Sharpington-by-Sea is a traditional seaside resort complete with a
Victorian Pier, seafront hotels, crazy golf, the Palladium ballroom, well
maintained gardens, promenade, theatre and illuminations, all the usual things
to have a great time by the seaside, as well as amusement arcades and of course
the Sharpington Fun Park.
The Fun was the first purpose built amusement park to open in Britain,
which had an assortment of rides, like the Rotor and the Wild Mouse, The
Cyclone and the Morehouse Galloper, all very tame compared to 21st century
roller coasters, but still fun.
It was also a popular resort for retirees and boasted a number of
static caravan parks.
Sharpington was a place that held very special memories for Boris
Katarski as it was there that he spent many a happy hour strolling hand in hand
with his wife Lizzie as they walked the promenade or wandered round the flea
market during their courtship.
It made him feel good to think of those happy days, he wasn’t sure why
they stopped their Sunday jaunts to the seaside.
Work got in the way he supposed, for both of them, she had her own
business and Boris was an ambitious
officer who his bosses knew would go far, but never at the expense of anyone
else, his target was Inspector but not at any cost which is why it took a bit
longer than he had hoped, but he wouldn’t compromise.
Despite his ambition
he was also the joker of the pack and got results from his team with a laugh
rather than a sharp word.
Which was why the tall
muscular forty-two year old with jet black hair and wild eyes was standing by
the pier in the September sunshine as a newly promoted Inspector at the
Sharpington station.
It was the perfect
move for him he had been in Abbottsford his whole career and he was looking for
something a little less full on so he could spend more time with his wife and
maybe start the family they had always wanted.
He met Lizzie Bird when he worked in Abbottsford as she was the best
friend of Jenny Hack who was one of his colleague’s on DCI Overend’s
squad.
It took him ages to work up enough courage to ask her out and in the
end she got tired of waiting and asked him instead and neither her decision to
ask, nor his to say yes, were ones that they subsequently lived to regret and
they had been married for 7 years.
Although she was now 36 she was still an attractive trim brunette who
was content with her life but for the fact that the ticking of her biological
clock was deafening her.
When they first got together Lizzie owned and managed the “Bizzie
Lizzie” florists in Abbey View Road, Abbottsford.
She now owned a chain of Bizzie
Lizzie Florists all across Downshire including one in Sharpington which she had
decided to work out of since Boris got his promotion.
They also sold their
substantial property in Abbottsford and bought a beautiful cottage in Dulcet-on
Brooke which was right on the river.
It was really
picturesque and peaceful and the perfect place to bring up a child, if she
could ever get pregnant.
And that was the plan,
they had both turned their backs on their stressful lives in Abbottsford, to
live in a stress free idyll, which would then be more conducive to conception.
Boris and Lizzie had both taken three weeks holiday to cover the move
from Abbottsford to Dulcet-on-Brooke which gave them a week to move out, a week
to move in and a week of doing absolutely nothing at all apart from trying to
make a baby.
It was the 7th of September when Boris and Lizzie drove into
Sharpington together to start their new jobs, even though they were both
actually doing the same jobs and they had merely transferred from a City to a
small seaside town.
They were both very excited about the new beginnings and a little
nervous, although at least Boris had someone to hold his hand because he
brought DS Griffin with him as his bag man.
Detective Sergeant Marty Griffin was a wiry character, short and lean
with brown curly hair.
Thirty-six years old, a solid by the book copper who joined Boris’s
team as a temporary assignment from uniform and without two much difficulty
through a combination of hard work and keeping himself out of trouble soon made
his move to the squad permanent.
He was still a single man which was due mainly because he liked the
lass’s more than was good for him, although his most serious fault was gambling
which at one time had been bordering on addiction.
But he had put his skirt chasing and gambling well behind him, however back in Abbottsford his reputation
preceded him where ever he went, so when he was given the opportunity to start
again just far enough away from his past life as to give him the opportunity to
make himself a new reputation, he grabbed it with both hands.
The sale of his Abbottsford apartment, paid for by his prowess at the
poker tables, bought him a dilapidated 17th Century thatched cottage in the
sleepy village of Kingfisherbridge.
Although as of that day when he and Boris were talking outside the
front door of Sharpington nick, Marty’s possessions were in storage and he was
living at the Seaview Hotel while he had the cottage made habitable,
redecorated throughout and a new kitchen
and bathroom fitted.
“Morning skip” Marty said
“Hi Marty”
“Have you settled in to the new gaff yet?” Sgt Griffin asked
“Yes it feels like we’ve been there for ever” Boris replied
“You lucky swine’s” he retorted “Is Lizzie back to work today as
well?”
“Yes she just dropped me off” he replied
“How’s the Hotel?” Boris asked
“It’s comfortable enough but I’ll be glad to get into the cottage”
“When do you think that will be?” He asked
“A month at least guv” he replied
“The time will fly by once we get stuck into something interesting”
“I hope so” Marty said “I really hope so”
Marty hadn’t taken any time off as his boss had, he stayed on in
Abbottsford until a few days before the bank holiday weekend and he would take
his time off when the cottage was habitable.
So on his own in the Hotel the time hung heavy which were the kind of
times he would have gone skirt chasing or gambling had he not curbed those
habits.
“Come on then” Inspector Katarski said opening the front door “Let’s
go and meet the new team and start nicking some new villains”
When the two new men reached the glass window they expected it to be a
mere formality and they would be quickly buzzed in through the security door by
the desk Sergeant
However they were confronted by a desk Sergeant even worse than the
one they left behind in Abbotsford and George Frank was the most miserable,
hard faced, moaning Minnie you would find anywhere on God’s green earth, but
the one that faced them through the glass was everything that Sergeant Frank
was on his worst day, was holding them up and was officious too boot.
Sgt Orr was the most unhelpful and cantankerous person Boris had ever
met and he thought it was obviously a ruse to put obnoxious individuals on the
front desk to deter all but the thickest skinned of the public whiners and
whinger’s, he thought it unlikely that Sgt Orr was once a pleasant and helpful
member of the constabulary and had become the way he was because he’d spent so
much time on the front desk.
“DI. Katarski and DS Griffin” Boris said showing his warrant card to
the window
“State your business” the Sgt retorted
“Police business” Boris snapped “So open the bloody door”
“No unauthorised entry” Sgt Orr barked
“I am authorized” he said and showed his warrant card again
“It’s no use keep waving that thing around” Sgt Orr “You’re not
getting in, so state your business”
“This bloke makes Sgt Frank seem charming and affable” Boris said to
Marty
“I am Detective Inspector Katarski and this is Detective Sgt Griffin
and we work for Sharpington CID” Boris said calmly
“I know all the CID officers and you aren’t one of them” The Sgt
retorted
“That’s because we are new” Marty added
“How am I supposed to know who you are then?” he asked
“That’s what the bloody warrant cards are for” Katarski shouted
“I think you need to calm down or I’ll have you removed”
“Fine arrest me, at least I’ll get through the bloody door” Boris
snapped at which point Marty stepped in
“Just phone CID and tell them we are here” he said quietly and the Sgt
responded equally quietly
“Phone them yourself” and turned his back on him.
So after 20 minutes of being stonewalled by the unhelpful Sgt, Boris
phoned Sharpington Police Station.
Marty didn’t hear both sides of the conversation only the DI and he
was turning purple
“CID please”
“C.I.D.”
“DI Katarski”
“K.A.T.A.R.S.K.I”
“Duty officer”
“No I don’t know the bloody extension I require”
“Just put me through to someone in CID”
After having finally
spoken to someone in CID they waited impatiently for ten minutes and were
finally allowed through the door by an attractive yet robust uniformed Police Constable, by
the name of Roxanne Kincaid-Smith.
Just the size and shape that excited Marty’s senses the most but
although after a cursory glance he established she ticked most of his boxes, he
reminded himself that he no longer indulged in the sport of chasing female
officers.
Boris was relieved
when they finally got past the grumpy Sergeant on the front desk.
“I’m sorry about Sgt Orr” she said “He can be a bit of a ….”
“Dinosaur” Boris suggested
“Neanderthal” Marty offered
“Moron” The DI added
“Arse” Marty said bluntly
“Well I was going to say Tartar” Roxanne said “but if the cap fits”
The light-hearted banter that accompanied them as Roxanne escorted them up to CID improved Boris’s mood no end.
But when they finally
arrived at their destination they came upon a sight that improved it even more
because waiting by the door to greet them was a familiar face.
“Sticky!” the two men
said in unison
Boris and Marty had known DC Richard Deacon when he was a wet behind
the ears PC at Abbottsford.
He was now a Detective Constable twenty-nine years old, six feet tall
and was still pencil thin.
In fact when they first knew him he was so thin he was known as the
stick insect hence the nickname of “Sticky”.
Deacon and Roxanne momentarily exchanged a look and Boris said
“Thanks Roxanne” and Police Constable Kincaid-Smith returned to her
duties.
“I didn’t know you were in Sharpington” Boris said shaking Deacons
hand “The last I heard you were in Purplemere”
“I transferred here two years ago” he responded
“Come on then introduce me to the troops”
The DI said “Point out the dead wood as we go”
“We don’t have any” Deacon remarked “They’re a good bunch”
“Are you up to full strength?” DS Griffin asked
“No we’re two down actually” he replied “one medically retired and one
on gardening leave”
“Well I like to promote from within so as you’ve been here two years
and I trust your judgement jot me down half a dozen names worth looking at”
Boris said
“And a list of the ones we wouldn’t want foisted onto us” Griffin
added quietly
After DC Deacon had shown them around and introduced them to those
officer who were not out and about on the streets of Sharpington, Boris and
Marty settled into their respective berths and took a look at the list of open
cases in order to get a feel for what criminality was happening on their new
turf.
With it being a holiday resort, which attracted large numbers of
visitors, it also attracted pick pockets, car thieves, muggers and burglars.
They also looked at the dispersal of resources and tried to prioritise
them towards the problem areas unfortunately they were spread too thin.
Boris came out of his office later that day and called Marty Griffin
and DC Deacon over.
“Do you remember the spate of pickpocketing we had at the Phoenix
Shopping Centre one Christmas in Abbottsford?”
“Yes” they both agreed
“And do you remember how we cracked it?” he asked
It was a big spree at the time and a large number of women had either
their pockets picked or bags stolen while visiting the Phoenix shopping Centre.
Interviews were conducted and information collated and nothing leapt
out at them.
But one of the DC’s, Grace Suddaby used all the information collected
and compiled a crime map of the Phoenix Shopping Centre, logging various
markers such as the location the theft was discovered, shops visited prior to
the discovery and the place where they were 100 percent sure they still had the
stolen item and with that information Grace’s computer model managed to isolate
the crime hotspot to the second floor.
“A crime map” Marty said
“Exactly” Boris said “And that’s exactly what we need here, a crime
map to show us where to focus our efforts”
“Good idea guv” Deacon said
“But the problem is Grace is now running her own squad in Northchapel”
“I know so we need someone who’s extremely computer literate to
collate the information and give us a working crime map showing us the crime
hotspots” Boris said “So, Sticky, do we have such a person in Sharpington?”
“Yes sir we do” he replied “in
fact you met her this morning”
So the next day PC Kincaid-Smith began her secondment to CID and began
work on the crime map.
It wasn’t until
Thursday afternoon that Boris and Marty got to meet Superintendent Keith Tilbry,
although Marty didn’t really consider that he had met the Superintendent who
didn’t make eye contact and barely even acknowledge the DS’s existence.
Marty took the hint
and excused himself and left, closing the door behind him leaving the two of
them in Inspector Katarski’s office.
“Look Katarski I’m
sorry to dump this in your lap on your first week” The Superintendent began
“But we have something of a hot potato”
He handed Boris a file
which Boris opened and read.
The file contained a
letter of complaint regarding an alleged incident at the Sharpington Day Parade
more than a week earlier on Bank Holiday Monday.
The complaint was that
three youths "blacked up" as golliwogs for the town's charity parade
of decorated floats.
“I want you to
investigate it as a priority” the superintendent said
“Seriously?” Boris
retorted
“Yes, seriously” he
snapped “There has been a complaint”
“One complaint out of
the thousands who attended the event and you want me to prioritise my resources
to do what exactly?”
“To identify the three
youths” Tilbry said “It is your job to investigate crimes after all”
“What crime?” Boris
asked “And how do we know they’re even youths?”
The Superintendent
then handed him a copy of the Sharpington Courier
“Page 5” Tilbry barked
There was a picture
from the event showing three individuals all with black curly wigs, black faces
with white circles around their eyes. All were wearing typical golliwog or
minstrel costumes of red, white and blue.
It also claimed that
the picture was of two females and one male although Boris thought it looked
like three girls.
“It all seems rather
innocent to me sir” he said “And as for being youths those three could just as
easily be in their sixties”
“Innocent?” Tilbry
barked “I want them found and I want them dealt with”
“But No crime has been
committed” Boris pointed out
“It’s not illegal to
dress up as minstrels”
“There were another
group of youths dressed as the Jackson 5” the Superintendent said indignantly
“Which is also not a
crime” Boris pointed out
“It has caused
offence” Tilbry shouted
“To one person sir”
Boris replied
“And what were the
golliwog trio and the Jackson 5 doing exactly?”
“They were collecting
money for charity” Tilbry replied
“And you want me to
arrest them for that?” Boris asked “We will be a laughing stock”
“I want them found”
Tilbry repeated
“Our resources are
spread thin enough as it is with the pick pockets and burglars I cannot commit
resource to a PR exercise.
I will send my Sgt to
speak to the journalist who published the story and ask if they have any
further information, and he can speak to the organisers but that’s as far as it
goes”
“Damn the pick pockets
and damn the burglars” Superintendent yelled “Find me those Golliwogs”
He then stormed out of
Katarski’s office and slammed the door.
“You made an
impression then guv?” Marty asked when Boris immerged from his office
“Why is it that all
senior officers are idiots?” Boris countered
“That’s life I’m
afraid but don’t upset yourself guv” Marty said “We still respect you”
“Cheeky bastard” he retorted
DI Katarski explained
at length the nature of his discussion with Superintendent Tilbry and the
“Golliwog Gate” incident and tasked Marty to go and speak with the journalist
and the organisers the next day.
“Oh guv” he protested
and DC Deacon laughed
“And you can go with
him to make sure he doesn’t get lost” Boris added
“But what about the
collating?” Deacon protested
“Roxanne is quite
capable of doing the collating on her own” The DI said and from across the
office PC Kincaid-Smith was heard to titter although in truth she was unaware
of the enquiry’s they were making having only heard the tail end of the
conversation.
“Did you say something
Roxanne?” Boris called to her
“No guv just clearing
my throat” she replied
Their first port of
call the next morning was the Sharpington Pier where he had arranged to meet Molly Westwood who was
the Journalist at the Sharpington Courier
who wrote the Golliwog piece.
Griffin and Deacon
left the station about half an hour earlier than they needed to as Marty needed
to pick up his notes from his room at the Seaview Hotel.
The walk down from the station
to the Seafront only took about five minutes and another five to the Hotel,
Marty was in and out in ten minutes and then the walk along to the Pier was
another ten.
As they made their way along the promenade to the Pier Marty
reminisced about his youth and the long happy hours he’d spent in seaside towns
and how a Pier was always such a magical place, it didn’t matter which town he
was in.
“When I was 14 I had my first kiss on a Pier” Marty said and smiled at
the memory “Linda McMahon her name was”
“On this Pier?” Deacon asked
“No, Blackpool” he replied
They milled around in the crowd by the entrance for a few minute
before making their way along the Pier in the sunshine.
Marty was awash with memories of his youth and had almost forgotten
why he was there until Sticky said
“That’s her standing
by the rail”
He looked over to the
rail and saw a tall statuesque thirty something woman, amply proportioned with
wavy chestnut hair blowing in the sea breeze.
“Ok let me go and have
a word with her on my own for five minutes” Marty said “Then come over”
“Ok” Deacon agreed and
Marty sauntered towards her
“Ms Westwood?” he
enquired
“Miss” she replied and
gave him a broad grin
“I never get it right”
he said and laughed
“It’s not a problem,
shall we sit on the bench?” she suggested and he nodded in ascent
“So you’re the new
Sergeant” she said once they were seated
“Yes Marty Griffin”
“I’ve heard a lot
about you” she said “and your boss Boris”
“So what have you
heard?” he asked
“Now that would be
telling” she replied playfully
“Don’t tell me you
never reveal your sources” he said
“Not normally but I
can this time” Molly said with a smile “I heard it from my sister Kelly who works
for your bosses wife at the florists”
“I see, then I don’t
think I want to know what you’ve heard” He said
“Don’t worry your
secret is safe with me” Molly assured him
“But not with your
sister apparently” he said
“No she’s a real loose
lipped bint” Molly said and roared with laughter.
Marty was enjoying his
chat with Molly in the warm sunshine, she wasn’t like the journalists he was
used to, and he almost forgot why he was there.
“Any particular reason
why you wanted to meet here?” he asked
“Well first of all I
like the Pier” she said “Piers are special places”
“I agree, I had my first kiss on
a Pier with Linda McMahon when I was 14” Marty said and smiled at the memory
“Not on this Pier though?” Molly asked
“No, Blackpool” he replied “I have not kissed anyone on Sharpington
Pier”
“The day is young” she
replied and blushed like she was 14 for saying what she was thinking out loud
and inside her head she chastised herself.
“Why on earth did you
say that? No wonder your single”
Noticing her
discomfort Marty decided to come to her rescue, but when the enquiries were
concluded he thought he might like to kiss her on the Pier.
“So what was the
second reason?” he asked
“Oh yes” she said
quickly trying to compose herself
“Yes secondly I wanted
to be able to speak freely and I couldn’t have done that in the office”
“Really?”
“Yes the whole thing
about the Golliwog story has been a bit odd” she explained
“How so?”
“Well to be honest the
paper normally just prints a big photo spread of the Parade so I wasn’t going
to write anything much about the day, other than about the success of the
fundraising, there was nothing else to write about.
The weather was
perfect, the people turned out in their droves, no one overdosed on candy
floss, and I rather enjoyed the whole day so I wasn’t really looking for the
negatives” she explained
“Oh dear that sounded
a bit racist”
“No you’re ok, I’m not
from the Political Correctness Police” He said and she laughed
“So on the day did you
see them for yourself?” he continued
“No not a glimpse” she
replied “I did see the Jackson 5”
“Did you?”
“Yes but to tell the
truth I thought they were black” Molly replied
“So what brought that
into doubt?” he asked
“Well apparently it
was much later in the day when they were getting into a car and one of the
girls took her wig off to reveal blonde hair and a white scalp” she replied
“That could just be
Chinese whispers though”
“Any details on the
car?” he asked
“I’m afraid not” she
confessed
“So what changed your
mind about writing the story?” Marty asked
“My editor” Molly said
“He told you to write
the piece?”
“Yes he was most
insistent” she said crossly
“Any particular reason
why he was so adamant?” Marty asked
“No not really but I
got the impression he was pressuring me because someone was doing the same to
him” she mused
“And where did the
photo come from?” he asked
“From my editor”
“And where did he get
it?” He enquired
“He wouldn’t say, but
if I had to make a guess I would say from the same person who was on his back”
she replied
“You don’t seem very
happy about it” he said
“I’m not” She retorted
“I don’t like people telling me what to write about”
“Well if it makes you
feel any better I don’t like having to investigate it any more than you liked
writing about it” He said
“It doesn’t, but thank
you”
“Well thanks for your
time Molly” he said “I’m very grateful for your candour”
“And I am grateful for
the opportunity to have met you Miss Westwood” he said to himself
“Oh my pleasure” she
said “I’m sure we will run into each other again”
“I hope so” he said
and she blushed like she was 14, again
DS Marty Griffin left Molly Westwood sitting on a bench on the pier
and was almost back on the promenade before he remembered he had walked to the
Pier with DC Deacon who was supposed to have joined him in the interview after
five minutes but he never appeared, not that he noticed.
He took his phone out and rang him.
“Sticky! Where are you?”
It turned out that while he was waiting in the wings he got a tip from
a guy called Vivek Chopra who worked at one of the arcades
regarding the pick pockets.
Their next port of call was the home of Jayne Keeling, who chaired the Sharpington Day Parade Fundraising
Committee, so after returning briefly to the station they drove to Dulcet St
Mary to her rather plush country cottage.
On the journey Marty
recounted his interview with Molly Westwood.
“It sounds to me like
something and nothing but someone is trying to stir things up”
Deacon said
“I agree” Marty
concurred and asked
“What do you know about
Molly Westwood?”
“In what way?”
“I mean is she
reliable” Marty said
“You mean is she
available” Deacon said
“No” he retorted “Well
maybe”
“Well that would be a
yes to both questions then” Sticky replied as they pull up onto the gravelled
drive and parked outside Mrs Keeling’s Cottage.
Jayne Keeling was a
tall elegant woman in her late fifties and clearly spent more money on beauty
treatments and manicures that Marty earned in a year but she was not an
unpleasant woman.
“So when did you hear about
the incident?” DS Griffin asked as they sat in her conservatory.
“Not until the article
appeared in the paper” she replied “I had a number of phone calls after that
from committee members who were being badgered by people claiming to be
concerned about people dressing up as Golliwogs and the Jackson Five”
“And what was your
reaction?” Griffin asked
“To tell the truth”
she said lowering her voice “I laughed, is that terrible?”
“I couldn’t possibly
comment” he retorted but he smiled
“Do you have any idea
who any of the culprits are?”
“No none whatsoever,
we do know everyone who took part but there were hundreds of participants” She
replied
“So how does it work?”
Deacon asked
“Volunteers for the
Parade register to participate on the night before, where they also pick up
their collection tins. The majority of them are obviously in fancy dress,
though that is optional, however committee members are not told in advance what
they plan to dress up as on the day”
“So in theory they
could all turn up in, for example Nazi uniforms and the committee wouldn’t
know?” Boris asked
“That’s correct,
although that would be a very sinister Parade and I can’t imagine the
collection tins being very full, and that is the point of the whole day,
charity” she said
"But if we start
dictating to people what they can or cannot come dressed as it could deter them
from volunteering, especially if they had to produce a picture of what they
were planning to wear on the day”
“Were all the
collecting tins returned at the end of the day?” DS Griffin asked
“Yes all of them were
accounted for” she replied “So they probably had alternative outfits or merely
discarded their costumes and completed the parade in their everyday
clothes”
“You’re probable
right” Marty said “Well thank you very much for your time”
“You are quite
welcome” she said affably
“Just one other
question” Marty said as he approached the door “Was the day a success?”
“Absolutely” she
replied “Our best year yet”
“In which case I
wouldn’t bother changing the way you do things the public clearly like it the
way it is” He said
“I agree” Jayne said
“You might want to
contact Molly Westwood at the Courier” He said “I have a feeling she’s looking
for a “good news” story for next week’s edition”
“I will do that” she
said “Goodbye”
Later that day DS Griffin and DC Deacon sat in DI Katarski’s office
and briefed him on the salient points from the two interviews earlier in the
day.
“So basically what you’re telling me is that it was a harmless bit of
fun but somebody in a position of influence wants to make a mountain out of a
molehill for reason or reasons unknown”
Boris Katarski said
“That about sums it up guv” Marty said
“And there’s no hope
of finding the culprits” DC Deacon added
“I called Molly
Westwood last night and asked her what kind of feedback the paper received on
her article?” Marty said
“And?” Katarski asked
“A few “appalled” and
“disgusted” but the vast majority saying it was just a bit of fun and they
didn’t understand what all the fuss was about” he replied
“So public opinion is
on the side of reason, but the problem is Superintendent Tilbry isn’t going to
let us drop it” Boris mused
“So what do we do?”
Deacon asked
“We have to get him to
make us drop it” he replied
“How do we do that?”
Marty asked
“You need to get
better acquainted with the reporter” he replied
“Oh I think he was
planning to do that anyway” Deacon remarked
“Good” Boris said
Marty made a phone
call and arranged to meet Molly by the entrance to the Pier when she finished
work.
This gave him
sufficient time to go back to the Seaview Hotel and get washed and changed and
still be there before she was.
“Hello Sergeant” Molly
said and she approached.
“Call me Marty” he said
“I’m off duty”
“Oh I thought this was
a follow up on the Golliwog hunt”
“No not really” he
responded
“Have you eaten?”
“No I haven’t” Molly
replied
“Would you like to?”
“Very much so” she
replied
“Excellent, I believe there is a nice fish restaurant at the end of the Pier”
Marty said
“Yes there is, it’s
one of my favourites”
As they walked along
the Pier in the moonlight Molly asked
“How is your
investigation going?”
“Well it’s funny you
should mention that” he replied
“We don’t think it’s
worth pursuing”
“It really has been a
lot of fuss about nothing hasn’t it” Molly added
“Yes but every cloud
has a silver lining because if your editor and my Superintendent hadn’t been so
insistent about it I wouldn’t have had the chance to meet you” Marty said
“Oh don’t you’ll make
me blush again” she said
“I hope so” he said
“It was very endearing”
“Stop it now” she said
and giggled “I’m not a teenager anymore I’m thirty….”
“Thirty what?”
“Thirtyish” she
replied coyly
“Let’s get back to the
investigation”
“Well as I said we
don’t think it’s worth pursuing any further but the powers that be, do”
“So what’s to be
done?” she asked
“Well before I can
answer that I need to check, that in the fine journalistic tradition, that you
never reveal your sources” he whispered
“Of course” she said
“Good, then you didn’t
get this from me” he said and handed her and envelope
“Very intriguing”
Molly remarked and slipped it into her bag
“So was that the sole
purpose of the assignation?”
“No not at all” he
replied and turned to face her “I believe there was some tacit agreement to
kissing me on the Pier”
“There was no such
thing” she protested
“On the contrary” he
said taking out his note book “in response to my stating I had never kissed
anyone on Sharpington Pier you said, and I quote, “The day is young””
“Ok I admit that I did
say that” she replied “but I have no idea why I said it”
“I do” he said
slipping his notebook back into his pocket
“Oh”
“You said it because
you want to kiss me” Marty said
“You’re very sure of
yourself”
“Am I wrong then?”
Marty asked
“No” she replied and
kissed him on the moonlit Pier
When they eventually got to the restaurant and were seated in a quiet
corner by a window with a view across the sea they ordered drinks and Molly
excused herself to the ladies where she could discretely read the contents of
the envelope Marty had given her.
“Well?” Marty asked when she returned to the table
“I can definitely work with that” she replied
“Excellent”
“I will have to run it past my editor though” she said “I can’t print
it without his say so”
“And what happens if he says no?”
“Then I’ll file it with the Clarion, they’ll print it” Molly said
“They love any opportunity to have a go at the police”
She was referring to the Abbottsford Clarion which was a red top
tabloid that took great pleasure in rubbishing the police and Marty had been on
the receiving end of its bile on many occasions.
“Don’t I know it” He retorted and winced
Molly’s editor did indeed pass on the story but as expected The
Clarion accepted without hesitation so when Sunday morning came, so did the
revelations.
Under the banner headline of “Police Turn a Blind Eye to Pickpockets”
The story went on to reveal how an unnamed, yet Senior Police officer
had shouted at his juniors
“Damn the pick pockets and damn the burglars, find me those Golliwogs”
The article was filled with quotes from members of the public who had
very different expectation of the police and were bemused at the waste of
resources on what was little more than a student prank.
The fallout from the story came in the form of a phone call from the
Assistant Chief Constable just after 9 o’clock on Monday morning.
“I have no idea how the story leaked out sir” Boris said
“It was said very loudly and in easy earshot of a dozen people”
“Well drop the Golliwog nonsense immediately and catch those
pickpockets”
The ACC said
“We have them in custody already” Boris said
“What?”
“We caught the crew of six on Saturday afternoon after identifying a
hotspot on the crime map”
“Well that’s good news at least” The ACC said begrudgingly
“So should we carry on looking for the Golliwogs?” Boris asked
“NO, under no circumstances are you to investigate that incident”
“Understood sir” Boris said and hung up the phone
Boris emerged from his office wearing a broad grin and announced to
the office at large
“Mark the Golliwog case as closed, and if anyone is interested a
vacancy has just opened up for a Superintendent”
A small ripple of applause spread around the office and Richard Deacon
walked over to where Roxanne was sitting and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze.
The sound of office chatter regarding Superintendent Tilbry’s transfer
was still the pervading sound as the phone in his office rang.
Expecting it to be another disgruntled senior officer he braced
himself and went back inside to answer it.
He emerged a few moments later and his complexion was ashen.
“What’s wrong guv?” Roxanne asked as the first one to notice his
demeanour, but soon all eyes were on him
“Lizzie’s collapsed at the shop” he replied
“Come on then let’s get down there then” Marty said and led him out of
the office.
Although “Bizzie Lizzie’s” was only a short walk from the station they
took the car, just in case.
As it turned out they were right to do so as the ambulance had already
left for The Royal Downshire Hospital in Purplemere.
It was a relatively short drive from Sharpington to Purplemere but for
Boris it seemed like an eternity.
And when Marty pulled up outside Boris decamped and sprinted inside
while Marty parked the car.
Inside the Hospital Boris found Lizzie sitting up on her bed smiling
from ear to ear.
“I don’t why you’re looking so pleased with yourself” he said crossly
“I’ve been worried sick”
“I’m fine darling” she replied as he hugged and kissed her
“What do you mean you’re fine? You collapsed” he said with concern
“I didn’t collapse silly” She said “I fainted”
“Well that’s just semantics” Boris snapped
“It’s not semantics darling it’s just what happens sometimes when
you’re pregnant”
“Well people don’t faint for no reason” he said fussing around her
“What did you say?”
“I’m pregnant” Lizzie said
It took an age for Marty to find a parking space and so he was rushing
down the corridor to find Boris and met him coming the other way wiping tears
from his eyes.
“Oh my God she’s died” he thought
“Guv what’s happened?” He asked with concern
“A miracle has happened” he replied enigmatically
“I’m going to be a father”
