Consequences

by R. C. Bridgestock

  ‘Thought you’d be out looking for Chubby Connor and Jason Todd, Pat?’ Dylan growled.

  ‘Yes sir, I was just about to get on with it,’ he said.

  ‘Well, you won’t bloody find him in the office drinking tea and eating toast now will you?’ Dylan boomed.

  Patrick looked around the room; how the hell did he know what they were doing, and how did Dawn know what he’d say?

  ‘Second thoughts - don’t bother going out looking for Connor, it’d be a waste of time because he’s locked up.’

  ‘Arrested? Chubby Connor? Where? When? How?’ Patrick asked, and flicked the phone onto speaker, so the rest of the office could hear.

  ‘He was the idiot on the roof of the bakery this morning, believe it or not.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ Dawn shouted, punching the air.

  ‘Bet you were tempted to let him jump this time when you saw who it was, weren’t you boss?’ Vicky said.

  Patrick scowled at her.

  ‘He was never going to jump; he’s pathetic,’ Dylan said.

  ‘You should’ve pushed the bastard,’ Vicky shouted. If looks could kill, Patrick’s would have deemed Vicky dead on the spot.

  ‘I must admit I was tempted, very tempted,’ Dylan said. If only they knew. He shivered an irrepressible convulsive shudder which brought on the goose bumps; and his old mum would have said it was caused by a person walking over the place where his grave would eventually be. His arms outstretched on the steering wheel were covered in pimples that made the hairs stand on end. ’Uniform are bringing him in now for you lot to sort out. I arrested him for murder and burglary. Put the kettle back on will you, if you can manage that,’ Dylan said. ’I’ll be with you shortly.’

  ‘Yes, sir...’ said Vicky, under her breath.

  Patrick replaced the phone.

  ‘If I know Jack Dylan, he won’t let you forget that he had to get your prisoner for you. Be prepared,’ Dawn said, chuckling at Patrick as she stood up and then sat down again quickly. The room spun.

  ‘You okay?’ asked John.

  ‘Yeah fine, must be all the excitement.’ she said, with a lopsided grin.

  Dylan took a bottle of water out of his briefcase and sipped it slowly. He took a bite out of his apple, his mind devoid of any thought.

  ‘Jumper safe. Chubby Connor won’t be disturbing us again during the night.’ Dylan texted Jen.

  ‘Not him again. Pity he didn’t jump and do everyone a favour x’ Jen replied.

  ‘I’m heading back to Harrowfield – catch up later x’

  Everybody knows that no one likes murderers. Child murderers are disliked the most. Alan ‘Chubby’ Connor would find that out for himself, soon enough. Perhaps he would suffer in prison like Charlie had. If there was any justice in the world he would, thought Dylan.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Dylan started to feel more alert after his second cup of strong coffee. Patrick, Dawn, Vicky and Tracy were in the CID office listening absorbedly to his news.

  ‘I blame you Pat. If you’d got Chubby locked up I wouldn’t have had to risk life and limb on that bloody old fire escape in the early hours of this morning.’ Dylan said, draining his cup. Dawn smirked smugly at Patrick in her ‘told you so’ way.

  ‘I am trying,’ he whined.

  ‘Very,’ laughed Dawn.

  ‘One – nil to the boss. What he’s really saying is you’re fucking useless, Finchy,’ chuckled Vicky.

  ‘I don’t think that is a correct way of addressing a senior officer,’ reprimanded Patrick.‘I take offence at that comment,’ he said, as he got up and walked out of the room.

  ‘Ooooo,’ Vicky cooed.

  ‘Vicky …’ Dylan growled. ‘You’d better watch it, you’re already on a Scarborough warning, young lady.’

  ‘Well he’d rather hear that than be chuffing deaf wouldn’t he?’ Vicky said sulkily.

  ‘You deserve a slap,’ Dylan chuckled.

  ‘Ooooo, yes please,’ she giggled. Dylan shook his head.

  ‘He’ll have the chance to prove himself when he picks up Jason Todd. It might put him in a better frame of mind,’ said Dylan, studiously.

  ‘Can’t we give Todd’s’ picture to the press now boss? That would make it difficult for him to hide anywhere,’ said Tracy.

  ‘I’ll think about it. Let’s deal with the one we have in the traps first. He’s going to go not guilty I would’ve thought, by his reply after arrest.’

  ‘I understand we’ve got him under constant supervision in the cells; open door because of his suicidal tendencies and all his clothing has been seized,’ reported Tracy.

  ‘Do you know, I’m pretty sure he’s wearing the same clothes he had on when I talked him down from Stan Bridge. They might well give us some evidence,’ Dylan said.

  Dawn relayed the good news to Dylan about the fingerprint evidence.

  ‘There is a God after all,’ he said, clasping hands together. ‘Let’s get him a solicitor and see what he has to say in interview.’

  ‘He might even tell all, if he knows he’s going to be banged up. Now wouldn’t that be a turn up for the books?’

  ‘Sure would,’ Dawn said.

  ‘Right. Can I leave you lot to get on with it while I go and see John about the Reynolds’ murder?’

  ‘Sure thing, boss.’ they shouted out in harmony.

  ‘Morning Boss, I’ve loads to tell you.’ John Benjamin pounced eagerly on Dylan as he walked through the door of his office.

  ‘Let me get in first. Don’t forget I’ve done a shift already,’ Dylan said.

  ‘Sorry Boss, bacon & egg buttie?’

  ‘Now that sounds like a good plan.’

  ‘Leave it with me whilst you get yourself sorted out here,’ John said, offering Dylan his seat at the computer.

  ‘What a good lad John is, Dylan thought. He’d go along way. Got his priorities right, John had; look after the boss. Dylan smiled.

  Dylan set about updating the press office with information about Connor’s arrest, but wouldn’t give them his name for publication at this stage. However, he did tell them he would keep them updated.

  ‘Mmm, an important part of policing, John a breakfast butty,’ Dylan said, as he popped the last morsel in his mouth. He took his handkerchief out of this trouser pocket and rubbed his greasy hands on it. ‘I’m all ears now, fire away,’ he said licking his lips.

  ‘Firstly, the DNA from the balaclava is that of Frankie Miller. I’ve taken the liberty of booking us a second visit with Malcolm Reynolds and I’ve also put a call into GMP that I’m waiting to be returned by CID.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Regarding us having access to Frankie’s clothing, phone and to glean from them any information they can about him.’ John said. ‘I’ve timed the call and recorded it boss, in the policy book.’

  ‘I am impressed, well done. So we can place Frankie Miller in the park where Liz was found. Larry had been with her the night before, we believe. Frankie was celled up with Malcolm Reynolds and Larry was involved in putting Malcolm away. What are we missing, John? Do you think Malcolm got Frankie onto Liz because he knew she was having an affair? A contract on her even?’ Dylan said, rubbing his stubbly chin.

  ‘But if that was the case, why did she draw a large amount of money out of the bank the day before?’

  ‘To pay him, neat job.’ said Dylan.

  ‘But why would she have a suitcase with her that contained law books?’

  ‘Well, there’s one thing; we know exactly where three of our players are, but where is Larry Banks and what’s he up to? It’s the last thing you expect from a DS, John, the very last thing, but I’m sure he could shed light on all this for us, if we could only locate him.’

  Dylan and John sat mulling over the evidence; they could put Larry at Liz’s house, but they had no evidence to put him in the car park at St Peter’s Park. Yet, they could put Frankie in St Peter’s Park, but not at her house or in the car park where she was killed. Why woul
d Frank Miller be off his patch, with a balaclava, unless he was up to no good?

  ‘Oh, boss, before I forget. Gary Warner from Crime Squad rang you this morning. Could you give him a ring? He didn’t want to leave a message but I’ve written his number on a Post-it note for you and it’s stuck to the corner of the computer.’

  ‘I hope he hasn’t got another job that’s going to involve us. We’re strapped for staff as it is, and before you know it, the review team will be wanting a meeting.’

  Dylan peeled off the note and rang the number.

  ‘We’ve been watching Miller’s Haulage for a while,’ Gary told Dylan.

  ‘We had information that Frankie Miller was importing drugs on a large scale. I called into see you a while back and spoke to Larry Banks. I asked him if he’d update you with the information on Operation Whirlwind when you came back from leave.’

  ‘He never did, Gary.’ Dylan sighed.

  ‘Nah, my fault. I should have rang you myself. We understand Frankie Miller, one of the Miller brothers, needed money to pay an outstanding drug related debt after he got out of prison, but he got well and truly caught in the act at the bank robbery.’

  ‘Surely he wouldn’t have gone to those lengths if he’d got Liz’s money, would he?’ Dylan said.

  ‘There is no evidence to show he got any money and of course if he did maybe five hundred grand wasn’t enough, who knows, but we’ve got one or two interesting bits of information that have come our way since he died. I can let you have his mobile data and you’re welcome to share the intelligence we’ve collated.’

  ‘Thank you. We can place Frankie in the park where Liz Reynolds was murdered, but that’s all.’

  ‘That was his cellmate’s wife wasn’t it?’

  ‘Sure was. What we’d like to know is, did her hubby have anything to do with her murder? Why else would Malcolm Reynolds’ wife be in the park where Frankie Miller his ex-cell mate can be put, when he’s desperately in need of cash, and Liz Reynolds has drawn out a substantial amount the day beforehand from the bank?’

  ‘I’ll tell you what; I’ll ask around to see if any of our lot can throw any light on any of it for you and I’ll get together that information, I promised.’

  ‘Cheers, Gary,’ Dylan said, gratefully. ‘I’ll wait to hear from you.’ And he hung up.

  ‘Policeman, madman and husband – who dunnit, John?’ Dylan asked, as walked out of the office to return to the Charlie Sharpe incident room. John shook his head.

  ‘Got a full admission yet, you two?’ Dylan called out to Patrick and Dawn, as he walked into the office.

  ‘No boss,’ they both replied.

  ‘Found Jason Todd, yet Pat?’

  ‘No sir.’

  ‘So what new can you tell me then?’ said Dylan sitting down opposite them both.

  ‘Well Chubby Connor’s clothes are all bagged up. Vicky’s going over to forensics, so she’ll drop them off at the lab for us today,’ said Dawn

  ‘The bloody trainers stink probably more than your old DS sir,’ Vicky said, laughing.

  Patrick frowned.

  ‘Joke mate, joke,’ said Vicky.

  ‘You get your exams passed gal; you’d make a good sergeant.’

  ‘What’re you trying to say boss?’

  ‘Well you’ll never need braces to hold your pants up, will you?’ said Dylan.

  ‘What the hell are you two on about?’ said Dawn. Vicky winked at Dylan as she gathered the exhibits in her arms.

  ‘Who says I wear pants sir?’ she said, as she strolled out of the office. Her raucous laugh could be heard from down the corridor.

  ‘How does that girl manage to keep her sense of humour?’ Dylan said, shaking his head.

  Patrick lips pursed and turned to Dylan but remained silent.

  ‘Right, who’s Connor’s brief gonna be, do we know?’ Dylan said.

  ‘Guess,’ said Dawn.

  ‘Seriously, don’t tell me someone from Perfect & Best.’ said Dylan.

  Dawn nodded.

  ‘No one else seems to be getting a look in these days. But to be fair to them, they don’t hang about, do they? Mrs Yvonne Best is having a consultation with Chubby Connor right now,’ said Dawn. ’And our first interview is scheduled for 5:30pm, so we might even get a second in tonight.’

  ‘Then we’ll need the superintendent’s extension from the Divisional Commander early tomorrow, for a further twelve hours detention,’ said Dylan.

  ‘That doesn’t give us long, sir,’ Patrick said.

  ‘It never does Pat, but somehow we always manage, don’t we Dawn?’

  ‘That’s a picture of Jason Todd,’ Dawn said, sliding the mug shot across the table to Dylan.

  He picked it up and studied the young man’s face; short hair, flat nose a star tattoo below his right eye; even a swastika on his left earlobe. ‘Well, he’s not going to melt into a crowd is he?’ he laughed.

  ‘Certainly not, and not only because of his tattoos; he’s well over six foot. All his previous are for robbery, assault on police, resisting arrest; he shouldn’t even be walking the streets,’ Dawn mumbled.

  ‘Well, hopefully we’ll make sure he isn’t again after we get him in custody. Who’s in charge of the arrest team, and have we enough to restrain him if he kicks off?’

  ‘Yeah, we should be okay; six of the best. ‘Dennis the menace’ is in charge. He won’t have chance to kick off,’ Dawn said laughing.

  ‘Dennis is the one who looks like ‘Jaws’ from the Bond films, and he’s got a girly laugh hasn’t he? Ah, remind me to let him interview Todd.’

  ‘No, I want to interview with Pat. Please boss?

  ‘We really don’t need two sergeants interviewing Dawn,’ said Dylan.

  ‘Please...pretty please?’ she begged looking over at him pleadingly.

  ‘Okay,’ he smiled weakly. ’But then we’ll assess each interview as it comes. Agreed?’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said leaning across the desk. ‘You must be tired; that was easy.’ ‘Oh,’ Dawn held her chest dramatically, ‘Oh, my, the palpitations.’

  ‘Don’t even joke about that, Dawn,’ said Patrick.

  ‘Take advantage of a tired old man would you?’ said Dylan. ‘Shame on you. Scary thing is, you know me too well. I am tired, very tired,’ he said, yawning. ‘And it’s probably your condition that’s giving you palpitations.’

  ‘Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you, the murderer of the two children might be putting in a guilty plea, but I’m hearing that off the record. If that happens he could be in court next month, according to my snout.’

  ‘That would be great. When did you hear that?’ Dylan asked.

  ‘Five minutes ago from the cells. Custody staff have been talking to Yvonne Best whilst she was waiting for Chubby Connor to be checked over by the doc.’ Dawn looked like the cat that had got the cream.

  ‘A good day all round.’ Dylan yawned again, involuntarily. ‘I’m knackered, so I’m off home. Will you give me a ring later to update me?’

  ‘It’s alright for some,’ Dawn said playfully.

  ‘I keep telling you, get your exams. Perks of the job; as a boss, you make the rules,’ he joked. ’Hey, and don’t you overdo it, neither.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she groaned.

  He headed for home, and all that he could think of was the comfort of Jen’s arms.

  ‘Patrick or Dawn will ring me later love, so if the phone goes, it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m being called out,’ he told Jen over dinner.

  ‘Most people would’ve let Chubby jump. I don’t know how you can deal with scum like that. It’s not as if he’s going to be a loss to society, after what he’s done.’

  ‘I know. If he’d jumped before, we’d have got to the Isle of Wight on time and Charlie would still be alive. Believe you me; I came very close to shoving him down those steps this morning. My thoughts scared me. All I could see was that little boy’s body and his injuries.’

  Jen slipped her hand int
o Dylan’s and held it tight across the table. ‘And?’

  ‘And I still couldn’t cross that line. That’s the difference between criminals and us, don’t you think? They do cross that line. I could never play God and live with myself.’

  ‘But if you’d done nothing to stop him, and he’d jumped?’

  ‘Come on Jen, if you had the opportunity to save somebody’s life you would, no matter who they were or what they’d done. It’s instinctive,’ Dylan said.

  Jen was thoughtful. Would she?

  ‘It’s easy to say that they deserve to die; but in that instant would you honestly do nothing and be able to live with your conscience? I couldn’t. Life’s too precious to me.’

  ‘It’s very easy, Jack. I’ve never been in that situation, thank goodness. I think it’s just a shame fate stepped in...that’s all I’m saying.’

  ‘So, convicted and executed before a trial, now that would save the country some money,’ Dylan said.

  ‘You always said you could pull the trigger.’

  ‘I could, but that’s when I’d had time to consider the facts first.’

  ‘Let’s not talk about it anymore, Coffee?’ Jen said, getting up and switching the kettle on.

  ‘Tea please. I’m awash with coffee today.’

  ‘I’m sure you did the right thing. You always do,’ Jen said, holding his face in her hands and dropping a kiss on the top of his head. He looked up at her and grabbed her around the waist, nuzzling into her stomach.

  ‘Not only that; I’m the boss. If I’m wrong I’m still right.’ He smiled up at her once more.

  ‘Clever clogs,’ she said, pulling away and playfully tapping his cheek. ’Go put your feet up I’ll bring your cuppa in.’

  Max followed Dylan into the lounge and when he sat down. Max dropped at his feet, placing his head strategically on Dylan’s slipper, so he would know if he moved.

  ‘Good boy,’ said Dylan, closing his eyes as he patted the dog’s head. Instantly both were asleep.