Inspector Kirby and Harold Longcoat

by Ian Martyn

  ‘The inspector said get back!’ Shirley shouted in a voice so loud that Kirby expected to hear the sound of shattering windows from the clubhouse. It had the desired affect though as the press of golfers around them pushed and shoved to clear a space, no doubt, he thought, in an effort to prevent permanent damage to their eardrums should Shirley vent forth again.

  Kirby waggled a little finger in his ear. ‘Thank you, Constable.’

  Shirley grinned. ‘Anytime, sir. I was known as Foghorn Shirl at school.’

  ‘You do surprise me.’

  The golfers were now gathered behind the man Kirby had recently been nose to nose with. With a nervous glance at Shirley the man smoothed his moustache and stepped forward. ‘You in charge then?’ he barked at Kirby.

  ‘And you are?’

  The man scowled, making his lush, bushy eyebrows join forces above his bulbous nose. To Kirby it looked as if the man had a second moustache on his forehead.

  Both moustaches twitched. ‘Pemberton, Giles, Major, retired. club captain.’

  ‘Excellent. I’m Kirby, Inspector, still very much active.’ The moustaches twitched again as Kirby smiled. ‘Perhaps we can go inside and you can tell me what’s happened.’ This produced a harrumph from Pemberton. However, Kirby was already striding towards the door giving him little choice but to follow. Inside, Kirby picked his way over broken glass to a table with four hard chairs around it. He ignored the sofas and easy chairs on the grounds that he didn’t want anyone he was questioning to feel too comfortable. He sat and motioned Pemberton towards the chair opposite him. This produced another ‘harrumph’. As the major sat down, there was the sound of crunching glass. A small woman in a black dress appeared next to them, eyes darting between Pemberton and Kirby.

  This time, only the lower moustache moved. ‘Well?’

  The woman shuffled under Pemberton’s gaze. ‘I just wondered if…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘If you might like some tea?’

  Pemberton’s upper moustache scowled. ‘No, Marjorie, I don’t…’

  ‘Splendid idea,’ Kirby interrupted, smiling. ‘And perhaps some for my colleagues outside?’

  Pemberton’s scowl deepened, but Marjorie seemed pleased. ‘Of course, certainly,’ she said and scuttled off back behind the bar.

  ‘Now Mr Pemberton…’

  ‘People around here call me Major.’

  ‘Really?’ Kirby raised an eyebrow. ‘Well I’m not from around here. So, Mr Pemberton, perhaps you could tell me what happened.’ Now both scowling moustaches were directed at him. Judging from the depth of the lines on his face Kirby reasoned it was Pemberton’s favoured expression.

  ‘I’ve already told that young pup of yours out there. You only have to look at the greens to see what’s happened. Who’s going to pay for all this? That’s what I want to know.’

  Kirby fixed a smile on his face. ‘Well I’d still like to hear it from you. It’s a police thing. Humour me.’

  Pemberton shuffled in his seat and smoothed his lower moustache with a finger. ‘If you insist. I was on the ninth with Hughes and Blake. We’re all decent handicaps, me off ten and the others twelve and thirteen, so we’d driven down the centre of the fairway and were about…’

  What is it with golfers? Kirby thought. ‘Perhaps we could get to the horses and the men?’ he said, fearing he was going to get a blow-by-blow account of the man’s round.

  ‘Ah, yes. Well we’d heard the sound of horses on the beach before we’d finished the ninth and then as we were standing on the tenth tee they came into sight. A whole mob of them, wearing furs and the like. At first we thought they must be some film lot, actors, you know.’ Pemberton described how, on seeing them, the men on horseback had veered off the beach and with complete disregard for golfing etiquette, Blake being about to play his shot, had whooped and hollered before riding straight across the ninth green towards them. ‘My God, if we hadn’t thrown ourselves into a bunker we’d have been trampled. Would have been carnage out there.’

  ‘Really?’ Kirby said, wishing he’d witnessed the last bit.

  ‘Damn right. Then they rode straight across the fifteenth green and off towards the clubhouse, making a damned mess of the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth. By the time we got to the clubhouse, some of them were inside. We could hear the sound of smashing glass. Bloody hooligans.’ Pemberton wagged an agitated finger towards what had been the display cabinet. ‘Look, they’ve taken the trophies, including the Pemberton Cup for the lowest handicapped round in the club championship. I only presented it last year. Silver-plated that one was.’

  ‘Can you describe them?’

  ‘Well the Pemberton Cup was about two feet tall with…’

  ‘Er no, I meant the men.’ The major looked disappointed. ‘You can describe what’s been taken to an officer later.’

  Pemberton harrumphed and reverted to his preferred scowl. ‘As I’ve said, they were dressed in skins and furs. Some had helmets on, others had long hair down to their shoulders, and beards. Yes, big bushy beards. Bunch of weirdo types if you ask me.’ His eyes widened as if a thought had just occurred to him. ‘Yes, weirdos, perhaps those re-enactment chaps. You know the sort.’ He pointed a finger to his head. ‘Gone a bit loopy, starting to believe they’re the real thing and all that.’

  ‘Yes well,’ Kirby said. ‘A line of enquiry I’m sure we’ll follow up.’

  Pemberton smiled and sat up straighter; no doubt, Kirby thought, feeling he’d put the police on the right track.

  ‘Was there anything else?’

  ‘Ah yes, nearly forgot. They tried to abduct Marjorie.’

  As if on cue, Marjorie placed a cup of tea, along with a plate of digestives, in front of Kirby. ‘Oh yes,’ Marjorie said. ‘He was ever so big and strong, although he did smell a bit sort of animally, if you get what I mean. Picked me up as if I was nothing. Put me over his shoulder, he did. I never…’

  ‘Yes well,’ Pemberton interrupted. ‘There was this woman with them and when the brute came outside with Marjorie over his shoulder she screamed at him and thumped him on the arm. He then set Marjorie down and they got on their horses and rode off.’ The scowl was back. ‘This time, over the first, third and fourth. I ask you, as if they hadn’t done enough damage to the course already.’

  Kirby looked up at Marjorie. ‘Must have been a terrifying experience.’

  ‘Yes, I… I suppose it was,’ she said, stroking her hair, which was tied up in a bun, while staring out of the window.

  From the faraway look in her eyes Kirby had the feeling she rather wished they had taken her with them. When he looked back at Pemberton’s twitching moustaches, he could understand why.

  ‘And the woman?’

  Pemberton’s moustaches started to quiver, either with fear or excitement, Kirby couldn’t decide. ‘Oh a wild one, that one. Oh yes.’ A finger smoothed the lower moustache as Pemberton’s gaze also drifted to the window. ‘Long wavy auburn hair and the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen. Eyes that seemed to see into your soul, like black pits they were. She wore a cloak and underneath a tight black dress, cut low at the front. A fine figure of a wo…’ Pemberton coughed as if realising he’d said a little too much. ‘Er yes, very… er, wild she was.’

  Excitement then, Kirby thought. ‘Thank you.’ He smiled. ‘That was most informative.’

  Outside, Harold came over to him along with Geraldo. ‘Marianne was with them.’

  ‘So I gathered. I think the old club captain over there took a bit of a shine to her.’

  Harold laughed. ‘Well he wants to hope she didn’t take a shine to him.’

  ‘Oh I don’t know,’ Kirby said as he watched Pemberton haranguing a person he took to be a greenkeeper. ‘I think he just might deserve her.’

  ‘Anyway, they’re long gone now,’ Geraldo said.

  ‘Where did they come from?’ Kirby asked. Geraldo pointed across the golf links to Dunstanburgh Castle. ‘Ah.’

  ‘And where
have they gone?’

  ‘I think I can answer that one, sir,’ said Cuthbertson, who had just joined them, along with Shirley.

  ‘Yes, Constable?’

  Cuthbertson pointed down the road which led to the golf club. ‘There’s been a bit of disturbance over at Embleton village.’

  ‘Connie?’ Kirby asked, seeing a frown of concern on Harold’s face.

  ‘I’m sure she’s fine, but…’

  ‘Back in the car then,’ Kirby said. Shirley grinned and Geraldo and Harold groaned.

  Kirby shook his head. ‘Tell you what,’ he turned to Cuthbertson. ‘For the sake of everyone’s comfort, why don’t you go back to Alnwick and we’ll deal with this?’

  ‘Sir.’ Cuthbertson glanced at Harold and Geraldo. ‘I’ll let my inspector know there’s a specialised unit up from Newcastle on the case.’

  Kirby smiled. ‘Well done, Constable. You’ll go far.’

  thirty-seven

  Shirley covered the mile or so to Embleton faster than Kirby thought necessary. The locking of brakes on the loose gravel outside the church earned her a grunt of disapproval. However, he had to admit it did get the attention of all those milling around in the churchyard.

  As he got out of the car, Kirby was pleased to see that both Connie and Susie were there. They left a small group, including the vicar, which seemed to be inspecting a number of flattened gravestones, and came over to the gate to join them.

  ‘I’m glad to see the two of you are OK,’ Kirby said.

  ‘Oh, they weren’t after us. I’m guessing that this is Marianne’s way of keeping her boys happy. No doubt they were getting a bit restless and she thought a little plunder would help.’

  ‘Anyone hurt?’

  Connie shook her head. ‘David who runs the Bell has a few bruises after one of them took a shine to his wife, and he tried to intervene. But it seems Marianne stopped them short of real violence. They took a load of Scotch and brandy, left the gin for some reason, then came across to the church to see what else they could plunder. At first everyone thought it was some joke or a film crew riding through the village. That is until they smashed a few cars with axes and swords.’ Connie’s gaze drifted down the road to where more people were gathered outside the pub.

  ‘Much the same as at the golf course.’

  ‘There as well?’ Connie smiled. ‘Sorry, Inspector, I was just thinking of how the major would have taken that.’

  ‘Yes, he seemed more interested in the state of the greens than the fact that one of them tried to run off with the barmaid.’

  ‘Marjorie?’

  ‘That’s right. She seemed to be a little disappointed that Marianne had stopped them.’

  Connie laughed. ‘Well it might have put a little excitement in her life.’

  At that moment, they were joined by two men, one Kirby deduced was the vicar due to the fact that he was wearing a dog collar. The other was wearing a red face and a nose that shone even brighter. Beneath it was a bushy moustache. Not another one, Kirby thought, this time trying to ignore the eyebrows. ‘Gentlemen,’ he greeted them and smiled.

  The vicar opened his mouth to speak but the moustache got in first. ‘About time, let me tell you…’

  ‘Boys,’ Connie said in a voice that silenced moustache man even if the face reddened a little more at being addressed as ‘boy’. Kirby was impressed. ‘Let me introduce you to Inspector Kirby and Constable Barker, from Newcastle. Inspector, Constable, this is the Reverend Green and Mr Pemberton, who’s chairman of the village committee.’ She smiled. ‘I believe you met his brother over at the golf course.’

  ‘Really,’ Kirby said, ‘Your brother, how… interesting.’

  ‘I would never have guessed,’ Shirley muttered.

  The vicar’s mouth opened again, but he was beaten to it once more.

  ‘So those beggars have ransacked the golf club as well, have they?’ The moustache twitched. ‘I tell you what, if I could have got hold of my shotgun, I…’

  ‘Might have been in serious trouble,’ Kirby finished for him. Pemberton scowled. ‘Just as we have laws against people marauding through villages on horseback, we also have laws about the inappropriate use of fire arms.’

  Pemberton seemed about to say more but a look from Connie restricted him to a smoothing of his moustache and a loud, ‘Pah’.

  Kirby turned and smiled at Shirley whose shoulders sagged a little as she guessed what was coming. ‘Well, Reverend, Mr Pemberton, Constable Barker here will be only too glad to take your statements.’ He smiled. ‘Won’t you, Constable?’

  ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure, sir.’

  Kirby wandered into the churchyard with Connie. Harold was talking to Susie, and Geraldo was inspecting some of the headstones. ‘You must teach me that trick.’

  Connie smiled. ‘Ah yes. I shouldn’t, but Pemberton and his brother the major do wind me up with the way they treat everyone as if they were lords of the manor.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  Connie glared across at Pemberton who was now in full flow at Shirley. ‘Poor Shirley.’

  Kirby smiled as he heard Shirley ask, ‘And how are we spelling bumpkin, sir?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Shirley’s spent a fair few Saturday nights down on the quayside. I’m sure she can handle Pemberton.’

  Connie laughed. ‘I guess so. Anyway both Pembertons don’t like me much.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘No, I think they prefer their woman a bit more subservient. They’ve both tried it on with me a couple of times. However, their idea of a chat-up is to treat you like some filly. A loud “What Ho” and a slap on the rump.’

  This time Kirby laughed.

  ‘Yes well, they won’t try it again I can tell you.’

  ‘I’ll remember that,’ Kirby said. Connie blushed a little. ‘Yes well, er so what exactly happened?’ he said changing the subject.

  Connie pointed over towards the village hall and puffed out her cheeks. ‘Not much to tell really. They came up there, from what you’ve said, I guess from the golf course. Then they caused a bit of damage at the Bell and to a few cars before charging over here to the church. They’ve taken a couple of silver candlesticks. That’s about it, apart from the damage you can see here, which is easily sorted.’

  ‘And they weren’t after you and Susie?’ Kirby said as they were joined by Harold.

  Connie shook her head. ‘No, as I said, I think Marianne’s just giving them a run out to keep them happy. And of course any trouble they can stir up helps.’

  Harold told her what had happened in Alnwick.

  Connie nodded. ‘Ah, testing the water?’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ said Harold.

  ‘In what way?’ Kirby asked.

  ‘I think you need to be prepared for more trouble,’ Harold said.

  ‘Riots you mean?’

  Harold glanced at Connie, who shrugged. ‘She’s building towards whatever it is she’s planning. Knowing Marianne, it’ll be ambitious and that requires a lot of power. Stirring up a few villagers won’t be anywhere near enough.’

  ‘So what are we talking about?’

  Harold took a breath. ‘Last time I think she bit off more than she could chew. It was too wide, she couldn’t control it and if you can’t control the power you’re trying to release you put yourself in danger. My guess is she’ll try to keep it more local this time.’

  ‘I agree,’ Connie said.

  ‘What do you mean by local?’ Kirby asked.

  Harold shrugged. ‘Well, they’ve already tried in Newcastle, so I’m guessing basically Northumberland. Also, it seems that whatever she’s planning will be focused around here.’ He looked at Connie again. ‘So what? Newcastle, Morpeth, Ashington, Alnwick, Rothbury, some of the bigger villages, Berwick maybe.’

  ‘I guess so,’ Connie said.

  ‘So when? Tonight?’

  Harold shook his head. ‘No, not with all that booze they’ve taken. My guess is in a few
days’ time.’

  Kirby frowned. ‘Well, that’s alright then. I’ll just tell the chief to put the whole of the Northumbria force on high alert for rioting in a few days’ time. Without of course being able to tell him exactly why.’

  ‘Sometimes,’ Shirley said as she appeared beside Harold. ‘I’m more than glad to be a humble PC.’

  ‘Yes thank you for that, Constable. Was there something you wanted?’ Kirby raised an eyebrow at her. ‘You can’t have finished all the statements already?’

  ‘I’ve got the most important ones, sir, and Mr Pemberton’s, there was no avoiding that. A local is on his way, so I thought he could finish the rest since he’s familiar with the place and all that.’ Shirley smiled and tried her best to look innocent, then hopeful. ‘You know, while we do more of the important stuff, sir.’

  ‘Hmm…’

  ‘Oh and sir?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Er, those who’ve had cars damaged want to know what they should put on the claim forms?’

  ‘Tell them it’s not our area of expertise… and the local police will help them with that.’

  Shirley grinned. ‘So we can get on with the more important stuff, sir?’

  ‘Yes, Constable.’

  ‘I’m too soft,’ Kirby muttered as Shirley went back to a small expectant-looking group.

  Connie laughed. ‘Tea? My place is just down the road.’ She glanced at Harold and her expression hardened. ‘I think we have some serious thinking to do.’

  Harold nodded.