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3rd February 2014
Derek Drayton returned to the MIT office in Police Headquarters with a cheese roll from the canteen.
“He’s here, in his office,” one of the staff said.
Derek nodded and went to his desk, placed the cheese roll in his top drawer and removed two sheets of A4 from the top of his in-tray.
The door was open, but he knocked anyway. “Good morning, Sir, Derek Drayton, Detective Sergeant. You probably don’t remember me.”
Thurstan Baddeley, his new DCI, looked up from the paperwork on his desk and smiled. “Derek. I remember you. Admiral Street, wasn’t it? I know I was a DS. Always thought you were a very promising trainee detective and I see I wasn’t wrong.” He got up and shook Derek’s hand.
“That’s right, Sir. Admiral Street. Happy days,” Derek replied. “Do you prefer we call you Sir or Boss?”
“I prefer Boss, Derek, but when the Chief and his mates are around it’ll need to be Sir,” Thurstan replied. “You know what they’re like,” he added.
“No problem, Boss,” Derek said, “I’ve got you a list of the personnel on the team. This one’s the team we actually have now, and this one’s a list of those who would normally be here if they hadn’t been drafted to the other syndicate working on the serial killings out in St.Helens.” He handed his Detective Chief Inspector the two sheets of A4.
Thurstan perused them as Derek continued: “I’ve included their nicknames, Boss, because you’re going to hear them used around the office and I thought it would save any confusion.”
“Very sensible,” Thurstan murmured still reading the lists.
“It may help if I point them out to you. The only one not here at the moment is Chalkie White, he’s your DI. He’ll be in at twelve, had some family stuff to sort out.”
He walked across to a large window that looked out onto the main office. Thurstan followed him.
“Right. It’ll be easier if I do it in the same order as on the list if possible.”
Thurstan handed him the sheet of A4.
Derek looked at it briefly, then pointed to an individual sat at the desk nearest the DCI’s office, his sleeves rolled up exposing two hairy forearms. “This chap we call Chewbacca, or just Chewy. As in the Wookie from Star Wars. The very thin guy over there at the back is the Strolling Bone, but we only call him that when he’s out of earshot. Otherwise, it’s just Bob.
“The one eating the sandwich is Gandalph a.k.a The Wizard. He’s very good at finding evidence and intel the rest of us can’t seem to find, hence the name and the girls in the far office are Lizzie and Spud. Lizzie’s the black girl and she’s your other DS. She’s also called Lizzie the Bizzie, a nickname she picked up from the ‘bucks’ at Admiral Street.”
Bucks was a local name for people who provided the Police with most of their work. They in turn referred to the Police as ‘The Bizzies’.
“Her real name’s Elizabeth, but she doesn’t like it and Betty’s not a name she responds well to either. We only use them when we want to ‘wind’ her up and then only from a safe distance.”
“The other girl’s DC Murphy I take it?” Thurstan offered.
“That’s right and the guy sat on the desk is Mark Sandon, a.k.a. Sando, or as we’re currently calling him, Glando the Strolling Erection. Let’s just say he’s very fond of the ladies.”
“I see. Why not have done with it and just call him Shagger?” ventured Thurstan.
“Already taken by someone on the other team, Boss” Derek replied matter of factly.
“Morning, Sir, and you, Sarge!” chirped a happy looking chap as he passed by carrying a pile of papers.
“That’s Soapy,” Derek said, then added, “Don’t ask, Boss.”
Thurstan frowned in thought then chuckled. “I suspect I know where you’re going with that one. Are the girls aware?”
“Possibly not, but it’s not something I feel the need to clarify, Boss,” he grinned back before pointing once more. “That guy, on the far desk to the right, is Sparky, used to be an electrician. If you ever need something doing, he does a great job at very decent rates. On his left is Polo, after the ‘mint with a hole’. Give it a couple of days and you’ll get that one.” Thurstan nodded.
“Then there’s the group over by the water cooler. Left to right: Fast Eddie, very meticulous but if you’re in a rush give it to someone else. Fred, the bald guy, weightlifter, looks like the singer from the group Right Said Fred. The chap next to him we just call Arthur.”
“Why Arthur?” Thurstan asked.
“It’s his name, Boss,” smiled Derek.
Thurstan raised his eyebrows in a gesture of surrender. “Ah, well, fair enough. How old is he? He looks about seventy-five?”
“I know,” Derek laughed, “but he’s a good ten years younger. Ex DS, retired now and the Office Manager. I’d suggest, if we get a job whilst the other enquiry is still at full speed, we use him as the House to House enquiries co-ordinator, running the control, especially if the local uniformed sergeants haven’t done it before. We won’t be able to use Matrix Disruption because they’re tasked to the other enquiry. Anyway, Arthur’s very good and a stickler for detail. Next to him is Taff, Welshman, unpronounceable first name. There’s some dispute as to whether even he’s pronouncing it properly.”
He pointed to the two officers who had just walked out. “The black lad is Devon – as you might have noticed, another weightlifter. He and Fred like to take the same lunch breaks so they can train together. The other guy is Ikky. Iqbal Hameed.” He looked around the main office and then said, “Ahh! And over there – the Indian lad is Sandy. Short for Sandeep. The other one is the newest and youngest on the team, the Foetus.” He didn’t add anything further, preferring to wait for the response.
“Good grief!” Thurstan exclaimed. “How long have we been employing twelve-year-olds?”
“I know,” he laughed again. “No point sending him up to the bar to get a round in if we go for drinks, he keeps getting refused. Well, that’s it, Boss. They’re a good bunch. All very keen, and they know their stuff.”
“Well, thank you for that invaluable information,” Thurstan replied with a smile, then added in a more businesslike tone of voice: “Right, Derek. Can you get the team together, including those that’ve just left the office?”
“Yes, Boss. Not a problem. They’ll only have gone to the canteen for an iced bun or a sandwich. No one’s due out anywhere today. We’re putting the finishing touches this week to the last job. I’ll ring the canteen.” He looked at his watch. “Shall we say... 15 minutes?”
“Fine,” Thurstan replied as he returned to his desk. He hadn’t needed to ask his DS what his nickname was. Coming from Liverpool, he already knew Derek would be called ‘Degsy’.