The Cop Killer (15 page)

All three left the room and once in the corridor Striker said, “I see, so you’re both on a mission for an after dinner party, a who dun nit thing”. 

This caused him to laugh loudly then he put his hand over his mouth.

Richards made no reply but was thinking a lot.

Once down stairs Striker called, “Ling get him into the museum and remember when you are there doing this comical enquiry and there is no staff on you leave the keys here in key cupboard at the end of each day, got it”.

“Yes sergeant”, she replied

Seated at his desk Striker smiled when his phone rang, he picked it up and said “Sergeant Striker?”There was a pause,

“Oh, hello sir, you handled that well I thought”.

“Yes, thank you Striker, it’s all a bloody waste of time but we will have to play a long with it for now, try not to rattle him too much. I thought what a great way to get shut of Ling”

“Indeed it was sir, you certainly have a way with you boss.

“Thank you Striker”.

“Oh, sir?” said Striker “one final thing”.

“And that is Sarge?”

“Ironic you should think of sending the old has been and the new dopey woman to the Museum of all places, I like it, you have a sense of humour boss”.

Denton-Smyth shook his head, smiled but thought privately, “yes true but if I told the truth a simile hadn’t struck my mind before Striker mentioned it.”

Sergeant Reg Large the Museum officer in charge picked up the phone.  It was Striker.

“Reg, Tom next door here. Ling is coming round with a fellow called Richards, from the Chief Super. Find them an office upstairs out of the way.  They will update you save me wasting more time”, the call ended

  Reginald Large was known as "Strutter" due to him being small and over weight which caused him to appear to strut about when walking with taller officers, in his vain hope of keeping up with his tall colleagues. 

He was not very oh au fait with the Chief Super after they had been walking in the city on a race day and poor old “Strutter” had been told to walk on the pavement whilst his boss had walked on the road, thus making Reg Large appear taller.

Jack the Hat followed Inspector Doris Scott-Ling into the Police Museum to view the office allocated to them

Arriving inside, Large saw the arrivals and said

“Tom Striker has telephoned; it seems you two miscreants need an office, what is it all about?”

“Ah Sergeant Large, said Doris, “Mr Richards here, assisted by myself, is tasked with investigating some deaths for an after dinner comedy entertainment stint before the Home Secretary, later in the year”.

“Typical of this bloody Government”, thought Large “a comedy evening they are all bloody comedians, follow me”.

 “Well now, Mr Richards you may not know, but this place, the museum I am referring to is the oldest part of the building.” 

“The rooms and fittings throughout are original from the very old days.”

“The place is open to the public every day except Sundays, myself and the rest of the staff are here as guides and advisors not to be forgetting the security of items, visitors are mostly school parties and tourists.” 

“You will be housed so to speak upstairs in the old offices of the criminal investigation department.” 

The public do not have access to that area just on the ground floor here.” 

“We also use the first floor as a kitchen and a canteen.  You should be safe here; do you have any CID experience Mr Richards?”

“Yes, just a little”, replied Jack, leaving it at that.

“In that case, follow me,” replied Large.

They all went up a flight of stairs arriving in an office marked “Detectives Only”,

“There you are Ling and your name is?” looking at Jack.

“I am Jack, I am alright, the man tasked with investigating the cases, after forty years this is my first investigation into a comedy or an evening of entertainment.”

“Oh. I see”, replied Large.  “You know the hours Ling, 9am to 5pm Monday to Saturday, closed all day Sunday, if you require different hours, get or return the keys to the duty Sergeant next door, I will bid you good day”

As he left and was, walking downstairs he could clearly be heard saying to someone on the stairs, “We have dopey Doris and some old has been, working here for a while, try not to take the piss too much, the old bugger must have contacts on high”.

There was laughing and moments later an officer arrived, the opposite in appearance to Large by name small by nature, this officer announced, “I am Bill Smith they call me Smudge for obvious reasons”.

Before he could say anything further there was a shout, it was Large,

“Ling whilst you are here put the kettle on, make us all a brew and make sure mine is done the same way Striker says he gets his”.

“Ok Sergeant” she replied, she turned and was gone in a flash Smudge with her.

Meanwhile Jack took a look around the office it brought back many memories.

It was definitely old, the floor and furniture matched for they were darkened with age, matured being a more appropriate word.

The old desk and chair, he could not resist thinking of the many old detectives who had sat on the chair and at the desk.

 Looking across the room, he saw an old Police gazette with a wanted man, Jack Black.

At least that Jack was wanted; seemingly, this current Jack was not wanted, by anyone certainly not here.

 He thought, “Should he continue?”

Then what came to his mind was the car number CHESH1, the white rolls cars, the obnoxious yuppie driver and the final response of the yokel farmer sending a shower of shit over Cheshire and the rolls car with it.

 This caused him to smile perhaps he might send a shower of shit over this lot, time would tell but he would do it, he had now made up his mind. 

He walked across the room then hesitated.  He stopped, took off his hat and then threw it into the air.  It landed fair and square on the hat stand in the corner; I still have it a little he thought.

He heard a shuffle and on turning saw Constable Smudge standing at the door having witnessed the hat-throwing incident; he smiled, and said nothing just went down stairs.

Jack looked around the ancient office the drawers for the old index cards of streets, criminals and informants.

The whole room and the building from what he had seen was a match for him fading grandeur with a character of its own.

 He thought yes, many thousands of hours had been spent in here doing real police work.

 He consoled himself he had a reputation at least of doing real police work, until now at least.

As he looked around the office, he thought he might just add his own little mark, for the time being at least.

He sat at the desk, reached over and brought the old Remington type writer closer. He put in the white A4 paper and typed out a few lines to sum up many of those people with whom he had made his reputation of being a detective, honest, truthful but most of all steady, not forgetting being thorough with the most important requirement of all, attention to detail.

He put up the typed masterpiece onto the wall, it read

“A thief passes for a gentleman when stealing has made him rich”.

His thoughts were interrupted when Doris and Smith entered the room armed with the modern Remington typewriter, a computer.

“Put that on the end of the desk at the end, where you will be sitting and using it Inspector", he said with a smile.

They complied with his instruction, which when he realised what he had said caused him to realise that he may have appeared to speak to her in the same tone as the others, he regretted what he had said and would lose no time in putting matters a right.

“Ah, Inspector, perhaps I may have a few words with you. Thank you Constable Smith, you have been a great help”

 A clear indication that Richards wished to speak with Doris alone.

Smudge took the hint and was gone but on arrival, downstairs he could be heard calling, “Sergeant the comedy conference is on”.

Closing the door Richards sat at the desk and indicated with open hand for Doris to be seated on the other chair.

“Take a seat Inspector, time for a few words and ground rules I think”.

“Oh thank you” she replied and was seated.

“I thought I would tell you a little of myself, as we will it seems be working together”.

“That seems a very good idea” she replied.

“I served 35 years in the Metropolitan police, I started as a beat copper or wooden top and they used to be called in those days, I served in the East End of London.”

“I did a spell as a rural beat copper on the outskirts of the Metropolis there were actually some rural areas in those days.  It was ok, the bride enjoyed our time there but eventually I got back into the city having I might add, made no impact when I was a country bumpkin.”

“I had good luck, whilst on the beat on night duty in Islington I stopped a fellow and to cut a long story short he was wanted for murder. I didn’t know that then of course, I just wasn’t happy with his answers when I did a spot check and so nicked him, to be frank without much cause.”

 “The station detective inspector was impressed when the fellow’s involvement in the murder was revealed and so made me a CID aid for six months. Again, I had luck. I arrested several youngsters who eventually admitted a host of petty offences but they all counted so the station crime detection figures looked very impressive, it was a good example of all is not what it appears. I was made up to substantive DC and remained in CID for the rest of my time.”