PC Kirkwood’s plan today had been simple. Parade on duty, have a brew with the team then crack on with a huge backlog of paperwork. Following that he had appointments to obtain a couple of statements and then perhaps he could get out on the streets for an hour or so. This plan had crashed around his ears as soon as he arrived for duty and now with appointments cancelled and paperwork mountain getting bigger he stood in the graveyard at St Michael’s.
Inspector Guilfoyle had retreated to his car to seek some shelter from the rain but CSI had turned up and were wandering around the scene in white paper suits snapping photographs and picking over the remnants of the shattered coffin. PC Kirkwood’s attention had drifted as he contemplated the rare weekend off that would begin at the end of this shift. “Darren grab this bag will you?” His attention leapt back to the present and he automatically reached down and took the bag from the CSI guy who was now stood in the hole. “Not sure whether it will uncover your body snatcher but it’s not been down here as long as the body was.” PC Kirkwood held up the bag. It contained a small business card in very good condition. He read across the front.
“Life Less Vanilla – Tax Barrister”
Specialist in Taxation Law
“That’s me done” said the CSI as he climbed out of the hole. PC Kirkwood handed the bag back as they both became aware of footsteps approaching. Inspector Guilfoyle was returning to the scene and he was accompanied by Supt Payne. “Anything for us forensically” asked the Super. “Nothing much at all I’m afraid Sir. The rain got to most stuff well before we discovered the scene” replied CSI. “I did find this business card though” he said handing the exhibit bag over. “It was under the wood and dry so we may get some prints. It’s in good condition. It can’t have been buried so I can only assume our body snatcher dropped it.” Supt Payne glanced at the card. “Good. Follow it through and let me know how it develops”.
The Super and Inspector then walked a few steps away and huddled close in conversation. PC Kirkwood couldn’t hear what was said but after a few minutes they returned to him. “Darren. The Super is quite happy now. You can close down the scene log. Drop it on my desk at the nick. Before you go find someone to fill in this hole will you” said the Inspector before dashing off to his car.
The graveyard was deserted. There was nobody about at all. PC Kirkwood looked at the hole. It was enormous. Find someone to fill it in he thought to himself. Like who? He stood in isolation and determined no matter what happened he wasn’t going to do it himself. As he pondered this a lady came came toward him. She had a pinny on and was carrying a small tray. “You must be freezing. I’ve brought you a cup of tea and a piece of cake”. It turned out that the lady was Mrs Voysey the churchwarden. After discussing his dilemma Darren established that the usual gravedigger lived across the road and Mrs Voysey had already canvassed him to see if he could fill in the hole if needed. “You leave it to me” she said. “You go and get warm and dry.” Like most bobbies Darren welcomed the tea and demolished the cake. He then thanked Mrs Voysey for her help and walked towards his car. His radio rang for a private call. He answered and the voice of Sgt Main flowed through his earpiece. “Darren. Super says the scene’s closed. There’s a burglary reported just down the road. Will you go and sort that out please? Mrs Katharine Winter reporting. Very upset.”
PC Kirkwood flopped into the seat of his panda and rearranged his daily plan… again.
Somewhere in the myriad side streets of Soho a small saloon car was parked up against the kerb. Two men occupied the front seats. One wore jeans and what seemed to be about 4 thin jackets on top of each other. The other was elegantly dressed in a tweed jacket, smart tie and brogues. They sat silently watching a shop premises on the opposite side of the road and about 7 doors down. “I can’t believe you lost the tail on this bloke” the smart one said. Six weeks of unbroken surveillance smashed because you go for doughnuts!” Response Plod was normally a uniform officer but was on attachment to a specialist unit for a short while. Inspector Winter he knew was an infinitely fair man but he had screwed up and was looking for a way to redeem himself. “He’s not patronised these premises for awhile now but I have a hunch about… said Winter but before he could finish his sentence Winter’s quarry was in sight. “Hold on. Here he comes.”
Affectionately known as Roaming Royston he was the biggest fencer of expensive jewellery in Europe. Possibly the world. “Hang on” said Winter. “who the bloody hell is that with him?” As he said this the two figures entered the darkened interior of the very suspect antique shop. “Who was that other male” demanded Winter to nobody in particular. Response plod desperate to regain favour leapt at a chance. “I’m not sure boss. Let me walk up and have a closer look”. Winter gave him a reviewing glance. “Go and don’t screw it up”.
Response Plod got out of the car. His top jacket was blue. He crossed the road and approached the shop. Slowing as he drew level with the windows he peered inside. He could see the second male but he had his back to him. He walked on to avoid drawing attention himself and turned a corner.
Winter sat watching. He waited. Plod was nowhere to be seen. The street was empty now except for a blind man in a cream jacket. He was walking down the footpath holding a white cane and wore dark glasses and a flat cap. He passed the shop, continued along the footpath and past where Winter was parked. Where the bloody hell has that boy gone he thought to himself. This plod didn’t have it. He would have to send him back to response duties. Suddenly he was aware of a figure at the side of the car. He quickly cursed himself for loosing his attention and lowering his guard enough for someone to get so close to him. The figure grabbed the door handle and jumped into the drivers seat. Winters hand immediately reached for his Glock 26. There was no need. Plod pulled off his hat and glasses and threw the cane in the footwell. “You’re not gonna believe this boss. I’ve had a good look. That second bloke is that QC who’s always on the TV. Campaigns against cruel sports and stuff. “Who?” pressed Winter. Plod took a breath “It’s John Cooper QC“. Winter felt like the wind had just been taken from his sails. This was an unexpected twist. Maybe this plod did have the skills after all. “Good man. Get on the radio and get some relief here. We need to get back to the office now.”
To be continued….
This post is fiction but the characters are people I follow on Twitter and by referencing to them I recommend (#FF) them to you. The story is just a different way of #FF’ing that gives me some pleasure. The personalities of my Twitter characters portrayed in this tale are hypothetical and in no way reflect their true professionalism and personal qualities.. it’s meant to be fun.