Bedfordshire Clanger Calamity

by steve higgs

  His conversation interrupted; Albert looked down at Rex. ‘What is it, boy? Do you need to find a spot to go? I should move on,’ he told Victor.

  A Cunning Plan

  ‘Who is that old guy with the dog?’ The question was muttered by Eugene, who was already upset because he’d snagged his jacket on an overhanging bramble and now had a small tear in its right shoulder.

  Francis wanted to know as well. They looked into Victor Harris last night, taking time to do some research the way they should have before they set off. The point is, they knew his father had died two years ago, so whoever the old man was, he wasn’t a relative. He was in the way though. The earl might have given them a day’s grace to get the job done, but he would blow his top if they didn’t report that they had his chef in their van the next time they called.

  Francis chose to be stoical. ‘Look, we always knew grabbing him in daylight on his way to work was a long shot.’

  ‘He’s not on his way to work though. The café is in the other direction. He’s just out walking his dog. We don’t even need to follow him. We can go back to his house with the van and wait for him to walk by. You casually step out in front of him and ask him the time. I’ll open the side door and hit him with the stun gun, then we both dump him into the van and scarper. How does that sound?’

  Francis ran the images through his head and had to admit his partner’s plan had many merits. ‘It’s certainly worth a shot,’ he conceded.

  ‘That’s why I’m the brains of this outfit,’ Eugene boasted.

  ‘You’re certainly not the muscle,’ muttered Francis just loud enough for Eugene to hear.

  ‘What? What was that? Are you suggesting that you are stronger than me?’ Eugene was outraged by the suggestion even though he secretly worried it might be true.

  Francis didn’t respond for a moment. Something about the big dog was troubling him. They were watching them move away now; the old man and the target were walking side by side and chatting as if they were old friends.

  Huffing out a breath, Francis said, ‘Let’s get back to the van.’ He didn’t wait for Eugene to respond; he was already heading back the way they had come. They’d been watching Victor Harris walk his dog and were getting ready to pounce when the old man appeared. But it was just too dodgy to snatch their target with someone else around. They could just eliminate him, but the dog would make noise and that might attract other people to look their way. It just wasn’t worth the risk. There was something about that dog too. The big one, not the funny little sausage dog. The big one had looked right into the shadow where he stood out of sight last night, and then again this morning. Francis was certain neither he nor Eugene could be seen but the dog had been staring directly at them.

  If it came to it, he would kill the dog and the old man. They had to make their move today, but with luck, Eugene would be right about them being able to snatch Harris from the side of the road as he came back to his house. Unfortunately, in the meantime, he had to listen to Eugene spouting on about how they were going to have a bench press contest when they got back to the gym.

  Cell Block

  Choosing to delay breakfast, despite the faint rumble in his stomach, Albert said, ‘I’ll walk with you.’

  ‘You’re coming to the station?’ Victor sounded surprised. ‘I thought you were heading back to your hotel for breakfast.’

  ‘I’ll get there,’ Albert assured him. ‘You read the last part of my son’s message. He spoke with the duty sergeant last night so the request for Kate to call you has either been passed because she will have been woken by now, assuming she got any sleep, or it will not be passed at all. My guess is that the station isn’t far away.’ The guess was based on the size of Biggleswade. It was several times larger than Stilton, the last place he and Rex had stayed, but still small enough that a person could walk from one end to the other in a matter of minutes.

  ‘It’s on the other side of town,’ he replied, by which Albert assumed Victor meant on the other side of the busy B road which bisected the town into two halves. ‘It should take about five minutes to get to from here.’

  Listening to his stomach gurgle, Albert felt thankful the delay to his full English platter wouldn’t be a long one. Going to the police station might very well prove fruitless, but it would give them a chance to ask a few questions about Kate. Replaying Randall’s email in his head, his son made it sound like the conviction was already assured. If the police in Biggleswade believed that, they wouldn’t spend time interviewing her, they would have taken her statement yesterday, confirmed she had no alibi, and probably had her scheduled for transfer to prison this morning.

  Albert didn’t feel sorry for her; he learned to detach himself from such unhelpful emotions a long time ago, and his investigation had switched from attempting to prove she was innocent, to determining for himself if she was guilty or not. That might seem like a subtle change, but it was significant, nevertheless. The evidence pointed her way.

  Though the air was cool, it was a pleasant walk and they passed people who were most likely on their way to work, hurrying here and there in their cars or on foot. Supermarkets were open, so too small cafés selling breakfast and businesses like bakeries, the smell of fresh bread filling Albert’s nostrils in a tempting manner.

  Rex caught a whiff on the wind, sucking in a deep noseful of air to confirm what his first sniff told him. His own stomach rumbled, and he groaned with excitement, ‘Oh, yeah!’

  Hans glanced at him, the two dogs locking eyes for a moment as they both savoured the dominant smell. ‘Kebab!’ they squealed in tandem and both dogs surged forward. Straining against their collars to find the source of the smell which seemed to fill the air and push out everything else. Their reaction caught the humans off guard.

  ‘Crickey!’ Albert stumbled slightly as Rex tugged his right arm forward.

  Victor too, though steadier on his feet, found Hans was suddenly trying to run where a moment ago he was content to walk. ‘What’s got into them?’ he asked.

  The smell was getting stronger, Rex’s nose leading him on, but he missed a stray piece of meat at the side of the road which Hans fell upon with glee.

  ‘Did you see what that was?’ asked Victor. He’d never had a dog, and thus wasn’t used to dog behaviour. Albert was though, and he’d danced to this tune before.

  Scanning the pavement ahead, he spotted the abandoned kebab. It was a sad truth that late-night kebab shops were the refuge of public house evictees, where a pitta bread full of meat acted as a compass to steer the inebriated home. Held in both hands like a divining rod, the meaty grease-laden receptacle of bread all too often ended up either partially, or completely on the ground where it remained until someone cleared it away. Albert had tried one once and hadn’t enjoyed it. Though he suspected what he’d tasted was a poor imitation of a nation’s cuisine, he had never tried one since.

  Rex, however, homed in on an abandoned kebab like a bee to honey.

  Rex could see it now, his powerful nose getting him close enough that he no longer needed it, but as Rex began to celebrate the feast to come, his collar began to tug in a different direction. His human wanted to cross the road!

  He dug his claws into the pavement, searching for purchase mere feet from his prize.

  ‘Come along, Rex,’ Albert insisted. ‘You are not eating a mouldy old kebab that’s been out in the rain!’ Beside him, Victor was having the same drama with Hans but on a far more manageable scale. The wiener was likewise digging his claws in and trying to get his body to the scattered remains of someone’s supper, but Victor looped a hand under his belly, hoisting him into the air to defeat his attempts to snag another piece of meat.

  Crossing the road, it was a good thing Albert couldn’t translate what Rex said because none of it was printable.

  At the station, they were met by a sergeant on the front desk. It was a small police station, barely big enough to hold a detainee though Albert was sure they would have several sm
all cells tucked away behind the scenes. The sergeant was clean shaven and well into his forties, grey specks winning the battle against his dark brown hair, and he had a small scar by his left ear which might have a story behind it. It had puckered marks on either side where the skin had been sewn back together, and though clearly many years old, the white scar tissue stood in contrast to the rest of his lightly tanned skin.

  ‘Good morning, gentlemen?’ he gave them his professional face, waiting to hear what malady they might have to report.

  On their way in, Albert had requested that Victor let him speak, his experience in handling the police likely to prove to their advantage.

  ‘Good morning,’ Albert replied. Taking a second to instruct Rex to sit, he came right up to the counter. ‘You have a suspect in custody, her name is Kate Harris. I am hoping to be able to speak with her, either directly, or via a telephone.’

  Opting to answer a question that hadn’t been asked, the sergeant said, ‘She is due to be transferred to HMP Bedford shortly.’

  Albert warned Victor this was likely to be the case but felt the man tense up at the news anyway. ‘This is her brother,’ Albert explained. ‘And her dog,’ he indicated Hans. He knew there was no sense in stating that the police had the wrong person. He had no proof to back up such a claim, he wasn’t entirely certain they did have the wrong person, and doing so always upset the officers in question. Always. ‘Her arrest was a surprise to her family and coworkers; she holds a position of responsibility at the Clanger café and her unexpected absence may impact the firm negatively. For the sake of other people, innocent of any crime, having her answer a few questions would prevent loss of business. I’m sure you, as a Bedfordshire man, would hate to see the Clanger Café close.’ Albert’s carefully worded request hadn’t contained a single question, just the suggestion of negative impact on the community the sergeant undoubtedly held dear. Watching the man’s face, he knew he’d hit home and delivered the winning line. ‘Just a few words over the phone, Sergeant, that’s all. May we, please?’

  Now he was stuck. The sergeant’s easiest course of action was to do nothing and have no one speak to the suspect. She would be out of his hair shortly and someone else’s problem. He had no legal reason to let the old man see or speak to Kate Harris, but what if the Clanger Café closed? He did like a clanger when the mood took him. What harm could a few words over the phone do?

  ‘Okay. But I must limit you to five minutes. There is no easy way to arrange a phone call so I will have a constable escort one of you back to the cells. You can talk through the door. Good enough?’

  Albert inclined his head. ‘Thank you, Sergeant. We will wait here until you are ready for us.’

  What Albert didn’t know was that the station in Biggleswade was due to be closed in less than a month. It was too expensive to keep on: budget cuts, manning shortages, and lack of crime in the community, all demanded the resources be reallocated elsewhere. Biggleswade would be covered from the larger hub in Bedford. That was why there was no phone; much of the building’s infrastructure had already been reclaimed.

  ‘You should go,’ suggested Victor. ‘I want to see her, but you are the one with the questions.’

  Albert opened his mouth to argue but closed it again because Victor was right. Victor could ask the questions, but if anything needed to be clarified or another question occurred, he wouldn’t be in a position to recognise what needed to be done.

  They were made to wait only ten minutes before a young constable appeared. A female officer, she was in her thirties and tall for a woman at close to six feet. Albert wondered about her heritage, questioning in his head whether her parents might be Hungarian or from one of the Slavic states. He kept quiet as she led him through to the rear of the small station, Rex getting left behind with Victor and Hans.

  Behind the brightly painted and welcoming reception area, all the walls were painted with a light grey paint as if it were the inside of a battleship. Albert had never thought about it much when he was a serving officer, but looking at it now, the surroundings were a little depressing. Along a narrow corridor and around a bend, they reached a solid door with a metal grill at eye height. Through it, Albert could see another narrow corridor, this one had a blank wall on the left and four cell doors on the right. The doors were evenly spaced, the cells designed to be uniformly boring, but safe.

  The constable paused at the outer door. ‘Wait here, sir. I will bring Miss Harris from her cell and you can speak to her through this grate. Please, do not attempt to move around the station or leave this spot. When the prisoner approaches the door, do not attempt to pass her anything. Do not attempt to put your hand, or any other part of your body through the grate.’ The list of what to do and not to do went on for a while.

  Albert promised that he would do as instructed and waited patiently for the woman he met briefly, and only yesterday, to be released from her cell. Her curious eyes turned toward the hole in the outer cell block door and showed surprise when she saw who it was.

  ‘Stay behind the line,’ the constable barked at the back of Kate’s head, making her twitch with its sudden harshness in the echoey corridor.

  Albert offered her a warm smile. ‘Hello again. You are probably wondering why I am here. I came with your brother, but they would only permit one of us to come through here.’ Kate’s smile had looked forced when he first met her which he knew now was because of Joel’s murder. There was no trace of a smile today.

  ‘What is it that you want?’ Kate asked.

  ‘I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself yesterday. My name is Albert Smith. I …’

  ‘Albert Smith,’ repeated the constable, interrupting his flow as her eyebrows bunched together in a frown. ‘There was an older gentleman involved in an incident in Stilton two days ago. I heard he uncovered a money counterfeiting ring run by a senior chief inspector.’

  Albert nodded. This might be easier with a little context. ‘That was me,’ he admitted. ‘However, the investigation was led by a very capable young constable.’ He told them dismissively. ‘I have not been afforded a great deal of time, Kate, so I will get to the point. You are accused of murder and the case against you is a strong one. It may be lacking in hard evidence but what there is, combined with your lack of defence, may be enough to secure a conviction.’

  She nodded sadly and turned her head away as a tear slipped from her left eye. ‘That’s what they keep telling me. They want me to confess because it will reduce my sentence. But I didn’t do it.’

  Albert believed his years of experience gave him something akin to a sixth sense when trying to separate lies from truth and Kate was telling him the truth. Accepting that she hadn’t murdered her lover, he moved on to another question. ‘At the café there are discrepancies in the bookkeeping. Can you explain them?’

  Kate’s jaw dropped. ‘How can you possibly know about that?’

  The how was of no consequence, but he answered, ‘I am working with your brother. He believes you are innocent of all charges. Where is the missing money, Kate?’

  ‘Why do you want to know about that?’ she asked, frowning now, and looking like she wanted to argue. ‘That has nothing to do with why I am in here. I didn’t take the money if that is what you are asking.’

  She was snapping at him, her anger close to the surface because of her predicament. Albert didn’t take it personally and didn’t react to it. ‘It will help me to have a clear picture of what is going on. If you didn’t kill Joel, it means someone else did, and the police are not looking for the killer because they believe you are guilty. I can only help you if I have the full picture.’

  He watched as she bit her lip, deep in thought. ‘I can’t tell you about the missing money. It has nothing to do with Joel.’ Albert sighed loudly in his frustration, but she started speaking again before he could say anything. ‘Please help me, Albert. I didn’t do this. I didn’t take the money and I didn’t hurt Joel. I loved him.’

  ‘He se
t you up as a partner in the business. You stood to become the sole owner in the event of his death. You stole him away from his wife and children.’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ she whispered meekly, her head and eyes cast down to the floor. He’d been pushing her to see how she reacted.

  ‘Time’s up,’ said a voice from behind him. Kate’s eye snapped up and Albert turned on the spot to find the sergeant from the front desk peering around the corner. ‘The transport will be here soon. Put her back in her cell.’

  Albert drew in a slow breath, holding it for a few seconds as he wondered what else he could possibly ask her. She refused to give him a straight answer about the money which felt like an admission of guilt even though she claimed she didn’t take it. She made him believe that she wasn’t Joel Clement’s killer, but she had all the motive and zero alibi. When he looked back up, what he saw was Kate’s back as she returned through the door of her cell.

  He was beginning to wish he had chosen to take his clanger to go yesterday.

  Eggs

  Victor needed to get to work. He and another chef alternated with two other chefs for who was on earlies or lates. Rising early didn’t bother him though he was sure it would if he did it every day. The Clanger Café only shut two days each year: Christmas and Easter Sunday, so quite often the four primary chefs had to cover shifts so someone could take a holiday. He had an early yesterday, which meant a later start this morning, but he was about to be late for his late start. Though he knew everyone, with the exception of April, would accept why, he still felt he had to be there to help ensure the operation ran smoothly.

  He hung around to hear what Albert had to report, then had to hurry away with a promise to see Albert later.

  Left to his own devices, Albert wandered back to the pub to get his breakfast. They stopped serving at ten o’clock and he was running the chance of missing out if he didn’t get moving.