by S G Read
‘Thank you, we will leave you to look after your pigeons.’ Clayton declared.
He and Rebecca walked back to the loft door.
‘Are we going to see this Robert Shuster then?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Oh yes, now we have a motive of sorts.’ Clayton answered.
‘How long do pigeons live normally, sir?’
‘I have no idea.’ Clayton answered.
He turned and started walking back to the coop. Wilson Davis saw them coming and stepped out of the coop.
‘Did you forget something?’ He asked.
‘Yes. I noted that you said the fastest bird had died recently. Faster than light was found in a grave at the scene and I did wonder how long these pigeons lived.’ Clayton answered.
‘Well in the wild they would only last three to five years but in a coop with good food and shelter from the weather they could live as long as fifteen years.’ Wilson answered. ‘The two birds mentioned were mature but still had some good years in them and it surprises me that they are both dead.’
‘Thank you again Mr. Davis.’ Clayton replied.
They walked back to the door to the roof and this time made it down to the lift.
‘I definitely think a visit to Mr. Shuster is in order.’ Clayton declared while they waited for the lift.
‘I should say so!’ Rebecca exclaimed. ‘Do we go now?’
‘No, let us be sure of our facts. We will get the DNA confirmation that the bird buried was indeed, Faster Than Light, before we invite him in for a chat, he has become a prime suspect.’
‘Unless his bird has up and died as well.’ Rebecca retorted.
‘If his bird ends up dead I will exhume it, in fact I am going to have Bill exhume the lot of them, just to be thorough.’ Clayton declared.
‘Bill will love that!’
‘I will say it is your idea, Rebecca.’
‘Thanks a bunch.’
‘The first one was your idea, run with it while you can.’ Clayton replied.
‘We didn’t ask about the pigeon drowning, sir.’
‘No we did not, we will keep that to ourselves for a while. I think Bill can dig up that other bird in the other flats as well.’ Clayton announced.
The lift doors opened as Rebecca was looking at her notes.
‘The Flying Peach, sir, an odd name for a bird.’ Rebecca exclaimed and followed him into the lift.
‘Quite so, The Flying Peach, hell we’ll have all his birds uninterred, just to see if we can add animal cruelty to the charges.’ Clayton replied.
‘They are birds, sir.’
‘Cruelty to birds then.’ Clayton replied with a laugh. ‘What is the world coming to?’
Rebecca drove them back to the office and she went off to make coffee while Clayton arranged to bring Robert Shuster in for questioning, as he had now moved up to the prime suspect. He was the one person who was set to gain money from the success of his bird. Rebecca returned soon after he put the receiver down and she slid his coffee in front of him before she sat down at her desk.
‘Thank you, sergeant.’ He said gratefully.
‘Did you arrange an interview, sir?’
‘I did, he will be here in the morning and we will interview him then.’ Clayton answered. ‘Then we might get somewhere in this case.’
‘At least we have a new suspect to question, sir. You never know, he might say “it’s a fair cop, I did it.”’ Rebecca declared.
‘I will wait until tomorrow, although suspects are a bit few on the ground, like all the cases I seem to end up with lately. If it is an easy case Robertson gets it and I am left out in the cold.’
‘The CI knows how good you are, even if he likes to tie your hands on occasion, well he tries to!’ Rebecca replied.
They spent some time going through the case, talking about it and throwing forward possibilities but the only suspect with any sort of motive was Robert Shuster. The interview in the morning they hoped would give them something to work on. Later Rebecca drove Clayton home and stopped outside his house. Clayton climbed out but leant back in the door.
‘Thank you for the lift, can I interest you in a meal, I am a good cook.’ Clayton asked.
‘A meal, sir?’ She repeated.
‘Yes, one I cook for you, well both of us.’
‘Well I am sure my cat will survive if I am later than normal, sir.’
‘If you come in for food, you will drop the sir, Rebecca.’ Clayton retorted.
‘Sorry Clayton, force of habit.’ Rebecca replied. ‘I would love to eat a meal that I don’t have to cook.’
She turned the engine off and followed Clayton down the path, he unlocked the door and pushed in open. Then he stood to one side to let her walk inside.
‘Welcome to my humble abode.’ He declared and ushered her inside.
‘I have been in here before, Clayton!’ Rebecca replied.
‘But not for a Lone Ranger meal.’ Clayton retorted.
He walked into the kitchen.
‘Pour yourself a drink while I get started.’ He called back. ‘But not anything alcoholic, unless you are planning to take a taxi home.’
‘I could stay the night!’ Rebecca retorted, then after a delicious pause she added. ‘You do have a spare room, don’t you?’
‘I do, so drink what you like, as long as your cat will forgive you.’ Clayton called back.
‘She will survive, I’m sure.’ Rebecca replied. ‘Do you want one?’
‘I’ll have a whisky please.’ Clayton called back. ‘Half a glass please.’
‘That’s some whisky!’ Rebecca replied.
‘I didn’t mean a pint glass!’ Clayton exclaimed.
‘That’s all there are!’ Rebecca replied.
‘In the top cupboard.’ Clayton called. ‘The glasses with the word whisky on them.’
‘Oh those, I think I’ll join you.’ Rebecca answered. ‘Do you want a hand?’
‘Can you cook then?’ Clayton asked.
‘Who do you think cooks my food, or do you think I can afford takeaways on my salary?’
‘I know I can’t on my salary, so I assumed you can’t, doesn’t the cat help out?’
‘Very funny, do you have a spare apron?’ She retorted.
She walked in with two glasses of whisky and put them on the worktop.
‘In that drawer.’ Clayton advised her, pointing with his elbow to indicate the drawer he meant.
Rebecca opened the drawer and chose an apron from the two on offer.
‘Do you wear this one?’ She asked as she put it on.
‘No, that one is for female visitors and yes, I do get them now and again.’ Clayton answered.
‘I imagine there is a queue.’ Rebecca answered, just managing to stop from saying sir after it.
They spent the evening cooking the meal then eating it, drinking it with a nice white wine. They sat and talked afterwards without talking shop until Rebecca brought up the case.
‘If we find that Robert Shuster is not involved, where do we stand in the case?’
‘I have no idea. The point of coming home is to leave work behind.’ Clayton answered.
‘I happen to know you sit here and try to come up with some other way forward in the cases we are trying to solve. I wondered if you had come to any conclusion about the pigeons.’
‘The pigeons? I must say I didn’t think that one of the pigeons did it.’
‘Very funny, Clayton, I meant where do they come in all this and is it actually linked to the pigeon fancying at all?’
‘There is something which links it to the pigeons but I don’t know if it is a direct link, considering the money, or an indirect link due to the nuisance caused by the pigeons, if they do cause a nuisance.’
‘I just hope that this Shuster chap is someone of interest after the interview tomorrow.’ Rebecca declared. ‘Are we going to bed?’
‘I hope so, and not in separate rooms.’ Clayton answered openly.
The following
morning Rebecca did not have to drive anywhere to pick him up and they left when they were ready. She parked at the police station and they walked to the office as they usually did. At nine o’clock they started the interview but it did not start well as the man they were to interview walked in on crutches. They looked at him then at each other before he sat down. Clayton walked round to help him into the chair.
‘Nothing serious I hope.’ Clayton asked politely.
‘No, I have just had a new knee fitted, I am hoping I will be able to walk properly when the wound heals.’ Shuster answered as he slid the crutch under the table.
Clayton walked back round to the other side of the table and sat down.
‘Interview started on July twenty seventh at nine AM. Now you are Robert Shuster of 186, The Faraday Tower in Pimlico?’
‘I am.’
‘You race pigeons I believe?’
‘I do. At the moment I have the fastest pigeon in the club in my Speedy Gonzales but only due to the other two birds that were faster, dying.’
‘Yes. Were you surprised when they died?’
‘Well yes, they do sometimes die of a heart attack if they are frightened or over exert themselves in the flight.’ Shuster answered.
‘So the two of them dying would be a great surprise?’
‘Oh yes and well appreciated as the money I stand to earn is well worth having.’
‘When did you have the operation?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Three days ago on the twenty forth.’ Shuster answered.
‘So it was before the death of Billy Bryant?’ She continued.
‘Yes, I heard about it on the radio, I didn’t get out much before the operation. I even had to get someone to look after my birds as I couldn’t climb the stairs to get on to the roof.’ Shuster answered.
‘And you can get someone to corroborate that for you?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Oh yes, she is a good girl and has helped me out for some time. Her name is Chantelle Langham, I will write down her address for you.’
‘What is the next bird down, Mr. Shuster?’ Clayton asked. ‘I mean in terms of speed?’
‘That would be Carver’s bird, Cock Robin. It is almost as fast as my Speedy Gonzales but takes the long route home, or seems to. It’s been spotted way off course but still beats most of the others home. If Anton could cure him of flying in a big circle I am sure it would be faster than all the birds, but then it is measured on which one gets home first, so their sense of direction pays a big part in it.’ Shuster answered. ‘Are you saying he might be knocking off all the birds that are faster than his?’
‘Not at all but we must pursue all lines of enquiry.’ Clayton answered. ‘If it was just the death of a bird then I would not be even looking at this case, no matter how valuable it was. No it is the death of Mr. Bryant that I am looking into and I will leave no stone unturned to find the killer.’
‘Have you anymore questions for me inspector?’ Shuster asked.
‘No I think you have answered all the questions I wanted to ask Mr. Shuster.’ Clayton answered.
They watched him leave but remained sitting there.
‘Exit one suspect.’ Rebecca complained.
‘Quite so, now we have to find another.’ Clayton replied.
‘Do we go and see the next one in line?’ Rebecca asked.
‘With a shortage of suspects, I suppose we must,’ Clayton answered, ‘but we will just make it a routine visit, just to sound him out.’
‘Today?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Are you worried that Shuster might be dead by nightfall?’ Clayton asked.
‘The thought did cross my mind, sir.’ Rebecca answered.
‘In that case, give him a ring and we will go and see him,’ Clayton replied, ‘whenever you can arrange it, sergeant.’
They walked out of the interview room and returned to the office. An hour later they were on their way to talk to Anton Carver.
‘So how come he is in during the day, does he do night work?’ Clayton asked as Rebecca drove them to the flats that Carver lived in.
‘No, he is out of work, sir, spends all his time looking after his birds.’ Rebecca answered.
‘Well if his bird ends up the fastest bird this season, he will no longer be on the dole.’ Clayton declared.
‘Assuming he is on the dole, sir.’ Rebecca replied.
‘It amazes me that my taxes are spent on allowing him to look after his pigeons, Rebecca, when I have to work all hours to earn it!’ Clayton complained.
‘And mine, sir.’ Rebecca retorted.
Rebecca parked in front of yet another block of flats, to walk up eight flights of stairs, with Rebecca complaining all the way to the eighth floor. They knocked on Anton Carver’s flat door and it creaked open. No one was in but the neighbour’s door opened when they knocked.
‘He’s up stairs with his pigeons.’ She called and the door closed again.
They walked up to the roof and walked round until they found him in his pigeon coop.
‘Are you Anton Carver?’ Clayton asked from outside the pigeon coop.
‘Yes, sorry inspector, I was delayed looking after my birds,’ Carver answered, ‘but I have finished now, so we can talk in my flat.’
They returned to the flat, following Carver. Before Carver went into his flat, he knocked the opposite flat door. The neighbour came out and walked to the bottom of the stairs to the roof. Carver watched him go and then walked into the flat.
‘Do come in.’ He called without looking round.
Clayton and Rebecca followed him in.
‘Do you want tea, I am making a pot.’ Carver asked.
‘Yes please Mr. Carver, we can drink it while we ask you some questions. I take it he is up there to watch your birds?’ Clayton answered.
‘No, just the stairs. No one can get up there without going up the stairs, unless they have feathers, inspector.’ Carver answered. ‘In light of the deaths of two of the faster birds I am taking no chances with my bird.’
‘That is cock robin?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Yes, it is a silly name but then he is a silly bird. Flies faster than them all but goes the long way round. I am hoping that his offspring will have a better sense of direction.’
‘We need to know where you were on July the 25th, between the hours of 4pm and ten pm.’ Clayton asked.
‘I was away with my birds and then had to rush back to be here when they arrived to clock them.’ Carver answered.
‘Would everyone have been doing the same then?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Oh yes, they were all at the release point, except for Shuster, who could not make it. His birds were released by someone else.’ Carver answered.
‘So Billy Bryant was there?’ Clayton asked.
‘Yes but he went as soon as his birds were gone. He said he had places to go and people to see.’ Carver answered.
‘And he did not say where he was going?’ Clayton asked.
‘No at all, he just went as soon as birds had gone.’
‘Did you see him again before he died?’ Clayton asked.
‘No I did not.’
‘Who’s bird won that race?’ Rebecca asked.
‘Peter Graham’s bird, the flying peach won. I was surprised when Billy Bryant did not put in any times but I suppose his death stopped him.’ Carver answered.
He poured the tea and they sat talking about pigeon racing as they drank the tea. Clayton no longer thought Carver was a suspect and tried to get more insight into the pigeon racing. Rebecca listened as well, asking questions when she needed to know something. When they left they knew a bit more about it and drove back to the office.
‘So what do we do now, sir?’ Rebecca asked. ‘All our suspects seem to have evaporated.’
‘Well we will have to find another, someone killed him and it is either one of our suspects, or someone we have not considered yet.’
‘I can’t see is being one of the other pigeon fanciers, they either had noth
ing to gain by murdering Bryant or they have cast iron alibis.’
They walked into the office and started reading through the case files. With no insight into the case Clayton read through the Leslie Felltham file yet again but with no insight into that one he stood up.
‘I think Chastity is putting other cases before mine,’ he announced, ‘we should have heard about the rest of the pigeons by now.’
‘Are we going to ask, sir?’
‘Did you want to come?’
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world, sir, take your silver bullets with you.’
‘Ha ha, very funny, for that we are using the stairs.’
They walked down and found Chastity in the middle of a post mortem. She saw them watching her through the viewing window and turned off the recorder to be able to speak to them.
‘I know,’ she declared, ‘you want your pigeons looked at but the CI has been downs here and asked me to do these two PMs first. I couldn’t really say you wanted me to post mortem some pigeons first, could I now?’
‘Well he isn’t here now.’ Clayton answered.
‘But he is waiting for the results.’ Chastity retorted.
‘Will they be done today?’ Clayton asked.
‘Slave driver.’ Chastity retorted.
She turned the recorder on and returned to the post mortem. Clayton and Rebecca returned to the office to try to shed some light on things. The Felltham murder was starting to annoy Clayton and he wanted a result, he also knew that the CI wanted to get the case cleared up. They went home that evening without moving either case forward. Chastity stayed on and started the post mortems on his pigeons when she had finished the other post mortems.
The following morning she walked into the office while they were drinking coffee.
‘You have only just arrived and you’re drinking coffee.’ She complained. ‘I was working until the early hours to PM your ruddy pigeons!’
‘I am very grateful, well I will be if it helps solve my case.’ Clayton answered.
‘What did you expect to find?’ Chastity asked.
‘Heart attacks are the main factor in their deaths, I have been told.’ Clayton answered.
‘Well most were. One was a road traffic fatality, by the state of it and one drowned!’ Chastity replied.