Inspector Moore and the Body Behind the Flats

by S G Read

  ‘There were a couple of strangers there, they looked like anyone else which Freddy saw as suspicious in itself but then he looks for spies everywhere.’ Rufus explained.

  It was against his better judgment but he went to see Sylvia, taking a taxi so that he did not arrive in a police car, marked or unmarked. The gates opened as the taxi approached them and Clayton smelled a rat but he was in a taxi and in no position to do anything about it. The taxi driver stopped in front of the house and Clayton stepped out.

  ‘Do you want me to wait, guv?’ The driver asked.

  Clayton thought about it but there might be danger.

  ‘No thanks.’ He answered and paid him.

  The front door was open so he watched the taxi drive away before he walked in, he headed for the same room he had been entertained in twice and found both Sylvia and Beecham sitting there with the suspect standing in front of them and he was well armed.

  ‘So we have the full set.’ The suspect declared. ‘Pray take a seat Inspector Moore and don’t try to be a hero.’

  Clayton sat where he had sat last time he was there.

  ‘So this is what you look like when you are working Mr. Smith, and I suspect that that is not your real name.’ He said when he was sitting.

  ‘There are a lot of John Smiths, Inspector Moore, it makes it harder to find me when you are searching.’ Smith answered. ‘I saw your surveillance as soon as they were in place, I only stayed free this long because I am paranoid.’

  ‘That is a shame.’ Clayton answered.

  ‘I also saw through Sylvia’s plans as well, still I got paid for killing Beecham there so at least I will only have to do two freebies, thanks for sending the taxi away.’

  ‘I didn’t see the point of involving him in this case,’ Clayton answered, ‘what happened with Carswell?’

  ‘That depraved bastard, got me to kill his mistress because she was pregnant! I asked for more money but he argued so much I had to restrain him and he promptly had a heart attack.’ Smith answered. ‘I even tried to revive him but he was dead when he hit the ground!’

  ‘The best thing he ever did,’ Clayton answered, ‘he led us to you.’

  ‘You obviously did not have enough evidence to convict me, or you wouldn’t have tried this half arsed plan.’

  ‘How many have you killed?’ Beecham asked.

  ‘Fourteen to date, it will be seventeen after tonight.’ Smith answered.

  ‘No I think fourteen is your lot.’ Beecham answered. ‘It’s a shame you didn’t try to kill me, I was looking forward to it.’

  ‘What you, old man.’ Smith crowed, ‘I don’t think it would have presented a problem.’

  ‘How many red spots are there on your sweat shirt?’ Beecham asked idly.

  ‘Red spots,’ Smith repeated and looked down to see two red dots on his sweat shirt. ‘What the hell, they are laser sights.’

  ‘Yes they are and my friends are very good, I called in a favour or two.’ Sylvia replied.

  ‘Who do you know who uses them?’ Smith asked.

  ‘I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.’ Sylvia answered. ‘What am I saying, they will do it for me if you lift that pistol up once more. Try it and see but if you do, you won’t be able to write your memoirs. It’s your choice Mr. Smith!’

  ‘I hear what you are saying but then if it is a trick I will fill pretty foolish if I drop my weapons and then my memoirs will be tarnished by being tricked by an old woman.’

  ‘Old woman; shoot him now!’ Sylvia cried in anguish.

  ‘It is a bit of a stalemate really,’ Smith declared, ‘either I shoot you and it was a bluff or I get shot and it wasn’t a bluff.’

  ‘So before you decide, can you tell me how many you killed and where they are buried?’ Clayton asked.

  ‘For your photographic memory, I have done my homework since I saw you and your sergeant in the crowd, watching them dig up the body of Carswell. Good luck with the wedding, if you make it there.’ Smith answered.

  ‘Thank you,’ Clayton answered, ‘I would wish you well and invite you but you’ll either be dead or in prison.’

  ‘Thank you for the thought. I don’t mind letting you have all the details of my work but it is in my blackberry which is in my pocket, the same pocket two little lights are shining on, could be tricky to read it with holes in it.’

  ‘I am sure we can manage, one way or the other.’ Clayton replied and stood up.

  It was deliberate movement, put up or shut up, showing that Clayton was tired of the charade. Smith raised his pistol to point it at Clayton and both of the windows in the room were hit by a bullet. Smith did not manage to raise the pistol high enough to shoot Clayton, if that was what he planned, instead he crumpled and fell to the floor.

  ‘I hope they missed the blackberry, if there ever was one.’ Clayton commented.

  ‘How did you know it was no trick?’ Beecham asked.

  ‘By the way you drive the rolls, Beecham.’ Clayton answered.

  Neither Beecham nor Sylvia knew what he meant and Clayton did not explain, he called in the incident.

  ‘I take it the marksmen will not be coming forward for the investigation into his demise?’ He asked.

  ‘You take it right, Inspector Moore.’ Sylvia answered.

  ‘I might surprise you and make an arrest.’ Clayton answered.

  ‘For killing him?’ Sylvia asked.

  ‘For not coming forward and giving a statement, Sylvia.’

  ‘I could arrange a statement for your files.’ Sylvia replied.

  ‘That will save an arrest and a lot of paperwork.’ Clayton answered quietly.

  They sat talking quietly while Smith lay dead, his blood staining the carpet much to Beecham’s annoyance. A little later sirens sounded and the drive was soon full of police cars of one sort or another. Bill arrived with the first wave of police cars.

  ‘What happened?’ He asked standing over the inert form of the killer.

  ‘He committed suicide, Bill.’ Clayton answered.

  ‘The first time I have seen a suicide shoot himself twice in different places Kemo Sabe but if you say so.’

  ‘There is this as well.’ Clayton added and held up a blackberry with a bullet hole in it.

  ‘And what am I supposed to do with that?’ Bill asked, eyeing the damage without taking it from Clayton.

  ‘Retrieve the data, which is supposedly the complete list of his work.’ Clayton explained.

  Bill took the blackberry as Chastity started to examine the body.

  ‘Suicide?’ She mocked and said no more.

  They both looked at her then back at the blackberry.

  ‘Well?’ Clayton asked.

  ‘Better than that thing.’ Bill answered.

  ‘Can you retrieve the information?’ Clayton prompted.

  ‘The impossible is easy for me, miracles take a little bit longer.’ He answered and slipped into an evidence bag. ‘Now out of the way while we get on with our work, Chastity won’t be too long.’

  ‘What’s to be long about?’ She replied. ‘He’s dead, so he can be moved.’

  As the call had come from Lady Carstairs’ house the chief inspector was not far behind them.

  ‘Is this our man?’ He asked, standing over the inert form of the killer.

  ‘It is, sir, well was.’ Clayton answered. ‘We do have a confession in front of three people, including me and Bill has a blackberry which pertains to have a complete list of his work on it. It is slightly damaged but Bill says he can retrieve the information from it.’

  ‘Good man, it could lead to a lot of arrests.’ The chief inspector replied, his thoughts on his promotion.

  He walked over to Sylvia who was sitting in the same chair she had been sitting in. Clayton smiled at her and walked away. He was met by Rebecca.

  ‘Anything I should know?’ She asked.

  ‘We took out one killer and I hope it will lead to further arrests.’ Clayton answered.


  ‘And you weren’t in any danger?’ She asked accusingly.

  ‘As it so happens, no.’ Clayton answered honestly.

  ‘If I find out differently there will be trouble.’ She answered, even though he was her superior officer.

  ‘Quite so.’ The chief inspector commented as he walked by.

  ‘The case is closed and a lot more may follow, which means we can set a date for the wedding, if by that date I haven’t solved the Leslie Felltham case I send it to the unsolved crimes squad.’ Clayton replied, trying to placate her.

  She took out her diary and perused the dates.

  ‘We should make the twenty eighth, you have until then to solve the Felltham murder.’ She declared and walked off to take charge of the scene as she was the SOCO.

  Clayton took a police car and drove to the scout hut.

  ‘If I remember right Freddy can draw quite well.’ He asked when he was with Rufus.

  ‘He can,’ Rufus answered, ‘he is still there watching at the moment but he did draw these for you.’

  Rufus handed him a picture of the killer and two other men, the killer’s likeness was very good and Clayton imagined that the other two were just as accurate.

  ‘That one lives on our estate in a flat.’ Rufus added, pointing to one of the men who Clayton assumed were the marksmen. ‘Not that he is home a lot.’

  ‘Well he came home to help out a friend, I suspect he will be off soon to pastures new.’ Clayton replied.

  ‘Help Lady Carstairs, how?’ Rufus asked, always wanting to know things.

  ‘Now that I cannot tell you, but he was successful and I am grateful. We took a prolific killer off the streets and that has to be a gain.’ Clayton answered.

  ‘Did he kill Les?’

  ‘Not that I know of at this moment and as he was a hired gun I can’t see anyone paying to have Les killed.’ Clayton answered.

  ‘They might have wanted his bit of the allotment.’ Rufus suggested.

  ‘Now that would be a new motive to me, killed for an allotment garden, I will find out when our technician manages to decipher what is supposed to be his list of hits and I hope he didn’t mean a music compilation!’

  Rufus laughed.

  ‘So what happens now?’ He asked.

  ‘Well I show off a little and take the artists’ portrait of her two friends to show Lady Carstairs, then I think they will be destroyed.’

  ‘Destroyed,’ Rufus echoed, ‘so it is hush, hush then?’

  ‘So hush, hush that I won’t even answer you.’ Clayton answered and tapped his nose.

  His next port of call was to Sylvia and she and Beecham were having a small party to celebrate their victory and remembering old times.

  ‘Come in Clayton.’ Beecham called into the intercom and pushed the button.

  It was obvious that he was not his normal restrained self. Clayton walked up the drive and found Sylvia waiting for him in the open doorway.

  ‘I did not expect to see you again so soon.’ She said as a greeting, but stood to one side to allow him inside.

  ‘I come with a personal invite to my wedding on the twenty eighth of next month.’ Clayton answered as he walked inside.

  ‘But I sense that is not all.’ Sylvia replied, she closed the door and he followed her inside.

  ‘Well no, I did bring you a couple of presents as well.’ Clayton called back, he was heading for the same room he had been entertained in before.

  ‘Do a left.’ Sylvia called.

  Clayton dutifully turned left and found Beecham with a small party hat perched on the back of his head.

  ‘Are you celebrating?’ Clayton asked.

  ‘Oh yes, I used to enjoy the old days.’ Beecham answered.

  ‘Don’t tell me, you thrived on the danger?’ Clayton asked.

  ‘I did as it so happens Clayton and with you not driving I expect you to join us.’ Beecham answered and passed him a bottle of beer with the cap removed.

  ‘To the old days.’ Clayton toasted and took a long drink from the bottle. ‘I have a present for your two friends, are they going to skulk in the other room or come in so that I can thank them.’

  He took another swig as the two men in question walked in.

  ‘Ah, the two men I expected to find. For you,’ he said to the first man, ‘I have a nice picture.’

  He sorted through the two pictures and passed the man his portrait as done by Freddy, he did the same to the other man.

  ‘Compliments of my secret police force, they saw you when no one else did.’ Clayton explained. ‘These are the only copies by the way.’

  On the back of one was the man’s address.

  ‘This is just like me, who did it?’ The first man asked.

  ‘One of my surveillance team, quite good isn’t he.’ Clayton answered.

  The two pictures were shredded while Clayton watched, later they were burnt as well, just to make sure.

  ‘Thank you for your assistance in this little venture and I have no qualms about joining in with the celebrations into the death of that man, he deserved all he got.’ Clayton announced.

  He shook both of their hands, one after the other.

  ‘What about me?’ Sylvia complained, ‘I arranged it. If you need help on any other cases, just come and see me’

  Clayton planted a kiss on both her cheeks.

  ‘Thank you and the only case I have left is the Felltham murder, for that I have no suspects left and it is a dead end.’

  ‘I bet it was the wife.’ One of the marksmen said in between mouthfuls of beer straight from the bottle.

  ‘Well I hope not,’ Clayton answered, ‘I’ve met her.’

  ‘It’s usually the wife.’ The same man argued.

  Clayton did not answer he returned to his beer, he could celebrate tonight and order a taxi home. It did not happen, he partied to celebrate the victory and slept in an armchair next to Beecham. The two men melted into the night and Sylvia went to bed. It took her some time to climb the stairs and walk along the corridor to her own room but she made it and flopped onto her bed, she was a lady after all.

  When he opened his eyes in the morning, he was still in the armchair. Beecham was still asleep which made him search for a wash room and he was grateful when he found one. There was no way Beecham was driving him home so he phoned for a taxi which he met in front of the gates after he had found out how to open the gates from his side. Back in the office he found Rebecca waiting for him.

  ‘And where have you been?’ She asked as though they were already married and he was not her superior officer.

  ‘To a party and very enjoyable it was.’ Clayton answered. ‘Did you set the date?’

  ‘I did and I informed the CI.’ Rebecca answered.

  ‘Was that wise? If he knows how much time there is between now and the wedding he will try to squeeze another case or two in and one of them will be almost unsolvable or there will be something about it that makes it memorable.’

  ‘I never thought about that, Clay.’ Rebecca admitted. ‘He told me I did well in the interview for inspector.’

  ‘Well you are ready for that, there I agree with him.’

  ‘That’s very good of you.’ The chief inspector said from the doorway. ‘Have you solved the Felltham murder yet?’

  ‘No I have not. It is giving me a headache.’ Clayton answered.

  ‘Then I suggest you go out and see the widow and explain to her just why you have not apprehended his killer, Clayton.’ The chief inspector retorted. ‘Then it will have to go into the unsolved files.’

  ‘Yes sir, I will go out there in the morning.’ Clayton answered as it was getting late in the day.

  ‘No, you will go out there now, inspector.’ The CI retorted. ‘Then you can put it to bed tonight and concentrate on the forthcoming wedding.’

  ‘As you wish, chief inspector.’ Clayton replied.

  The inspector left them to it.

  ‘Phew, that was close, I thought he had another cas
e for you.’ Rebecca sighed.

  ‘I was pleasantly surprised, I think he has been working hard on the best man’s speech and it is a bit worrying.’ Clayton admitted.

  Ten minutes later they were on their way to Golding Gardens. They parked by the tall hedge and Clayton climbed out of the car but a noise stopped him from slamming the door as he normally would have done. When he did slam it, it was much to the annoyance of Rebecca, now she wondered what was up. Instead he stopped moving and listened. A squeak, squeak made him hold a hand up to stop Rebecca from speaking and closing her door. The squeak, squeak stopped, then after a few seconds started again and it brought something to mind that he had read.

  Clayton closed his door as quietly as he could and Rebecca did the same, although she did not know why at the moment. They walked to the gate and Agnes Felltham walked round the corner pushing her husband’s wheelbarrow. She saw the two police officers and stopped.

  ‘I think we need to talk Agnes!’ Clayton exclaimed.

  Agnes nodded.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’ She said quietly.

  Ten minutes later they were sitting in the lounge drinking tea.

  ‘So what did you hit him with, Agnes?’ Clayton asked.

  Rebecca looked at him in horror.

  ‘A saucepan.’ Agnes answered.

  Rebecca looked surprised by her answer.

  ‘Why did you hit him?’ She asked.

  ‘I told him to wipe his feet properly when he came in, and did he? No, there were footprints all over my clean floor so I just hit him with what I had in my hand! I had just washed the saucepan. I didn’t mean to kill him, but he just dropped down dead! I couldn’t believe it. I used to be a nurse and I knew he was dead. If I called for an ambulance they would call you so I waited until about three in the morning and wheeled him down to the flats. I was going to take him all the way to his allotment, he would have liked that but there was this group of people on the sports field and I was afraid they would see me. I just tipped him out where I was and headed back, I told him about oiling that ruddy wheelbarrow so many times!’

  ‘How did you get him into the wheelbarrow, Agnes?’ Rebecca asked.

  ‘It wasn’t easy but then I helped Les move other heavy things. I turned the wheelbarrow on its side next to him and then hauled him into it as I turned the wheelbarrow up the right way.’ Agnes answered. ‘It nearly put my back out though.’