. Thought it would be best coming from them in Folkestone as they have all the hospital details.’
‘Good thinking.’
Baxter took up the story. ‘A couple of ramblers spotted it. The place where he was dumped in is a bit remote, miles from anywhere. DI Taplow went down there, said Austin was lucky to be alive. The canal is three metres deep but luckily the car was only partially submerged so the boot was visible.’
‘What about Harris?’ asked Carter.
‘They sent out patrols, scoured the area but there was no sign of him,’ said Kirby, brushing away some loose strands of hair that had fallen across her forehead. ‘That part of the country is just sheep and marshes. Not many people about.’
At that moment, the phone on Kirby’s desk started to beep. She went over and picked it up.
Mike Reid, who had been sitting at his desk nearby said. ‘What the hell is he doing down in that that neck of the woods?’ He answered his own question. ‘Heading along the coast to Brighton, maybe?’
Bill Turner, over at his desk, who had sat listening to them, said, ‘He could well be trying to leave the country. Maybe he’s heading for the channel tunnel? It’s not far from where he dumped the car. He wouldn’t risk taking it over the other side because he’d know we’d be on the lookout for it so he dumps it hoping no one would find it at the bottom of the canal. You can get to the tunnel terminal by bus from Folkestone. He may might try to stow-away on one of the trucks that go over.’
Kirby, putting the phone down, walked back from her desk.
‘Sir, the television news. It’s about to go on air, with the announcement that Austin has been found.’ She walked over to the television mounted on the wall and using the remote, switched it on. Everyone crowded forward to watch.
‘They were quick off the mark. Hope to God his wife hears it from us first, and not from this bloody lot,’ said Janice Watkins, looking directly at Marcia Kirby.
Kirby, who had been looking u
p at the screen, made no response.
Jill Richardson, who was standing across the other side of the room called out, ‘Turn it up a bit more. I can’t hear a thing from here.’
Kirby thumbed the remote.
The words ‘News Flash’ scrolled several times across the screen before the picture changed to an announcer saying there was some breaking news. The picture changed again to a shot of an ambulance driving towards the camera with its lights flashing and siren blaring. A voiceover described in detail the circumstances of Richard Austin’s abduction. It was obvious from the shot of the ambulance that it was taken through the windscreen of the camera car as they drove towards the incident. The next shot was of two police officers. The one in the turban was looking into the canal. The other seemed to searching the ground. From them, the camera then panned up the bank to where the car stood with its boot open. The next shot showed the carpark and the two Larkin sisters.
The sisters were interviewed. They told the TV reporter, in minute detail, how and why they happened to be there. There was no mention of badgers.
After it was finished, Mike Reid turned and spoke to Marcia Kirby. ‘You said that the place was in the middle of nowhere. Miles from anywhere and there were no signs of Harris. Did nobody think to wonder how he got away from the place? It’s a long way to walk.’
‘What are you getting at?’ she said.
Reid looked around at others. ‘Across the road from that car park did anyone notice that there was a bus stop?’
There was silence. They all looked at one another.
Carter said. ‘Mike, well spotted. That’s what he’s done. He got on to a bloody bus. As Bill said, he could be heading for the tunnel. Incidentally, have we checked to see if he has a passport? Check that out will you Bill?’ He looked around for Kirby. ‘Marcia, get back on to this DI, what’s is name, err, Taplow. Ask him to contact the local bus company. Find any drivers who were on that route. Show them pictures of Harris. See if any of them recognise him.’
Chapter 17
‘There’s only an hour to go before we go off shift,’ said PC Alan Hobson, slipping on his Hi-Viz jacket and looking at his watch. ‘I’m supposed to be taking the missus out to dinner tonight for her birthday. I don’t want to be late, so let’s get this over with as fast as we can.’
‘Don’t worry Al,’ said his partner, Andy Miller, opening the door of Kilo Zulu Four. This shouldn’t take long.’ He stood on the pavement and straightened his cap. He looked down the garden path to the house, just as the front door opened. A very distraught woman walked quickly towards him, calling that she had been burgled.
Up until fifteen minutes ago, it had been a quiet shift for the pair. There had only been one incident and that was a minor traffic accident just off the High Street. They were looking forward to going off shift at six, when a call came through sending them over to Maple Drive on the Green Hills housing estate. Miller and Hobson both lived on the Morton Estate. It had a good pub, two in fact, and shops. Green Hills, which was the newer, more upmarket of the two estates, had none of those features. All the houses on Green Hills were detached It was one of these, with its neat manicured lawn and well-kept garden, that Hobson and Miller were about to enter. This part of the estate backed onto pastures filled with grazing sheep. Not too far away, a train could be seen speeding across the viaduct on its way towards London,
After the two PCs had identified themselves, the very smartly dressed woman in her sixties, who introduced herself as Mrs Mabel Harcourt-Brown, (with a hyphen) led them into the house, making sure they wiped their feet before entering.
‘I could have only been away from the house for about ten minutes, twenty at the most,’ she wailed. ‘When I came back from my friend’s house, just across the road, I noticed the front door was open and this is what I found.’ Her voice sounded distraught. ‘It’s a special dinner party for my husband and other doctors from the hospital. They’re due at eight. I’m waiting for my husband to come home. He should be here soon. I just can’t go ahead with it now. It’s all too distressing. You don’t expect this kind of thing to happen in this sort of neighbourhood.’
She led them into a large open plan living area. They followed her through a lounge filled with wall to wall sofas and a large wood fire that stood against one wall. Turkish and hand-crocheted rugs adorned the floor, while oversized light fittings hung from the mock Tudor ceiling beams. On the wall was a giant television screen. At the other end of the room was a kitchen and dining area. Here stood an oak table big enough to seat a football team. Andy Miller noticed all the places at the table were set out for a formal dinner with napkins and wine glasses.
‘What exactly has been taken Mrs Brown?’ asked PC Miller, taking his notebook from inside his jacket pocket.
She corrected him, saying sharply, ‘It’s Harcourt-Brown constable, and I thought that was obvious’ she indicated the table. ‘Can’t you see what’s missing?’
He scanned the table then looked at Hobson for guidance. All that came from his partner was a barely noticeable shrug of the shoulders. ‘Err, no. I’m afraid I can’t.’
A frustrated Harcourt-Brown sighed. ‘What do you normally eat with at home constable, your fingers?’
Miller frowned, then not sure how to answer, took an educated guess and with eyebrows raised, said. ‘Knives and forks?’
She raised both hands in the air in a gesture of triumph.
‘Exactly! They were here on the table when I went out. Now they’re missing. Gone. The whole of my Georgian silver dinner service has been stolen. Knives, forks, spoons, the whole blasted lot, gone.’
She grabbed a bottle of Johnny Walker from the sideboard, poured a generous amount into a tumbler and drank half of it.
‘Err, right. OK!’ said Miller, finally grasping the situation ‘Now I see. I just thought that because they weren’t on the table when we came in was because you hadn’t put them out yet.’
‘Believe me constable. They were all out. It took my daily most all afternoon to clean them.’ She knocked back the remainder of the whiskey, then, in frustration, banged the glass down on the table.
Hobson, seeing the struggle Miller was having with the woman stepped in to assist. He decided, if he wanted to get off on time, he’d have to speed things up.
‘Can you make out a full list of what’s missing, please? You don’t have to do it right now. If you could bring it to the station tomorrow that would be fine or we can send someone around for it? I’ll give you a crime reference number for your insurance. I’ll pass this on to CID. They may need to talk to you as well.’
‘I’ll send Mrs Horachek around with it in the morning. She’s my daily.’
‘Did you notice anyone hanging around outside when you went over to your neighbours?’ asked Miller.
‘Mrs Jenkins mother was out pushing the baby in the pram but she was way off down the street. I didn’t see anyone else.’ She threw her hands in the air. ‘I’ll just have to use ordinary cutlery. My God, I’ll be a laughing stock. I’ll never live it down.’
‘I’m sure, under the circumstances, your dinner guests will understand. May we have a look around? Is anything else missing?’
They found no evidence of a break-in and Mrs Harcourt-Brown, with a hyphen, said nothing else was missing. Whoever it was had certainly come in through the front door.
As the pair walked back up the garden path, Miller tucked his notebook back into his pocket. ‘Let’s get back. I think this is one for Luke Hollingsworth,’ he laughed. ‘This is right up his street. We’ll just have a quick drive around and see if we can spot anyone. When we get back, I’ll sort Luke out if you want? You can bugger off home.’
Hobson looked at his watch and smiled. ‘Yeah, thanks Andy. Timed it nicely.’
Thursday October 14th
‘Morning Ted,’ said Carter, pushing his way through the swing doors.
‘Morning boss.’
‘Any word from Folkestone?’
; Baxter shook his head. ‘No boss. Not a thing.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Bit early yet. It’s only eight. Doubt if the buggers are out of bed yet.’
‘Get on to them. Chase them up, will you Ted? We need to find Harris.’ He walked off towards his office. On the way, he was waylaid by Luke Hollingsworth.
‘Morning sir.’
‘Yes, morning Luke. What can I do for you?’
‘Just thought I’d let you know, sir, I’ve spoken with Ms Wilcox, and I’ll be taking over the flat at the end of the month. It’s a great place and I really appreciate you telling me about it. When I get settled I’ll have a house warming,’ He paused for a moment. ‘Or should that be flat warming? Anyway, I’d like everyone on the squad to come along.’
‘Thanks Luke. I’d love to come.’ What Hollingsworth had told him was not news to him. Late the night before, while at the cottage, Christine had told him. He had to laugh when she told him about the look on Luke’s face when he left her, he was, in her own words, ‘as happy as a dog with two dicks’. He smiled as he thought of it. ‘I’m sure you’ll be very comfortable there, Luke. It’s a nice flat.’
‘Not only that, sir,’ he said, a big smile spreading across his face, ‘if I don’t fancy cooking for myself, all I have to do is pop downstairs. All very convenient. And thanks for the recommendation.’
******
It was mid-morning before word came through from Folkestone about the search for Harris.
Carter gathered the team around the briefing room table, and when they were seated, said, ‘Mike was correct. Harris did take a bus.’ He looked at Reid. ‘Well done Mike.’
Reid accepted the praise with a slight nod of his head.
‘That’s the good news. The bad news is….’ He looked around the table. ‘We’ve lost him again.’