Chapter 3
DCI Baddeley sat back in his swivel chair, loosened his tie, undid the top button of his shirt and enjoyed the cool air blowing over him from his newly arrived fan. He closed his eyes. The papers held captive in the folder on his desk fluttered helplessly.
Detective Inspector Derek ‘Degsy’ Drayton tapped on the open door. “Boss? Sorry to disturb you.”
He opened one eye. “Derek.” He opened the other then sat forward. “It’s Thurstan. Come on. It’s been long enough now. Have a go.”
“Sorry, Bo...” He fleetingly looked flustered. “Thurstan.” He smiled. “I’ll get there but you know how it is?”
“Well, it’s only been a year. Keep up the good work.” He smiled back. “So, what news do you bring?”
Degsy grabbed a seat. “Sammy’s currently charging our man. The interview went nicely. He knows he’s screwed. His brief does as well but I think they’re holding out for full disclosure in case there’s any straws they can cling to in the unused material. When they see it I’m fairly certain they’ll go for the early guilty plea recognition. Nice fan by the way.”
“Yes, it’s the deluxe version. You should get yourself one.”
Degsy brushed his trousers as he hid a smile. “I did. It’s been in my office for a week.”
Thurstan scowled. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I thought you’d seen it.”
“Do you know what, Derek? There are no privileges to rank anymore. I seem to be the last person to get anything. Didn’t you have to put in a written report to the stores’ manager, what’s his name, Neville?”
Degsy grinned. “Big Nev? No, I just phoned Denzil. He sorted it for me.”
Thurstan shook his head, sadly. “I don’t know why I bother sometimes, Derek. Next time, try sharing this sort of thing. I could have had that fan before anyone else if I’d known all I needed to do was make a bloody phone call.” He levered himself out of his chair. “Fancy a cold drink from the canteen before I pop up to Southport to see Chalkie? I’m buying.”
Degsy stood up. “That’s good of you, Boss.” He grimaced.
The DCI shook his head again. “Come on! We can practice in the lift.”
A tap on the door. It was Sandy. “Just thought I’d tell you, Boss, there’s a new guy on his way up.”
“Well, he’ll have to be quick, Sandeep, because I’m on my way out,” he said slipping into his jacket, mobile in hand. He closed the door and headed for the exit.
Signed out, he turned and bumped into a smartly dressed individual, early thirties, full head of collar-length hair.
“Sorry, mate.” The new guy brushed his locks from his face. “Do us a favour, have you seen the DCI?” he said.
“I see him every day,” Thurstan replied straightening his tie.
“No, I mean, where is he?”
“You’re talking to him.”
The new guy blushed. “Oh! I’m sorry. You’re not how you were described to me. You’re not, err … well …”
“Black?” Thurstan interrupted. “No, well observed. I think you’re looking for DCI White. He’s out at Southport running the enquiries into the serial rapes we’ve had out there. You, however, will not be joining him just yet because you’re going to spend the next few days, at least, acclimatising yourself to how things are done. We don’t want any bad habits creeping in. Follow me. I’ll introduce you to the Office Manager, Arthur, ex DS, knows virtually everything there is to know about anything.” He paused. “What’s your name then?”
He looked startled, this hadn’t gone as smoothly as he’d intended. “Oh, didn’t I say? Sorry. It’s Mike. Mike Patterson.”
Thurstan smiled inwardly. It was always best to keep the new ones on their toes for a while, it kept them receptive.
“Arthur, this is Michael, the new DS on DCI White’s team. Show him the necessary and introduce him to DS Nolan who’ll cover the other stuff.” He turned to Patterson. “Well, I’ll leave you in Arthur’s capable hands, make sure you listen and you’ve just learnt the first lesson.”
Mike Patterson looked slightly bewildered, he thought he’d just learnt several.
Thurstan smiled. “Ask the right questions and you’ll get the right answers.” Turning to leave, he halted and beckoned the new DS to him then said quietly, indicating his hair, “Oh, and trim something off whatever it is you’ve got going at the front. People like to see the face of the person questioning them.” He smiled thinly and left.
Southport’s ornate Lord Street provided the bench where they ate their burgers and sipped coffee.
“Nothing for two months now, Thurstan. There’s a pattern there. Granted it’s disjointed but I still think it’s there. We’re just missing something.” He shook his head. “He’s a local lad, or he’s been local at some point. He’s got too much knowledge of the area not to be.” Chalkie put his cup on the bench, between them, and took another bite of his lunch.
Thurstan looked at him. “Time for some localised DNA sampling? The house to house area, then reassess?”
Chalkie released a tired smile. “I’m leaving that as a last resort, if I can. It’s the logistics. Not something I look forward to but it’s a possibility.”
Thurstan got up, placed his food wrapper in the nearby bin, returned and took another mouthful of coffee then sat back. “Why not return to the original house to house information and make sure it’s been input into the system properly. I worked on a job some years ago, early days, where there’d been an error by one of the indexers. Going back to the original material sorted the issue. Total pain in the arse for those doing it and I took a lot of flak for suggesting it but it worked. Needs must, you know.”
Chalkie finished his drink. “I think I’ll have to.” He pointed at the container on the bench. “You want to finish my chips?”
“Yeah, go on, I’ll have a handful.”
Walking away from the bin Thurstan tapped Chalkie’s arm. “Just a thought. Before you revisit the house to house sheets have a good look through the office the control was using, behind all the drawers and cabinets. Won’t be the first time stuff has slipped down the back of something like that. Might save a bit of time, if you’re lucky.” He smiled.
“Thanks, I’ll give it a shot.” Chalkie paused. “Fancy walking up Neville Street to the top and back to the nick that way?”
“Yeah, why not. By the way, your new DS arrived today.”
“Mike Patterson? I’ve heard he’s a good bloke. Good work ethic, I believe. I left word for him to get his hair cut. He’s been on the surveillance unit, well, you can imagine.’
Thurstan laughed. “I just suggested he might want to give it another try. Anyway, Arthur and Sammy will be showing him the ropes so he’ll be with you in a couple of days or do you need him up here now?”
Chalkie grinned. “No, I’d rather have him fully functional. It’ll do him the world of good.”
Twenty minutes later they stood outside Southport Police Station, an interesting building, its glory days long gone.
“You coming up?” Chalkie asked.
Thurstan shook his head. “Nah. I’ve got to get back and do some urgent paperwork. The Super stuck his nose in and made promises I’m struggling to keep.”
Chalkie smiled broadly. “I’m glad I’m off his radar at the moment. I doubt it’ll last long. Anyway, thanks. I needed that chat. Just wanted an opinion I trust.”
Thurstan nodded his appreciation. “How’s the new house going by the way?”
“Fine. Everyone’s thrilled. I’m not too happy about the mortgage but …”
“Well, that was an anniversary to remember. I did tell you to use a condom, if you recall?”
Chalkie laughed. “Passion and party blind our eyes, mate.”
“Ah! Coleridge. Always a favourite though I’m not quite sure that’s what he had in mind. Any more kids and you’re going to have to convert a warehouse.”
Chalkie patted Thurstan’s shoulder. “Rest easy, I had the snip last year.”
“You never said anything!”
Chalkie turned as he walked off with a wave. “I’m going for a shit. I’ll send you a postcard!”