Smith

by stewartgiles

THIRTY FOUR

  RESIGNATION

  “What the hell is this piece of shit Thompson?” Chalmers was not in the best of moods; he had not had a cigarette for two days.

  “It’s what it says sir,” Thompson backed off a couple of steps, “my resignation.”

  Chalmers took two steps forward. Thompson could smell the chewing gum in Chalmers’ mouth.

  “We’re deep in the middle of a bloody murder investigation Thompson,” Chalmers boomed.

  “But sir,”

  “But sir nothing. Clear this case up and we’ll talk, I might even accept this piece of drivel.” He pointed to the letter.

  “Then you can go off and play bowls or whatever. What’s brought this on all of a sudden anyway?”

  “It’s not sudden sir. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, I just don’t feel appreciated.”

  “Appreciated!” Chalmers voice was getting louder. “Appreciated, grow a pair of balls for god’s sake Thompson. How long have you been on the force? Twenty, thirty years?”

  “Twenty seven years sir and I’m still a Sergeant.”

  “You’re still a Sergeant because, and don’t repeat this, you’re a bloody good Sergeant and, to be brutally honest, you’d make a crap Inspector.”

  “I just don’t think it’s fair that…”

  “This is about Smith isn’t it?” Chalmers interrupted him.

  “How does he get to jet off to some sunshine island with his mistress while I’m stuck with the shit here?”

  “Smith’s the right man for the job Thompson. He’s, how can I put this without you pissing your pants, he’s more worldly wise than you and Whitton is a bloody good officer.”

  “But sir.”

  “Enough of this but sir crap. Instead of bawling like a baby, why don’t you use Smith’s absence as an opportunity to show all of us what you’re made of? Before Smith and Whitton left, Smith gave me a recording of a message left on his phone in the early hours of New Years Day.”

  He handed Thompson the tape.

  “Listen to it,” he said, “and then pay this Paxton character a visit. I’ve got a feeling that him and his girlfriend are in this shit deeper than we think. Take Bridge with you and use that wasted talent of yours to get to the bottom of this.”

  “Talent sir?”

  “You’re a mean miserable old bastard Thompson. Use that to your advantage and you may just get one over on your friend Smith. Now piss off.”

  Chalmers spat out his chewing gum.

  “This nicotine gum doesn’t work,” he moaned, “I’m going out for a smoke.”

  Thompson stormed out of Chalmers’ office. He found Bridge in the canteen eating a sandwich.

  “Eat up Bridge,” he ordered, “we’ve got a murder to solve.”

  “What was on the tape sir,” Bridge asked as they drove.

  “Frank Paxton got Lauren Cowley pregnant,” Thompson replied, “he confessed to Smith on New Years Day. He also wanted to say something else but he was stopped.”

  “What do you think it was sir?”

  “That’s what we’re going to find out. That girl who’s computer you broke into.”

  “Hacked sir,” Bridge corrected him.

  “Susan Jenkins,” Thompson ignored him, “she was found dead in Tenerife. Her boyfriend has disappeared.”

  “The one who Martin Willow paid?”

  “That’s her. Smith and Whitton are there now.”

  “Tenerife?” Bridge exclaimed, “They get all the luck.”

  “Just drive Bridge,” Thompson said, “let me think.”

  They drove in silence for a couple of miles.

  “Sir,” Bridge broke the silence, “there’s something that doesn’t make sense.”

  “There are a lot of things that don’t make sense Bridge,” Thompson sighed, “go on.”

  “If Frank Paxton is the father of Lauren Cowley’s baby, why is it that Martin Willow paid Susan Jenkins fifteen hundred quid?”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “It would be feasible that Lauren’s house mate found out about the baby and, being a bit short of cash, decided to blackmail the father but what has Martin Willow got to do with it? Unless…”

  “Unless what Bridge?”

  “Unless she was sleeping with Willow too. Maybe none of them knew who the father of the baby actually was.”

  “You’ve got an over active imagination there Bridge.”

  “Just looking at it from all angles sir. Something Smith taught me.”

  “I might have known. This is the house right here. I’m not sure exactly how I’m going to direct this one.”

  “Sir,” Bridge said, “Paxton obviously had something to get off his chest. Would you mind if I led this one for a bit. We need Paxton to be relaxed and don’t take this the wrong way but you can come across as a tad unapproachable at times.”

  “Ok Bridge,” Thompson sighed, “It’s your show.”