The following night was very busy in the pub, because it was someone’s birthday. Max entered with a small perfume tester phial in his pocket filled with Temazepam powder dissolved in vodka.
According to Star’s timings and D.I. Marsh’s routine in the pub, the drug would take effect within a few minutes of being consumed. But a lot depended on his bulk, metabolism and how quickly he drank, so there could be a wide margin of error.
Max approached the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. The barman was far too busy to chat, and he felt awkward blocking the space at the bar while he sipped, waiting to bump Marsh when he came for a refill. He would replace the drink, with a spiked beer, in apology. Max and Star had rehearsed this procedure so that it would look fluid and natural.
D.I. Marsh stood up and placed his empty glass on the bar, signaling the barman “Same again” and went for a pee. Max moved to the empty glass and waited for it to be refilled. Five minutes later, Marsh would return and obviously stand over his empty glass. As they had not foreseen this scenario, Max took a chance. With practiced sleight of hand, he drained the phial to mix with the dregs in Marsh’s glass, then moved back to a table and watched.
After half an hour, Marsh was becoming loud and uninhibited; these effects were not predicted. Marsh normally walked the mile back, unless it was raining, when a colleague would give him a lift. Max had intended to lie in wait for Marsh in an alley, dressed in the tramp disguise. But today it appeared that a taxi was being called to get Marsh home. Another change of plan; Star and the scooter were urgently needed.
Minutes later, Max saw Star’s text that she was outside with the scooter. Time was critical now; he had to get the tramp clothes on and grab Marsh at his garden gate, hoping no one would see the incident that Max had planned.
Star weaved through the traffic to the alley and waited as Max slipped on his hoody, camel coat and scarf around his face. As he climbed on the scooter, the taxi carrying Marsh shot past the alley entrance.
“Go for it Star, get to his place before he does.”
The scooter outpaced the taxi in the traffic and Star dropped Max off a minute ahead of Marsh. Max tried to formulate the best way of dealing with him, and was still thinking hard, when the taxi pulled up.
Marsh got out with a flourish and made a big show of paying the driver and giving a generous tip. He opened his gate and lurched in. Max fell onto the path behind Marsh, who spun around and bent over the moaning body in an attempt to help the “tramp”. Max stood up rapidly and used the back of his head under Marsh’s chin. Marsh went out like a light, falling into the flowerbed bordering the neat lawn.
Max searched the unconscious man, found his warrant card, and slipped away into the night.
In the grand scheme that Max had devised, this simple card might save his life.
Marsh sat up groggily and staggered to his front door; his distraught wife let him in.
“What on earth happened to you, darling?” she asked anxiously.
“A tramp fell down behind me on the path. I tried to help him up and his head caught me under the chin. That’s all I remember.”
“That explains the awful stench,” she remarked, wrinkling her nose at the tramp’s rank odor.
It was next morning before D.I. Marsh realized he had lost his warrant card. He was desperate to find it because he would face disciplinary action unless it was found. Thanks to his unorthodox approach to fighting crime, D.I. Marsh was not popular with his superiors. Though he had an arrest and conviction rate to die for, it was not enough to compensate for his lone wolf, loose cannon attitude. With his financial problems, he could not afford to get into trouble.
As soon as he got home, Max scanned in the card image and substituted his own photograph in it. He printed the new card on a white plastic sheet and carefully cut it to size. It looked like a genuine card, and would fool everyone except D.I. Marsh or those who knew him.
The following evening at the pub, Max listened to conversations referring to Marsh. His suspension added to his serious financial predicament: a £25,000 bill for his daughter’s private medical treatment. Max sympathized, but had his own problems. He had not yet finished with the detective, and if all went well, he could compensate Marsh for his trouble.