Saffina Desforges' ROSE RED Crime Thriller Boxed Set

by Saffina Desforges

“I don’t care about the other kids. I want to see Santa. Now!”

  “Excuse me?” Red put a sympathetic hand on the woman’s arm. “Is the Grotto not open?”

  The woman wheeled around to face Red. “I don't know what's going on in this place. All week they've been advertising the Grotto, getting the kids excited, and then they close it, just like that." A click of the finger and thumb emphasised the abrupt nature of the closure.

  Red cast her eye around the discontented crowd, hoping to see Ruby and her grandmother. but the disgruntled woman hadn't finished with her list of complaints.

  "Two hours we stood in that bloody queue. And we had to buy the ticket in advance. And then they shut the door in our face when we were almost there. There should be a law against it. In fact, I've a good mind to call the Police."

  Red hid a smile. "I'm sure there's nothing the Police can do about Santa's Grotto closing early, madam. But I hear there's another Grotto at Lacey’s, just around the corner."

  The woman beamed at her. “There is? You are an absolute life-saver! Thank you! Come on, Eddie, Did you hear that? You will get to see Santa after all!”

  Chapter 8.

  "It ain't right," Harris declared. "How does the Guv manage not only to wrangle Christmas and the New Year off, but to shoot off early on Christmas Eve too?"

  "RHIP," Anna said.

  Harris looked blank.

  "Rank has its privileges," Terri said. "The numero uno gets first grab at the holiday slots and us mere minions have to take what's left. But to be fair, she wasn't to know Mac would be on bereavement leave."

  "Besides, think of the over-time over the new year," Anna added. "We'll be out spending our money and you'll be on call earning it."

  "Eff off, the both of yous." Taylor shot an icy glare at Terri and Anna.

  "No-one but yourself to blame, Baz," Anna said. "If you two weren't so busy crawling up at the Super's backside you'd be out on the town New Year's eve with the rest of us."

  "It was Jezza's fault."

  "You started it," Harris objected.

  "Yeah, well I was caught off guard. I've never seen the Super smiling before. Should have known it was a trap."

  "That you both walked right into," Terri laughed. "Your faces... Priceless!"

  "Piss off, Tex."

  "Cool it, Barry," Anna warned. "Anyway, fair's fair. Terry and I are on call tonight and tomorrow."

  "Big deal. Nothing happens on bloody Christmas Eve. You two can sit in front of the TV all night knowing there won't be a call-out. It's only the muppets in uniform who do any work at Christmas."

  "Well if anything comes up tonight, Baz, we'll give you a call, shall we?" Terri suggested.

  Taylor shrugged. "May as well. I've got to pick Brenda up from her shift at The Halo at eight in the morning, so can't go drinking tonight anyway. And Jezza is on the wagon trying to impress his new tart. Any excitement would be welcome."

  "Things could be worse," Terri said. "Think of the poor Guv, fighting her way through the West End crowds. Now that's what I call a boring afternoon."

  Chapter 9.

  “Inspector Rose! Am I pleased to see you!”

  Red turned from the maelstrom of moaning mini-me’s to see a vaguely familiar ruddy face and corpulent body straining against an expensive suit. A podgy hand was thrust out to greet her.

  "Thank goodness you're here, Inspector. I was just about to call for the Police when I recognised you."

  Red looked him up and down, trying to put a name to the face.

  The man sensed her confusion. "The suicide jumper, in the summer?"

  "Mr. Leather?”

  “Leatherhead. Nigel Leatherhead. Store manager."

  Unwelcome memories of the incident flooded Red's mind. "Chief Inspector Rose," she said. "Nice to meet you again. But Mr. Leatherhead, if there's a problem needing Police involvement I'm really not the right person to speak to. Firstly I'm off duty, and secondly this is not my jurisdiction. I work from Battersea."

  "Battersea?" Leatherhead considered the statement. "Then you'll probably know the officer involved. I understand he's based at Battersea Police Station."

  "The Police are already here?"

  "No. I mean, yes. But not in the way you mean." Leatherhead looked flustered. "It's a rather delicate situation. If you could just spare me five minutes?"

  Red shook her head, remembering the dressing down from the Super after the last time. "I'm supposed to be meeting my... That is, I'm supposed to be meeting a child and her grandmother here." A pause, then, "Did you say an officer from Battersea was here? I don't understand. This isn't their manor."

  “Please, Chief Inspector.” Leatherhead fiddled with his tie, pushing Armani specs up a perfectly straight nose. "This is a rather unusual situation. I need someone to tell me I'm doing the right thing."

  "The right thing?"

  Leatherhead took a deep breath. "My security staff are detaining Santa Claus."

  Red glanced around, half-expecting the ghost of Jeremy Beadle to pop up with a microphone. "What is this, some new hidden-camera show?"

  "If only." Leatherhead's worried stare assured Red it was for real.

  "Your security staff have detained Santa?"

  Leatherhead nodded grimly. "And he's... He's a policeman. We need you to arrest him."

  Chapter 10.

  “Juice, missus?” A under-enamoured elf sporting two huge red circles on his cheeks and a limp velvet hat on his head shoved a tray under Cynthia Crichton’s nose.

  “Why, thank you.” Cynthia handed a plastic beaker of orange squash to Ruby. To the elf, "It's very kind of the management to provide refreshments, young man, but I think most customers would have preferred a faster service seeing Santa in the first place."

  “The store management are doing everything they can to ensure that normal service is resumed as quickly and efficiently as possible.” The elf recited a one-size-fits-all prepared script with a forced smile.

  “I rather think—” Cynthia’s thoughts were lost to posterity as her phone shrilled a Michael Buble Christmas song. Ella's name flashed up.

  “Ella darling, where are you?”

  “Hey, Gran. Me and the girls are in Harrods. We can't afford anything, but its fun looking. Is Tues there, please? I just wanted to see what she got from Santa.”

  “Ruby is right here, darling, but we've not seen Santa yet. Any minute now, though. There's only a few people in front. Here, Ruby, it’s for you. It’s your big sister, checking up on you.”

  Ruby pressed the phone to her ear. “Hi, Els.”

  “Hey, Tues. Gran tells me you've not seen Santa yet. Never mind. Won't be long now.” Ella’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Can you keep a secret?”

  Ruby nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Don't tell Gran, but I’m getting her that scarf that she wanted for Christmas. I'll show you when we meet up at the Troc' later, and you can wrap it up for her tonight, okay?"

  “Yay!"

  "Meanwhile keep Grandma out of trouble and make sure she doesn't get lost on the way out of the Grotto."

  Chapter 11

  Red reluctantly followed Leatherhead, weaving a circuitous path through the crowds, to a door marked Staff Only.

  Red glanced at her mobile. “This had better be good. I should have been somewhere ten minutes ago.”

  In the relative quite of the corridor that separated warehouse from store, Leatherhead cleared his throat. "As I was saying, Inspector, we have a situation with our Santa.”

  “It's Chief Inspector. And to be honest, I'm not too worried about your Santa. It's the police officer from Battersea that concerns me. Why would a Battersea officer be in the West End?"

  Leatherhead ran a finger under his collar. “It was all going so swimmingly. We were reaching our allotted target of twelve children an hour — that's four minutes per child and one minute change-over — and the elves were on a rotational break system. Both the youngsters and the parents seemed pleased with the quality
of their gifts. Given how much we charge we try to —”

  “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 G
rotto."

  Davies groaned. He glared at Leatherhead. "You never said anything about video."

  "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..."