by S G Read
‘That is true at least, sir.’ Rebecca answered.
‘As to the Leslie Felltham murder, I merely want to talk to them about it, is that such a bad thing?’
‘Not if you put it like that.’ Rebecca answered.
Rebecca dropped Clayton at his house and went home herself. She did not live far from Clayton’s house, in a two bedroom flat. One bedroom for her and one for her cat, although the cat mainly slept on the end of her bed.
The next morning Clayton was in the office early, he did that sometimes to surprise her but he always rang her to let her know when he had made it in under his own steam. By the time Rebecca arrived he had made all the arrangements for the evening and a second visit to the gang of boys. He did it before Rebecca arrived at the station, mainly so that she had no knowledge about it. What she did not know about, she could not lie about, just in case the chief inspector asked her about the cases. She had her position to think about. The chief inspector could bump her back down to a WPC very quickly if he felt inclined.
She arrived at her normal time and sat opposite him as he read through the latest files on both murders. She sat there reading through her notes and dealing with the other incoming information, answering phone calls and passing on what was relevant for Clayton to read.
‘So what have you arranged then, sir? You’re looking very smug.’ She asked when she could stand not knowing any longer.
‘You will find out later Rebecca. What you don’t know can’t hurt you. Believe me, it is better this way.’ Clayton answered. ‘Just in case you run into you know who.’
‘Do I need to break my plans tonight, sir?’ She asked.
‘Now that is the sixty four thousand dollar question, isn’t it?’ Clayton answered. ‘You certainly know how to ask the right questions though but then, you don’t have any plans for this evening, do you?’
‘Are you saying I don’t have a home life, sir?’
‘I am sure you do, sergeant but knowing you, you will have certainly left tonight free, after last night’s fun filled fiasco.’
‘You’re not going to tell me what you have arranged, are you, sir?’ Rebecca asked.
‘No I’m not but pick me up at nine o’clock tonight.’
Rebecca looked at him from where she sat.
‘So you have arranged something! I knew it.’
‘I just hope the CI doesn’t call you in and ask you about it!’ Clayton replied and returned to the files he had been looking at.
‘Are we going out to Leslie Felltham’s allotment while it is light, sir? If we did it would get me out of the CI’s way for a while.’
‘I suppose we ought to. We will get Bill to take soil samples to see if that is where the soil under his finger nails came from.’ Clayton answered. ‘He had to be working somewhere.’
They hurried out, making sure that they did not run into the chief inspector on their way down to the car. Rebecca drove them to the allotment and found it well tended, just like his garden was. They found the shed locked and had to wait for a uniformed officer to bring the key from the evidence locker. The shed had everything the gardener would need while working, including a kettle and armchair.
‘This is like a home from home.’ Clayton declared. ‘I wonder if all sheds on the allotment are like this one.’
‘We could look at more than Leslie Felltham’s allotment, sir.’ Rebecca answered. ‘We have the time.’
They walked round, talking to other allotment tenants. Leslie Felltham spent a lot of time there and he was friends with the other tenants. They all had facilities there to save them having to leave for any reason other than it was too dark to work. If it rained, they just went into their sheds and talked, or drank tea, until it stopped.
‘So, they come here and it is another little community. When they leave here, it is back to the real world.’ Clayton declared. ‘No wonder Agnes was a bit offish about it all.’
‘The allotments are well kept, sir.’ Rebecca declared. ‘They work hard on them when it isn’t raining.’
‘They do that and then they have vegetables to take home, Rebecca, each person grows enough to be able to swop with another tenant. That way they all have something to take home, all summer.’
The forensic team arrived to take samples of the soil and soon after that Rebecca drove back to the station. When they arrived there was a message for Clayton to see the chief inspector. He smiled and walked up to the chief inspector’s office, the chief inspector had not wasted any time.
‘You wanted to see me, sir.’ Clayton asked expectantly, when he was sitting in front of him.
‘Yes inspector, I wanted to know how you were getting on with the man buried in the sports field.’ The chief inspector answered.
Clayton knew it was serious when the CI addressed him inspector.
‘Well we have made little progress but we have worked out that there were more than one person involved in the murder, maybe even more than two. There are a group of tearaways who hang about round the flats and they were reported about on the night but when we went to talk to them they all fled the scene.’
‘So what are you going to do about it, Clayton?’
The change to Clayton was good.
‘I have arranged to round them all up tonight and question them about it at the station.’ Clayton answered, hoping for an easy ride.
‘Yes I heard all about it through the grapevine, it works well in here but are you sure it will move the case forward?’
‘I cannot be sure about it, but they do get round the town and have been moved on from the sports field on previous occasions, sir.’
‘Well I hope it proves affective for all our sakes, Clayton.’
‘So do I, sir, so do I, so far we don’t even know his name!’ Clayton replied. ‘I hope we can change that tonight.’
‘Keep me informed, Clayton.’
‘Yes, sir, I will.’
Clayton returned to his desk and Rebecca looked up from the file she was reading.
‘I take he found out about your little raid tonight?’ She asked.
‘Yes, so it must yield worthwhile results, luckily he thought it was your idea!’
‘Very funny, unless it does pan out, then I will definitely accept all the honours that come with its success.’ Rebecca replied.
‘We will find out tonight, Rebecca but this time a little later than before, when they should all be in bed, asleep and not hanging about getting up to God knows what.’
‘Bill sent word that they lifted a print from the cable tie which does not match the murder victim.’ Rebecca explained when he fell silent and held the file out for him to read, even though she had just told him what it said.
He took the sheet of paper and read it, before putting it into the correct file.
‘A partial print though and not enough to gain a conviction, but it does give us a reason to take fingerprints from anyone we think might be involved, anyone who is not already in the system.’ Clayton declared. ‘An implied threat, but it might help.’
‘It might, sir, if there is no lawyer there to dismiss it out of hand and tell us to take a running jump!’
‘Quite so, Rebecca,’ Clayton answered, ‘and now I think we can call it a day, as we are out again tonight.’
‘Will I need my running spikes, sir?’
‘Not at all, sergeant but feel free to rugby tackle anyone who gets close enough.’
‘A scrum half, I am not,’ Rebecca retorted, ‘I might stand near the grass and trip one or two up though.’
Rebecca drove Clayton home and the drove home herself.
Later that night they drove to the flats and parked exactly where they had the previous time. Rebecca made sure the car was secure before they walked away, not wanting it stolen while they carried out their investigation. That would be hard to live down.
They walked round the corner and saw the group, in the same place as before, with the door to the flats open again, ready to execute the same escape proc
edure. Clayton and Rebecca did not stop but just approached at the same speed they had before.
‘Here they come again!’ The lookout warned and they scattered again.
Some ran to their right, passing Clayton and Rebecca but not close enough for her to act, some ran to their left and some went into the flats, closing the door firmly behind them. The members of the group who ran past Clayton and Rebecca suddenly came face to face with policemen in riot gear. They were in a line across the opening, appearing from concealment to form a line. The members of the group who ran to their left had to be chased as the area there was too big to seal, but the fastest runners were stationed there and the boys running away were soon caught.
Of the ones who ran inside. Those who ran up the stairs found the stairs blocked by burly policemen who had come in through another entrance. They turned and fled back down the stairs. The members of the group who ran along the bottom passageway met the same wall of burly policemen at the other end. They turned and fled back the way they had come, eventually running into the members of the group who had run up the stairs. They stopped and the police converged on them from both ends.
‘Well that was painless enough.’ Clayton declared with satisfaction, when they were all loaded into what used to be called the Black Marias.
‘What now, sir.’
‘Now we follow the book where questioning goes, although I have a feeling that they will be uncooperative and that will earn them a night in the cells. It will also mean that we can go home to our beds!’
‘That sounds good to me,’ Rebecca replied and stifled a large yawn, ‘but we will have to inform their parents, well those of them who are under age, anyway.
‘Another possible lever, some might not want their parents informed of their activities and decide to speak then.’ Clayton concluded.
The group as one refused to speak at all, Clayton assumed that it was on the orders of their leader, who was older and therefore more world wise. He did not mind, they were locked up, and as the police did not know their ages and did not know who they were, they could not inform their parents. The duty sergeant was duly informed that he might get phone calls about missing children. With it all ready for action in the morning Clayton and Rebecca went home to bed.
Rebecca called for him at the normal time in the morning, they did not hurry to the police station and he set the first interview, with what they had considered the youngest of the group for ten AM. Clayton considered him a minor, although he refused to say anything to them at the first interview. So Clayton erred on the safe side, he asked for a responsible adult to be present and sit beside him for the interview, even though they did not know his name or age.
He walked into the interview room with both files under his arm, Rebecca followed him in and they sat down opposite the boy they were going to question. Clayton placed both files on the table in front of him, closer to him than the boy. Now, instead of starting the interview, he said nothing and watched the second hand on the clock tick round until it was exactly ten o’clock.
‘Interview started at ten AM exactly. Those present are Inspector Clayton Moore, Sergeant Rebecca Stone, Marion Wilson from the children’s welfare society and an unknown male suspect who I believe to be under the age of eighteen.’
He looked the boy in the face when he asked him the questions, just to see what, if anything caused a reaction.
‘What is your name?’ He asked.
The boy did not answer and there was no change in the expression on his face.
‘How old are you?’ He asked.
The boy did not answer and there was still no change in his expression.
‘In that case I have no option to charge you with the murders of Leslie Felltham and an unknown oriental male found on the sports field in Carlton Street. You will be fingerprinted and a DNA sample recovered to check with the evidence recovered from the crime scenes. Interview suspended at five minutes past ten AM.’
Clayton saw a slight change in the look on his face and stood up to go but did not stop the recorder.
‘I didn’t kill anyone. Rufus said that if we kept quiet, you couldn’t charge us with anything!’ The boy blurted out.
‘I can charge you with anything I like and if our tests prove it was you or you had a hand in either murder, you will be locked up.’ Clayton answered but remained standing. ‘Do you want to start the interview again?’
The boy nodded and Clayton sat down again.
‘Interview resumed at ten minutes past ten AM. What is your name?’
‘James Hunter.’
‘Where do you live?’
’44 Brownlow house, Golding Street.’
‘And how old are you James?’
‘Fourteen.’
‘Due to the suspect’s age I am terminating the interview until his parents are present.’ Clayton explained, looking at the recorder as he spoke.
‘I am happy to talk with this woman here.’ James answered.
Clayton looked at him and then at the woman.
‘Are you happy with that Mrs. Wilson?’ He asked. ‘You will make sure I do not infringe his rights?’
‘Oh I will do that all right inspector,’ Marion answered, ‘but why don’t you want your parents present at this interview James?’
‘I just don’t want my parents here, okay? Can we get on with this?’ Then he added. ‘Please?’
‘As you wish, James.’ Clayton answered. ‘Where were you on the fourteenth of June between the hours of six PM to six AM?’
‘I was with my mates until three in the morning and then I went home to bed.’ James answered.
‘That is not the answer I want James.’ Clayton retorted.
‘He has told you where he was at the time you wanted to know about.’ Marion exclaimed, interceding on James’ behalf. It was her job and she always did it to her best ability.
‘No, he has told me who he was with, but as they are all going to be charged with complicity to commit murder, it is not an answer.’ Clayton replied. ‘Where were you between six PM and six AM, James?’
‘We wouldn’t have hurt Les, he was a good bloke.’ James explained, unhappy that the man was dead and things were not going his way.
‘That doesn’t tell me where you were, James.’ Clayton prompted.
James looked from one to the other and then whispered in Marion’s ear.
‘Then you have to choose between the murder charges that Inspector Moore plans to charge you with, James, or the lesser charge of vandalism.’ She answered, so that both Clayton and Rebecca could hear.
‘Unfortunately I cannot turn the tape off for your answer so it will be recorded for further action, if it requires it but surely, vandalism instead of murder, where is the problem?’ Clayton argued.
‘If I tell you where we were, I will be telling on the others, and they are my mates.’ James answered. ‘They will think I am a grass and I’m not a grass.’
‘Well I can help there, James. I will be questioning them all, one after the other and I will find out the truth from them as well as you. So I have no need to tell them that you told me first.’ Clayton said carefully.
‘You promise?’ James asked.
The question took Clayton aback, this was no tearaway, just a little boy in a fourteen year old body.
‘I promise that I will not divulge the fact that you were first to inform me of the whereabouts of your group, on the night in question.’ He answered. ‘Now, what were you up to?’
‘We were in Mrs. Finnegan’s garden, messing it up.’ James replied.
‘So you were responsible for the vandalism to Mrs. Finnegan’s garden?’ Clayton asked to make sure his answere was clear on the recording.
‘Yes, we did it.’ James answered.
‘When did you vandalise the garden?’ Clayton asked.
‘It was late, well early, about two in the morning, when she was asleep!’ James answered. ‘We messed it up good.’
‘And how long were you there?�
�� Clayton asked.
‘We stayed about an hour.’ James answered.
‘Where did you go after you had vandalised the garden?’ Clayton asked.
‘Back to the flats and hung out.’ James answered.
‘And you did not see the body of Leslie Felltham?’ Clayton asked.
‘No, it was dark where he was found. We just met there to talk about the garden and then went to bed.’ James answered. ‘If we had seen Les we would have got him some help, if we did he might be alive now Inspector Moore?’
‘No chance of that, James, he was dead when he was dumped there.’ Clayton answered. ‘So you liked Leslie Felltham, did you? Was that all of you?’
‘Yes, he gave us fruit in the summer and vegetables to take home, he was alright.’ James answered. ‘He didn’t have a down on us because we were kids.’
‘Did you ever meet his wife, James?’ Clayton asked.
‘Yes. We went up there to help him out one day. Les had some horse manure delivered to his house to put on his garden but his wife wanted it gone so Rufus borrowed a lorry and we put it on the lorry and took it to Les’ allotment for him. She was alright his wife, she brought us out tea while we worked. She just didn’t like the smell of the manure.’ James answered. ‘It did pong a bit.’
‘Thank you James that is all I needed to hear.’ Clayton declared.
He was ready to end the interview and send James home without asking him about the man in the sports field.
‘The oriental man, who was killed, was it Lippy?’ James asked out of the blue. ‘We haven’t seen Lippy since the body was found in the sports field.’
‘We don’t know what his name was but I do have a picture of the dead man, are you happy to look at it?’ Clayton asked, not only looking at James but moving on to cast a glance in Marion’s direction as well.
‘It is only a facial?’ Marion asked, before James could answer.
‘Oh yes, just the face.’ Clayton assured her.
‘Are you?’ She asked James.
‘I don’t mind.’ James answered.
Clayton opened the file on the ‘man in the hole’, took out the photograph Chastity had taken of the dead man and placed the photograph on the table in front of James.
