by S G Read
Inspector Moore and the body behind the flats.
Clayton Moore was at home making his breakfast on a Monday morning when his door bell rang. As an inspector in the Pimlico Police it was not unusual, especially as he led the murder squad. He looked at the door, then at the cooking bacon and walked to the door. When he opened it he found Sergeant Rebecca Stone standing there.
Rebecca and Clayton were of similar age, approaching thirty, and she was nice to look at. She like Clayton was single, with just a cat to go home to at night as most times she was too tired to go out partying.
Clayton did not have any pets and most nights were spent, either cooking or thinking about ongoing cases. In that way he regularly took work home to try to find the right angle to attack it from.
‘Come to watch me eat my breakfast?’ He asked hopefully and walked back inside to make sure the bacon did not burn.
‘We got a body, sir.’ Rebecca answered and followed him in, closing the door behind her, she knew what would happen next.
‘Where is it this time?’ He asked as he pulled the bacon from under the grill.
‘Behind the flats in Clifton Street, sir.’ Rebecca answered.
‘What, those council flats?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Is it a case of, did he jump or was he pushed?’ Clayton asked.
‘I don’t know at the moment sir, the forensic team, have only just arrived there.’ Rebecca answered. ‘And Bill has not had time to report anything to us.’
She watched as the inspector laid the bacon on the bread he intended to eat with it, dumped the eggs on top and laid the second slice on top, to make a sandwich. She stepped back, as it usually went everywhere when he did that and it did, causing him to mutter and go upstairs when he had finished the sandwich. Now he had to change his shirt.
Ten minutes later they were on their way, after Clayton had changed his clothes and washed his face, to get the egg off. He looked at the scenery as Rebecca drove him to the crime scene. He did have a license but he did not see the point of having a car as he was always driven to where he wanted to go. So he sold the car and the garage soon filled up with other things, as they do!
When they reached the crime scene, they were waved through the cordon and a constable, held the tape, which had been stretched round to keep onlookers back, up to allow them in. The body was easy to spot, as by now is had a tent erected over it, to try to preserve any evidence on it and around it. They walked over to the tent and Clayton donned the overalls he was given and slipped the booties over his shoes, before going into the tent. Knowing that if he did not bother both the forensic team and the coroner would complain.
‘Any news for me Chastity?’ When he saw the coroner working on the body, which was in full sight and there was no blood on the ground around it.
Being a detective and a good one, Clayton noticed things like that and he stored the information in his analytical brain for future use.
‘Died sometime yesterday, probably late evening, and did not die where he is lying.’ Chastity answered.
Chastity Podmore was a young pretty but brilliant coroner, she read the body like a book and found out things just by looking that others would miss. She always looked at the body for some time and took her own photographs of the scene to help her later.
‘So, he’s not a jumper then?’ Clayton asked.
He actually knew the answer just by the lack of blood at the scene.
‘No, and he wasn’t pushed either. No signs of a fall at all.’ Chastity explained. ‘He was killed somewhere else and then dumped here before we had that shower last night.’
‘What killed him then?’
‘Blunt force trauma to the back of the head, no idea what it was yet, I will know more when I get him on the slab.’ Chastity answered. ‘They can take the body now and Bill and his team can try to find some clues but I don’t hold out much hope after that downpour.’
‘I will be waiting for your report with interest.’ Clayton declared.
‘I will let you know when I am going to do the PM, so that you can observe.’
‘It will be the highlight of my day.’ Clayton answered and ducked out of the tent.
Outside he drew all the spare police constables together.
‘I want you to question all the people in the flats who live on this side. The people on the other side would not have heard a dickey bird. If the people are out when you try them, go back and question them tomorrow. I want every report typed out and on my desk a.s.a.p! Do you understand?’
‘Yes sir.’ The constables answered as one.
He walked over to Bill Taylor the head of the forensic team. Bill was a tall man with a weathered face and bushy eyebrows. He was the correct weight for his height as he was quick to point out to anyone who thought he was overweight.
‘And what can you tell me Bill?’
‘Well Kemo Sabe, the rain last night did not help. There is very little to tell us anything, we will do the usual and hope to find something but I hold out little hope.’ Bill answered. ‘Whoever dumped him had a bit of luck with the rain.’
Bill called Clayton Kemo Sabe due to his name full name Clayton Moore who played the Lone Ranger.
‘The rain was good for the garden though.’ Clayton answered. ‘I know you will do your best, Bill. Let me have your report as soon as you can.’
‘I will Kemo Sabe.’
Clayton walked over to where Rebecca was making notes in her police notepad. She always took notes so that she could read up on the case later without necessarily opening the file to find what she was looking for.
‘I think we have done all we can here.’ He announced.
‘Good, we have another one waiting!’ Rebecca answered.
‘Another one! Which block of flats is this one behind?’ Clayton asked dryly.
‘This one is in the sports field, sir.’
‘You wait for a good murder to come along and then they come along like London Busses.’ Clayton complained.
They walked to the car, this time Clayton lifted up the tape for Rebecca, as the young constable was now going door to door.
‘Didn’t you mean, on the sports field?’ Clayton asked.
‘No, ‘in’ the sports field is quite accurate sir.’ Rebecca answered, but did not expand on it.
They drove to the sports field and out on to the grass which was still firm enough despite the rain. She parked where another tent was waiting for them. They had taken of the overalls before leaving the other scene and both had to don overalls again before they could go inside.
‘Now that is something you don’t see every day!’ Clayton declared, when he saw the position of the body.
In front of him was a man who appeared to have Asian facial features and he was buried up to his neck in the ground, possibly in a standing position. All they could see was his head. That was wet due to the rain.
‘I understand what you meant by in the sports field now?’ He added. ‘It is going to be fun for Chastity when she gets here.’
‘Did someone mention my name in vain?’ Chastity asked as she walked in. ‘Wow, now I didn’t expect that! I will need a very long liver probe to find out when he died!’
‘Any ideas?’ Clayton asked.
Chastity just looked at him, with a withering stare and started to examine the head.
‘No blunt force trauma.’ She declared and stood up. ‘When Bill’s team arrives and does their thing, they can dig him out and then I can find out how long he has been dead. His hair is wet so he was here when it rained last night. I will want him bagged and sent to the mortuary, as Bill will want all the soil I find on him
. I expect Bill will want half the sports field taken back to the lab as well.’
‘This is going to be an interesting case!’ Clayton declared. ‘There is no one to question about it, as no one lives nearby, so no house to house to do either. All we can hope for is an answer to our information request boards.’ We might as well go back to the station, unless there is another body somewhere?’
‘No, sir, no more bodies,’ Rebecca answered’ ‘as far as I know.’
They drove back to the police station and Rebecca made the coffee. The desk sergeant walked up to his desk while she was gone. Bob Farrow was close to retiring and wanted an easy life until then but at the moment he was not getting it. His hair was greying and he had a hang dog expression.
‘We have a Mrs. Finnegan at the front desk, she’s creating merry hell, wants to see someone high up!’ He announced.
‘What is it about?’ Clayton asked.
‘It is about her garden, inspector!’
‘What about her garden, Bob?’
‘Apparently it was vadalised last night!’ The desk sergeant explained.
‘Who is available?’ Clayton asked.
The desk sergeant just shrugged his shoulders.
‘I do have two murders on my plate, Bob, when will I have time to look into a vadalised garden?’ Clayton protested.
The desk sergeant did not answer.
‘Put her in interview one and I will go in and take the details,’ He said accepting the inevitable, ‘but I don’t like giving promises I can’t keep, Bob!’
When Rebecca returned with the coffee it had to wait and they both walked to the interview room to talk to Mrs. Finnegan.
‘Good morning, you are Mrs. Finnegan of Wisteria Lodge. I am Inspector Moore and this is Sergeant Stone. You are here about a vandalized garden.’
‘At least there are two of you this time! Last time I had to settle for the desk sergeant.’ Mrs. Finnegan exclaimed.
‘I gather from what you said that your garden has been vandalised before, Mrs. Finnegan, has it?’ Clayton asked.
He was not privy to that information.
‘Many times inspector and no one has ever been caught! Will you bring someone to book for the crime this time?’ She asked.
‘I will do my best, Mrs. Finnegan,’ Clayton answered, ‘I can only promise that.’
‘Then I will have to settle for that then!’ Mrs. Finnegan declared.
They talked for some time and Rebecca took notes, listing what had happened this time and what had gone on during and after previous attacks. Clayton did not take notes, he logged them all into his memory for reflection, when he had a suspect in the crimes. When she was hopeful that something was going to be done this time, Mrs. Finnegan left. She was satisfied that she was now getting the action she thought her complaint deserved and Clayton and Rebecca returned to their desks and the cold coffee.
‘I think the police force can run to some more coffee, sergeant.’ Clayton observed and turned on his computer.
Not that Clayton used it much, he left that type of work to Rebecca or Gerald the cyberspace expert. He turned it on because the chief inspector liked it to be on.
‘An interesting start to the day, sergeant,’ Clayton declared as he drank his fresh coffee, ‘I wonder how soon it will be before the CI wants to see me?’
‘See you, sir?’ Rebecca asked.
‘The body in the hole was Asian in appearance, if the press think it is racially motivated the CI will want us to solve this one quick.’ Clayton answered.
‘He might have been born in Pimlico, Sir.’ Rebecca argued.
‘He might well have been but it will still be labeled racial unless we prove otherwise, sergeant.’
‘At least he won’t complain about the man hours then, sir.’
‘There is that, sergeant.’
The answer to the question was an hour. Clayton was sitting there reading what reports he had already been able to cajole from people on both murders, when the chief inspector phoned. Clayton put the receiver down and looked up at the clock before he walked up to the chief inspector’s office and knocked on the door.
‘Come in Moore.’ The chief inspector called, without looking up from what he was doing.
Clayton walked in and closed the door behind him.
‘This is going to be over all the papers.’ The chief inspector declared, pointing to the open file on his desk.
‘Which one, sir?’ Clayton asked.
‘The man buried up to his neck, Moore, who else? No one is going to say much about an old man dumped behind a block of council flats. There are racial overtones about the other one.’
‘Is that because he was of Asian appearance, chief inspector?’
‘Well yes, I rather feel it will cause problems.’
‘He might have been born in England, sir.’ Clayton answered, using Rebecca’s argument.
‘We will assume he is from overseas, unless you saw anything significant while you were looking at his head?’ The chief inspector asked.
Clayton smiled. He was good but no that good.
‘I will know more when I get all the reports, sir.’ Clayton answered.
‘Keep me informed, Moore.’
‘Yes sir.’
Clayton walked out of the office, closed the door behind him and returned to his desk.
‘Just as I envisaged, the CI thinks there might be a racial angle to the man in the sports field.’ Clayton advised her, when Rebecca put the phone she was talking on down.
‘You were right then, sir.’ Rebecca replied. ‘We now have and ID on the man behind the flats, he was Leslie Felltham from Golding Gardens. He leaves a widow but no children. Are we going to see her, sir?’
‘Yes, that does fall on me to tell her and the sooner we let her know the better. We don’t want her finding out in some other way, do we now?’ Clayton answered.
Rebecca drove to Golding Gardens and after checking the numbers, they parked in front of the tall, well trimmed, hedges which were in the front of the house they were looking for.
‘Well kept hedge, sergeant.’ Clayton declared while she parked.
‘Yes sir.’
They walked up the side of the road and Clayton opened the gate to let her walk into the well kept garden, admiring it as they went, until they reached the front door and looked for the bell but with no visible bell push, Clayton knocked. After a few minutes an elderly woman opened the door, wiping her hands on her apron after she had opened the door.
‘Mrs. Felltham?’ Clayton asked.
‘Yes, how can I help you?’ She answered.
‘I am Inspector Moore, and this is Sergeant Stone of the metropolitan police. I am afraid we have some bad news, can we come in?’
‘Yes.’ The woman answered and opened the door to let them in. ‘Is it Les, he hasn’t come home yet, he has stayed at his allotment over night before with his friends but it’s not like him to stay out this long!’
They followed her in and Rebecca closed the front door. Mrs. Felltham led them into the lounge and stood just in the doorway, to let them pass.
‘I’ll make a pot of tea.’ She offered and walked out again, obviously heading for the kitchen.
Clayton turned and opened his mouth to argue but she was already out of sight. They sat down to wait. When the woman returned, she had a tray with three cups and saucers, with all the other things needed to pour tea. Rebecca stood up and took the tray from her, putting the tray on the nearby table.
‘You sit down.’ She advised and led her to an armchair.
‘No this is Les’ chair.’ She complained and changed to the other armchair.
Mrs. Felltham sat while Rebecca poured the tea, she did not help as she normally would but just watched Rebecca. Clayton decided not to say anything until they had their tea and sat waiting. Rebecca gave both Clayton and Mrs. Felltham their tea and then sat down with her’s.
‘Mrs. Felltham, a body was discovered early this morning, behind the flats
in Clifton Street. We believe it to be your husband, Leslie Felltham.’ Clayton said carefully.
A look of horror appeared on the woman’s face, which drained of colour. The cup of tea fell on the carpet and she burst into tears. Rebecca comforted her and it was left for Clayton to rush into the kitchen and find something to clean up the tea which had spilt on the carpet. He saw that the kitchen was spotless and smelt of pine. He chose a bowl, put in some water and washing up liquid, and returned to clean the carpet. It was what he would use at home.
The woman sobbed for some time, her body racked with helplessness, before she regained her composure. When the crying stopped, she fished her handkerchief from the sleeve of her cardigan and wiped her eyes, then blew her nose.
‘I take it you want me to come in and identify him?’ She asked, as though that last ten minutes had never happened.
‘We will but when you feel up to it.’ Rebecca answered.
‘Can you send a car to take me to the police station?’ The woman asked, not offering to go immediately.
‘Yes, you will have to go to the mortuary that is where your husband has been taken.’ Rebecca explained.
‘If you send a car tomorrow, I will come and see if it is him, then. If it isn’t him, he will be home before then and I’ll phone you to let you know that it isn’t him in your mortuary.’
Neither chose to say that they were sure he would not be home again. Rebecca took a card out of the pocket and laid it on the little table next to the tea things.
‘Just in case you think of anything that might help us. Would you like a counselor to stay with you tonight, Mrs. Felltham?’ she asked, worried about her being on her own overnight.
‘No thank you dear, I have had bad news before and I am still around to tell the tale. Just send a car for me, so that I can see him again; if it is him!
They left her to her thoughts and returned to the car.
‘That could have gone better.’ Clayton exclaimed as he put the seat belt on.
‘She certainly took it badly, sir.’ Rebecca agreed.
‘Yes, being married for all that time, it must leave a hole in your life.’
‘Nearly fifty years, it is hard to imagine being married to the same person for all that time nowadays.’ Rebecca replied. ‘Where do we go now?’