by Harry Nankin
He added, “The Chief Super is a busy man, what is the nature of your business Sir?”
“I am Sergeant Tom Striker, the station and custody sergeant, I deal with most things”.
“He is the watch commander like in the Hollywood Yankee film” interrupted Ethel
“Quiet Ethel, I am speaking” was the instant rhetorical from Striker.
“That is very helpful of you Sergeant but my appointment is directly with the Chief Super”.
This caused Striker to think, the phrase Chief Super, was police slang, this guy was too old to be a serving officer, also had a southern twang when he spoke.
Jack knew what was going through Striker’s mind; he wanted to quote the phrase to know the ins and outs of Meg’s ass and so thought he would toss a high ball into the conversation.
“The appointment was made for me by the Chief-Constable and the HMI”.
Striker then instantly looked up and thought, this was in fact a case when discretion might be the better part of valour.
“I will enquire if the boss will see you; you might as well take a seat it will take a while”.
“Thank you sergeant that is very generous of you”, replied Jack taking a seat.
Jack viewed his reactions, this sergeant certainly thought he was on safe ground, was obviously used to taking on more responsibility and authority that his rank entitled him to, to quote a phrase he appeared to call all the shots.
The sergeant didn’t appear to rush to do anything or pick up a telephone, rather his attention was drawn to what Jack thought was his immediate senior officer, an Inspector, a youngish girl thought Jack, they certainly promote them young these days.
With that he was taken aback when Sergeant Striker, spoke to her, “Hey Ling, did you make that bloody tea yet I am famished, better get it done and then if you are not busy you can clean the car”.
She replied, “Yes sergeant” and disappeared, as she did so she picked up the mug Ethel had been drinking out of and took it with her.
Jack stood up and walked to the front door, in all his forty years or thereabouts he had never heard a sergeant address an Inspector or any other senior officer in such a tone.
In fact, he recalled if a sergeant had spoken to a fellow sergeant in such a tone, it would have brought an instant response and an unfriendly one at that, and that was putting it mildly.
He stood by the door taking in the fresh air and thought, “my have things come to, in my time had this Striker spoken to me in that tone he wouldn’t have been a sergeant by the end of the day”.
Still he thought, “Perhaps I have missed something”.
He returned to his seat, looked at his watch, noted that ten minutes had passed.
Meanwhile on the first floor Sergeant Striker was knocking on the door signed Chief Superintendent, Craig Denton-Smyth.
“Come in”
Striker opened the door and entered, his boss was seated polishing his shoes, he looked up and said “Striker, what is it?”
“I am a little tied up getting my stuff ready for you know what”.
“I appreciate that Sir,” said Striker “but there is something I am forced to bring to your attention”.
“That is?” Replied Denton-Smyth
“An old guy at the counter insists he has an appointment with you, he refused to give any details”.
“An appointment, I don’t think so, where is my diary?”
He looked around the desk, and then in two drawers, the diary was nowhere to be found.
“Ah, excuse me Chief”.
“Yes Striker”
“Ah, it’s your diary, its over there Sir, your shoe polish and soft cloths are on it.”
“Ah”, yes of course. Yes, get it Striker; see if there is anything in it about this fellow”.
Striker went over, carefully removed the shoes thinking, “He is lucky he has loads of bloody shoes all hand made and highly polished”.
He opened the diary and found today’s date then said “Ah yes Sir, it says, “Chief-Constable, Woodcock, HMI, Richards, dead cops”.
“Oh yes now I recall, just sit down Striker and hear this bullshit”.
Striker was seated and waited patiently, whilst the last shoe was finally finished and replaced with the others behind the desk of the ultra clean and tidy boss.
“Those two traffic officers, Striker, you recall who died some weeks ago, from natural causes well it seems there have been several others, all natural, nothing suspicious in any of them. That pratt Woodcock I used to work for when I came from Bramshill learned of the deaths and has mentioned it on high.”
“Mentioned it,” said Striker, “I thought there was nothing in it at least in our case”.
“Exactly Striker nothing in it according to our Chief, there is nothing in the others either.”
“It seems that at the last meeting of the HMI’s, Woodcock stated that they were natural but suggested they were unusual”.
“It would be pleasing entertainment at the annual conference of the HMI’s and Chiefs to have this Richards fellow give what amounts to an after dinner speech on the deaths, purely entertainment.”
“To make the thing seem real I have been instructed mind you, instructed to cooperate with Richards, give him an office and a senior detective to bag carry for him.”
“Well sir”, replied striker, “we are pushed here we have that rape case still going on, the detectives are all tied up on that. Same goes for office space with the rape oh and the armed robbery and the extra officers coming and going I can’t see we have such a room”.
“Exactly Striker, exactly, this bloody fool, Woodcock”
“I didn’t realise you thought so little of him sir, I thought you having worked for him and he getting you this job you would have been up his arse, so to speak, I mean”.
“Not so Striker. One has to play the field, run with the fox and hounds you see, to get promotion, I simply tolerated him”.
“I will be bloody glad when he retires; our Chief is too bloody weak to have told him and Richards to piss off.”
“What will you do sir?” asked Striker.
“I will give you a lesson in diplomacy Striker, sit and learn.
“Hello Ling, Chief Super here, leave what you are doing get the Richards fellow up to my office forthwith”
“There Striker, he will be here shortly just watch the stick and carrot working”.
Inspector Scott-Ling put down the phone and went immediately to the visitor.
“Mr Richards?”
This caused him to turn and he saw the very lady Inspector who had just been verbally abused by Striker.
“Yes” he said, “that is I”
“If you would care to follow me, I will take you to the Chief Superintendent”.
He looked at his watch he had been waiting nearly twenty minutes, it seemed Striker was correct in his assumption the wait would be some time.
“Thank you Inspector” he replied and followed her through the corridors and upstairs.
“Yes, come in” was the instant reply to her knocking on the door of Denton-Smyth.
She entered, Richards behind her, “this is Mr Jack Richards sir, you are expecting him?”
“Ah yes Mr Richards how pleasing it is to meet you, please be seated. “ Striker stood up giving his seat to Richards.
“Now Mr Richards I have been briefed by the Chief-Constable on your mission to look into these perfectly natural deaths as a sort of entertainment for the next conference and after dinner thing a me jig, for the Chiefs”.
“I regret to say that due to operational requirements we do not have a spare office here from which you can operate, neither do I have a detective of any rank let alone a senior and experienced officer available to assist you, again, due to operational circumstances.”
“I am however very keen to assist you, I have therefore decided to allocate Ling here to assist you between her normal duties here in Chester.”
“As regards a
n office, this will be arranged, Sergeant Striker will arrange for you to have an office next door in the police museum”.
Jack made no comment; his forty years of experience told him, that this was a case of keeping ones mouth shut until at least the lay of the land was clearer.
“Well now” continued Denton-Smyth “I am rather busy, if you would take Mr Richards to the museum Ling, show him around”.
“Striker you will telephone them and ensure the staff there are fully aware and I mean fully”, he winked as he spoke.
“Oh by the way Mr Richards, please keep me updated as to any developments, I await the result with interest,” which caused him to laugh and Striker with him.
Richards looked and replied, “You can be assured sir; I will keep you fully aware of all you need to know”.
“That’s it Richards, good man, do your best on a losing wicket eh, good show”.
With that, he looked down; the interview clearly was finished as far as he was concerned.
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.”
