An Oik's Progress

by Steve Eastwood

  Doris let it be known from the outset that she was available to “turn down his sheets” if he felt so inclined. Initially Benny thought that the old “sauce-box” was just pulling his leg, so he ignored it. Had she been nearer his own age, and five stone lighter, his ears would have pricked up. But she wasn’t and they didn’t.

  Over the next few weeks Doris persisted with her comments, none too subtly, and Benny would just find some suitable inoffensive reply to jolly her along. He should have dealt with the situation early on. He was embarrassed by her attention but he was also strangely flattered.

  At end of the first summer season Benny was joined at the top of the house by Eleanor who took up occupation of the room directly opposite his own. She was 19 years of age, 5 feet tall and pretty with long red hair. Her body was well in proportion except for her magnificent bosom which would have been more than ample on a woman of 6 feet plus.

  Eleanor was a 2nd year student at the University of Essex studying The History of Art. She was very much a hippy in her dress sense, Benny was later to learn that she never wore knickers, and she liked a pint of Bitter or two. She was also very self-sufficient and although Doris served meals on the ground floor she had agreed a different arrangement preferring to cook for herself, in her room, on an old two ringed Belling cooker. She was a vegetarian out of necessity and could make a few spuds and a cabbage go a very long way.

  Although Eleanor was not usually well disposed to the “Fuzz”, Benny’s charm offensive paid off and a relationship, of sorts, ensued. Benny would take Eleanor out in town for a drink but she loved nothing better than to enjoy the” home and away” matches that were the bedrock of their relationship. Eleanor smoked and Benny did not, but, he had no objection to her doing so. In fact she rolled her own cigarettes but Benny just put that down to her trying to eke out a low budget.

  He was attracted to her fierce independence, her wit, intelligence and her bohemian lifestyle. So it should not have surprised him when during a home match, and following a lively romp, Eleanor lit up. Benny was lying back considering his luck when a strange smell came to his nostrils. Cannabis? He turned to Eleanor ‘What’s that you’re smoking?’

  ‘Oh, just a bit of blow I brought back from Brighton.’

  ‘Jesus Christ Ellie! What are you trying to do to me?’ Eleanor stubbed it out in the bin.

  ‘Don’t put it in there Ellie! If Doris finds it, there will be hell to pay.

  ‘Oh fuck her.’ said Eleanor ‘Silly cow!’

  ‘Yeah, precisely that’s what I have been trying to avoid!’

  He certainly did not want Doris or the cleaning lady to find “Roach ends” in his bin. There was the possibility of Doris turning the circumstances to her advantage and Benny having to become her resident plaything for fear of her complaining at the Station. If that were to happen he would almost certainly lose his job and to avoid that he might be forced to cater for her every whim. The prospect made him shudder.

  Eleanor was well briefed on the fact that Benny had come under pressure from the “Landlady from Hell.” She had thought it best to keep their own relationship a secret from Doris for fear of her jealousy and the atmosphere turning sour in the house.

  Benny took Eleanor to the Imperial pub for a pint. He liked it there and he got on well with Chuck Walsh who was a good friend as much as a licensee. He found a quiet corner so that they could chat in private and Benny calmly told her that if she wanted to smoke cannabis, it was up to her but she should do it on her own and not compromise him. Benny felt oddly old fashioned about having to take this position, but he enjoyed his job and it was at risk.

  He did not want Eleanor’s wild ways to come between them. That was part of her charm, but, he resolved that he would continue the relationship until she went home to Brighton for the Christmas break. He could then think it over. But blimey! She had magnificent tits!

  Chapter 4 – Words of Advice.

  The Police Station, like most of the town, was built around the latter part of the 19th Century following the advent of the Railway. It was on a corner plot with limited parking space that was designed to accommodate horse drawn transport. The station was an Italianate building of two floors with a tower at one end with stairs leading to a small office, which was occupied by Detective Constables. This was known as the “Crow’s Nest.”

  Benny’s supervisor was Sergeant Roy Cook who was an experienced officer in his final years of service. Roy was immaculate, ramrod straight with a white handlebar moustache. Like some of the older officers he had served in the Army during the Second World War and with particular distinction at Arnhem. He had seen a lot during that conflict to change his outlook on life and nothing that he encountered in the Police Service seemed to faze him. He had endless patience and the ability to keep matters in proportion. Roy took a shine to Benny and he would often arrange to be paired with him for the Refreshment Break when they would go to the Police club for a game of snooker. Roy had been a sniper in the Parachute Regiment and had the eyesight of a hawk. This he put to good use on the snooker table.

  Roy would roar with laughter at every opportunity and he could often be heard in the most remote parts of the Station. This of course included the office of the Chief Superintendent who would, on occasion, disturbed by this inconvenient levity, telephone the Control room and offer Sergeant Cook “words of advice.”

  The Chief Superintendent was the officer in charge of the Division and in this case it was a self-important little man called Reginald Short. He had had a lengthy period of service in the Complaints and Discipline Department and popular opinion had it that he had risen through the ranks on the backs of other officers. He had a suite of rooms at one end of the station which included an executive toilet which was definitely out-of-bounds to the other ranks. There had been a lot of speculation among the lads about the possibility of introducing a layer of cling film across the toilet bowl (beneath the seat) but nobody had yet had the bottle to attempt it.

  If Chief Superintendent Short was a pompous little man, he was also quite predictable. Roy could set his watch by him. Unless he happened to be away from the Division on any particular day, Short would leave for lunch around 1pm and drive his light blue Triumph Herald to the Chief Superintendents Police house which was only two streets away. He would return promptly at 1.45pm and if it had rained during the journey, Short would spend 10 minutes sponging the water from the car. The bodywork was immaculate and the car was his pride and joy.

  In those days uniform patrol officers were not expected to return to the Police Station once their beats had been allocated, unless they had made an arrest, had arranged time to do paperwork or they were taking their Refreshment Break.

  One afternoon, on a late turn, Benny was just entering the front door when he saw Roy behind the counter. There were no members of the public in the waiting area.

  ‘What are you up to then, boy?’

  ‘I’ve come in to do some paperwork on that shoplifter I had yesterday, Skip.’

  Sergeants in South Eastern police forces were often called ‘Skip’ or ‘Skipper’ as a term of respect since, contrary to what Inspectors and above might believe, they are the ones who truly steer the ship.

  ‘I’d do it another time if I were you boy, it’s not a good place to be right now.’

  ’Why, what’s happened?’

  ‘Mr Short has gone mad. He was just driving out of the yard and he had a collision with a fire bucket!’

  ‘Didn’t he see it then, Skip?’

  ‘Not until it smashed his rear windscreen, it was tied to his back bumper at the time.’

  Roy laughed, heartily. Benny quickly “ducked his nut” and went back out again on to his beat. Not a good place to be indeed.

  The Head of CID was instructed to carry out an enquiry into this heinous, yet inspired, criminal act. DCI Johnson realised that he was facing a daunting task.

  Chief Superintendent Short demanded a result. But there were so many potential suspect
s! Furthermore, the rear yard was accessible to the public at all hours.

  DNA had not been discovered in 1974 and CCTV was certainly not in use. The identity of the wicked perpetrator was never learned. It was one of life’s mysteries and it troubled officers of Lee-over- sands for some time. Well, for a couple of days anyway.

  Benny usually did his best to keep out of Short’s way as he had the unnerving habit of asking young constables awkward questions.

  Around 5pm one afternoon Benny was making his way along the ground floor intending to visit a CID colleague in the “Crow’s Nest.” He reached the bottom of the stairs just as Mr Short was descending. Benny stood to one side and gave way.

  Mr Short was in full uniform complete with peaked hat, stick and gloves. The little chap looked as if he was going to Sea Cadets.

  ‘Good night sir.’ said Benny.

  Short bit back ‘Cohen, just because it is 5’oclock and I am leaving the building what makes you assume that I am finished for the day?’

  ‘Nothing sir, but I’ll be going home in a minute, so good night sir.’

  Benny ascended the stairs without waiting for a reply from Mr Short. There was nothing further to be said.

  Chapter 5 – Trouble in Paradise.

  Lee-over-sands is a small seaside town in East Anglia of some 30,000 inhabitants with several holiday camps which caused the population to swell in the summer months. The town has a strong connection to London with many of the London criminal families having holiday homes and caravans in the area. Consequently the Flying Squad and other London CID units were regular visitors dragging out villains for some blag or other. In fact such were the origins of the indigenous population that most of the local kids spoke with a London accent.

  The Police made it their business to know their parishioners particularly those of the criminal fraternity, the Publicans and the club owners. Contrary to many people’s expectations most of the crime was committed by the locals and this was a year round activity with no real peak in the summer months. In one way this was an advantage but they were sometimes at a loss to solve crimes committed by those from outside the area.

  A short drive along the coast is the small town of Frinton-on-Sea which is considered by many to be England’s most conservative seaside resort. It was created at the turn of the 20th Century as an exclusive resort and watering hole for well to do Londoners. It also benefited from the patronage of members of the Royal Family and during that period many of the larger households employed servants. Frinton is a town notorious for the fact that it doesn’t like change. It was only in 1974 that the rules were relaxed to permit non-residents to own beach huts and to this day, people are prohibited from selling ice-cream on the seafront.

  In 1975 the large houses still remained but the town was now populated by Brokers and other City types who made the daily pilgrimage by train up to London from the small local Railway Station. Next to the Station are the historic crossing gates which dominate the entrance to what was almost regarded as a closed society. If one lived “inside the gates” one had status, one was likely to have membership of the local Tennis and Golf Clubs, and one would be known to a select group of people.

  Over a period of several weeks in 1975, this bastion of conservative values was hit by a series of night time burglaries which, the longer they went undetected, began to cause fear and concern amongst the members of the Community.

  In several instances the burglar would enter a house and steal from the Master bedroom where the occupants were asleep in their bed. This was an element of the modus operandi that rather freaked out the ladies of the district. It wasn’t long before members of the Police committee started pressing the Chief Constable for a solution and this pressure filtered down through Mr Short to DCI Johnson.

  The Management Team were authorised to throw maximum resources at the problem and for a change there seemed to be an unlimited budget for overtime. An operational group was created to identify and catch the offenders with officers seconded from both the CID and the Uniform branch.

  Night time observation posts set up at key points in the affected area but to the dismay of the team the burglaries continued to happen. The cases were all revisited and subjected to crime pattern and method analysis. There was no helpful forensic product from any of the burglary scenes and there was no useful intelligence forthcoming from any of the local informants. Terry and the team sat up in the area night after night. Then the case was solved by a completely random event. A certain Mrs Josie Evans was arrested in Liverpool.

  Jimmy Evans and his wife Josie lived in the Walton area of Liverpool. He was a prolific thief, house burglar and general “Scally” with a long list of criminal convictions. Josie was part of a professional shoplifting team of several women who roamed the North West of England and stole goods to order. It was a marriage made in heaven.

  On this occasion Josie had been arrested for shoplifting and the Merseyside Police decided to search the Evans’ love nest for other stolen goods. What they found amazed them. The house was full of stolen items which consisted of various antiques, cheque books, furs, jewellery, paintings, wrist-watches, etc. Jimmy Evans was also arrested and he eventually confessed to having carried out the burglaries in Frinton.

  Such was the size of the haul that Brian Johnson decided to send four officers to Liverpool to deal with Jimmy and Josie rather than bring them back under escort to East Anglia. Two officers would interview the pair and the other two officers would catalogue the stolen goods and have the items forensically examined where necessary.

  Jimmy Evans realised that it was “all on top” as far as he was concerned and from the outset of the interviews he stated that he would cooperate fully provided that his beloved Josie was treated leniently. Terry Connor told him that he could not promise him anything as he simply did not have the authority to do so. However he told Jimmy that he would see what could be done.

  Jimmy Evans decided that that was good enough for him to open up. He said that every couple of days or so he would leave Liverpool during the evening and drive down to Frinton. He stated that he would park his car some way away from his intended target address and then sit in the seafront shelters until the early hours of the morning. He would then walk to his chosen premises, gain entry and quickly steal whatever he could lay his hands on.

  He would carry the goods away to the car keeping out of sight by moving slowly through the various gardens thereby staying off of the roads. Jimmy would then leave the car in position and take his sleeping bag to a seafront shelter well away from the vehicle. He would settle down like any other rough sleeper until around 7am and drive back to Liverpool with the early morning traffic.

  Following Evans’ arrest the burglaries ceased. During a specially arranged Press conference which was held at the Police Station, the local press were told about the arrest of Jimmy Evans. They were given the impression by Mr Short, somewhat disingenuously, that these offences had been solved due to thorough investigative work by his officers. He was shameless in claiming that he had provided the necessary leadership and that as a consequence his officers had produced a successful outcome which was concomitant to the high levels of performance in his Division. Brian Johnson, who was sitting next to Mr Short at the time, suddenly felt overcome by a wave of nausea at this cynical display of self- promotion. But he forced himself to nod and fix a smile.

  Police Crime Performance figures were measured on clear ups and persons charged whether they were ultimately convicted or not. The Home Office Counting Rules and Legal definitions threw up some anomalies which could be exploited by pragmatic Police managers. For example:-

  ● A break-in at a stately home from which a high value painting is stolen, would be recorded as a burglary.

  ● A break-in at a Seafront Beach hut from which a kettle is stolen, would also be recorded as a burglary.

  If the Beach hut burglary were to be solved but the stately home burglary was not, the Division would have a 50% burglary clea
r up rate! Not a bad record in the estimation of the Home Office, but bloody awful in real terms. So much for Crime statistics.

  Chapter 6 – Charlie.

  An integral part of the two year Police Probationary period were one month attachments to the Traffic and the Criminal Investigation Department (CID). These were designed to provide an insight into each Department and if the officer showed some aptitude in either of those areas it stood them in good stead for a chance to serve in that particular specialism. And so it was with Benny Cohen. He, at least, regarded himself as a detective in the making.

  There was an understandable tendency on the part of the CID to use the Probationer on attachment, for menial tasks that would normally fall to the most junior detectives on the Department. Benny did not mind this at all. He just wanted to learn, make himself useful and create a good impression. One morning, on a Criminal Court day, he was tasked to sit behind the Prosecutor in the local Magistrates Court.

  The job entailed taking all of the Uniform Crime Prosecution files to court and, as each case came up, handing the relevant copies of convictions, antecedent history and TIC (Offences Taken into Consideration) forms up to the Prosecuting Solicitor.

  But on this particular morning things went a bit awry when Charlie Harris came into the Station yard to take his usual shortcut to the front office.

  Charlie was well known in the town as “the bus driver.” He was small in stature, aged about 40 years and he had a toothbrush moustache. He suffered from a disease that related to his metabolism being unusually high which meant that he lived his life at twice the pace of the average person. Charlie was a simple soul and one could hold quite lucid conversations with him. He had a voice that, with hindsight, could best be described as not unlike that of Frank Spencer. But where Charlie differed was in the fact that his language was quite atrocious. Simply, Charlie couldn’t get enough “Fucks” out to clear his head and the local youngsters loved him for it.