Black & Blue: Where it all began…… (D.S Hunter Kerr)

by Michael Fowler

  Suddenly, one of the pieces of information made his ears prick up.

  Sergeant Marrison read, “Report of theft of copper boilers last night from the houses being knocked down on Cadeby Terrace. The builders say it’s the third lot that’s been taken in the last ten days.” He looked up from the bulletin and cast his eyes upon the group. “I want scrap dealer checks done on your travels – see if anyone’s weighed them in.”

  Hunter didn’t hear any more. His heart was pounding so hard he feared it would burst from his chest. He scoured the faces of his colleagues hoping they had not latched on to his burning face. How could he have been so stupid? What had his tutor told him about George Hudson.

  His mind raced throughout the remainder of the briefing, only half-taking in what was being said while deciding what he should do. He had the semblance of a plan as it finished.

  Twenty minutes later, as he steamed towards George Hudson’s home, Hunter was a smouldering screwed-up ball of anger and by the time he reached the three-bedroom council house he was lathered with sweat.

  He rapped loudly.

  “Who is it?” a voice shouted from behind the half glass door.

  Hunter recognised George Hudson’s voice.

  “Police Jud! Open this door before I kick it in!”

  Less than ten seconds later George had flung open the door, cursing beneath his breath, hands pulling a leather belt tight around a pair of camouflage trousers. He had on a T-shirt and Hunter could see that George was a sinewy, wiry man.

  “Hey op young ‘un – is it a social visit? Shall I stick kettle on?”

  Hunter’s mind was screaming. He shot out a gloved covered hand, aiming an index finger at George’s chest like a pointed gun.”

  “You can get your coat on – you’re under arrest.”

  George took a step back. “Whoa! What’s up?”

  “You know what’s up. That gear I caught you barrowing last night was nicked from the old houses. You told me you were on the security there. I’ve checked - you’ve never worked there.”

  His face took on a startled look. “What gear?”

  For a split-second George’s reply threw him. Recovering quickly Hunter said, “You know what gear I’m talking about – those copper boilers.”

  George shook his head. “Don’t know what you’re on about. Search the place if you want. You won’t find any copper boilers here.”

  His comment caught him aback again. He stumbled for a reply and found none. Instead he darted his finger forward, stabbing George in the chest.

  George tried to avoid it and fell backwards against the edge of the kitchen units. He winced.

  Hunter finally spat out, “Get your coat on Jud we’ll sort this out back down the nick.”

  “You’re gonna look a fool you know.”

  Hunter stepped back. “What?”

  George returned a sheepish look, “I don’t want to tell you your job or anything, but I ain’t gonna cough anything in interview. It’s gonna be your word against mine.”

  “Your word against mine! I caught you red handed.”

  “And how’s that gonna look with your bosses eh? You let me walk away with stolen gear.”

  Hunter was flabbergasted. He couldn’t believe George Hudson’s cheek.

  “Look young ‘un give me a break and I’ll give you something in return. You’ve had a few house burglaries just lately - yes?”

  Hunter’s thoughts were racing. “What do you know about those?”

  “I hear a lot. I know an old lady was hurt the other night.”

  “You know who did that?”

  George shook his head. “Not yet I don’t, but it won’t take me long to find out who’s done it. What’s say you and I make each other a deal?”

  Hunter fixed him with a penetrating glare.

  “Don’t look like that at me. We’re haggling here over a bit of scrap. You give me a break and I’ll get you promotion.”

  Hunter was going to tell him the job didn’t work like that, but he bit down on his lip. Clearing his throat he said steadily, “So I forget what happened last night, and in return you tell me who’s been doing the break-ins and attacked the old woman – is that what you’re saying?”

  George pushed himself away from the kitchen units and straightened up. The look on his face changed and his eyes lit up. He nodded. “Exactly.”

  Hunter thought about it for a moment. He said, “You’ve pissed me off Jud – no doubt about it. I don’t like anyone pulling the wool over my eyes. Especially a two-bit villain like you.”

  George interrupted, “Look I know, but like I say this is just between us two. You could take me in and I’ll play the system - maybe I get prosecuted or maybe I don’t – that’s the risk you take. The other way is you let me off for nicking the scrap - I promise I won’t do it anymore, and in return I give you a bell the minute I find out who’s done the burglaries. What do you say?”

  Hunter pulled his hand away and thought through what George had said. After a few seconds he replied, “Let me tell you this Jud, if this is more of your bullshit you and I will fall out good style. I’ll tell you now, if I don’t hear from you within the next fortnight I’ll hound you like there’s no tomorrow and I’ll put it out all round the estate you’re a grass.”

  George returned a wide-eyed look and nodded eagerly, “I’ll give you a bell – I promise.”

  Hunter turned on his heel and left the house without closing the door behind him. Inside he was smarting but he knew George Hudson had one up on him. Though, the last thing he wanted was to look the fool in front of his colleagues, especially as this was his probationary period.

  - ooOoo -

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Hunter checked his voicemail. Nothing. It had been five days since his run-in with George Hudson and he hadn’t heard anything from him. He hoped it wasn’t going to be another one of his ruses. He was double-checking his tray to see if anyone had put a note in there when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Emma Goodwin – the female officer on his group.

  She said, “The Sergeant’s told me to partner-up with you tonight.”

  Emma was a couple of years older than him and had just completed her two year probation. She had recently transferred in from Sheffield to be nearer her home.

  Hunter pushed his tray back into an upright metal storage cabinet. “Great, I’ll just get my gear together.” As he headed towards the locker room he broke into a smile. He preferred patrolling with another, particularly on the night shift. The early hours dragged enough when in pairs; on ones own they seemed interminable. Also it was his first time out with Emma – he knew very little about her and it would be good to get to know her better.

  The first couple of hours were quiet – there was very little radio traffic – even from Officers in the town centre, and talking amongst themselves Hunter and Emma settled on the fact that it was going to be a steady night of walking the streets, checking door handles.

  On their way back to the station for their meal they decided to put in a dog-leg through the industrial estate and give it the once over. Approaching the final building, a torch-light flicking behind a window, lighthouse fashion, caught them by surprise.

  Hunter stopped, pulling up Emma by the arm. The hackles rose at the back of his neck and he exchanged looks with her. He whispered, “They don’t have security on in there do they?”

  Emma shook her head, “Not that I’m aware of, it’s just a small engineering firm.”

  “That’s what I thought. You radio in I’m just going to check it out.”

  As Hunter made his way around the side of the flat roofed building he could just make out Emma’s voice, drifting away as she called in her report.

  Turning the second corner, to the rear, he spotted a pair of double doors. One of them was slightly ajar. Slowing his pace he tipped up onto the balls of his feet and curled his fingers around his hasp.

  Suddenly, the wooden door exploded outwards, clattering H
unter’s chest and knocking him sideways against metal railings. A split-second later a sharp pain registered to the front of his head. He felt his legs melt and he sunk to the ground, a sickening sensation overwhelming him. As he tried to figure out what had happened he found himself looking skywards. At the periphery of his vision he caught sight of a shadowy shape hovering above him, and then he felt a series of fast and hard thumps pelting his upper body. It took him a nanosecond to realise he was being repeatedly kicked. In the background he could hear Emma shouting.

  He reeled away as another blow caught his face – surprisingly he felt no pain, and in that same instance an inner strength erupted inside. Hunter dodged another blow and lashed upwards and out with his foot. He knew he had connected when he heard a scrunching sound followed by a loud groan.

  At the same time he saw his attacker stumble backwards, his arms wind-milling to stop himself falling.

  Hunter leapt to his feet and took up the boxing stance his father had taught him in the gym. He sprang forward putting in two quick jabs, followed by an uppercut. Every punch connected.

  As his attacker staggered back again he got his first proper look at the assailant. He thought he recognised the dark haired man in his twenties. Hunter was about to way in again with more punches, when his partner rushed past him, launching herself at the aggressor. She grabbed hold of the man’s hair and began tugging.

  “Hold him,” Hunter shouted, swinging in a clenched fist. Just before he connected the man yanked back his head and dropped his shoulder. The arc of Hunter’s punch flew over the man’s head and caught the side of Emma’s cheek.

  She let out a squeal and released her hold.

  Pulling himself free the man leaned back and swung in a fist.

  Hunter saw it coming and ducked. He felt a rush of air brush his cheek as it whipped past his face, missing him completely.

  However, it connected with Emma’s right eye. The force sent her reeling and she issued another shriek before smacking into the metal railings.

  A roar of anger exploded inside Hunter’s head and he retaliated with a succession of quick, yet accurate punches. Within twenty seconds his adversary was in a crumpled heap.

  “I’ve had enough,” the man yelled.

  Hunter stood above him, staring into his bloodied face. An uncontrollable shake overtook his limbs and he felt his stomach empty. He suddenly became conscious of noises around him. He could make out police sirens in the distance coming ever closer. It was a welcoming sound. He snatched out his cuffs, spun the raider onto his front and clicked the metal bracelets around his wrists. Then putting all his weight onto the middle of the man’s back he glanced over to Emma. She was sat propped against the railings with her knees pulled towards her. Her right eye was swollen and her lips bloodied.

  Using the back of her hand she dabbed at her mouth. She pulled it away and stared at the blood, then she diverted her eyes and met Hunter’s gaze. “Remind me never to go out with you again. You give a girl far too much excitement in one night.”

  Her serious look quickly gave way to a smile.

  Within seconds they broke into a relieved laugh together.

  * * * * *

  When they entered his name into the Police National Computer Hunter and Emma’s battling burglar was well known. Mathew David Smith had previous for burglary and theft and was currently on bail for shoplifting. Given this latest offence he would be going nowhere other than to prison on remand.

  Hunter had to smile when he presented Smith to the Custody Sergeant – a seasoned officer who suffered no nonsense – and outlined the circumstances of the arrest. The Sergeant glanced at Hunter and Emma, and making note of their injuries – neither of them told the Sergeant that Emma’s swollen cheek was down to Hunter - responded with, “Assault on police officers and he’s still alive.” Shaking his head and still displaying a dead-pan look he finished, “I don’t know - this job’s going soft.”

  Hunter and Emma watched a sorrowful looking Smith being led away to the cells and then they went up to the CID office to liaise with the Night Detective.

  The on-duty Night Detective was DC Harry Hemsworth. When they entered the CID office he was at his desk hammering away on a typewriter.

  He glanced up upon Hunter and Emma’s arrival and stopped typing.

  Hunter immediately remembered him.

  He said, “You two have been busy haven’t you?” He pointed to his personal radio propped up next to the typewriter. “I was listening in. It’s our old friend Matty Smith you’ve brought in isn’t it?”

  Hunter nodded.

  Then Harry settled his gaze upon Hunter. After a few seconds of silence he said, “I know you don’t I?”

  Hunter nodded again, “You investigated my girlfriend’s murder.”

  He scrunched up his face, deep in thought. Seconds later his eyes lit up. Wagging a finger he replied, “That’s right. Me and Barry Newstead interviewed you.”

  Pursing his lips Hunter nodded once more.

  Harry let out a short laugh. “Barry gave you a bit of a grilling, if I recall?”

  Hunter did recall. He answered, “I’ll never forget it.”

  “Well you were her boyfriend. And you don’t need me to tell you that most murders are committed by those who’re close to the victim.” Harry paused and studied Hunter’s features. “Do you know that’s the only murder I’ve been involved in that’s not been detected. And I know Barry was gutted when he was told to wind it up and shelve it. He’d never been defeated either. We pulled in loads of suspects but never found who’d done it.” He kept eye contact with Hunter and shook his head. “I don’t know if you were ever told but we came to the conclusion that the offender wasn’t local. One day, he’ll be caught. Mark my words.” Withdrawing his gaze, he pushed the typewriter he’d been pounding away on into the middle of his desk. “Anyway, enough of the reminiscing, let’s talk about the job in hand.” Steepling his fingers he said slowly, “Mathew David Smith.” Then, on a quicker note, “I’ve locked up and dealt with Matty quite a few times in the past and he’s always come quiet as a mouse. I’m surprised that he’s had a go at you two.”

  “I think he was desperate,” replied Hunter.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He told us in the car that he’d done the burglary because he owes money to someone for some cannabis he had last week. Apparently the guy’s been round to his flat and threatened that if he didn’t cough up the money by the weekend he was in for a good hiding.”

  “Has he said who his dealer is?”

  Hunter shook his head. “We haven’t interviewed him properly yet. Though, he has said that he’ll do a deal if we give him bail.”

  “Didn’t I hear that he’s already on bail?”

  Hunter nodded, “For shoplifting.”

  “He’s going nowhere then. I’ll have to give him some bullshit for his dealer’s name.” Pulling apart his fingers and pressing his hands down palm flat upon his desk he said, “You can leave this with me if you want. The fact that he’s used violence, I’d like to talk to him about the attack on Edith Thompson while I’m at it.”

  Hunter and Emma exchanged glances and both nodded in agreement.

  DC Hemsworth acknowledged their response with a brief smile. “Okay then. You two do me your statements, and then I’ll do the interview and remand file. I’ll leave the DCI a note for tomorrow morning. I’ve been in this job twenty-seven years and I’ve never caught a burglar on the job. You’ll both probably get a commendation for this. Well done. Good arrest.”

  Hunter beamed inside as he left the CID office.

  - ooOoo -

  CHAPTER NINE

  Days later Hunter walked his beat with a spring in his step. His Inspector had informed him that he and Emma had been put forward for a Divisional Commander’s commendation. During interview, Mathew David Smith had denied any involvement in the attack upon Edith Thompson, but he had admitted to three other house burglaries and half-a-dozen shoplifting
offences and was now on remand in Armley Prison.

  He hoped it would be a step nearer to his getting in CID.

  Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by an urgent radio message. The Control Room were informing everyone that a 999 call had just been received from a woman who was being attacked by a man. Taking in the details Hunter realised he was only round the corner from the location and picking up his pace, he informed the Police Operator that he was attending.

  Dearne View consisted of three blocks of two storey flat roofed, council tenements. Number 18, where the call had come from, was on the first floor of the middle block.

  Yanking open the entranceway doors, Hunter bounded up the concrete stairwell to the first floor where he skidded to a halt and took in a deep breath. The doorway to his left was open and gripping his hasp called out as he stepped into a gloomy narrow hallway. Turning an ear he heard muffled sounds of something being dragged and edging ahead into a lounge-cum-dining room he saw a young, slim, fair-haired woman up-righting an armchair. She turned to face him as he stepped into the room.

  Her face was flushed and Hunter saw that the front of her T-shirt was torn. Two trails of mascara stained her cheeks where she had been crying.

  There was no one else around.

  “You’ve made a three-nines call? Someone attacking you? Hunter pointed at her torn T-shirt. What’s happened?”

  “He’s nearly killed me this time.” She rubbed a thumb across her cheek smudging her mascara further. Then, she took a step forward and tilted her head exposing her neck. She pointed to red marks each side of her throat. “I want him done for this. He almost strangled me.”

  “Who?” said Hunter. “Is he still here?”

  She shook her head, “No. I managed to get to the phone to you lot. He did a runner just before you got here. He’ll probably be heading for his mates or his mum’s.” She picked up a discarded cushion from the floor, patted it and dropped it into the armchair she had straightened. Then she flopped into the chair. “I’ve had enough of him. He’ll kill me one of these days.”