"Mr. Leatherhead, as thrilled as I am with your managerial skills and your chances of being up for Store Manager of the Month at the Harvey-Williams Annual Dinner-Dance, I’m kind of in a hurry. This Battersea police officer?"
"I'm sorry." Leatherhead wrung his hands together. "I’m afraid this is rather delicate. And I really could be doing without swarms of uniformed officers invading the store and making a scene."
Red folded her arms. "'I'll be the one making a scene if you don't get to the point. The officer from Battersea. Does he or she have a name?"
"I'm sure he does, but I didn't note it. Perhaps you'd best come through to Security. See for yourself." Leatherhead set off down the corridor.
"So what happened?"
"One of the parents made a complaint after their daughter had seen Santa."
Red felt a queasiness in her stomach. "What sort of complaint?"
"It's rather delicate."
"Mr. Leatherhead, if this is a suspected child abuse situation I am not the right person to be dealing with it. We have specially trained Family Protection officers."
Leatherhead looked around furtively before continuing. "We thought it was an abuse accusation too, at first. But then it turned into something quite different." He paused outside a door marked Security. "He's in here."
"Before we go in and I make myself look a complete idiot in front of my as yet unidentified colleague I suggest you tell me exactly what happened."
Leatherhead searched the air for the right words. "A parent of a little girl — a father — made a complaint about Santa. He said his daughter was upset when she came out of the Grotto."
"Santa touched her?"
"The child said she had sat on Santa's lap, as they all do, and that she had felt something hard."
Red groaned. She closed her eyes momentarily. "Is the father still here?"
"No, but I have his details. I assured him that we would have Santa removed immediately, pending a full investigation. And I gave him a fifty pounds voucher to reward his discretion by not saying anything publicly. Then I promptly closed the Grotto and asked Security to bring the Santa here for questioning."
"But surely you have procedures in place for this kind of thing? CRB checks? I mean, you vet all employees likely to come into contact with children, don't you?"
Leatherhead pulled himself up to his full height. "We go one better then that, Inspector. Of course, we carried out all the regulatory checks. But Messrs. Harvey-Williams take their responsibility to families very seriously. For our store Santas nationwide we have we what we thought was a foolproof precaution. We only employed either serving or retired police officers."
"And this Santa is a retired officer from Battersea, I take it."
"No, no," Leatherhead assured her. "He's a serving officer."
Chapter 12.
"Must you make that atrocious slurping noise, Jack? It’s very off-putting. It’s almost enough to put one off one’s cappuccino." Pippa licked chocolate-covered froth from her lips. "Almost."
"Sorry, Mum." Jack noisily sucked the last of his Fanta through a straw.
"Dude!" Darren playfully punched Jack on the arm.
Jack sprayed the contents of the straw across the table.
"Jack!" Pippa wadded serviettes into a huge ball, not daring to meet the eyes of fellow customers now focussed on the pantomime. "Clean this mess up, both of you, before Mother and the girls arrive."
Darren wiping his nose with a sleeve. "S’okay Mrs. CW. We won’t show you up. Well, I won't. anyway. Can't speak for Jack, though." Darren pointed a warning finger at Jack, then let out a raucous belch.
Pippa covered her face with her hands, sliding down as low as she could in her chair. She stared in bewilderment at Jack. Where had she gone wrong?
Beneath her breath she muttered, "I’m a QC, get me out of here!"
Chapter 13.
"He’s in there." The taller of the two security guards tipped his head in the direction of an adjacent room. Looked Red up and down with an expression of disdain. "And you are?"
"DCI Rose. Metropolitan Police." Red put her badge in the guard’s face. "Has the suspect been cooperative?"
"Nice as pie. Says it’s all a big misunderstanding and that he can explain everything."
"Let’s hope so." Red waved an arm. "After you, Mr. Leatherhead. You’re the boss."
Leatherhead pushed the door open. A lone figure, bathed in bright red robes sat hunched over a Styrofoam cup, a floppy Santa hat on the table next to him. He looked up as they entered.
Red’s mouth fell open. "Sergeant Davies!"
"Guv!" Sergeant Julian Davies jumped up like someone had let off a firecracker.
"You're the last person I expected to see here."
"Ditto," Davies said. "But I'm glad it's someone from the Station. I need a friendly face just now." Davies glared at Leatherhead, making sure the store manager knew his face was not friendly. "S’all a bit of a mess, Guv. I was just doing a few hours on the side. You know, to get a bit of extra cash for Christmas. Young lass got a bit mixed up, and here I am, detained like some common criminal. Ironic, or what?"
"But you can understand how it looks, Sergeant Davies." Red glanced across at Leatherhead. "I know this officer, Mr. Leatherhead. I’m sure that there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this."
Leatherhead cleared his throat for the umpteenth time. "With respect, Inspector, I suggest you hold judgment until you have the full facts." He nodded to the security guard, who produced a bag and emptied the contents onto the table. A radio transmitter, microphone and wires sprawled out.
Not Police issue.
Red's eyes ran from the transmitter to Davies, then to the guard and finally to Leatherhead. "I though this was an abuse accusation?"
"So did we," Leatherhead began. "Until we found this."
Davies sank back into his chair.
"And?" Red demanded.
Leatherhead pointed to the transmitter. "When the child reported sitting on something hard we obviously thought... Well, you can guess. Security escorted Mr. Davies here from the Grotto, with the intention of questioning him about the child's comments. On the way Mr. Davies asked to use the lavatory, which of course we allowed. When Mr. Davies emerged the security took the precaution of checking the cubicle and found these hidden behind the cistern."
Red shot a glance at Davies, who seemed fascinated by the floor.
"At first Mr. Davies denied they were anything to do with him," Leatherhead continued. Then he changed his story and said he had seen the device secreted behind the cistern, pulled it out to see what it, was then returned it."
"A pathetic attempt to explain why his fingerprints will be found on the transmitter," the guard said. "Obviously he would have said something if he had genuinely just found it there. He is a policeman, after all."
Red looked to Davies, hoping for a spirited defence, but none was forthcoming. She felt her own spirit flagging. "Julian?"
Davis spread his hands on the table, a symbol of defeat. "Let's get one thing straight, Guv. It was the transmitter the little girl felt in my trousers, nothing else."
Red felt a mixture of relief and anger. "And of course there's a perfectly good reason why you would have a radio transmitter tucked in your trousers while dressed as Santa Claus talking to little children."
Davies studied his hands.
"We've spoken to several parents and their children," the security guard said, "and it seems Davies here was taking a keen interest in addresses, and asking if the family would be at home or staying elsewhere."
"Julian?"
The sergeant's fascination with his hands continued.
"Sergeant Davies, you're not leaving me many options here."
Davies said nothing.
"We have video, too," Leatherhead said. "From inside the Grotto."
Davies groaned. He glared at Leatherhead. "You never said anything about video."<
br />
"Last year one of our competitors had an incident with one of their Santas. An accusation of inappropriate behaviour was made. It was the child's word against the Santa. Nothing was proven, but we decided it was in everybody's best interests to record the entire Santa sessions, just in case. Everything that went on today will be on video."
Davies slumped back into his chair, his face buried in his hands.
"I'd like to see this footage?" Red said.
"It will take an hour or two to sort, but yes, of course. Meanwhile..." Leatherhead turned to Davies. "What about him?"
Red let out a deep sigh. "Julian, in the absence of any credible explanation you leave me no choice."
Davies nodded slowly.
"Julian Davies, I am arresting you on suspicion of conspiracy to commit burglary. You do not have to say anything—"
"Save it," Davies said. "I know how it goes."
Chapter 14
"Has he gone yet?" Taylor screwed a sheet of paper into a ball and bounced it across two desks into a waste-bin in the corner.
"That’s his car leaving just now," Harris said, teetering on tip-toes at the office window. He spun round. "The Super has left the building!" He fumbled in his pockets and produced a tenner. "Match this, Baz, and we’ve got ourselves enough for a twelve pack."
"What about the girls?"
"Tex might go for it, but By-The-Book Hargreaves would put the dampers on straight away." Harris folded his arms, tipping his head to one side and pursing his lips in a passable impression of Anna. "If you refer to the rule book, section six, sub-section fourteen b, it clearly states—"
"Jeremy Harris!" Anna Hargreaves leaned against the door frame, arms folded, head on one side.
Harris flushed all the way to the roots of his hair. "Sarge..."
Anna beckoned him over to her with a finger, her expression never faltering. "Come here, Constable."
Harris stammered his defence. "I was only messing around, Sarge. Me and Baz we’re just having a laugh. I—"
"Shut it, Constable Harris," Anna said firmly. She pulled herself to her full height and handed Harris a twenty.
"Make it a nice Shiraz for me and Terri, Jez. And by the way, it's subsection sixteen, not fourteen."
Chapter 15
"Get him out of here." Red watched with neither pride nor satisfaction as a Met officer dressed in a Santa outfit was led away handcuffed by two uniformed officers.
"Thanks for getting them to use the trade entrance," Leatherhead said. "You can imagine the headlines if they had marched him out of the front."
"We have as much interest as you do in keeping this low profile. But don't for one moment think that means he'll get an easy ride. Assuming your video evidence backs up what we have so far."
"Our technician is retrieving it now. Do you want to view it here?"
Red splayed her hands. "My job's done. I'm off duty, and the West End is not my manor. Chelsea are handling this now. I'm finished h—"
An ear-splitting crash rumbled down from above, the noise vibrating the floor beneath them. Screams of panic and mayhem filtered down the escalator. The two security guards' phones lit-up simultaneously. As they ran from the room Leatherhead shot a pleading glance at Red.
"Toy department," he said. "Would you mind?"
Red glanced at her watch. "Sorry. Your security team are quite capable of handling it. I'm late for a meeting with a little girl, in the... toy department." Red was running before the sentence was finished.
Red pulled herself up the moving staircase, using the shiny, sleek rubber of the escalator hand-rail for extra leverage. The two security guards were just ahead of her. On the downward escalator frightened parents and screaming children were surging forward in the opposite direction.
"Police!" Red shouted, badge held high as she launched herself from the escalator behind the guards. They all stopped dead at the entrance to the now deserted shop floor
"Hi Cassie!" Ruby emerged from a plastic Wendy house hugging a doll almost as big as the child herself. "This is fun!"
A solitary basketball rolled to Red's feet. Red and the guards scanned the shop floor for signs of life, but the last of the parents and children were disappearing down the escalator.
"Geroff!"
A muffled growl emanated from behind a half-wrecked mountain of cardboard boxes boasting pictures of this year's must-have Transformers.
Red covered the distance in seconds, half-heartedly returning Ruby’s wave. "Be right there, Princess."
She pushed the boxes aside. Her mouth fell open.
Two youths, writhing like they were scrambling under a net on an assault course, were licking the store floor, hands manacled behind their backs with neon-coloured skipping ropes.
"Flippin’ hell, Supergran, take it easy will ya?"
"Yeah, steady on! I’ll do ya for assault if you don’t back off!"
Cynthia Crichton wielded a mini-cricket bat in the air, like Boudicca defeating the Romans. One foot was planted firmly on the tracksuit-covered butt of the first youth, pressing him into the shiny tiles. She stooped over the pair, white-silver hair askew. "I know what you're thinking. Has Granny got enough strength to whack me one more time. Well, punk, d'ya feel lucky?"
One of the guards got his mobile out and began filming while the other radioed through to say everything was under control.
Cynthia turned to Red. beaming a smile "Ah, Cassandra. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming."
Chapter 16.
Red stared at the scene before her, her mouth opening and closing like a stranded fish.
"Rubes. Are you okay?"
Ruby had swapped the doll for a toy clothes-iron. "We're fine! We're just doing the washing and ironing." She disappeared back into the Wendy house.
"We?"
"Ruby and her friend," Cynthia said.
Red strode to the Wendy house. Two eyes shining beneath a spirit-level-straight fringe peered out of the plastic window. The child wiggled fingers at Red.
"It’s my friend Abby."
"From playschool?"
Ruby giggled. "No, from Halloween, silly. The other fairy. She wanted to see Father Christmas too."
The child's aunt appeared from the door marked Toilets, an aluminium baseball bat in hand. "That's them all sorted, Cyn," she said. "I've locked him in a cubicle until Security get... Oh. It's you. Cass, isn't it? Cynthia said you were coming."
Red searched her memory trying to place the face. Halloween. Trick-or-treating with Ruby. Two bad-fairies. "Jess!"
"Miss Jordan here was kind enough to help me apprehend these two hoodlums," Cynthia Crichton said.
"And the one locked in the lavs," Jess added. She looked down at the baseball bat in her hands. "Don't worry. I didn't need to use it."
"I think refreshments are in order," Cynthia said. "There's a lovely cafe on the top floor." Her eyes sparkled. "Fresh cream cakes!"
Jess shook her head. "Me and Abs tried to get in earlier. It's absolutely heaving. The queue was longer than the queue for Santa."
"Don't worry. We'll have all the cream cakes we can eat." Red motioned for the security guards to take over. "And can I speak to Leatherhead, please?"
~
Alone in the manager's private office, his desk host to a supply of fresh cream cakes and drinks from the cafe, Red extracted the full story from Cynthia and Jess while Ruby and Abby played with the dolls the manager had gifted them.
"But you should have waited until the Police got here," Red protested pointlessly.
"Don’t be silly, Cass." Cynthia crammed another fresh-cream, scone. "They’d have trashed the place by the time you lot showed up. Besides, I wasn’t having Ruby’s day completely ruined. She was disappointed enough having to see a fake Santa. Whatever happened to him anyway, I wonder? They closed the Grotto just after we came out."
"I'd like to know too," Jess said. "Abs was
almost there when we saw Ruby and her nan come out, and the next thing we knew the Grotto was locked up."
"Let’s just say that this Santa was more into taking presents than giving them out." Red smiled t Ruby. "So how did you now this Santa wasn't real then, sweetheart?"
Ruby giggled. "Because he asked me where I live, silly, and if I would tell him the secret number for the security-gate. The real Santa already knows where I live, because he came last year and the year before. And the reindeer can fly over the security-gate anyway."
Chapter 17.
"They took him out through the store?"
Red slid a smile at Pippa. "I would have, but we had to consider the store's reputation. And the Met's."
"Are they holding him overnight?"
"Sure as hell are. None of us like a bent copper. They'll hold him as long as they can. He obviously has accomplices so plenty of grounds for further investigation. The Chelsea guys will make sure he understands he's crossed a line."
"I've never defended a crooked police officer before."
"Don't even think about it, Counsellor."
"But Cass, consider the possible defence scenarios? Even if the evidence is irrefutable there's still huge mileage in questioning the motives of the prosecution and the manor of his interrogation."
"Not a chance. Your daughter sat on his knee. She's a potential witness."
Pippa poured Red a glass of wine. "That would give me reason to excuse myself," she agreed.
"Julian Davies is a criminal, plain and simple. Cop or no cop." Red flicked the remote to change the lighting pattern on the Christmas tree lamps. "Turns out he might be more than just a tea-leaf, too."
"Ooh, how so?" Pippa peered over the rim of her glass. "Kindly elaborate, DCI Rose."
"It seems after we left, the store manager received three more complaints from concerned parents." Red tucked her legs beneath her. "Now don't go getting uptight. I've already questioned Ruby and nothing happened. But apparently it wasn't just something hard in his trousers that bothered some of the children. He had WHT too."
Rose Red Rhymes 2: The Night Before Christmas Page 3
