Chapter 51
Half-lit and peaceful, the office was almost deserted as he strolled towards the kettle and trays of cups. Sandeep was running the new girl through the systems and a couple of Chalkie’s syndicate were tapping away at their keyboards. He made himself a drink and began his saunter back.
“Morning, Boss. You’re early.” It was Degsy, signing in.
“Morning Derek. I could say the same about you. What’s the occasion?”
“Need to get away handy today, stuff to do at home.” He smiled.
Thurstan smiled back. “How was your weekend?”
Degsy chucked his jacket on the guest chair in his office and headed for the kettle. “It was much better than I thought it’d be”
“How was the Pirates of Penzance?”
He dropped two sweeteners and a sachet of decaf into his mug as the water re-boiled. “D’yer know what! I have to say, I was impressed. Didn’t know the sister-in-law could sing that well. She played Edith.” He put the kettle down, opened the fridge, sniffed the milk then added it to the mug. “Anything happen over the weekend?”
Thurstan sipped his coffee. “Nah, not much.” Another sip, then casually, “Darius McAvoy got kidnapped and Firearms had to do a full-on hostage rescue but apart from that it was quiet.”
The look on Degsy’s face made him laugh out loud. “Come on, I’ll tell you all about it,” he said as he hung the jacket on the stand and sat down in the guest chair.
Half an hour later he stood up, briefly inspected the inside of his empty mug and said, “So, I’m expecting a call today from the Area DCI, moaning about having it dropped on their toes but it’s all done and dusted. It started and ended on their patch and the evidence is all sorted. McAvoy and his mates are saying nothing but, with us having the camera footage and the surveillance guys’ statements, that’s not important and Matrix have refused it as it doesn’t sit with anything they’ve got going at present. As the Chief Super said, although it results from our murder enquiry, it’s not part of MIT’s remit. They’re just going to have to suck it up and crack on. It’s all been done for them anyway.” He wandered off to wade through the pile of paperwork on his desk and the electronic taskings that filled his computer. It would consume his morning.
Midday found him sat outside the ‘Doughnuts and Coffee’ stand in Paradise Street. Roger Chapel sat opposite and offered him a mini doughnut from a small box.
“Are you sure? They’re very nice.”
“Certain,” he smiled. He waved a cassette tape. “So, what exactly’s on this then?”
“My son recorded it years ago. He’s just come back from abroad,” Roger mumbled as he chewed. “Been living away for a couple of years now and remembered having done it. Found it in the loft with a load of his old stuff, so, as you can imagine, we didn’t see much of him that weekend.” He took a mouthful of coffee before continuing.
“It’s Uncle Jack talking about the war and what life was like when he first came here. I think Jerry, that’s my lad, said he made it for a school project. I haven’t listened to it all. I have to admit it was a bit too much for me to hear his voice again but he talks about the camps, going back to his old home, the journey west, that sort of thing. I just thought it might be useful.”
A sympathetic smile. “Well, thanks very much, Roger. Hopefully, I’ll be able to listen to it this afternoon but I’ve got to say, at present, there doesn’t seem to be anything untoward with the original investigation, nothing that would have produced a different outcome. There is one other person I feel should, at least, be spoken to. It’s a neighbour but he’s away a lot and the information at present is that he was out of the country when Jack died.” He hesitated. “Just from a witness point of view, you understand. Not a suspect.” He finished his drink.
“I’ve spoken to the pathologist and he’s confirmed the original report. Now, you have to listen carefully to what I’m telling you. There is a very slight possibility that having taken too many sleeping tablets, Jack was smothered with a pillow or something similar. It’s only conjecture. There’s no forensic evidence to support it but then again it doesn’t negate it either. It’s the only other thing that might have happened. Remember though, there’s no independent evidence to support it, no forced entry and I have no suspects. I think, quite honestly, that things happened the way the first investigation says it did.” He stood up. “I just want to cross some t’s and dot some i’s and then I’ll be in touch.”
He walked to Holy Corner then bimbled up Lord Street to the Crown Court, cutting through to the little park just beyond. It was a nice day and he was in no rush to get back. The aircon had packed in again and his new luxury fan had gone on strike. Eventually, he’d run out of reasons to delay the inevitable and had to squeeze himself between the bus shelters and HQ wall, taking the steep steps into Reception.
As he settled down in his chair there was a knock at the door. The maintenance guy stood there smiling,
“Hello, Thurstan. Problem with your fan?”
He looked up. “Hello, Douglas. Yeah. It stopped working a couple of days ago. I was going to bin it but someone said it might just be the fuse.” He paused. “Any chance you could find me a battery for my clock?”
“Yep, no probs.” He started unscrewing the fan’s plug. “I’ll sort this out then I’ll nip down to the basement and get you one.” He noticed the cassette on the desk.
“You don’t see them much anymore.”
Thurstan looked a little glum. “No, you don’t. Problem is, I’ve got nothing to play it on. The Custody Suites have done away with them and gone all digital.” He thought for a moment. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a cassette player down there as well?”
Duggie grinned back at him. “We’ve got all sorts down there, Thurstan. I’ll bring it up. You can ring me when you’ve finished with it.”
With the fan now kicking out a refreshing cool breeze, he sat back and listened to the tape. As Roger Chapel had said, Jack recounted his memories, home life before the Germans had come, the round-up, their journey to the camp, the last time he’d seen his parents and little Hanka, his journey home, realisation and odyssey to the west.
The description of his first meeting with Kamiński was interesting and Thurstan hadn’t realised Hirek had been such an early inmate in Auschwitz. He’d never thought to ask, though from his responses it wasn’t likely he would’ve wanted to talk about it.
Jack was less forthcoming with their time in the British Army. They’d been picked up by members of the Jewish Brigade, a small unit called the TTG. It was glossed over. Thurstan felt something had gone on that wasn’t to be spoken about.
He opened up the internet on his PC and began to browse.