DEADLY DECEPTIONS

by Bill WENHAM

  “Feeding them, Sergeant?” Miss MacAndrews asked.

  “I assume so, ma’am. But I’m afraid looking after cats is hardly a police matter - especially since we have three murders on our hands here as well right now,” Barnett said.

  Miss MacAndrews shot back at him with, “And poor dumb animals don’t matter to you then, Sergeant? Is that what you’re saying? Perhaps I should put that in my report.”

  “Of course they matter, ma’am,” Barnett said, but with a decided edge to his voice now. “We have been advised that the farm girl is looking after them and we assume she doesn’t need any supervision from us to do it. I would like to also remind you that the poor woman that owned them was only found dead yesterday. By the same young girl, incidentally.”

  She changed her approach and said in a scathing tone, “I asked you how many cats there were, Sergeant. Perhaps you could answer me that simple question without another lengthy rigmarole?’

  Barnett pursed his lips but kept his temper.

  “I was told there were a dozen of them, ma’am,” he said politely.

  Then he turned and beckoned Constable Fordham, who was standing in the kitchenette, over.

  “Please drive this lady over to Miss Siggers’ house, Constable. She would like to make sure that the cats are still alive, I believe,” he said and handed Fordham a key. “That’s the key to the front door.”

  “There will be no need for that, thank you, Sergeant. I have my own van right outside. I will take the constable with me and he can direct me,” she said.

  She was about to relax her stern look when Barnett added, “And don’t bring any of those cats back here, Fordham, okay? We’ve got enough bloody trouble right now as it is.”

  Fordham smothered a grin, said “Yes, Sergeant,” and opened the front door for Miss MacAndrews to flounce out through.

  She was barely through the door when Barnett said, “Drop whatever you are doing and type this up on a sheet of our official police letterhead, please. Right now, Mary.”

  Mary, who had heard his conversation, grinned as she typed to Barnett’s dictation. He signed it and said, “Put it into an envelope, write her name on it and seal it, please.”

  Mary did as she was asked and Barnett thanked her.

  He waved cheerfully at her and went out to the police car. A few minutes later he pulled in behind Miss MacAndrews’ R.S.P.C.A. van and parked.

  He opened the cottage’s front door and closed it quickly behind him. It seemed to him that there were cats everywhere. Miss MacAndrews looked around in surprise and actually smiled.

  “Come to help us then, have you, Sergeant?” she said genially.

  “I have indeed,” Barnett said cheerfully and handed her the envelope.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “It’s addressed to you, ma’am. Perhaps you should read it,” he said.

  She tore open the envelope and then frowned angrily at Barnett.

  “What is this?” she demanded.

  “It’s a police order, ma’am. Since you have clearly pointed out that you want these animals properly looked after and I have pointed out to you, equally clearly, that we, as the local police force, are unable to do so, I have officially transferred their wellbeing into your care, ma’am. If you also read a little further down, you will see that the order has an immediate application.”

  He glanced at Fordham, who was having trouble keeping a straight face, and said, “Please help the lady load these animals into her van, Constable. Call me when you’re done and I’ll have Mary pick you up.”

  Before Fordham could respond, Miss MacAndrews snapped, “You can’t do that! I have no carriers for twelve cats! And ….”

  Barnett cut her off with, “I’m afraid that isn’t my problem, Miss MacAndrews. As of the moment you opened that envelope, the cats became your charges, ma’am. I am somewhat surprised though, knowing that you were coming to see numerous, and I believe that was the term you used, homeless cats here, that you didn’t come here more prepared.”

  “But…” she began, but Barnett was already going out through the door.

  “What will I do?” she wailed.

  Fordham shrugged.

  “I don’t really know, ma’am, but I should advise you that it’s is illegal to transport animals loose inside a vehicle, but I’m sure you already know that. Sergeant Barnett didn’t say so, ma’am, but I’m sure it would be okay if we left them here for now while you go back to Cambridge for containers. I’ll lock up when you leave and you can pick up the key from the station when you get back,” Fordham said pleasantly.

  Once again Miss MacAndrews flounced out of a door, a cottage one this time, and drove away. Fordham called Mary for a pickup but Barnett came instead.

  When they were in the police car and heading back to the police station, Fordham said, “That was priceless, Sarge. Not strictly legal, but priceless all the same. You really gave that old biddy what for.”

  Apart from the fact that Miss Mattie MacAndrews had been rude to him, Barnett really wasn’t a cat lover. In fact, he wasn’t fond of any animals at all and he couldn’t stand barking dogs or their inconsiderate owners.

  He was unmarried, lived alone on the outskirts of Great Carrington and rode to the station each morning on his police issue bicycle. The older he got the more curmudgeonly he got as well. Since he never married nor been in a serious relationship with a woman, he sometimes had trouble dealing with them.

  Today was one of those days.

  Each of the policemen had been issued with a bicycle and in addition to that, they had two motorized vehicles available to them. One was the small, compact police car that Barnett had used today and the other was a van.

  The black painted van had bars across its small rear windows and would only be used in the unlikely event that they ever had to arrest someone. In fact, so far, it had never been used at all on official police business. They called their van the ‘Black Maria’, the traditional name for such a vehicle.

  The four bicycles and the two vehicles were all painted black and were maintained, free of charge as a community service, for them by Brad Casey’s service station up on the A603.

  Naturally, all of the petrol they used was also purchased there as well.

  Normally, the three constables patrolled the entire parish, either on foot or by bicycle. They also operated three shifts between these, including a night shift. On the weekends, the station was closed but all of them, including Mary were on twenty-four hour call.

  Since, prior to the current murders, nothing had ever happened, apart from old Dennie Saunders getting himself regularly plastered, even during the day, let alone at night, their role tended to be one of peacekeeping rather that actual law enforcement.

  Consequently, some of their interpretation of what the law was supposed to be, differed quite considerably from that of their city counterparts. They used what worked best, forgave minor infractions and never had any major ones. Even the school children grew up to respect their local version of the law and apart from the occasional dumping of hard to dispose of materials in the village pond, there was virtually no vandalism in the parish. Thankfully, there was no graffiti either.

  Even the broken window in the phone box had been an accident.

  Neville Grant, from the garden centre and gift shop, had a problem with his car. Steam was pouring out from under the bonnet and he knew that there was nothing he could do to fix it. And to make matters worse it was pouring with rain and his cell phone was dead.

  He needed to call Brad Casey up at the service station for a tow and he walked to the phone box several hundred yards away.

  Luckily, there was an umbrella in the car, and unluckily, it was one of those old fashioned, hooked handled and non-collapsible type. As Neville had struggled to get inside the phone without getting any wetter, and to collapse the umbrella at the same time, he poked the tip of it through the window.

  He knew that he’d done it, but it was such a min
or thing compared to his car repair that he promptly forgot about it.

  He wasn’t to know that this small accident, normally of no consequence to anyone, would be the direct cause of Amy Warren’s death. Thankfully, since no one knew where Parrish had made a call from, or if he’d even made one, Neville was spared from having that on his conscience.

  Chapter Ten

  Even though Sgt. Barnett was aware that Andy Rudge had been treating some of his numerous lady friends very badly, none of them had ever filed a single complaint against him. Without such a complaint, the police, unless they actually saw an assault in progress, had no reason to interfere.

  But all that was about to change for Andy Rudge!

  A complaint had been filed but not by one of his lady friends at all, and when it was, it was the icing on the cake – a triumph, in fact, for his female victims. This time Andy had picked on the wrong woman and had misjudged her very, very badly.

  When he had left the police station after being put down by Bristow in a way that he’d never experienced before from any female Rudge was absolutely furious.

  Cop or not, she was only a bloody girl, wasn’t she, and there was no way he was going to let her get away with that! If what she’d done to him got around, he’d be the laughing stock of the whole bloody parish and then where would he be?

  Angry or not, he bided his time. He stewed about it, thought more clearly about it and then waited for the right opportunity.

  Since the Onsworthy’s offer of accommodation had no specific end date when made, Middleton asked if it would be okay for him and Bristow to stay until their investigations were completed.

  Don Onsworthy and his wife glanced at each other, both silently hoping that it wouldn’t take forever and graciously agreed, knowing that they could hardly withdraw their offer. Immediately afterwards Middleton and Bristow took the time to drive back to Cambridge, where they both packed suitcases holding more suitable contents for a longer stay.

  For the last few nights, mainly to relax them, they had continued with their late evening strolls. On this particular evening, Middleton begged off, saying that he had a touch of indigestion.

  Bristow wasn’t at all surprised, considering the huge portion of steak and kidney pie and veggies that he’d packed away. He had preceded that with a bowl of mulligatawny soup and followed it with sticky toffee pudding – and he was surprised he had a bellyache, Bristow grinned.

  It was such a warm and beautiful moonlit night that Bristow decided to go for a short stroll on her own before turning in.

  Andy Rudge had been carefully watching her from the back of the bar, as he had done for several evenings now. Bristow hadn’t noticed him on any of them or if she had noticed she hadn’t shown it.

  As far as meals and drinks were concerned, she and Middleton were running their own separate tabs since each would claim it back on their own police expense account later. They each signed their own receipts which would be tallied up and would be submitted for payment by the Onsworthys at the end of their stay.

  Bristow signed hers after Middleton had left. Then she stood up gracefully from the table and sauntered over to the exit door. She was alone when she left the Inn.

  At the back of the bar, Andy Rudge’s eyes lit up and he quickly downed the rest of his pint of bitter.

  He took his time and left through a different exit. A moment later, he caught sight of Bristow strolling ahead of him. Being a long time resident of the village, he knew he was a lot more familiar with the layout that she was.

  For instance, he knew there were no side lanes running off the road she was on for a couple of hundred yards. She would have to either double back on continue around in a rough circle. He banked on her opting for the latter.

  It was easy for him to cut between cottages and through back gardens in order to come out at the road ahead of her. When he was in position, he could see Bristow coming towards him and he faded back into the deep shadows thrown by the moonlight on the hedgerows. He stood perfectly still and waited for her to pass.

  He’d give her a bloody good thumping, put the boot in a few times and then slip back to the pub the same way he’d come. Anyone in the pub would think that he’d just popped out to the loo.

  Unfortunately, smart as he thought he was, he was neither as smart nor as observant as Bristow and she was walking while the moon behind her.

  The bright moonlight was casting long shadows in front of her, her own, and also Andy Rudge’s as he lunged at her from behind her as she passed him.

  Not only was Bristow smarter, she was also much fitter and more agile than her attacker and a split second later Andy Rudge was flat on his back in front of her. Bristow had very easily thrown him over her shoulder using a standard police move.

  She reached quickly into her bag and handcuffed the stunned and winded Andy Rudge securely. Then she reached back into her bag for her cell phone. Before calling, she rolled Rudge over on his face and sat herself down on his rear end.

  Then she called Middleton.

  She knew that, bellyache or not, he would be there instantly.

  Between them, when he arrived, they escorted the still dazed Rudge back to the station. The duty constable was out on patrol and Barnett had given both Middleton and Bristow a temporary key to the front door.

  The cell key was hanging on a hook on the side of one of the kitchenette cupboards next to the tea mugs.

  Middleton opened the cell door as Bristow unlocked the cuffs, shoved Rudge roughly into the cell and then he locked it again.

  Rudge glared at her furiously.

  “You bitch,” he snarled.

  Bristow grinned at him through the bars.

  “Sticks and stones, Mr. Rudge – sticks and stones, and I’ll bet any money that you’ve never seen that move from any of your ladies before,” she said.

  She turned to Middleton.

  “So, what do you think, sir? It’s pretty late to do the paperwork tonight. I’m tired and all shook up as well, so why don’t we just leave him in there and see to it in the morning?”

  Middleton smiled. He just loved the way Bristow handled things. He just wished he’d been there to watch her take him down. And like they say about policemen, there was there never anyone with a camera there when you needed one? But of course, if he had been there, this would never have happened, would it?

  “Good idea, Detective Sergeant,” he said. “So, goodnight, Mr. Rudge. We’ll both see you here in the morning.”

  “You can’t keep me in here all bloody night,” Rudge screamed at them.

  Bristow smiled sweetly at him.

  “Oh, but we can, sir. And it will be a lot more than just one night, believe me,” she said.

  On the way out, but well within Rudge’s hearing, she said casually, “I’ve forgotten, sir. How many years of jail time is it for assaulting a police officer?”

  “I’m not sure myself but I do know that the courts take a very dim view of it and even more if it’s a female officer. It’s either five or ten, but we can look….”

  That was the last Rudge heard as the door closed and the key turned in the lock. Angry tears of frustration rolled down his face and were still rolling when an astonished Constable Farrow came into the station at the completion of his night patrol at six in the morning.

  Over breakfast Middleton said, “I know this wouldn’t be considered to be quite proper, Bristow, but I would like to give a lovely lady a nice little surprise.”

  Bristow raised her eyebrows at him.

  “Really, sir! I’m surprised as well and at your age too,” she said with a straight face.

  “No, no, nothing like that…” a flustered Middleton said hurriedly.

  “Nothing like what, sir?” Bristow asked innocently and then laughed.

  “You want Rachel Donnelly to be just casually visiting when Randy Andy is charged, is that it?”

  “Exactly, Bristow. I think it would make her day for her, don’t you? Do you mind?”


  “Mind, sir? Why should I mind? After all it was me that the little creep attacked.”

  Middleton looked thoughtful for a moment.

  “It’s a shame, though, Bristow,” he said and stopped, expecting her next question.

  “What’s a shame?”

  Middleton gave her a cheeky grin.

  “That there are no security cameras here in Carrington parish. If there were we could have posted that little episode on or the Internet and his romantic days would be over.” he said.

  Bristow grinned back at him and said, “I think they probably are anyway now, sir, unless some tough guy in Wormwood Scrubs wants a toy boy and fancies him.”

  “Bristow,” Middleton said, “Sometimes I do believe that you are a rather wicked young woman…” He paused momentarily, gave her a stern and disapproving look and then said, “… and please, never, ever change because I just love it. And, now, if you’ve finished your breakfast, let’s go and put your friend Andy out of his misery.”

  “Into it, I believe you mean, sir,” she said.

  “Exactly, Bristow. That’s exactly what I meant,” he said, beaming at her as he took out his cell phone. “Let’s just see if our appreciative audience is available this morning,” he added as he punched in Rachel Donnelly’s number.

  Bristow watched him with a quizzical smile on her face. I wonder how much of this is to humiliate Andy Rudge and how much it is to make brownie points with Rachel, she wondered. Either way, it should be good for a laugh.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Bristow, would you come into my office please?” Middleton asked.

  Bristow followed him and he said,” Please close the door and take a seat.”

  She did as she was asked and then looked at him curiously.

  “What is it, sir? Have I done something wrong?” she asked.

  Middleton smiled warmly at her.