Текст книги "The Cop Killer"

Автор книги: Harry Nankin

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“Now get your things, the officer at the desk will take your full details, you will then fuck off, if we need you we will contact you.”

“How will I get back to my van?"

Striker laughed, “Your van, fucking walk it’s only twelve miles or get a taxi”

Ted stood up walked with a few pushes and arrived at the front counter, gave his details and left.

He had gone only a few paces when he heard a voice, “Wait here I called a taxi”.

He looked up and saw it was the young officer who had been standing guard over him.

In a moment or so, the taxi arrived, and he climbed inside.

The door suddenly opened it was Striker who leaned inside and whispered.

“Don’t fucking work in our area again, or else, get the message, now fuck off”.

He banged the door and the taxi was away.

“You have reached your destination” came the satellite navigation message”. Doris stopped the car and instantly realised why both officers lived as next-door neighbours. The houses were old and it was obvious they had been if still not, police issued houses.

The dour coloured brick, with a small office and garage on each side were consistent with the old police houses she had seen in the various villages as a girl when local Bobbies lived in villages. This one must have had a sergeant in one and a constable in the other.

“Jesus, Oh I shouldn’t say that she said to herself, there were two women in the gardens speaking over the hedge.

She looked at her watch it was 4pm it suddenly came home to her that both officers should have finished at 2pm and been home by now.

She need not worried the women were unsuspecting for their husbands were often late, part of the job; they had soon come to understand.

In fact, they had been neighbours before and both their husbands were often away or late on some other inconvenient course or trip, which made for a relatively uncertain family life.

Doris turned after walking a few paces, clicked the handset to lock the police car door.

She recalled how Striker had warned her that Blacon, Chester was well reputed as a criminal area.

As she thought she heard the whirling above her, glancing up she recognised the helicopter as of the type used by the police. Seems Striker was correct this was a rough area, heavens she thought how dreadful now for these women losing their husbands and living here, she was to discover she was again naïve.

“Afternoon ladies” she deliberately left out the good.

“Good afternoon” they replied, just as two small school girls might do when the Head Master arrived and spoke to them.

“I am looking for Mrs Bob Friday and Mrs Sid Upton; I am Inspector Scott-Ling”.

The ladies turned and looked, one replied. “I am Mrs Wendy Upton”.

The other woman rather older smiled and then said, “I am Mrs Rachel Friday but Bob isn’t my husband he is my son”.

“Bastard Striker” she thought, “he definitely said they were both wives, he threw a banana skin down for me there and I slipped badly on it, heavens what a fuck up when bringing such news”.

“Well ladies I wondered if I might just speak to you both inside, they are rather confidential matters.”

“Why of course I will make us a drink,” said Mrs Friday.

Inspector Scott-Ling realised in only moments from now there would be no drink made for this new Inspector.

Arriving in the house, it was obviously a police owned house, there was still an old solid fuel fireplace, and the walls painted with the pastel colours similar to the police stations.

They all sat down, “Well ladies there are no easy ways of saying this but I regret I am the bearer of bad news”.

“Bad news” replied Wendy “don’t say anything has happened to the boys”

Hesitating at first Doris realised she had to get on with it and taking the bull by the nose or rather jumping in with both feet she quietly said.

“I regret to tell you that Bob and Sid were both found dead in their police car earlier this morning.”

There was stunned silence then suddenly Wendy began to scream incessantly, on the contrary, Rachel Friday remained passive but didn’t speak.

Doris took hold of Wendy attempting to console her but it was proving very difficult. Rachel appeared to recover, turned, took hold of Wendy and said, “Its Ok, I will take care of her”.

“Have you both any friends or family?” asked Doris.

“She has a mother and sister they live in Wrexham”, replied Rachel.

 “I will look out their details later and call them. I will also call my other son he only lives a mile or so away, I have just been widowed and was staying here with Bob until I could find somewhere to live”.

“I see well if there is anything more we can do, here is my card, just ring that number. In any event the force welfare officer will be in touch with you both shortly”.

“What happened, please what happened”? Said Wendy.

“Well all we know at the moment is that they were found in their police car by a member of the public, they appeared dead. The paramedics were called and took them to hospital, the doctor on duty confirmed they were dead”.

“Who killed them, who bloody well killed them, I hope you will get the bastards, after all they were cops”.

Doris hesitated didn’t really know how to reply but took the plunge and said, “Well there were apparently no signs of any injuries, the doctor thinks it was natural causes, there will be a post mortem on each and that will tell us more, when we know we will of course update you”.

“Seems very strange to me”, mumbled Rachel, “two young men apparently fit and well. They both die in the same place at the same time of the same thing and both natural".

“I agree,” replied Doris “but we will know more later”.

“Ok officer thanks I will look after Wendy, you can go now”.

Doris rose and quietly left, she arrived back in her car started the engine and as she drove away spoke to herself staying “ I was correct, I never did have that drink”.

As she moved off looking at the rows of identical properties, the unkempt gardens some with scrap iron, old derelict vehicles even some littered with a host of broken children’s toys, she thought, “What a dump”

Her mind was then cast back to Sergeant Striker telling her to inform both wives, he knew the officers he must have known one was a single man, he threw that slippery skin down deliberately she would tell the bastard she thought.  Then hesitating thought “No, I won’t I will just act normal as if nothing was untoward”.

Arriving back at the police station she was about to park her vehicle when Striker arrived with Constable Williams, they were obviously in a rush.

“Give me the key Ling, we have real police work to do, did you manage to do that piffling job Ok?”

“Yes sergeant”,

“Any hitches?”

“No Sergeant”

As he got into the police car, he looked, smiled and said, “Sure about that?”

“Definitely, I told both women, they were upset of course but no nothing more than that”, she said smiling.

He hesitated from getting into the vehicle looked at here, shook his head, and said “Really?"

He then closed the car door, switched on the blue lights and siren and sped off clearly saying something to his subordinate, what she would never know.

In the village of Tarporley, Mr and Mrs Jackson Richards had just finished the last of the unpacking.

He stepped outside and admired the new glasshouse and could already see it, full of his begonias, those massive blooms what a glorious sight it would be.

Now he was retired he would have so much more time to care for them, pollinate his own seed even do some hybridising, something he had always wished to do but never had the time.

The glasshouse was fine, a bit on the expensive side he thought but the local manufacturer did exhibit at Chelsea and Hampton Court, where he had seen the firm’s display.

The man in charge Caruthers had assured him it was world-class quality even had stone damage proof glass fitted.

This new estate, Tarporley Court he thought seemed very nice though he suspected the residents; certainly, those he had noticed as they moved in yesterday were likely to be on the arrogant side.

Today, a Saturday seemed typical of any in the land of the yuppies, just like those in Farnham, Surrey from where they had moved.

He had noticed the large expensive houses, many with a thatched roof and artificial beams.

All with electric double gates, signs making it known to prospective criminals the place was fully alarmed.

Security cameras noting every move from a squirrel who had declared war on the birds` peanut bag to robins nesting in the hedge.

 The cars and four by fours not in the large garages built to house them but parked on the drive as the common people did. Some with matching his and hers personalised number plates.

 The joggers all in top of the range running gear and of course carrying the inevitable bottles of water, though from the pace they were running the likelihood of them ever being dehydrated seemed remote.

He had realised before they bought the bungalow in this Cheshire village that due to its location from Manchester, Chester and the industrial parts of Cheshire such as Crewe, that it was the very ideal location for professionals working in these places, who, having got on now moved away to the rural areas.

 He thought it would not be long before some at least would get onto the local council and commence to educate what locals there were left on the ways of yuppies, such as no smelly manure from the nearby farm.

 He had witnessed what he thought was a funny incident during a preliminary visit to the area last spring.

He had been parked in a lay-by. Anne had been sorting out the packed lunch when a farm tractor and trailer had gone by at a steady 20 miles per hour leading a long convoy of very irritable car drivers.

The drivers of the cars obviously, Cheshire yuppies in a rush to get home to change either into their keep fit or running attire had been blasting their car horns to show their disapproval.

One car he recalled clearly, it had been a white Rolls Royce, must have cost a fortune, not to mention the number plate which read CHE 5H1 but it had been adapted, the 5 to an S, so that it appeared to read CHESH1.

 The driver not only blasted the tractor driver as he passed but called through a side window

“You fucking Shit Kicker”

The farmer would not hear the abuse due to the noise unless he was lip reader but he would recognise the two-finger salute the yuppie gave him.

It was only about half an hour later when the tractor drove past again but in the opposite direction. Followed by the same Rolls car and the irate driver still blasting.

Suddenly the trailer at the rear must have gone into motion for suddenly there was a massive what could only be described as a shower of shit over Cheshire, which engulfed the white Rolls Royce car.

As the tractor drove by its driver smiled, winked and put up a thumb to Jack, indicating that he could in fact, lip-read.

Thinking of the vast numbers of rules and the wealth of the new inhabitants with money available to spend on legal representation, wind farms would be a definite no, no.

If things went true to form the police would be out in force at 8 30am each day to ensure that parents depositing their children at the local primary school would be harassed not to park their cars.

 However, further down the road he had noticed the private school it was called The Blue School. It would no doubt be seemingly exempt from any such harassment by the crown employees once called the local police.

Anne Richards a small lady, no more than five feet four inches tall  possibly less, very slim, she looked much younger than her 59 years of age.

Although she pooh poohed it when Jack told her she could still turn the head of many men, some young, well younger. She quietly was a little on the proud side, thinking that she must arrange a session at the hairstylist she had seen in the village when they arrived.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the doorbell rang, “whoever could that be?” She thought.

She answered the door, there were two women standing there one carrying a bunch of flowers the other a cake. They were aged mid fifties, possibly 60 years of age, wearing the country green and brown coats and heavy-duty skirts.

“Heavens” thought Anne, “Raffle ticket sellers or charity collectors at this hour, they don’t seem to be the church or save the children type and were certainly not the red nose people, more likely some horse preservation society”.

“Good heavens I hope I have some change, on the other hand they seemed the type who would only take donations in the form of five or ten pound notes”.

“I say, I am Melissa Wainwright and this is Felicity Ryton-Jones, we are from the new Tarporley Court residents association, we thought to call and just make you welcome”.

“Well that is very kind of you,” replied Anne, “would you please step inside?"

“Well no,” chimed in Felicity, “you see we have a coffee gathering at the church very soon, I presume you will eventually be church goers, we all are you see, the Reverend Davidson is such a nice man, much better than these lady vicars being planted about”.

Melissa smiled and said, “We just thought to bring you these flowers and this cake as a welcome home, thing”.

“Well that is so kind of you,” replied Anne with a smile and a "what is coming next look?”

“What profession or business is your hubby involved with?” said Felicity”.

“Oh, Jack, he is retired”.

“Retired what?” they both said simultaneously”

“He was a police officer,” said Anne.

The faces of both callers dropped and Anne thought that at any moment they would say, could we have the cake and flowers back?”

 It wouldn’t have mattered she never ate cake she had not made herself and the lilies they had brought often gave her breathing difficulties, in fact hospitals banned them.

At that, she gave a loud sneeze and thought, “here I go these blasted lilies”.

“Oh he was a policeman you say?”

They had dropped faces but then recovered a little when Anne said. “Yes he was a superintendent, a detective at New Scotland Yard”.

“Oh I see,” said Felicity “just a policeman, well, oh very well perhaps we may see you at the coffee shop in the week but please don’t feel you should come.”

 “You do go to church?” Or perhaps no, you may be Salvation Army people, are you?”

They turned and began to leave then spoke to each other and turned and Felicity said “Oh by the way the glasshouse you have erected, if you check your deeds you will see no additional buildings are permitted”.

“I just thought I would mention it, rather than you having a surprise next week when someone from the planning office visits”

“The chief planning officer lives just up the road you know, he is bound to see, good day”.

Anne closed the door as Jack arrived inside and commented,

“The glass house is ideal, by the way who was at the door?”

“Well it was a welcome committee; they brought these flowers and this cake”.

She walked past him, went outside opened the bin dumping the items inside and returned.

“Not very appreciative of you Anne, throwing those away”.

“Well the Lilies affect my breathing and the cake; one never knows where it was mixed or baked”.

“Oh by the way, as they left they pointed out no additional buildings are permitted, it seems your glasshouse will have to come down”.

“They added the chief planner lives just down the road you can anticipate a visit next week.”

“Bastards, I will go and check”.

He left the room went into his study, after a search he found his copy of the deeds and arrived down stairs with a drooped chin

“They are correct, it does say no additional building, caravans, vans, Lorries to name but some".

“From the way they looked when I told them you had been a policeman, it seems they are also banned”

“Seems we have arrived at the nicest shit house in the whole country,” he said as he went and shut himself away in his study.

PART THREE

 

MORE DEAD COPS

 

Jock Peters, ex sergeant once of the Cheshire Police, now retired had taken up the civilian post as Coroners Officer.  He arrived at the hospital porters lodge, knocked on the door to which a voice responded, “Come in Jock”.

He went inside. Fred the dead the mortuary assistant was already holding the keys.

“Come to do these two coppers have you Jock?”

“Ah laddie a bad business two young men in their early thirties sounds strange too, both found dead in their police car”.

“Ah Jock I never heard of such a case”

Jock smiled and said “neither have I in all my now 35 years in the cops and doing this job, still all will be revealed when Doctor Hallam arrives, she is one of the top pathologists at the Home Office, if anyone knows or can find an answer it will be her”.

Fred rose from his seat and they both strode around the back of the hospital and soon had the mortuary doors unlocked, opened and after that, the fridge doors were also unlocked, the two dead officers were revealed, still in full uniform.

The arrivals slid out each tray and then wheeled the bodies to the post mortem room.

There was only one table so one body was put onto the examination table the other remaining on the metal tray on the trolley; there was a knock on the door.

 Fred went and answered it; Jock could hear him say, “Good day to you Doctor Hallam, long time no see”.

“Yes indeed Fred, meet my new assistant Miss Claris Percy”

“Good morning to you miss,” said Fred.

“Good morning Fred, nice to meet you”. She went into the chapel where the clinicians normally put on their examination attire.

“Good morning Doctor Hallam”, said Jock.

“Good morning Jock, a bad business this, two dead officers and so young, I never had such a case”.

 Claris then called, “Doctor your things are ready”.

“Ah yes”, with that she strode into the other room.

Some miles away, Blodwen Thomas had been a voluntarily helper at Wrexham Church of Wales Parish church for over thirty years, the new vicar was due to arrive later today.

It was the first lady to be appointed vicar, not the choice of all the Church Wardens but the disguised condition from the office of the Bishop with an offer of additional funds for a new church roof had been some persuasion.

This appeared to have gone some way to assisting the appointment committee to follow the senior clerics` advice that they had a lady vicar who they needed a post for and Wrexham was ideally suited.

 Miss Jeeves had thus been appointed to her first stipend and today was the day she was to arrive. She had of course been to the church on a previous visit and upon her arrival on that occasion; it was for the afternoon scone and tea gathering set up by the ladies and mothers union members some eyebrows were raised when Miss Jeeves arrived in Wrexham, the heart of Methodist Chapel country.

Sporting, white, grey hair cut drastically short and appeared to be greased flat.  She was wearing trousers, and a white shirt with a white spotted blue tie, her appearance went some way to giving the traditionalist parishioners who had seen her, the belief crossed their minds she was in fact a man.

The fact that her hair was cut short but also parted on both sides then folded in the middle like the teddy boys of the 1960s tended to back up the idea all was not as it appeared. Well that is, not as the women’s circle and mothers union had always experienced in their local clerk in Holy Orders.

Still, as she swept into church on this particular Saturday lunchtime Blodwen heard the clock strike two and realised it would soon be time for Miss Jeeves and the other ladies to arrive. This would be an important meeting prior to the first service early the following Sunday morning at 8am prompt.

She was taken aback as she entered the church for on walking past the rear pews she saw a policeman sitting there, alone.

“Oh, heavens don’t say there has been some crime or other, I really should have checked last night I had locked the church door.”

She said nothing but scurried through to the rear kitchen and took off her coat. She put on the kettle; the arrival of the other women was only minutes away.

She went back outside and on looking thought it was strange the policeman was apparently motionless, she recognised him, it was Constable Ifor Evans, he and his wife Ceinwen were not regular church attendees but did participate from time to time and always attended and donated at any function.

Ceinwen had said she would be attending “the get to know you function today and was to bring Ifor along, seems he must have arrived early”.

The strange thing was, Constable Evans seemed very still although in full uniform including his hat.

Her thoughts were interrupted, as the voices outside grew ever louder as the group of ladies arrived inside.

“Hello Blodwen got the kettle on have we?” Came the cry from Hilda Reece chairwoman or rather now a days the chairperson of the Mothers Union.

“Well now look you Ceinwen here is your man, here already he is now look you, bless him, he does look peaceful”.

“Heavens” cried Ceinwen “Ifor won’t you get into bother, being here on duty?"

Ifor made no response just remained seated and to all intents and purposes was staring.

Ceinwen crept over, whispering the onlookers, “he is day dreaming again”, then said to him, “now look you boyo”.

He made no response.

She arrived and put her arm around him to kiss him but then burst into a scream that filled the whole church.

There was a stampede of helpers from the ladies present but it was to no avail.

Ceinwen cried, “He is dead now look, you bloody died on me Ifor, died on me he has”.

“What on earth is happening?”

 Called a voice of authority, it was Miss Jeeves and on this occasion, she was wearing her full holy orders

“My husband we have just found him dead”, called Ceinwen.

Blodwen came into the scene “I have called for an ambulance”

“Good gracious we only had these seats varnished a day or so ago for the arrival of the new vicar, I only hope” he hasn’t messed on them”, thought Blodwen.

It was only moments before the ambulance crew arrived, causing the new clerk in Holy Orders to comment, “my, that was quick".

“Well” said Blodwen “the ambulance station is only next door”.

Edward Edwards the paramedic, bent down then looked up, “I am sorry Ceinwen, he is dead”.

“I could have told you that, you silly bugger”, shouted Ceinwen.

 “The reason is why?”

 “What’ll I do now; the cops will more than likely have me out of the house?”

With that she burst into tears and was comforted by May Evans and Rhoda Davies bother veterans of the Mothers Union.

Constable Evans was now duly trussed up on the stretcher helmet placed on top, lifted and carried away and soon lying in the rear of the ambulance, the driver calling his control with the update.

“Control from Whisky Alpha 20 we are enroute to Wrexham hospital having picked up Police Constable Ifor Evans, found dead in the parish church. There seems no foul play but the Heddlu will need to know”.

“Whiskey Alpha 20 from control we are ringing Wrexham police as I speak, when you have finished with this please call in, we have another visit”.

“Thank you from Whiskey Alpha 20 out.”

“Hello this is Wrexham police can I help you”?

“Hello, Tom Williams, Wrexham ambulance control yer, just to let you know we have attended a call to the Wrexham parish church and picked up one of your officers Constable Ifor Evans found dead sitting in church; his wife was present and is informed”.

“What did you say mun?" said the police controller, in the local welsh slang.

“Ambulance control here”, this time speaking English and not welsh twang. “Ambulance control here we have picked up Constable Ifor Evans at the parish church. He was found dead sitting in church, his wife is aware, he or rather his body is enroute to the Wrexham hospital for certification”.

“I thought that was what you said, OK, I will deal”, replied Dora.

“Inspector Idris Davies can you come to the phone sir”

“Yes Dora, what is it?”

“Ambulance control is reporten, in her Welsh twang, finding 896 Evans found dead in church, his wife is aware” she clamoured to say.

“What the hell is going on?”  What is bloody Ifor up to now?”

“Seemingly nothing sir, he is dead, it seems”, replied Dora almost in a panic.

“Jesus just my luck”, he continued, “call him on the bloody radio just in case, I don’t want bloody egg on my face now look you”.

Dora made numerous calls there was no response.

“Get Inspector Ewan Evison to deal with it before the shit hits the fan, do you hear Dora?”

“Wilco sir,” she replied.

“Wrexham control, to Inspector Ewan Evison, receiving over?”

“Yes Dora, Ewan here can I help? over”

“You may not believe this “Butt”, “Welsh Slang for mate, coming out”, ambulance control are reporting finding Ifor Evans dead in church.”

“Can you go A.S.A.P to the hospital and check it out?”

“I will do” and he could be heard saying

“Rainbow, get over yer, we have a red call to the hospital”.

Ken Johnson was known as Rainbow for he always wore flashy clothes when off duty.

“What’s the rush, Saajunt?” welsh slang.

“What’s the rush?”

 "I will tell you what the bloody rush is, Ifor has been found dead in church in bloody uniform if you mind what the hell was he doing there?"

“No wonder he never did get his process or arrest figures up to the mark, skiving in church, sounds as if he was wandering off the bloody job”.

“Tidy Saage, tidy”. The Welsh local language rearing itself, tidy meaning good, I agree or satisfactory.

“What the hell do you mean Rainbow, tidy, nothing bloody tidy about it; I will have every man and his bloody dog crawling over yer now”.

They arrived at the hospital.

Seeing an ambulance outside both officers went to the vehicle, its rear doors open and were just in time to see Doctor Rollason leaving.

“What’s in it Doc?” Asked Ewan.

“He’s dead, looks like natural causes; it will be a Coroners case of course”.

The hospital porter arrived and Ifor was unloaded and taken down the steep hill into the mortuary at the side of the hospital.

Once inside Ewan found the body logging in book and entered the details.

“You, Rainbow get the police stuff out of his pockets, radio, warrant card, wallet anything of value.”

“Make an entry and we will get the wife to sign for it, later”.

“The last thing we need are calls from the Horse and Jockey on a bloody police radio, if its left yer, like the last episode, they’ll nick anything these buggers”.

The body and clothing searched and entering completed the body was finally secured in the fridge.

It was back to the station and the first port of call for Rainbow was the parade room.

  Bad news has wings and he was ensuring all he met were told of the death of Ifor.

Ewan on the other hand found himself standing at the desk of Chief Superintendent Morris Jones known since his young police days as Tidy for his habit of describing anything satisfactory as “Tidy”, a common Welsh phrase however.

“Come in Ewan what the hell is happening”?

“All I know at the moment Morris is that Ifor was found dead in church, his wife attended and is aware.

“He has been taken to the hospital yer and certified as dead, the doctor says it appears natural causes”.

“The control room is informing the Coroner as I speak, we will know more after the post mortem”.

Chief Super Jones got up, went to his hat stand put on his cap and said “Come Ewan, get a police woman and we will all go and see the widow, this is always a shit job”.

“Oh just a moment, you go on I will ring Headquarters and speak with the Chief and join you in the car”.

”Ok sir” and he was gone.

Jones hesitated then picked up the phone and rang Headquarters where the controller took his call and told him he would be called back.

It was only moments before his phone began to buzz and the voice said “Chief-Constable Winston Myers. Sounds bad this Tidy Jones”.

“I don’t know much at the moment Chief just that Constable Ifor Evans was found dead sitting in church, he was of course on duty how and why he was there I have no idea at the moment.”

“It seems his wife and other ladies arrived and found him dead”.

“He has been certified dead by a hospital doctor who believes it to be natural causes.”

“We have notified HM Coroner so we will not know any more really until after the Post Mortem”.

He stopped speaking and then said

“Yes sir, I am just out there now with a police woman and an Inspector I will update you later.”

The call ended and in the next moment, he was gone.

At Chester, hospital Doctor Hallam had finished both examinations of the dead police officers.  She arrived back in the post mortem room where the Coroners officer was just finishing wiping and putting away the post mortem equipment.

She announced, “sudden death of apparently fit people at the age of 25 to late thirties, the cause of death was always the same, heart arrhythmia, it often happens to fit sportsmen.”

“I could find nothing else at Post Mortem.”

“These instances are sometimes called sudden adult death syndrome. The heart has suffered a disturbed rhythm and no blood circulates so death ensues. No cause for this is known.”

She then handed Jock two slips of paper giving the causes of death they were both the same

1a.Heart failure

1b Due to heart arrhythmia

As she left, she turned and commented, “It is very sad and highly unusual for two cases to occur at the same time on the same date to such persons as these”.

“It goes without saying there were no signs of violence of any kind, I will report to the Coroner. The cases should be recorded as natural and there will be no need for any inquests”.

She was gone moments later, leaving Jock to ponder, “It was probably nothing but definitely unusual and strange, there was certainly nothing more he could do the brains and qualified had spoken.”

He arrived back at Chester Police Station and immediately went to the office of Chief Superintendent Craig Denton-Smyth.

 He knocked on the door and received an immediate “Come in”.

“Right Jock, what have you to report, Post Mortems done I take it, any hitches?”

Jock replied, “No hitches sir, natural causes, unusual mind but natural causes”.

 “No need for Inquests, here Sir, see the Pathologist ticket. She will make her full report to the Coroner who I have no doubt will issue death certificates for both officers. I will just wait to get confirmation and that will be the end of it.”