Текст книги "The Cop Killer"

Автор книги: Harry Nankin

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

“Bad show Jock a very bad show; I have been in touch with the force welfare officer who is visiting both next of kin and will assist to arrange the funerals and of course the costs”.

The following Monday morning at 8am Clemance Roberts known as “Clem”, Coroners officer for Wrexham arrived as usual in the control room seeking to know if he had any business.

When he picked up his briefing pad and opened it, he exclaimed “Christ almighty Ifor Evans is dead, well now look you there is a shock now isn’t it”.

“Hello Roberts you have seen it then” it was Chief Super Morris Jones. “A bad business, such a young bloke it should be interesting to find out, what the hell happened to him.”

“Preliminary reports suggest it was natural causes, certainly no outward signs of foul play, I will leave it with you Roberts, keep me updated”.

“I certainly will sir”.

“Oh Clemance”, came the melodious voice of April the communications room assistant.

“Yes April?” said Roberts.

“Just to let you know we have contacted the Coroner last night and he authorised the PM and for Dr Rees to do it.  He has telephoned early today and confirmed he will do it first in the circumstance so expect him just after 9am.”

“Well done April, I will get up there forthwith”.

He left and arrived at the hospital. As he parked, he saw the head porter Ralph Edwards standing waiting at the Mortuary door and waving to him.

Clem locked his car went over and called “Has he woken up Ralph”?

“Now, Clem none of that, no, he is dead alright, even smiling to look at him”.

“I was just waving to tell you we have him out and ready, there are two more, only hospital not coroners cases.”

“Doc Rees has telephoned to say he will do the copper first so that you can update the powers to be it may save a lot of fuss for nothing”.

“You are right on the ball Ralph, I am very much obliged.”

In the Manchester police control room, Hilda Milburn was desperately trying to raise Constable Rick Masterton; she had been calling him for over ten minutes.

 He was needed back at the stables the vet was due in half an hour to check out his police horse, Spike.

Miss Paris France was oblivious to this she was more concerned that Patch her German Shepherd had his morning run before it was time for her to get back to meet the decorator.  It had taken months to get one; they were all booked up in spite of the supposed recession.

“Come back Patch, don’t you dare jump at that police horse; you will have both of us locked up”.

“She hastily ran down, took hold of Patch and secured him on his lead.

“That is strange” she thought a police horse and no officer perhaps he or she had gone off to look at something or she hesitated and now began to laugh perhaps the copper had taken short and was somewhere in the bushes.

She walked on around the great Chorlton Lake in south Manchester, a popular place for dog walkers and photographers of birds and the like.

She walked around the other side of the lake the expanse was great. “Patch, will you please come out of that water, I won’t have time to dry you off”.

Patch arrived soaking wet; he stopped and shook causing the remnants of the lake to be deposited on her.  She looked up; strange she thought the horse is still on its own?

When arriving back at the gate again the horse was still standing impassively but alone.

At that moment a group of women walkers arrived, she had seen them often they were in rehab after strokes and often walked with their carers as part of their recovery. The whole group stopped peering at the silent and almost motionless horse.

“It’s been there ages on its own,” said Paris.

The crowd of women mumbled and one in the group said

“Poor thing, this can’t be right, perhaps it escaped someone ought to tell the police”.

Paris took the bull by the horns as she walked on, she reached for her mobile phone and suddenly realised she could not recall the 08450 number for the police. “After all” she thought, “it is their horse I don’t suppose they will mind me calling 999”.

“Operator, emergency, which service please, police, fire or ambulance.

“Oh this is Paris France, police please”.

“Hold the line if you would please madam, I will connect you”. Replied the telephone operator.

“Police emergency” was the next the telephone operator heard.

“Ah police. I don’t know if this is going to be a hoax call a lady calling herself Paris France is on the line I will connect her”.

“Ok” replied Hilda now frustrated at not getting Rick or his bloody horse, if it came to that, she often thought the horses were more intelligent than the cops who rode them.

“Police Emergency, how can I help?”

“I don’t know if this is a waste of a call”

“I hope not madam we take these malicious 999 calls very seriously”.

“Oh dear” replied Paris, “in that case I hope I don’t get into any trouble”

“Tell me what you want and I will soon let you know what trouble you are in”, came back Hilda.

Paris now in trembling mode could see the police arriving at her door as she was speaking, worse they were hammering down the very door as they had done with the next door neighbour during a recent drug raid on that house.

“I simply want to say that I am at Chorlton Park and there is a police horse standing here on its own, it’s been here for ages”.

 “There is no sign of anyone with it.  I thought I had better call in and I just can’t recall the ordinary number.”

“Don’t worry madam you won’t get into trouble, thank you for your call we will check it out. Your address please?”

“Six the Terrace, Chorlton Green”. Replied Paris relieved it seemed there would be no raid on her house after all.

“Thank you madam” said Hilda and put down the phone.

“Inspector Horrocks, you need to hear this”

“Yes Hilda what is it, I was just going to see the Super can’t you handle it”

“Well I can but I think you ought to know, a lady has just made a three nines reporting a police horse standing on its own at Chorlton Park and I haven’t been able to raise Rick Masterton the jockey for some time.”

Inspector Horrocks stopped in her tracks and returned, thought and then said, “Is the chopper up?”

“Not at the moment” replied Hilda.

“Get it up forthwith and tell them to get over to Chorlton Park”.

“This smells. I will go and see the Super and will update him, if there is anything in it?” Let me know”.

“Jesus who is that you can’t stop for a brew or a pee unless some Looney wants you, Hello, Max Grimshaw Manchester police helicopter pad, who is this?”

“Hello Hilda, what now?"

“Max can you get over to Chorlton Park Lake, we have a three nines a report that a police horse standing on its own with no sign of Rick Masterton the jockey and I haven’t been able to raise him for nearly an hour now”.

“Leave it with me Hilda I will get over there now, come on George we have a shout”.

It was less than ten minutes when the helicopter marked police was hovering over the lake.

“Jesus”, cried George “the vicar” Thomas, so nick named for he replied Jesus Christ to almost everything. “Down there” he continued, “a yellow coat in the water, get the Chopper down it’s near the side I think I can reach it”.

The helicopter descended and simultaneously Hilda got the call, no frills and bullshit procedure

“Hilda are you there?”

“This is Max we have sighted a yellow coat in the lake, I am just landing it does look like a body, George thinks he can reach it on foot”.

“Christ” thought Hilda “I had better update the boss straight away.

“Chief Superintendent Mary Harris speaking, what is it Hilda?" She went silent then said, “Yes, yes you were quite correct”.

Replacing the phone she looked up and said

“Delia get your hat and coat, that was Hilda, they have found a body in Chorlton Lake, its wearing a yellow jacket looks terribly as if it could be Rick Masterton”,

“I wonder whatever brought this on?” she thought as she was hastily making her way to the scene, dreading the outcome.

      Arriving in the control room they both went inside “We are going to the scene, Hilda, get in touch with traffic get an officer to get the four by four and trailer to recover the horse we will update you on arrival”.

Hilda smiled and said, “OK, thank you Miss Harris, I have also called an ambulance, just in case”.

“Thank you Hilda” replied the Chief Super and they were gone.

George off the helicopter waded in and the water came to his waist, he reached down and pulled, the body spun over clearly the face was that of Rick Masterton, he was dead for sure.

Having pulled the body to the side, George got out; soaking wet but it didn’t matter.

Max arrived looked, saw, nodded and returned to the chopper calling in the result.

There was the sound of sirens they looked up and saw a patrol car and an ambulance arriving, both vehicles entered the park and stopped only some ten yards from the water.

The paramedic took a look, “Oh dear its my neighbour Rick Masterton, we play bowls together, I am sorry, nothing we can do he is dead, looks like a heart attack, no grimacing he seems at peace.  I suspect he felt a bit rough, got off the horse and just flaked out.”

 He looked up, he saw the two senior policewomen.

“I was saying Maam, he is dead, it looks like a heart attack, would you like us to remove him to Northenden Infirmary?”

“Ah yes please,” said Chief Super Harris, “I will call Chief Constable Quinten Johns and update him, this will make his day”.

“Hilda, this is Mary Harris get the Chiefs` Secretary to call me I need to speak to the Chief ASAP”.

“Will do” came the reply”.

Bob Wright and Joe Masters the paramedics loaded the body, secured it with the straps provided and were gone.

“Chief Constable’s secretary, here, can I help?”

“Oh yes put me through to the Chief, will you?”

“Who is that please?”

“Chief Super Mary Harris”

“Just a minute please Miss Harris”.

“Good day to you Chief Superintendent Harris can I help?”

“Hello Sir, I regret to report that the body of Constable Rick Masterton had just been recovered from Chorlton Lake, he is dead.”

“Do I have a murder or suicide on my hand? Said the Chief.”

“Neither it appears. The paramedic says he thinks it is natural causes, no notes to indicate suicide, no marks of violence or a struggle either on the body or on the ground around".

“Oh I see, well I presume you will put things in hand, Miss Harris, Coroner etc and of course the officers next of kin”.

“Yes sir, I will and update you when all done, the public know of it so the press will be on soon”.

“Thank you Chief Super I will tell my secretary to update the force press officer”.

The scene at Chorlton Lake was getting back to normal, Spike the horse was removed in a trailer by Henrietta from the police stables, poor Spike she thought, a sad duty to follow in a few days.  Dressed up in black with Rick’s boots on the saddle facing to the rear.

In the mortuary at Northenden Infirmary, things were more active as the body of Constable Masterton arrived in the Post Mortem room, Professor Caswell was already geared up so decided he might as well do this one today as tomorrow.

The Coroner’s officer, Miss Faith Hope an ex police officer injured on duty, had been pensioned off but had successfully applied for the civilian post as Coroner’s Officer.

She arrived, put down her bag and folder then confirmed the Coroner had authorised the Post Mortem.

This she thought would be a traumatic operation, seeing one’s colleague being dissected was never pleasant.

She closed the door and the procedure commenced.

In the Cheshire village of Tarporley, it was a fine bright Monday, now late morning Jack the Hat decided to take a walk into the village with Anne as a get to know them voyage.

Anne was a little apprehensive since the glasshouse had been discovered they were bound to be the subject of conversation, referred to in more down to earth places as tittle-tattle.

They arrived at the door of the hub of the village morning entertainment, Tarporley coffee shop. It attracted the better off but of mixed personalities.

Some were women waiting their appointment time in the up market hair salon at the rear of the coffee and cake department.

 They were having morning coffee with, sour cream and strawberry preserve, it was really cream that had gone off over the week-end with jam but one had to keep up appearances so they smiled, ate and said nothing about the sour taste.

Men who arrived alone although doing no harm sat for many hours at the front of the shop by the counter passing a brief conversation with the owner Mrs Delwright who in her youth had been voted a Queen of Ladies Day at Chester races.

She was well spoken and appeared to have the look of the famous actress Kristen Scott-Thomas.

Those male customers or rather clients were coffee connoisseurs due to the number of visits they made and appeared to be divided by Mrs Delwright from their reception by her, into two groups, those who were in and those who were clients.

Those who were clients received a token good morning a smile and a long look if they spoke too long or too loud or knew too much of local history departing the same to the unfortunate victim on the receiving end of the impartation of the useless information.

 Those that were in received a brief kiss on one or other cheek as she passed with coffee pot or tray in hand.

The ladies were of the type whose husbands had found success in business, they had made it in the city and with their newfound wealth had moved house from such common places in the metropolis with its long rows of never ending terraced houses.

 They now relocated to this rural pleasant land providing of course the remaining local non-yuppies such as farmers did not make those ghastly smells.

The other irritants were those who served them, they lived in the nearby council houses they were fine. If, they kept their place.

 The yuppie men folk having moved to this pleasant rural area of Cheshire now joined the massive daily traffic queues at walking pace to and from the cities of Manchester or Chester commuting each morning and evening.

Their wives meanwhile entertained themselves taking out the sports car, a Porsche of course; sporting some form of personalised number plates, those that had made it to the top had a simple one such as ME 1.

 “Others, who had not quite made it, had a make believe one such as their initials WTW M15 amended to read WTW MI 5, believing it would be confused as a James Bond throw away car.

Without exception they all appeared to be well educated and thus by tradition their children were now despatched to private schools.

Old Madge the cleaner and old Bill the gardener arrived daily in the village and once at the yuppie dwellings carried out the donkeywork so the ladies of the houses were at complete liberty.

 They met with diaries in hand consuming daily coffee and arranging various meetings and functions which required them to take up a table or tables from two to three hours, the contents of the one-cup, long since devoured.

Due to they being ladies of importance Mrs Delwright did not seem to mind how much time they took up for such little money spent. On the other hand any unfortunate tourists, who arrived, were soon visited to be asked if they required anything further and if not had their plates cleared immediately, with a quick nudge, nudge, wink, wink, this business is run with bums on seats.

As Jackson and Anne Richards took their seats, they noticed the displays around the walls.

There were paintings, which to the uneducated appeared to have been done by the children in the midst of daily battle in the paint-throwing contest of year one at the local primary school.

 Splodges of paint battered onto thick white wood, depicting some form of figures of which only the children in year one and possibly the yuppies of Cheshire could decipher.

The cost however dispelled the viewer’s initial opinion, for they were priced from £50 upwards.

There were some with sackcloth as a background and upon which were nails with coloured thread wrapped around them all secretly coded as art, modern of course.

“What you would like please?”

Enquired the blonde young lady, tall with a high forehead and square face seemingly from her features and broken English she was of East European origin more than likely working for and being suffered for a pittance.

“Ah, two cups of tea please,” replied Jack

“You like tea, but it is morning. No you want coffee now and tea later?”

“No thank you” replied Anne, “tea, two cups thank you?”

“Oh you no want something to eat as well,” said Girda, an East European, according to her name badge at least.

“Just tea” replied Jack the Hat.

The lady turned and left, on arrival at the counter she spoke to her boss apologising “They say only they want tea no coffee, no food I sorry”

The ladies at both tables had been staring in silence then with heads downs became huddled over the centre of their tables.

The new comers downed the luke warm tea in the due time allocated, it appeared to have been made that way to ensure the drinkers did not stay too long, and the tea maker was correct for they were soon gone.

The Richards couple walked off and when approaching their bungalow they saw a van parked nearby with a sign upon it, Garden Rescue.

A rather over weight old man arrived he was whistling Dixie, very apt thought Jack, though working here for this lot he was surprised to see the man didn’t have a broom stuck up his posterior so that he could sweep the path as he walked to and fro collecting his equipment.

“Excuse me, mind if I have a word?” Asked Jack.

“Not at all” said the gardener “but don’t think I am being rude if I say, could it wait until I have finished this house, they time and observe me you know?"

“That my friend does not surprise me in the least,” replied Jack, “We live at the Bungalow over there the one that’s not converted to a Colditz prisoner of war castle”

It was half an hour later when a knock on the front door revealed the gardener; sporting blue working clothes all signed Garden Rescue.

“How can I help sir?” he said.

“I have a problem,” said Jack, “I bought a greenhouse, I will show you. I bought it without checking, it transpires, they are not permitted here, I wondered if you might consider buying it”

The Gardener smiled and replied “I did hear, it seems there is a petition going around already, expect a visit. I will have a look at it”.

They both went around to the rear and he said, “You are lucky I have a customer who needs one I will put you in touch, get me your number”

Anne came scurrying out paper in hand their telephone number already written out, a war here is the last thing she wanted.

The gardener smiled, “They are a funny lot here”, he said, “Tell you what, just wait a minute”

He turned and went and in a moment he was gone his van with him.

“What a strange man” said Anne “he has gone Jack”.

“Another funny bugger” said Jack, “Fe fi FO fum back to Farnham, Surrey here we come”.

They sat down and had just settled when there was a knock on the door, getting up Anne said, “Well I never look here, it is that gardener man he has some men with him and a large van”.

Rising and walking to the door Jack smiled and said

“Hello I thought you had bolted?”

“No, it suddenly struck me; old Ted here wanted a glass house. If you can strike a deal he and his two lads will take it now”.

The deal struck the garden was clear within the hour.

There was soon yet another knock on the door “Who the hell is that now?” asked Jack, “It is like Clapham junction here”

He rose from his seat opened the door to find two young people standing there note pads in hand.  “Students” he thought “rag week more begging”.

He reached into his pocket brought out his purse when the young lady announced. “Cheshire Planning, we have come as a result of a complaint that you have erected a building contrary to the planning regulations”

“My word that is quick”, said Jack, “We have only lived here a couple of days, no, sorry you have arrived on a wasted journey no additional building here”.

“I must insist on checking”, said the young man sporting an identity card around his neck indicating he was a Marmaduke.

“Got a warrant?" asked Jack.

“Why no” replied poor Marmaduke”

“Need a warrant to come in here,” said Jack

“Jack please, don’t be so stupid” called Anne coming to the rescue of poor Marmaduke. “Come with me both of you I will show you round, we have no building”.

The three went round the back, cameras and note pads in hand, they looked, no building to be seen, just some bags of compost at the side of the house.

“Well I never?” said Melissa the young lady, “our boss was so sure you had erected an unlawful building”.

In moments, they were gone and Jacks hope of ever having a glasshouse and begonias with them.

There was much relief in the administration offices back at Manchester Police Headquarters when Faith Hope the Coroner’s Officer reported that the cause of death in relation to Constable Rick Masterton was natural causes.

This was due to a rare heart complaint to be precise, she told the Chief-Constable Quinten Johns.

 She added, “The officer had suffered a disturbed heart rhythm and so death ensued without warning. No cause for this is known.  There was no evidence he had drowned, it appeared he had a heart attack and then fell into the water”.

She then handed him a copy of the slip of paper giving the cause of death, as

1a.Heart failure

1b Due to heart arrhythmia

 Similar news reached Chief Constable Myers in respect of Constable Ifor Evans. “A sad case” he said, but as it was natural causes with no Inquest it was much the better for the family.

On the Tuesday morning, Alex Renton, The Chief Constable of Shropshire was surprised when his telephone rang to be informed by Chief Superintendent Ralph Jackson that Constable Ted Yates known as “Spud” had been found dead whilst on duty.

The officer, a dog handler had been found dead in his police van at the bottom of a county beauty spot known as the Long Mynd.

“What happened Jackson?” Asked the Chief.

“Well the duty Inspector Ron Thelwell has visited and checked the scene with accident investigation”.

“There are no markings to indicate the van was speeding, in fact it appears to have been stationary in a picnic area and simply gone over the top.”

“It appears to have rolled over, for when it was checked the van was in neutral, the engine was stopped and the ignition key in the off position.”

  “If I was to hazard a guess I would say Yates dozed off.”

“I see, well what injuries did he appear to have?" Asked the Chief.

“On the face of it none”, said Jackson “he was strapped in, seat belt fastened, he may have internal injuries or a broken neck of course but it won’t be until the PM is done later that we will know the answer”.

“I take it you will be going to the PM Ron?"

“Of course Sir and I will call you as soon as I know. Oh by the way, I have despatched two policewomen to break the news to the next of kin. I assume you will visit later sir.”

“Naturally I will, just let us get the result known”, replied the Chief, adding “so if you will summarise once again Ralph, I will note the details and pass it to the force press officer to save him calling you”.

“OK sir, here it is”

“Not more than an hour ago a lady driving her car into Carding Mill valley was surprised to see a white van travelling down the steep mountain side, then crash into a bank on the other side of the road in front of her”.

“It was a marked police vehicle, a dog van.  It was witnessed by a lady driver; she and several customers at the café over the road ran to the scene, the officer seemed unconscious at first so a nearby ambulance about to deliver a day patient to hospital agreed to take the officer to hospital”.

 “Unfortunately on the journey he stopped breathing and on arrival at the hospital at Shrewsbury was certified dead by the casualty doctor”.

“What about the dog?” asked the Chief, aware of the possible consequences in the press if anything untoward happened involving the police dog?

“Oh the dog is OK; another dog handler has visited and taken it to the kennels at HQ”.

It was two hours later the post mortem completed when the pathologist Mr Russell Johnson handed Ralph Jackson the Chief Super a slip of paper with the cause of death and saying. “I could find no injuries at all, a perfectly healthy man yet for some reason his heart threw a wobbler and he simply died, the cause is on the note, I will report direct to the Coroner, there should be no need for an inquest.

Jackson read the causes, which were

1a.Heart failure

1b Due to heart arrhythmia

“Thank you Doctor” said the Chief Super and was very relieved as he took out his mobile phone to update the Chief.

Jackson was also known as “No Marks Jackson”. For when he was a young officer in the scenes of crime department, in those days police officers did the job.

 No matter what anyone else suspected or could see when Jackson visited scenes of crime he rarely if ever found any finger prints or in police slang, “marks”.

From those days forward through the ranks until now, nearly at the top of the tree, he retained the name, “No marks Jackson”. Out of hearing range of the speaker of course.

 

PART FOUR

 

PEACE AND TRANQUILLITY

 

“I think it’s a real shame Jack you having to lose your small glass house. You were looking forward so much to growing those plants, still never mind here is a drink and a piece of fruit cake I made just before we left Farnham.  It has matured very nicely", said Anne making all efforts to console him.

He remained silent, thinking, but eventually rose from his chair, reached for the mug of tea then in quick time it and the cake was gone.

“I think I might just start doing something else, what if I was to write a book?" said Jack in a rather apprehensive tone.

“Well I never Jack that is a wonderful idea”,

She did all she could to sound enthusiastic but had her doubts he could settle to such a project as writing a book.

“There is the problem of getting it published of course, being a nobody, finding a publisher will be difficult” he now sounded a little pessimistic, but qualified it by saying “there is always the internet I suppose.”

“Why of course, surely with all your experience you could think of something, all those cases you have dealt with I would have thought it would be easy to find a subject of interest to readers”.

“I will certainly give it some thought” he replied.

“I am told the problem with publishing books is that everyone wants to read them but no one wants to pay even a pittance to do so”, he replied.

“I think that might well be the case, you will just have to do it for your own interest”. She said soothingly.

He came back, “I recall speaking with an ex copper. He wrote a book uploaded it, but it did not get a single download. He then heard of this system the internet has of promoting books free, so he tried.”

“What he didn’t realise was, the free bit was not charging him for the promotion it was giving his book away free”.

“In a week well over 1000 people down loaded it, all for free, since then he didn’t get a single download”

“Such is life Jack with such free loaders”.

“One thing for sure”, he mumbled,  “they won’t get mine for free even if no one reads the bloody things, on principal”.

“I am told a book can take six to twelve months to write all for some bugger to read for nothing, no way”.

 She smiled but said nothing.

He then added, “Not only that having got the bloody book free some leave cryptic comments so as to prevent the author ever selling. Worse, if you look these bad reviewers up you will see some make a hobby of it. They go from book to book leaving cryptic comments, destroying the dreams of some person who at least tired to achieve something”.

She left the room and began to do the ironing, after some time she could hear him in his study it appeared he was up to something.

Two hours later Anne arrived in the study. Jack was now asleep, head back, mouth open, slight dripping from the side of his mouth. At first, she wondered if he had succumbed to a stroke attack.

She spoke, “Jack”,

He awoke with a jolt almost knocking the cup over.

“Are you ok my love?” She asked

“Yes, yes, just nodded off”.

She put down the drink, turned and left but as she did so, she saw, he had moved around the items in his room, desk, chair, drawers and cupboards all rearranged.  As long as it suited him, that pleased her.

“Ah” he thought “when I go to Chester I will get some kit, a note pad, dictating machine for notes, two reams of paper, oh additional cartridges for the PC”.

The following morning the weather remained chilly but the sun was shining, breakfast had been cleared away. Golf today he thought. His clubs were cleaned after he last used them so were his golfing shoes, a dual colour black and white.

 He had seen some bright red ones, he thought and giggled to himself, what a load of old rubbish really, did it really make any difference what colour one’s shoes were to the relevance of getting that ball in that hole using up more or less shots than someone else.

“Jack are you there?”

“Yes in the garage” he called, “I was thinking of having a round of golf”.

“Oh I see, I was thinking of a journey into Chester but it will do again”.

He thought and called, “I tell you what we could combine the two”.

“Oh I don’t think so”, she said, “I really don’t fancy driving into Chester alone”.

“No, no” he said, “what I meant was, we could drive to Chester but first I could call at that golf club outside the village, make an enquiry to become a member then afterwards we could continue into Chester”.

 “What about the golf?” she asked.

“Oh I could play another day once the membership is sorted”.

It was agreed, she was already dressed and ready in anticipation, and he put away his golf clubs and shoes, and then went inside had a quick brush and polish then put on a white polo neck jumper. His blazer sporting the Farnham Golf club badge, just in case he thought, better to have been a member already, after all, Farnham was a world championship course and had several celebrity members.