Tuesday cont.
Gary’s first mission at HQ on Tuesday should have been to
question Polly’s father, but a series of incidents at HQ kept him busy until
lunchtime. He phoned Cleo to tell her that his morning had gone awry mainly due
to technical hitches and he could not get home for lunch after all. At Midday
he ordered pizzas for himself and Nigel from Romano and read Chris’s latest
forensic reports.
Gary rebuked himself for being in a race to get at important
evidence before the Hartley Agency did. He had lost such races before. He had
better find out from Cleo exactly what Dorothy was going to do and if possible
pre-empt it. It should be added that only Gary was in the race. Cleo found it
puerile that Gary was still fighting for some kind of investigative supremacy,
and told him so regularly.
***
“We were rather hoping that you would come up with a list of
names, Gary, but you haven’t talked to Spencer yet, so Dorothy will have to
improvise.”
“Sorry about that. We had a complete IT crash this morning
followed by a total power blackout. The generator took over for the cells and
canteen, but all interviews were postponed for security reasons. Hold Dorothy’s
horses for a bit, please.”
“I hope you didn’t lose any data or prisoners this morning.”
Cleo knew she was taunting Gary, but his investigative
sluggishness annoyed her. Gary did not rise to the bait.
“Not this time. You know about the power generator for
emergencies, but we don’t use it for IT. After the last crash we had cloud
storage integrated. I save all my data on external discs as well,” said Gary.
“We improved security, too.”
“I’m glad to hear that. So all you have to do now is to wait
for Spencer to spill some beans.”
“Exactly.”
“A rather dodgy business if I may say so, Gary,” said Cleo.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” said Gary, all choked up about
Cleo’s wry little comment.
“He might mention a guy named Foster, Gary. I think he was
in a relationship with Polly before Ali came along, but that’s only Miss Snow
type gossip until we know more.”
“Foster will need an alibi.”
“He’ll also need a motive,” said Cleo. “Dorothy will work on
that. No need to put the guy on his guard.”
“You’re right,” said Gary, forcing himself to be
accommodating “The pizzas are arriving, Cleo. I’d better hug Romano.”
Gary rang off. He and Nigel had just managed to finish their
repast when Spencer was brought in.
***
Jealousy was a dominant motive for murder when a rival or
even the person who ‘belonged’ to someone was wiped out, Gary reflected, but
would a father stalk and murder a man who had presumably gained his daughter’s
affections and was in fact quite a good catch for a girl under twenty with an
illegitimate son?
Spencer was extremely angry that he was being subjected to
custody purely on the theory that he could have been seen by his daughter.
“If you have a cast-iron alibi for the whole of last Friday
evening, you can go home,” said Gary, and Nigel raised his eyebrows.
“If you can prove I went out, you can keep me here,”
retorted Spencer. “That’s all I’m planning to say, so it’s your decision,
Inspector.”
“I’ll think about it,” said Gary.
“Try Steve Foster,” Spencer said.
“Who?”
“You’re the detective, Mr Hurley. Find out.”
“I will, Mr Spencer.”
***
Gary sent Spencer back to the arrest cell. He was annoyed with
himself for even asking about the guy Spencer had mentioned. Cleo had told him
about Foster’s existence and warned him about those helpless reactions he had
often had during his burnout days, when he had thought the criminal world had
ganged up against him, if not everyone.
Gary’s questioning had become more astute these days because
he was usually on his guard about showing any weakness, but he was still
vulnerable and did not always take into account that many criminals had high IQ
rates and were shrewd enough to see when a cop was floundering.
Gary decided that the Steve Foster angle must be followed up
immediately, but preferably without conferring with Cleo. He wanted to be
faster on the draw this time. He knew the guy’s first name; Cleo had not mentioned
it. Cleo would have laughed at him for his imagined rivalry with a private eye,
and drawn him into an embrace. Her kind of intimacy was mind-blowing, he
reflected. And so was her shape tongue when he was on the receiving end.
***
However, something more serious than beating the Hartley
Agency to results was bothering Gary. That alibi of Spencer’s depended on his
wife, so she would have to be questioned too. Gary was by no means sure that
Spencer was a murderer, but it was police custom to cultivate a suspect when
they had one to show. The crown prosecution did not like murder cases to
stagnate.
Gary overcame his competitive idiosyncrasy and phoned Cleo
to tell her he had a job for Dorothy now if she wanted it. Or had Frank Wetherby
better find and question Foster?
Cleo said it would be OK for her, but cramping Dorothy’s
style would not be OK for Dorothy, so she should go ahead and Frank could
follow that up before the police took over (assuming they had to). Diplomacy
was called for. Cleo phoned Dorothy.
***
”Gary is nervous but
he agreed that you must start the ball rolling, so will you please find out
more about Steve Foster, Dorothy.”
“Should I know him?”
“Do you remember Skip mentioned Polly’s ex-boyfriend at the
pub?
“Yes. I think Foster is Flora Snow’s gardener, Cleo.”
“Awesome. We need to know where he was on Friday evening. If
he’s jealous, he might have decided to get rid of Ali. We don’t need to know
much about him except in connection with Polly, but if he has nothing
interesting to say, he might suggest others who do.“
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he lives quite near Flora,” said
Dorothy.
“He’s probably in the phone book, Dorothy.”
“Does he have a criminal record?”
“We can ask Gary about that.”
“I’ll ask Flora about him,” said Dorothy.
***
After ascertaining that Steve Foster was not on police
records, Gary’s next task was to get Greg more involved in the Spencer case. Greg
was in his office two doors down the corridor when Gary phoned.
“Are you tired of my face, Gary?”
“How could I be? I know you have a lot to do, but can you
have a friendly chat with a guy named Spencer and squeeze in another trip to
Huddlecourt Minor to talk to Mrs Spencer?”
“Anything concrete at stake, Gary?”
Some of Gary’s missions were based on hunches and Greg
understandingly felt the need to be on
the same wavelength before setting out.
“Mrs Spencer is Polly the barmaid’s step-mother. Ali was
having sex with Polly when he was stabbed. Spencer says he was at home all
Friday evening, but he said that his wife had been out, so she cannot confirm
that alibi. But if she was out, where was she?”
“Why don’t we just pull her in?” said Greg.
“On what charge? Polly’s father is challenging me to crack
his alibi that he did not go out on Friday night. If Mrs Spencer really was out,
was Mr Spencer really at home? Were they both out, but not together? We know
where Polly was, of course,” said Gary. “As far as I know, Polly is an only
child, so Mrs Spencer might have a motive for stabbing the man she believed had
seduced her step-daughter.”
“Assuming that’s the way the daughter-step-mother thing was
working. That would put Mrs on a par with Mr, wouldn’t it?” mused Greg. “It
would not be the first time that a case against a couple crumbled because they
had found a way of confounding the police.”
“That’s true.”
“Of course, if Ali was sleeping around, Mrs Spencer might
have been one of his bedfellows, Gary.”
“We can’t rule that out, can we?” said Gary, wondering what Cleo would say about that
theory.
“OK, I’ll drop everything and go there now,” said Greg.
“Mrs Spencer might be at work if she has a job. I’ve no idea
if Polly is planning to go to work at the pub again, but you could ask her if
you see her. I can’t imagine Molly taking her back, but women are
unpredictable.”
“Too true. I’ll track both of them down if possible and
phone you when I have talked to them. Do you want me to bring Mrs Spencer in?”
“Not unless you have to. I don’t want to alarm Polly, but
there is a chance that she will confide in you – not in her step -mother’s presence,
of course.”
“Wouldn’t you prefer to go yourself?” Greg asked.
“Not this time. I’m also hoping that Dorothy Price can find
out about the guy named Steve Foster, who is presumably one of Polly’s admirers.”
“Can Dorothy handle it?”
“I’d rather she didn’t even try, but Cleo insisted that it
would be very hurtful not to let her, so she will. Cleo seems to be in
competition with me.”
“Or you with her, Gary.”
“Dorothy is one of Cleo’s secret weapons, Greg. By telling
Cleo that Dorothy need not bother with Foster since we could take care of it, I
guaranteed that she’ll do exactly that.”
“I thought this was about solving crime, not crushing your rivals,
Gary.”
“Ouch for that, Greg. It might have been true a couple of
years ago, but …”
“But?”
“People tend to think
Dorothy is eccentric.”
“She is!”
“But it makes them talkative. Frank Wetherby is in
Middlethumpton, tracking the history of that corpse Molly found at the pub.”
“So Frank is making himself useful straightaway. That must
be a relief for Cleo,” said Greg, who thought Gary was being rather childish
about the Hartley Agency.
“Frank’s adventure will be educational, Greg. I just hope
he’s used to whores and pimps because I’m pretty sure that’s where his snooping
will take him.”
“I’m waiting for information about a pickpocket detained at
Milton’s on Saturday, Gary. He apparently had a Molotov cocktail in his
pocket.”
“Who found it?”
“Their private eye.”
“I didn’t know they had one.”
“She used to be a temporary sales girl, but she caught so
many shoplifters that they promoted her to detective status and gave her a
binding contract,” said Greg.
“Do you know her?”
“Her name is familiar, Gary.”
“I think I can guess.”
“It’s Babsi Dickson. She used to be a bouncer at that
defunct lesbian club. Not my kind of girl at all.”
“Wasn’t she a butcher?”
“That’s her. After the meat shop and club had both closed
down, she scouted round for a job and they took her on at Milton’s for the
men’s department. She’s taller and more muscular than most of the customers.”
“She sounds like the right kind of assistant for Robert
Jones,” said Gary. “She’d protect him efficiently from Edith.”
“Miss Dickson would eat all the steaks, Gary.”
“I should think that would be the last of Robert Jones’s
worries, poor guy.”
“He’s still suffering after more of the same, I suppose. How
did Cleo put up with him? He’s a lame duck, if ever there was one.”
“She had me for the nice stuff, Greg.”
“But she hung on to that butcher like a limpet.”
“Loyalty.”
“And what about her loyalty to you?”
“You can’t make up Cleo’s mind for her,” said Gary. “I
tried.”
“She’s quite a gal, Gary. Independent, highly intelligent
and a bit stubborn.”
“Fabulous, actually,” said Gary.
“You’re a lucky man,” said Greg. “I don’t suppose she has a
sister.”
“Not that I know of.”
“Are you going to be in the office all day, Gary?”
“Probably not. There’s been another burglary at a chemist’s
shop, I hear.”
“Isn’t that a job for the drugs squad?” Greg said.
“Not if the chemist’s assistant is found dead in the back
room.”
“Oh.”
“Chris and his team are there at the moment and the chemist
is apparently trying to ascertain what is missing in the way of drugs. It
probably started as a routine dealer break-in, but when one is adorned with a
corpse, homicide tends to get a share in the solving,” said Gary. “I think I
should show up at that chemist’s. I’d like to know who the dead girl was and
other assistants may be able to help. Some assistants get involved with dealers
without realizing it. They reveal what’s in stock and where to find it, and the
rest is a foregone conclusion.”
“But that does not usually result in the assistant’s death,”
Greg commented.
“Always supposing she was an assistant,” said Gary. “I only
have a patrol car report to go on. Anyone can dress up in an overall.”
***
“Before I forget, have you dealt with Daniels?” Greg asked. “He
could rescind his confession and plead innocence.”
“I think he knows the game is up, Greg. He could try
claiming I had exerted undue pressure, but no one will fall for that. Daniels
is a cruel bully and was only released a few months ago because his wife told
the court lies and he got off lightly.”
“Why is it that some women go back to men who abuse them,
Gary?”
“You’ll have to ask Cleo about that. She’s the expert.”
***
Before he went to the chemist’s shop, Gary could not resist
phoning Cleo. To his surprise, she was more interested in what she had to tell
him than anything he could have told her.
“You won’t believe this, Gary. I didn’t want to.”
“Go on!”
“When Polly came back after those three years with that guy
Coppins, her mother was still alive, but her father was carrying on with the
woman he subsequently married. Rumour in Huddlecourt Minor has it that the
first Mrs Spencer committed suicide because of that, but apparently no one
believes that. The story that Polly only got back after her mother’s death is a
lie. She stayed hidden for weeks before applying for the job at Molly’s,
probably because she was scared of the guy who kidnapped her. I’m worried. I
think Polly has been putting on an act and I’d like to know why.”
“Don’t over-emphasize, Cleo. There are many records of women
who have committed suicide when they were betrayed by husbands. In my family
there was one. An aunt of mine – a truly awful woman who oozed holier-than-thou
piety - started an affair with a vicar who was married and had two children.
The wife drowned herself because she was ashamed that she had not been a good
wife. At least, that’s what her suicide note said.”
“That’s awful,” said Cleo.
“That’s how people are. That aunt took over the two children
and had them doing all the housework after school.”
“But what if Polly does know something? What if her story
about Ali is an invention?”
“Can we deal with that later, Cleo? I must go out now. Another
killing is calling me!”
“Another?”
“I don’t mind people being dead. I just hate the blood.”
“Let’s hope this one’s bloodless then,” said Cleo, who had
experienced Gary’s queasiness at such events.
“Clobbered from behind. Died breaking her fall by breaking
her neck.”
“Ouch.”
“But I have a juicy item for you,, Cleo.”
“I can’t wait.”
“I must tell you what I heard from Greg.”
“Go on!”
“Do you remember Babsi Dickson?”
“Wasn’t she one of those choristers who brought Laura Finch
down?”
“Yes. She is now a detective at Milton’s, Cleo.”
“She should be Robert’s assistant, Gary. She was a butcher’s
assistant after her bouncing career was over, according to Dorothy’s research.”
“That’s exactly what I told Greg.”
“Robert should head-hunt her, Gary, if she isn’t too
powerful for him.”
“Maybe she’d be the right one for him now, Cleo. Anything’s
better than preoccupation with Edith.”
“So how are we going to bring Robert and Babsi together?”
“I thought you might have an idea,” said Gary.
“Maybe you should concentrate on that chemist’s corpse,”
said Cleo. “I’m quite surprised that you might think I could play cupid for
Robert.”
“Just a thought.”
“Amusing rather than inspiring, Sweetheart.”
***
The drugs squad had already been to the chemist’s shop. It
was a routine case except for the corpse. They had discovered that the dead
woman was an old acquaintance on the drug scene. Forensics would finish
clue-hunting and the corpse would be taken to the pathology lab at HQ. The
woman would probably not have been on her own. Had some kind of row flared up
between her and whoever was with her that had ultimately led to her death?
Chris reported that she might just have hit her head in a
fall and died from a brain haemorrhage. Death could be almost instantaneous if
the fall was hard enough or she had hit her head very hard. Only an autopsy
could define exactly how she had died. The drugs squad would locate the dead
woman’s partner in crime. They had a good idea who it might be. The current
incident had the same hallmarks as others that had not been solved. Now they
had the dead woman they might be able to solve more than just one such theft.
Unfortunately, unsolved drug crimes tended to be the rule
rather than the exception. Looking for a dealer (probably male) who worked with
an accomplice (probably female) who had previously been taken on as an employee
and would have a key to the shop or had made a duplicate one (that would in
turn explain the frequent lack of break-in scenarios) was tricky, but on the
whole less important than finding the big fry, claimed the drug squad. ***
The big fry tended to remain elusive, thought Gary, who had
a low opinion of the guys in the drug squad. For them most crimes were needles
in haystacks. They suspected the big fry of being quiet gentlemen who played
golf and led apparently blameless lives, protected by a society that had more
respect for affluence than integrity.
***
When Gary repeated that to Cleo later over the phone she
laughed. “You know, Gary, if I was an adviser for that drug team, I would tell
them to look at all the female employees at the shops that had had a burglary,
and at any friends who visited them at work. The colleagues must have seen something
or somebody. Guilty colleagues might have taken sick leave or resigned or had
some other excuse for not working at shops they had helped to burgle.”
“Meaning they could be identified or had dealing with the
dead woman,” said Gary.
“That’s certainly possible.”
Gary waited. Knowing Cleo, there was more to come. It came.
“Of course, it’s too late now to go about it as I suggested
as a way of finding the next shop targeted, I expect, but anything is worth a
try, if nothing has brought any results up to now.”
“So what do you think should happen, Cleo?”
“My suggestion is to publish a fake advert for an assistant
at a cooperative chemist’s shop that has not been burgled. That might entice a
new female who is in fact already involved. She would be given the run of the
shop, but would be under observation. A fake cache of hard drugs might hurry
things along. Something would happen soon, I’m sure. Meanwhile the identity of
that assistant could be verified and her associates located.”
“That’s not a bad suggestion,” said Gary, reticent because
no one in the drugs team had ever thought of doing that as far as he knew.
“If everything else has failed, it’s worth a try,” said
Cleo.
“The problem is that the drugs squad prefer to chase the big
boys who can’t actually be caught.”
“That’s a mechanism for doing nothing,” said Cleo. “How can
cops in Middlethumpton possibly overwhelm international gangsters by themselves?”
“I think they’d like success, but don’t get any. That’s
discouraging,” said Gary.
“But it pays their salaries until they can get their
pensions.”
“You can’t replace them, Cleo. They’ve been at it too long.”
“At what?”
“Drug-crime solving.”
“Or not solving,” said Cleo.
“So we have to maintain the illusion that our drugs squad
can get at the big boys. Cleo. We have no choice.”
“Come on, Gary. You can’t be serious. Drugs have to be
distributed. It’s always possible that the small fry will lead to the big boys.
Those cops would just have to realize that.”
“You tell them,” said Gary.
“I will,” said Cleo.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, but I’ll go further,” Cleo continued.
“How?”
“Get them to include toyshops.”
“They’ll say it’s a waste of time.”
“Or they could investigate breast implants if they aren’t
too finnicky. That’s one way of smuggling drugs in. Model train sets are
healthier.”
“re you going to tell them that, Cleo?”
“Why not?”
“Gobsmacking,” said Gary.
***
“To change the subject – I’ve been thinking about Mortimer.”
“They are on his trail,” said Gary.
“Are they? Do they know why he goes abroad frequently? Who
is that brother? Is Mortimer trafficking drugs, by any chance? Like in toy
trains?”
“We only have the information in the initial report, Cleo.
He imports model railways. His brother owns the factory. The other one supplies
trains to toy shops.”
“Wow! What a cover-up. Does he have any of those trains at
home?”
“We thought they belonged to the boys.”
“So they were not tested for traces of drugs.”
“Who would suspect toy trains, Cleo?”
“You’d better get Spot to take a sniff.”
“Spot?”
“One of those funny mongrels that can sniff everything out.
It traced the cocaine on a schoolgirl’s pocket. Don’t you remember that case?”
“I do now. I’ll get drugs to do exactly what you suggest,”
said Gary. “We can’t afford to miss a trick. I had not even thought of the
drugs angle in connection with Mortimer.”
“But you have now, Gary.”
“You have, Cleo.”
“We. It’s all about thinking outside the box.”
***
Gary phoned the drugs squad to order a snooper dog to be
taken to 27 Lilac Way. The house was still under observation. There was always
a chance that Mr Mortimer would sneak back or get someone to break in to cover
his ‘trading’ tracks, though Cleo did not think that likely since police
observers tended to give the game away just hanging around suspiciously,
especially when it got boring and nothing happened. She could cite the hunt for
Jay Salerno, her ex, who had escaped from goal in America and made it to Upper
Grumpsfield.
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