Details in the book went back three years. The records,on one side, were of drugs ordered, quantities prescribed and costs. The opposite pages contained patient's and doctor's names and medicines prescribed.
Temple studied page after page carefully. Prior to the last eighteen months, entries seemed pretty standard. The same drugs and chemicals occurred regularly. Then, in the spring of the year before last drinomyl, sodium amytal and cocaine began to arise with greater frequency.
"Take a gander at the list of patients receiving medication, Cantwell. You know the locals well. See if there are any oddities in what they have been written up for and how often."
Cantwell looked at the long lists with dismay. Maths had never been one of his favourite subjects; numbers, in general, meant little to him. However, he took the book to his desk and thumbed through for about two hours. By then, his stomach was rumbling and his throat was dry.
"It's all double Dutch to me, Gov." He said eventually.
"Oh for God's sake, Cantwell, surely there must be something there!"
"Well, old Miss Ashfold died over a year ago. Yet, it seems she had sodium amytal tablets last month. The previous month, she had morphine."
"Show me." Temple hurriedly crossed the room to Cantwell's desk.
"Here, Gov. See. Miss Edna Ashfold, The Grove: 25 Tablets of sodium amytal and something or other of morphine - not sure what it says."
Temple seized the book. His knowledge of local people was as nothing compared to Cantwell:
"Well done! Well done, indeed."
Cantwell was astounded. Praise came rarely from Temple, so he basked in the unexpected glory.
"You know what this means, don't you? It means that Eager Beaver's comments about Ellacott and Redbourne and the dodgy dogs and horses now has some validity. All these drugs would have an impact on an animal's racing capability. Still, we'll need to talk to a local vet and the people at the Path Lab. Like you, I'm no expert in these matters."
There was a loud knock at the door. Constable Gurney came in rather nervously and cleared his throat.
"Yes?" Temple asked irritably.
"The captain of a fishing boat down at the harbour has just brought in a body, Gov. The harbour master phoned. The Superintendent thought you should know."
"Right, Gurney, thanks. We'll go right now." Once Gurney had left he turned to Cantwell. "Lock up the ledgers in the filing cabinet. Don't want anyone else nosing about in them."
The 'Jeanette' a small fishing smack was tied up to the jetty. A group of fishermen were standing round talking loudly. They went silent as soon as they saw the two policemen.
"Mornin', Tom," a young fresh faced man nodded to Cantwell. "It's Ben down there." He gestured to the deck of the 'Jeanette'.
Cantwell grunted a response: "Pull him in with the nets, did he?"
"Yeah! Poor old Pete's right shocked!"
Temple listened without comment. Instead, he turned and went down the metal ladder that went over the side of the jetty. Then, he jumped down onto the deck. Cantwell descended much more slowly, almost losing his balance as he jumped onto the swaying deck.
Peter King, captain of the 'Jeanette', stood next to a tarpaulin bundle. He spat out a plug of chewing tobacco and looked at Temple then at Cantwell.
"What you brought in, Pete?" Cantwell asked.
"One drowned man. We're pretty sure it's Ben ... Ben Ellacott. But he's in much of a mess, so tis difficult to be sure, like." He lifted the tarpaulin. The body beneath was bloated. Only the mop of blonde hair led one to believe it was Ellacott. That and shreds of a jacket that still clung to his torso.
An ambulance waited at the harbour as King fixed a hook and a rope onto the body. Two fishermen winched it up and the ambulance crew put it on a stretcher. Then, they drove off to the mortuary.
"Where did you find him?" Temple asked.
"About half a mile off shore. We were just turning back for home. We'd had a good catch but we thought we'd have one more run. It's where the river water has lost all its speed, even when it's in full spate. Often good for fishing." He paused. "Anyway, up he came. We reckon he's been in the water a good week or so."
"We'll need a statement from you. Could you do that later today? The desk sergeant will help you." The man nodded.
Sitting in the car, Temple was lost in thought for several minutes. "What do you reckon? Ellacott?"
"Yep! Pretty sure it is. Do you think it was more than just a drowning?"
"Well, I leave that sort of detail to the pathologist. But I tell you one thing, Mrs Ellacott is in no fit state to identify the body." He smiled. "We'll get our pal, Dr McBride, to do that. I'll be interested to see how he reacts."
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Inside the Pharmacy
Elizabeth Beaumont reached inside a large black handbag and produced a key.
"Inspector Temple, I was given a key to the pharmacy door by old Mr Philpott, a long time before he retired. He always said that there might, one day, be an emergency and I must be able to get in." She paused and looked rather furtive. "Mr Ellacott doesn't know about my having the key. You ..."
"No, Miss Beaumont, I won't tell him." He took the key from her.
The pharmacy was neat and well organised. Shelves full of boxes containing various chemicals, liquids, powders and pills lined all four walls. Each item was carefully labelled in bold clear writing. Two large carboys filled with potassium permanganate stood either side of the hatch to the shop.
"What are we looking for, Gov?" Cantwell was overawed by the amount of containers and their contents.
"Not sure. I'd like some sort of ledger or accounts book. Those pills we found at Ellacott's place were drinomyl. There were enough to dope every horse or dog running in every race at every meeting between now and Christmas. Dodgy dogs aren't the half of it!" He looked around and shook his head. "What we need is evidence that Ellacott was fiddling his books."
An hour later, nothing useful had been found. Miss Beaumont knocked and popped her head round the door.
"Can I help, Inspector, I shall be closing the shop for lunch."
"Any idea where the ledgers and order books were kept?" She shook her head. "No hidden drawers or secret doors?" He laughed.
"Oh! How silly of me! Mr Philpott used to put the paperwork in here." She crossed the room, lifted the carpet and pulled on a metal ring in the floorboards. One of the boards lifted up and Miss Beaumont got on her hands and knees and reached down. With a look of triumph, she brought up a large rectangular wooden box. "He always said that paperwork must be kept away from any chemical spills. Maybe Mr Ellacott had the same idea.
"Well done," Cantwell rushed over to help her up and take the box.
"If you take them away, you will bring them all back before Mr Ellacottreturns, won't you?"
"Miss Beaumont, whatever happens, I don't think Mr Ellacott will be coming back here. I suspect you will have another pharmacist before too long. I give you my solemn word, everything will be in place long before then."
"Could I, at least, have a receipt for them, Inspector, for my records, you understand?"
Temple smiled and nodded: "Write out a receipt, Cantwell."
Flummoxed by the request, he searched around for his notebook, tore out a page and wrote:
'Reciept for papers taken from Pharmacey. I acknowledge that we have taken paperwork from Ellacott's Pharmacey. These papers will be returned. Signing officer: Detective Sergeant Thomas Cantwell. Date 29 June 1950'
Temple glanced at the paper, noting the spelling errors and grimacing. He handed it to Miss Beaumont who tutted twice.
"I'll send round a typed receipt tomorrow, Miss Beaumont."
Though their eyes met and each understood what the other was thinking, nothing more was said.
Cantwell and Temple left the Pharmacy and took their haul of papers to the car.
"Inspector Temple, I was given a key to the pharmacy door by old Mr Philpott, a long time before he retired. He always said that there might, one day, be an emergency and I must be able to get in." She paused and looked rather furtive. "Mr Ellacott doesn't know about my having the key. You ..."
"No, Miss Beaumont, I won't tell him." He took the key from her.
The pharmacy was neat and well organised. Shelves full of boxes containing various chemicals, liquids, powders and pills lined all four walls. Each item was carefully labelled in bold clear writing. Two large carboys filled with potassium permanganate stood either side of the hatch to the shop.
"What are we looking for, Gov?" Cantwell was overawed by the amount of containers and their contents.
"Not sure. I'd like some sort of ledger or accounts book. Those pills we found at Ellacott's place were drinomyl. There were enough to dope every horse or dog running in every race at every meeting between now and Christmas. Dodgy dogs aren't the half of it!" He looked around and shook his head. "What we need is evidence that Ellacott was fiddling his books."
An hour later, nothing useful had been found. Miss Beaumont knocked and popped her head round the door.
"Can I help, Inspector, I shall be closing the shop for lunch."
"Any idea where the ledgers and order books were kept?" She shook her head. "No hidden drawers or secret doors?" He laughed.
"Oh! How silly of me! Mr Philpott used to put the paperwork in here." She crossed the room, lifted the carpet and pulled on a metal ring in the floorboards. One of the boards lifted up and Miss Beaumont got on her hands and knees and reached down. With a look of triumph, she brought up a large rectangular wooden box. "He always said that paperwork must be kept away from any chemical spills. Maybe Mr Ellacott had the same idea.
"Well done," Cantwell rushed over to help her up and take the box.
"If you take them away, you will bring them all back before Mr Ellacottreturns, won't you?"
"Miss Beaumont, whatever happens, I don't think Mr Ellacott will be coming back here. I suspect you will have another pharmacist before too long. I give you my solemn word, everything will be in place long before then."
"Could I, at least, have a receipt for them, Inspector, for my records, you understand?"
Temple smiled and nodded: "Write out a receipt, Cantwell."
Flummoxed by the request, he searched around for his notebook, tore out a page and wrote:
'Reciept for papers taken from Pharmacey. I acknowledge that we have taken paperwork from Ellacott's Pharmacey. These papers will be returned. Signing officer: Detective Sergeant Thomas Cantwell. Date 29 June 1950'
Temple glanced at the paper, noting the spelling errors and grimacing. He handed it to Miss Beaumont who tutted twice.
"I'll send round a typed receipt tomorrow, Miss Beaumont."
Though their eyes met and each understood what the other was thinking, nothing more was said.
Cantwell and Temple left the Pharmacy and took their haul of papers to the car.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Elizabeth Beaumont
Emerging from the hospital, Temple drove them through the town to Ellacott's chemist shop and pharmacy. It was just off the High Street and in a good position to do business. It was still open though it was the lunch hour. There was a notice on the outside stating that no presciptions could be left at the present time.
"What are we doing here?" Cantwell asked.
"Someone wanted something from Ellacott's flat. I don't think he found it. There's just a possibility that whatever it was is here. After all, it's where he spent most of his time."
"But we haven't got a warrant ..."
"Have faith, Cantwell!" He waved a sheet of paper in front of him. "I got one signed last night, after you'd gone off to the pictures."
"Some chance, Gov. By the time I finished duty, Debbie had gone off on her own. That's how I was able to chat with Eager."
"Look on the bright side, you probably only missed some soppy romance and think of the good you did by going to the pub instead."
"You tell Debbie that!"
On entering the chemists, they saw a tall thin woman in a grey tailored suit sitting on a stool behind the counter. She was in her late fifties and wore her hair very short, her face was without make up. However, the intelligence in her large brown eyes made her not unattractive.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"I have a search warrant for the pharmacy." Temple held out the document for her to read. "We're investigating Mr Ellacott's disappearance. We hope to find out a bit more about him from the pharmacy. Perhaps you can help Miss er.."
"Miss Elizabeth Beaumont." She smiled. "I'm not sure I can be of much help though obviously, I'll try to answer any of your questions."
"Well, Miss Beaumont, I am Detective Inspector Temple and this is Detective Sergeant Cantwell. For starters, can you tell us what sort of person Mr Ellacott was. What was he like to work with? Who came here to see him?" He smiled reassuringly, when he noticed her frowning.
"He was easy to work with. He was a highly professional pharmacist. I had worked here before Mr Ellacott's arrival. He took over from old Mr Philpott about five or six years ago." She paused. "He knew his trade well. At first, everyone was delighted with him. Several of the local doctors recommended him to their patients."
"At first? So what happened later?"
"He hadn't gone into the forces during the War. He had a club foot so he joined the Home Guard but went on working here. His wife came to help out. Now, she is a lovely lady." A troubled look crossed her face and she stopped. "I don't think I want to say any more, Inspector."
"Why not? You're being very helpful."
"Maybe I am. But those were the happy times I'm describing. But ... things changed, Inspector. I don't want to get Mr Ellacott into any trouble."
"You won't be doing that, Miss Beaumont, but we do need help if we are ever to find out the reason for his disappearance. Also, in strictest confidence, Mrs Ellacott was very severely beaten and seriously wounded earlier this week by an intruder in their flat."
Miss Beaumont gasped and reached out for the pearl necklace around her neck:
"Oh, how dreadful!"
"I would appreciate it if you did not mention what I've told you to anyone else. But anything, however small a detail, might help us solve these two issues."
She sat back on the stool and ran her fingers through her hair. Then, nodding to herself, she leaned forward and looked at Cantwell and then at Temple:
"About two years ago, the man who owns the Blandford Hotel came here. Do you know who I mean?"
Cantwell nodded: "The one they call 'WingCo' Jackson?"
"That's what he likes to be called. But I do not believe he was ever a wing commander, or even a pilot. I heard from a friend that he'd been a mechanic in the RAF. His wife had some money and they got ideas above their station. Mrs Jackson told everyone her husband was a wing commander, so the name 'WingCo' just stuck." She blushed. "I don't like gossip but he was not a good influence on Mr Ellacott."
Temple was pleased to see Cantwell jotting everything down in his notebook.
"Anyway, Inspector, this WingCo Jackson came here two or three times a week. Mr Ellacott began to close the door to the pharmacy when he came. He had never done that before. I had always been able to come and go, collect the prescription medicines as and when people needed them. But after, this WingCo chap came along, I never went into the pharmacy again. Any medicines were left outside the door or passed to me through the hatch over there." She gestured towards a small square door inset into the wall.
"So there was quite a change in Mr Ellacott's behaviour."
"Oh, yes. This WingCo would arrive, often just as we were due to close. When I left, the two of them would still be closetted away in there. What they did, I have no idea."
"So, what do you think was going on?" Cantwell asked.
"At first, I thought they were friends. But then this WingCo brought another man along with him. He was what my dear old father would have called 'a wide boy'. Do you know what I mean?" Temple nodded. "He wasn't from these parts. I think he had a London accent. He's a very thickset man with curly brown hair, a thin moustache, a scar running down his cheek. He always wore very loud check suits. Oh, yes, he wore a large gold signet ring." She shivered. "I did not like the look of him. He always called me 'Ducky'."
"We know just who you mean, Miss Beaumont. You've given a brilliant description. Your assessment of him is pretty accurate. I should give him a very wide berth if you see him again."
"Any idea why he came here, Miss Beaumont?" Cantwell asked, pen poised in mid air.
"The same thing as this WingCo person. They both went into the pharmacy. I do remember that on two occasions, at least, this thickset man came out carrying small packets. He winked at me as he left. When I asked Mr Ellacott if any paperwork was necessary for the purchases, he almost bit my head off. Told me to mind my own business. He said I was a snooping old spinster! He'd never spoken to me like that before."
"So how long ago was that?"
"About six or seven months. Things were never right between us again. I got the feeling he'd be pleased to see the back of me." She looked down at her hands. "But you see, Inspector, I have to keep my job. I need to earn. I have elderly parents, my brother was killed in the War. So now there's only me to do everything."
Temple felt extremely sorry for her. He knew several women of her age and in similar circumstances. They had sacrificed their own lives out of a sense of duty. He looked around the area and at the pharmacy door. That was where he might find the answers to some of his questions.
"What are we doing here?" Cantwell asked.
"Someone wanted something from Ellacott's flat. I don't think he found it. There's just a possibility that whatever it was is here. After all, it's where he spent most of his time."
"But we haven't got a warrant ..."
"Have faith, Cantwell!" He waved a sheet of paper in front of him. "I got one signed last night, after you'd gone off to the pictures."
"Some chance, Gov. By the time I finished duty, Debbie had gone off on her own. That's how I was able to chat with Eager."
"Look on the bright side, you probably only missed some soppy romance and think of the good you did by going to the pub instead."
"You tell Debbie that!"
On entering the chemists, they saw a tall thin woman in a grey tailored suit sitting on a stool behind the counter. She was in her late fifties and wore her hair very short, her face was without make up. However, the intelligence in her large brown eyes made her not unattractive.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"I have a search warrant for the pharmacy." Temple held out the document for her to read. "We're investigating Mr Ellacott's disappearance. We hope to find out a bit more about him from the pharmacy. Perhaps you can help Miss er.."
"Miss Elizabeth Beaumont." She smiled. "I'm not sure I can be of much help though obviously, I'll try to answer any of your questions."
"Well, Miss Beaumont, I am Detective Inspector Temple and this is Detective Sergeant Cantwell. For starters, can you tell us what sort of person Mr Ellacott was. What was he like to work with? Who came here to see him?" He smiled reassuringly, when he noticed her frowning.
"He was easy to work with. He was a highly professional pharmacist. I had worked here before Mr Ellacott's arrival. He took over from old Mr Philpott about five or six years ago." She paused. "He knew his trade well. At first, everyone was delighted with him. Several of the local doctors recommended him to their patients."
"At first? So what happened later?"
"He hadn't gone into the forces during the War. He had a club foot so he joined the Home Guard but went on working here. His wife came to help out. Now, she is a lovely lady." A troubled look crossed her face and she stopped. "I don't think I want to say any more, Inspector."
"Why not? You're being very helpful."
"Maybe I am. But those were the happy times I'm describing. But ... things changed, Inspector. I don't want to get Mr Ellacott into any trouble."
"You won't be doing that, Miss Beaumont, but we do need help if we are ever to find out the reason for his disappearance. Also, in strictest confidence, Mrs Ellacott was very severely beaten and seriously wounded earlier this week by an intruder in their flat."
Miss Beaumont gasped and reached out for the pearl necklace around her neck:
"Oh, how dreadful!"
"I would appreciate it if you did not mention what I've told you to anyone else. But anything, however small a detail, might help us solve these two issues."
She sat back on the stool and ran her fingers through her hair. Then, nodding to herself, she leaned forward and looked at Cantwell and then at Temple:
"About two years ago, the man who owns the Blandford Hotel came here. Do you know who I mean?"
Cantwell nodded: "The one they call 'WingCo' Jackson?"
"That's what he likes to be called. But I do not believe he was ever a wing commander, or even a pilot. I heard from a friend that he'd been a mechanic in the RAF. His wife had some money and they got ideas above their station. Mrs Jackson told everyone her husband was a wing commander, so the name 'WingCo' just stuck." She blushed. "I don't like gossip but he was not a good influence on Mr Ellacott."
Temple was pleased to see Cantwell jotting everything down in his notebook.
"Anyway, Inspector, this WingCo Jackson came here two or three times a week. Mr Ellacott began to close the door to the pharmacy when he came. He had never done that before. I had always been able to come and go, collect the prescription medicines as and when people needed them. But after, this WingCo chap came along, I never went into the pharmacy again. Any medicines were left outside the door or passed to me through the hatch over there." She gestured towards a small square door inset into the wall.
"So there was quite a change in Mr Ellacott's behaviour."
"Oh, yes. This WingCo would arrive, often just as we were due to close. When I left, the two of them would still be closetted away in there. What they did, I have no idea."
"So, what do you think was going on?" Cantwell asked.
"At first, I thought they were friends. But then this WingCo brought another man along with him. He was what my dear old father would have called 'a wide boy'. Do you know what I mean?" Temple nodded. "He wasn't from these parts. I think he had a London accent. He's a very thickset man with curly brown hair, a thin moustache, a scar running down his cheek. He always wore very loud check suits. Oh, yes, he wore a large gold signet ring." She shivered. "I did not like the look of him. He always called me 'Ducky'."
"We know just who you mean, Miss Beaumont. You've given a brilliant description. Your assessment of him is pretty accurate. I should give him a very wide berth if you see him again."
"Any idea why he came here, Miss Beaumont?" Cantwell asked, pen poised in mid air.
"The same thing as this WingCo person. They both went into the pharmacy. I do remember that on two occasions, at least, this thickset man came out carrying small packets. He winked at me as he left. When I asked Mr Ellacott if any paperwork was necessary for the purchases, he almost bit my head off. Told me to mind my own business. He said I was a snooping old spinster! He'd never spoken to me like that before."
"So how long ago was that?"
"About six or seven months. Things were never right between us again. I got the feeling he'd be pleased to see the back of me." She looked down at her hands. "But you see, Inspector, I have to keep my job. I need to earn. I have elderly parents, my brother was killed in the War. So now there's only me to do everything."
Temple felt extremely sorry for her. He knew several women of her age and in similar circumstances. They had sacrificed their own lives out of a sense of duty. He looked around the area and at the pharmacy door. That was where he might find the answers to some of his questions.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
McBride
Temple drove in silence from Topsham. Cantwell knew better than to talk when he was in this mood. Instead, he looked out of the window at the hedgerows and then across to the river. Although, the flood had abated, the river was full to its banks and the water was still fast flowing.
"We'll call in at the hospital and find out how Mrs Ellacott is doing. Hopefully, we can chat to her now. I want to know if she recognised whoever it was who beat her up and why they did it."
"Doubt if she'll be in a fit state yet, Gov."
"We'll see."
There were few cars in the car park, so Temple parked near the front entrance. He asked a young nurse for Gilpin Ward, then set off with Cantwell in tow down the long corridor. Cantwell sniffed the air, it smelled strongly of disinfectant and that indescribable hospital smell that he so disliked.
Brenda Ellacott was now conscious, she was in a small side-room just off the main ward. A young doctor was standing beside her. He turned with a look of disapproval as soon as he saw them. Before he could say anything, however, Temple held up his hand and waved his police card in front of him.
"She is not yet well enough to answer questions." The doctor said.
Even to Cantwell, this seemed rather obvious. Though she was conscious, her face was puffy and bruised and her lips were swollen and blooded. Her left eye was still closed and her left arm was in a sling. However, nothing daunted, Temple moved to the bed-head.
"Hello, Mrs Ellacott. We're so sorry you suffered this attack. I'm Detective Inspector James Temple and this is Detective Sergeant Cantwell. We found you the other day and got you into hospital. Can you remember anything about that day? Anything at all?"
Brenda Ellacott turned her face away and just moaned quietly. The doctor pushed past Temple and leaned towards her. He bent low and appeared to be listening to her. Then he straightened up.
"She wants to know if there's any news about her husband. She certainly cannot answer any of your questions, as you can see, she really can't talk properly yet. Someone tried to throttle her. You can see the bruising round her neck. When that subsides, she'll be able to speak."
Temple nodded: "Yes, I can see that. As to her question about her husband, I'm afraid there is still no news yet."
Cantwell saw a look of pain cross her face. He wasn't sure whether this was physical pain or the response to the news about Ben Ellacott.
"Come on, Cantwell, we'll be off." He turned to Brenda Ellacott. "We are doing our best to find your husband, Mrs Ellacott and also find out who did this to you." He smiled at the doctor.
As they walked back down the ward, a shortish man in a brown harris tweed jacket blustered his way to the ward sisters' desk. His ruddy face bore an arrogant expression and he was haranging the sister.
"Now look here, Sister, I'm a busy man and I demand to see Mrs Ellacott now. So show me to her."
"Who are you?" Temple asked.
"Who am I? Who are you, more to the point."
"I am a police officer and I am asking the questions, especially if they relate to Mrs Ellacott."
"Ah!" The man straightened his back, "I am her family doctor, name's McBride. I came to find out how she is. I'm a busy man and have little time to chatter to the police."
"So when, Dr McBride, will you be free to 'chatter', as you put it?"
"I don't see any reason to talk to ..."
"Well, we do, Dr McBride. As I asked, when can we see you?"
"I shall finish surgery tonight at 8:30, you can come to the surgery then and I'll see you for ten minutes."
"Where is the surgery?"
"At the far end of Blandford Avenue, opposite the Blandford Hotel."
Temple turned on his heels and indicated for Cantwell to follow. By then Cantwell was thoroughly miserable. 8:30! That meant he wouldn't be home till at least 10:30, if he was lucky. God Almighty, he thought, Debbie will half kill me.
"We'll call in at the hospital and find out how Mrs Ellacott is doing. Hopefully, we can chat to her now. I want to know if she recognised whoever it was who beat her up and why they did it."
"Doubt if she'll be in a fit state yet, Gov."
"We'll see."
There were few cars in the car park, so Temple parked near the front entrance. He asked a young nurse for Gilpin Ward, then set off with Cantwell in tow down the long corridor. Cantwell sniffed the air, it smelled strongly of disinfectant and that indescribable hospital smell that he so disliked.
Brenda Ellacott was now conscious, she was in a small side-room just off the main ward. A young doctor was standing beside her. He turned with a look of disapproval as soon as he saw them. Before he could say anything, however, Temple held up his hand and waved his police card in front of him.
"She is not yet well enough to answer questions." The doctor said.
Even to Cantwell, this seemed rather obvious. Though she was conscious, her face was puffy and bruised and her lips were swollen and blooded. Her left eye was still closed and her left arm was in a sling. However, nothing daunted, Temple moved to the bed-head.
"Hello, Mrs Ellacott. We're so sorry you suffered this attack. I'm Detective Inspector James Temple and this is Detective Sergeant Cantwell. We found you the other day and got you into hospital. Can you remember anything about that day? Anything at all?"
Brenda Ellacott turned her face away and just moaned quietly. The doctor pushed past Temple and leaned towards her. He bent low and appeared to be listening to her. Then he straightened up.
"She wants to know if there's any news about her husband. She certainly cannot answer any of your questions, as you can see, she really can't talk properly yet. Someone tried to throttle her. You can see the bruising round her neck. When that subsides, she'll be able to speak."
Temple nodded: "Yes, I can see that. As to her question about her husband, I'm afraid there is still no news yet."
Cantwell saw a look of pain cross her face. He wasn't sure whether this was physical pain or the response to the news about Ben Ellacott.
"Come on, Cantwell, we'll be off." He turned to Brenda Ellacott. "We are doing our best to find your husband, Mrs Ellacott and also find out who did this to you." He smiled at the doctor.
As they walked back down the ward, a shortish man in a brown harris tweed jacket blustered his way to the ward sisters' desk. His ruddy face bore an arrogant expression and he was haranging the sister.
"Now look here, Sister, I'm a busy man and I demand to see Mrs Ellacott now. So show me to her."
"Who are you?" Temple asked.
"Who am I? Who are you, more to the point."
"I am a police officer and I am asking the questions, especially if they relate to Mrs Ellacott."
"Ah!" The man straightened his back, "I am her family doctor, name's McBride. I came to find out how she is. I'm a busy man and have little time to chatter to the police."
"So when, Dr McBride, will you be free to 'chatter', as you put it?"
"I don't see any reason to talk to ..."
"Well, we do, Dr McBride. As I asked, when can we see you?"
"I shall finish surgery tonight at 8:30, you can come to the surgery then and I'll see you for ten minutes."
"Where is the surgery?"
"At the far end of Blandford Avenue, opposite the Blandford Hotel."
Temple turned on his heels and indicated for Cantwell to follow. By then Cantwell was thoroughly miserable. 8:30! That meant he wouldn't be home till at least 10:30, if he was lucky. God Almighty, he thought, Debbie will half kill me.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Eager Beaver
Temple drove them from Starmouth to the riverside village of Topsham. It was and still is a quaint little place. In the 50s, many of the older houses still retained their Dutch windows overlooking the river. Eager did not live in any such luxury though. He rented an old barge that had been converted into a houseboat.
Temple parked the car just off the main street then he and Cantwell walked along a narrow cobbled lane leading to the river. A muddy slipway ran into the water and moored at its end were two old hulks. The furthest one was Eager's home.
They made their way rather gingerly across the deck of the first boat, then stepped via a worn gang-plank onto Eager's boat.
"Hello there!" Temple called. "Anyone on board?" They listened but there was no response. "Go below deck and see if he's there."
Cantwell hesitated when he peered into the hatch. He saw what looked like a black hole leading nowhere. What was worse, the steps leading into it were both steep and narrow.
"Well, go on, man, I'll take a look around the deck. He certainly didn't keep it ship-shape!"
Cantwell pondered whether to go down backwards or facing forwards. He tried the latter, holding onto the rail. He nearly fell headfirst into the hatch. Turning round, he careful stepped onto the top step and descended slowly.
The cabin was dark, even though it was a bright morning. A shard of light came through a hole in a tattered old curtain that hung across the porthole. He pulled the curtain back and a ray of strong sunlight penetrated the cabin.
A table and chair were directly in front of him. Behind them, on the far side of the cabin was a small bunk. On the bunk, snoring loudly, an empty whiskey bottle on the floor beside him, lay the semi-comatosed form of Eager Beaver.
"He's here, Gov!" Cantwell shouted up through the hatch.
Temple came down rapidly and peered round the cabin. Sniffing the air and grimacing, he pushed open the porthole.
"Out for the count, Gov." Cantwell stated rather obviously.
A bowl of scummy water and a jug stood on the cupboard next to the bunk. Temple dunked the jug in the water and dribbled drops over Eager's face. The effect was instant. Eager sat bolt upright and in the process hit his head hard on the topside of the bunk.
"What the fuck ..."
"Hello, Eager, sorry about the rude awakening." Temple said.
"What... what the ..." Eager rubbed his head then peered at Temple and Cantwell. "Who let you in?"
"Better here than at the station, Eager. Not so public here. No one to see us or hear us, as the song says. Really quite cosy."
Slowly, Eager swung his legs over the bunk. He reached down for the whiskey. Its emptiness brought a look of doom to his face. He rubbed his stubbly chin and groaned.
"You've had enough already, Eager." Cantwell said.
"Just one sip - just one then I'll be as right as rain. One of you must have a snifter with you." Eager's soulful brown eyes pleaded more than his words.
"See if there's any in one of his cupboards, Cantwell."
The first cupboard contained two tins of Heinz spaghetti and three tins of baked beans. In the second, there was a half empty bottle of gin.
"This do you?" Cantwell waved it towards Eager.
"It'll have to -No!" He gestured wildly at Cantwell, "Don't waste time getting a glass! Just gimme the bottle."
He grabbed shakily for it and swigged back its contents in one gulp. Coughing, spluttering and grimacing, Eager rubbed his arm across his mouth.
"God! That's better! What's it they say? A hair of the dog and all that." He belched, "Well, it's bloody true!"
"Great, Eager, so now you're ready to answer a few questions." Temple sat on a stool beside the bunk.
"What about 'aving a coffee. Not properly awake yet, am I?"
"When you've answered a few questions, then we'll see about the coffee." He nodded for Cantwell to sit down and take notes. "What did you mean, last night, about Redbourne being responsible for Ellacott's disappearance?"
"Don't recall, " Eager narrowed his eyes and peered into the air above their heads. "Don't recall anything about Redbourne."
"You told me he wasn't legit and was into race fixing." Cantwell hoped this would prompt him.
"I never did! I never said no such thing! And you can't say I did!"
"Calm down." Temple said. "We aren't questioning you formally. That's why we came to your boat. You'd want to help Ellacott, wouldn't you?"
Eager shrank back into the comfort of the bunk. He drew the moth-eaten blanket up to his chin: "It's not worth my skin. You two mayn't think much of the life here on my boat. But it's better than no life at all. And that's what I'd have if I snitched on Redbourne and Steele." He nodded at Cantwell. "Tom must've not heard me properly last night. Never was much good at listening was our Tom."
Temple sighed. He knew they wouldn't get anything out of Eager Beaver when he was in this state of mind. He gestured to Cantwell for him to leave. Then he also moved towards the hatch entrance.
"Okay Eager, we'll be leaving. You know how to get in touch with us. I advise you to think very carefully about where your real interests lie." Eager belched again and turned his head to the wall.
Temple parked the car just off the main street then he and Cantwell walked along a narrow cobbled lane leading to the river. A muddy slipway ran into the water and moored at its end were two old hulks. The furthest one was Eager's home.
They made their way rather gingerly across the deck of the first boat, then stepped via a worn gang-plank onto Eager's boat.
"Hello there!" Temple called. "Anyone on board?" They listened but there was no response. "Go below deck and see if he's there."
Cantwell hesitated when he peered into the hatch. He saw what looked like a black hole leading nowhere. What was worse, the steps leading into it were both steep and narrow.
"Well, go on, man, I'll take a look around the deck. He certainly didn't keep it ship-shape!"
Cantwell pondered whether to go down backwards or facing forwards. He tried the latter, holding onto the rail. He nearly fell headfirst into the hatch. Turning round, he careful stepped onto the top step and descended slowly.
The cabin was dark, even though it was a bright morning. A shard of light came through a hole in a tattered old curtain that hung across the porthole. He pulled the curtain back and a ray of strong sunlight penetrated the cabin.
A table and chair were directly in front of him. Behind them, on the far side of the cabin was a small bunk. On the bunk, snoring loudly, an empty whiskey bottle on the floor beside him, lay the semi-comatosed form of Eager Beaver.
"He's here, Gov!" Cantwell shouted up through the hatch.
Temple came down rapidly and peered round the cabin. Sniffing the air and grimacing, he pushed open the porthole.
"Out for the count, Gov." Cantwell stated rather obviously.
A bowl of scummy water and a jug stood on the cupboard next to the bunk. Temple dunked the jug in the water and dribbled drops over Eager's face. The effect was instant. Eager sat bolt upright and in the process hit his head hard on the topside of the bunk.
"What the fuck ..."
"Hello, Eager, sorry about the rude awakening." Temple said.
"What... what the ..." Eager rubbed his head then peered at Temple and Cantwell. "Who let you in?"
"Better here than at the station, Eager. Not so public here. No one to see us or hear us, as the song says. Really quite cosy."
Slowly, Eager swung his legs over the bunk. He reached down for the whiskey. Its emptiness brought a look of doom to his face. He rubbed his stubbly chin and groaned.
"You've had enough already, Eager." Cantwell said.
"Just one sip - just one then I'll be as right as rain. One of you must have a snifter with you." Eager's soulful brown eyes pleaded more than his words.
"See if there's any in one of his cupboards, Cantwell."
The first cupboard contained two tins of Heinz spaghetti and three tins of baked beans. In the second, there was a half empty bottle of gin.
"This do you?" Cantwell waved it towards Eager.
"It'll have to -No!" He gestured wildly at Cantwell, "Don't waste time getting a glass! Just gimme the bottle."
He grabbed shakily for it and swigged back its contents in one gulp. Coughing, spluttering and grimacing, Eager rubbed his arm across his mouth.
"God! That's better! What's it they say? A hair of the dog and all that." He belched, "Well, it's bloody true!"
"Great, Eager, so now you're ready to answer a few questions." Temple sat on a stool beside the bunk.
"What about 'aving a coffee. Not properly awake yet, am I?"
"When you've answered a few questions, then we'll see about the coffee." He nodded for Cantwell to sit down and take notes. "What did you mean, last night, about Redbourne being responsible for Ellacott's disappearance?"
"Don't recall, " Eager narrowed his eyes and peered into the air above their heads. "Don't recall anything about Redbourne."
"You told me he wasn't legit and was into race fixing." Cantwell hoped this would prompt him.
"I never did! I never said no such thing! And you can't say I did!"
"Calm down." Temple said. "We aren't questioning you formally. That's why we came to your boat. You'd want to help Ellacott, wouldn't you?"
Eager shrank back into the comfort of the bunk. He drew the moth-eaten blanket up to his chin: "It's not worth my skin. You two mayn't think much of the life here on my boat. But it's better than no life at all. And that's what I'd have if I snitched on Redbourne and Steele." He nodded at Cantwell. "Tom must've not heard me properly last night. Never was much good at listening was our Tom."
Temple sighed. He knew they wouldn't get anything out of Eager Beaver when he was in this state of mind. He gestured to Cantwell for him to leave. Then he also moved towards the hatch entrance.
"Okay Eager, we'll be leaving. You know how to get in touch with us. I advise you to think very carefully about where your real interests lie." Eager belched again and turned his head to the wall.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
The Met Files
Whilst Cantwell had been in the pub, Temple stayed late in his office. He had phoned Sam Walters in London. They had trained together at Hendon police training centre and both spent their early career in Camberwell, South London. This was where Temple had first come across Redbourne.
Then, Redbourne had been a very small fish in a large pond but even so his activities caught the attention of Walters and Temple. Now, Temple wondered whether Walters had more information, at the Met, about Redbourne's recent activities.
When no return call had been forthcoming by 10:30, Temple yawned, put on his jacket and left for home. The flat smelled musty as he opened the door. He found a half-eaten pasty in the larder. It looked moth-eaten but it was food. He opened a bottle of cider and sat down at his small table. After eating, he wrote a letter to Sally, his daughter. He hoped her mother would read it to her. Feeling tired and low in spirits, he went to bed.
Next morning, he was in the office before 8 am. He phoned the hospital and was told that Brenda Ellacott had regained consciousness, but still could not talk to the police. The young doctor was adamant about that!
Cantwell literally bounced into the office at 9 am. He looked pleased with himself and bursting to talk: "Gov, I had a stroke of luck last night. met up with Eager Beaver in the pub. Debbie had gone to the flicks and so I had no food and ..."
"Get on with it, Cantwell. I'm not interested in your eating habits!"
"Sorry, Gov... Eager was talkative, to say the least. He was drunk you see." He saw Temple's grimace of irritation. "He thinks Ellacott's disappearance is no accident and that Redbourne and his lot are involved."
"We knew that!"
"Yes, I know. But he went on to say that Ellacott was somehow involved with them in race fixing."
"Race fixing?"
"He said Redbourne has high up connections and knows people in both horse racing and greyhound racing. How Ellacott fits in, he didn't say."
"Do you think this Eager Beaver would come in and have chat with us?"
"Not likely! He ..."
The phone rang and Temple gestured for Cantwell to pick up the extension and listen in.
"Hello, Jim, it's Sam Walters. Sorry I didn't get back to you last night. I poured over our files and found some interesting stuff on Redbourne. I'll send a copy down to you." He paused, "I guess, though, that you'd like some of the facts now. Right?"
"Right! Fire away."
"Redbourne was pretty small fry before the war. He worked with Tiffin - remember? Now he was a right bastard. Anyway, Tiffin used to send Redbourne round to visit the trainers at Newmarket and at Walthamstow. He struck up deals with a stable lad in Newmarket and a couple of dog trainers at Walthamstow. Tiffin did very nicely out of it.
Anyway, Redbourne got too big for his boots; started up drug runnning as well - amphetamines, cocaine - you know the score. Trouble was we couldn't pin anything on him - worse than Scarface Capone. Nothing ever stuck apart from a 2 year stretch for GBH. When he came out, he disappeared off our radar. So now he's on your patch. You're welcome to him!"
"Interesting stuff, Sam, very useful. I'd be keen to see the files. He's been up to all sorts down here in glorious Devon. Same old story, nothing sticks to him. The only difference is that there's no Mr Tiffin, round here. Redbourne is the big cheese."
"If you do get him, I'd be pleased to come and interview him myself. There are one or two questions I'd like answers to."
"I'll keep you posted, Sam. Thanks." He replaced the receiver and grinned. "So, the old dog hasn't changed his game. I feel that we'll get him this time, Cantwell. Let's you and me take a little trip to see Eager Beaver."
Then, Redbourne had been a very small fish in a large pond but even so his activities caught the attention of Walters and Temple. Now, Temple wondered whether Walters had more information, at the Met, about Redbourne's recent activities.
When no return call had been forthcoming by 10:30, Temple yawned, put on his jacket and left for home. The flat smelled musty as he opened the door. He found a half-eaten pasty in the larder. It looked moth-eaten but it was food. He opened a bottle of cider and sat down at his small table. After eating, he wrote a letter to Sally, his daughter. He hoped her mother would read it to her. Feeling tired and low in spirits, he went to bed.
Next morning, he was in the office before 8 am. He phoned the hospital and was told that Brenda Ellacott had regained consciousness, but still could not talk to the police. The young doctor was adamant about that!
Cantwell literally bounced into the office at 9 am. He looked pleased with himself and bursting to talk: "Gov, I had a stroke of luck last night. met up with Eager Beaver in the pub. Debbie had gone to the flicks and so I had no food and ..."
"Get on with it, Cantwell. I'm not interested in your eating habits!"
"Sorry, Gov... Eager was talkative, to say the least. He was drunk you see." He saw Temple's grimace of irritation. "He thinks Ellacott's disappearance is no accident and that Redbourne and his lot are involved."
"We knew that!"
"Yes, I know. But he went on to say that Ellacott was somehow involved with them in race fixing."
"Race fixing?"
"He said Redbourne has high up connections and knows people in both horse racing and greyhound racing. How Ellacott fits in, he didn't say."
"Do you think this Eager Beaver would come in and have chat with us?"
"Not likely! He ..."
The phone rang and Temple gestured for Cantwell to pick up the extension and listen in.
"Hello, Jim, it's Sam Walters. Sorry I didn't get back to you last night. I poured over our files and found some interesting stuff on Redbourne. I'll send a copy down to you." He paused, "I guess, though, that you'd like some of the facts now. Right?"
"Right! Fire away."
"Redbourne was pretty small fry before the war. He worked with Tiffin - remember? Now he was a right bastard. Anyway, Tiffin used to send Redbourne round to visit the trainers at Newmarket and at Walthamstow. He struck up deals with a stable lad in Newmarket and a couple of dog trainers at Walthamstow. Tiffin did very nicely out of it.
Anyway, Redbourne got too big for his boots; started up drug runnning as well - amphetamines, cocaine - you know the score. Trouble was we couldn't pin anything on him - worse than Scarface Capone. Nothing ever stuck apart from a 2 year stretch for GBH. When he came out, he disappeared off our radar. So now he's on your patch. You're welcome to him!"
"Interesting stuff, Sam, very useful. I'd be keen to see the files. He's been up to all sorts down here in glorious Devon. Same old story, nothing sticks to him. The only difference is that there's no Mr Tiffin, round here. Redbourne is the big cheese."
"If you do get him, I'd be pleased to come and interview him myself. There are one or two questions I'd like answers to."
"I'll keep you posted, Sam. Thanks." He replaced the receiver and grinned. "So, the old dog hasn't changed his game. I feel that we'll get him this time, Cantwell. Let's you and me take a little trip to see Eager Beaver."
Monday, December 14, 2009
Gone to the Flicks!
By the time Cantwell got home all he found was a note on the sideboard:
'Didn't wait - gone to the Gaumont - could NOT miss the film - Debbie'
He opened the oven to see if she had left something for him to eat. There was nothing and since all he'd had all day were the two cheese sandwiches, his stomach was rumbling. Cursing Temple, he put on his mac and headed out to the fish and chip shop. The smell wafting down the street made him even hungrier. To his relief there was no queue.
"One large chips and two faggots, Bob."
"Saw your missus going past about forty minutes ago. She was going quite a lick too."
"Late home again, Bob. My Gov is a glutton for work and he doesn't give me a thought."
"This'll be the third meal you've had from here this week."
"I know! I know! It's pretty damn good for your pocket. But it ain't so good for me. I'm beginning to smell like a bloody chip shop!."
"Your Gov not got a home to go to, then?"
"Nope, poor bloke. His wife just upped and left him. Didn't just go to the flicks, went all the way back to London. Took their kid too."
Cantwell couldn't wait for the faggots, he started on the chips as soon as they were ready and had eaten several before the faggots were wrapped in the newspaper. He paid and wandered out into the street. He glanced at his watch and realised that Debbie wouldn't be back home for at least a couple of hours. He sauntered down the road eating his meal. Bob had soused the chips in vinegar and salt and this made him thirsty. He wiped his fingers on the newspaper, rolled it into a ball then, peering round to see if anyone was looking, he tossed it into a hedge.
The London pub was just around the corner. The bar was crowded so once he'd got his pint, Cantwell looked for somewhere to sit. At the far end of the bar, there were two free stools. Right at that end, Eager Beaver was sitting morosely sipping his beer. Cantwell remembered what Temple had told him about Redbourne's office goings on that afternoon. He had not been surprised to hear about Eager's problems. He and Eager had been at the same school. Even as a school kid, Eager had been gambling. He always had a tip for the horses and for the dogs. As far as Cantwell recalled the tips never won.
He walked over to the stool nearest to Eager and sat down: "Hello, Eager! How's things?"
"Don't ask!"
"Well I am asking. My Gov says you weren't looking too bright in Redbourne's this afternoon."
"Too bright! Damn right I wasn't too bright! That Redbourne, he's a bloody bastard. Him and his crew! They've nearly done for me. But I'm not going quietly, no siree!"
"Really!"
"Yes, really! After what happened to Ben Ellacott, I've got them by the short and curlies!"
Cantwell sipped his pint slowly, trying not to show too much interest. But his heart was beating fast at the mention of Ellacott's name. 'Steady as you go, boy' he said to himself.
"So what did happen to Ellacott, just done a bunk, hasn't he?"
"You think so, do you?" Eager leaned closer to Cantwell, "I tell you Ben was a poor judge of people. He had been a damn good pharmacist. Should have stuck to that and not got mixed up with Dr McBride and that vet." He touched his nose and winked.
"So if he didn't stick to the pharmacy, what did he do?"
"Got in with Redbourne - through McBride and the vet. Then he just got sucked in, didn't he?" He hiccuped loudly and Cantwell could tell he had drunk more than just one beer.
"How do you mean 'got in'?"
"What do you think I mean? Redbourne has contacts in the racing world - both the gee-gees and the dogs. He uses them like he used Ellacott! To make money."
"How?"
Eager was becoming exasperated by the questioning. Also he was becoming uneasy and glancing over his shoulder every few minutes: "They fixed the bloody races, didn't they? But something went wrong, didn't it? Last time I saw Ben Ellacott, he was in a right state. Kept saying that he wanted out. He was going to get away from Starmouth, away from Devon and he and Brenda would start over. Then," he paused, "then he went missing."
"Can you prove all this about the race fixing?" Cantwell asked.
"Course I can't bloody prove it. Even if I could, I wouldn't. It'd be more than my life's worth. Said too much already." He got off his stool unsteadily, knocking it over as he tried to walk away. He pointed a finger at Cantwell. "I'll deny everything, you might think you heard, Tom Cantwell. Deny everything."
Cantwell watched him go. He righted the stool and sipped his beer slowly. He wondered what Temple would make of all this, when he told him in the morning.
'Didn't wait - gone to the Gaumont - could NOT miss the film - Debbie'
He opened the oven to see if she had left something for him to eat. There was nothing and since all he'd had all day were the two cheese sandwiches, his stomach was rumbling. Cursing Temple, he put on his mac and headed out to the fish and chip shop. The smell wafting down the street made him even hungrier. To his relief there was no queue.
"One large chips and two faggots, Bob."
"Saw your missus going past about forty minutes ago. She was going quite a lick too."
"Late home again, Bob. My Gov is a glutton for work and he doesn't give me a thought."
"This'll be the third meal you've had from here this week."
"I know! I know! It's pretty damn good for your pocket. But it ain't so good for me. I'm beginning to smell like a bloody chip shop!."
"Your Gov not got a home to go to, then?"
"Nope, poor bloke. His wife just upped and left him. Didn't just go to the flicks, went all the way back to London. Took their kid too."
Cantwell couldn't wait for the faggots, he started on the chips as soon as they were ready and had eaten several before the faggots were wrapped in the newspaper. He paid and wandered out into the street. He glanced at his watch and realised that Debbie wouldn't be back home for at least a couple of hours. He sauntered down the road eating his meal. Bob had soused the chips in vinegar and salt and this made him thirsty. He wiped his fingers on the newspaper, rolled it into a ball then, peering round to see if anyone was looking, he tossed it into a hedge.
The London pub was just around the corner. The bar was crowded so once he'd got his pint, Cantwell looked for somewhere to sit. At the far end of the bar, there were two free stools. Right at that end, Eager Beaver was sitting morosely sipping his beer. Cantwell remembered what Temple had told him about Redbourne's office goings on that afternoon. He had not been surprised to hear about Eager's problems. He and Eager had been at the same school. Even as a school kid, Eager had been gambling. He always had a tip for the horses and for the dogs. As far as Cantwell recalled the tips never won.
He walked over to the stool nearest to Eager and sat down: "Hello, Eager! How's things?"
"Don't ask!"
"Well I am asking. My Gov says you weren't looking too bright in Redbourne's this afternoon."
"Too bright! Damn right I wasn't too bright! That Redbourne, he's a bloody bastard. Him and his crew! They've nearly done for me. But I'm not going quietly, no siree!"
"Really!"
"Yes, really! After what happened to Ben Ellacott, I've got them by the short and curlies!"
Cantwell sipped his pint slowly, trying not to show too much interest. But his heart was beating fast at the mention of Ellacott's name. 'Steady as you go, boy' he said to himself.
"So what did happen to Ellacott, just done a bunk, hasn't he?"
"You think so, do you?" Eager leaned closer to Cantwell, "I tell you Ben was a poor judge of people. He had been a damn good pharmacist. Should have stuck to that and not got mixed up with Dr McBride and that vet." He touched his nose and winked.
"So if he didn't stick to the pharmacy, what did he do?"
"Got in with Redbourne - through McBride and the vet. Then he just got sucked in, didn't he?" He hiccuped loudly and Cantwell could tell he had drunk more than just one beer.
"How do you mean 'got in'?"
"What do you think I mean? Redbourne has contacts in the racing world - both the gee-gees and the dogs. He uses them like he used Ellacott! To make money."
"How?"
Eager was becoming exasperated by the questioning. Also he was becoming uneasy and glancing over his shoulder every few minutes: "They fixed the bloody races, didn't they? But something went wrong, didn't it? Last time I saw Ben Ellacott, he was in a right state. Kept saying that he wanted out. He was going to get away from Starmouth, away from Devon and he and Brenda would start over. Then," he paused, "then he went missing."
"Can you prove all this about the race fixing?" Cantwell asked.
"Course I can't bloody prove it. Even if I could, I wouldn't. It'd be more than my life's worth. Said too much already." He got off his stool unsteadily, knocking it over as he tried to walk away. He pointed a finger at Cantwell. "I'll deny everything, you might think you heard, Tom Cantwell. Deny everything."
Cantwell watched him go. He righted the stool and sipped his beer slowly. He wondered what Temple would make of all this, when he told him in the morning.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Redbourne
By the time they got back to the station, the canteen had stopped serving lunch. Two stale cheese sandwiches remained, their edges peeling back. The tea was stewed so strong that the teaspoon could almost stand up in it. Cantwell was dismayed but his hunger was so great he would eat and drink anything.
"I'm going to phone the hospital to find out about Brenda Ellacott's condition. You take your time, Cantwell. You'll get the most almighty indigestion from the looks of that bread - so eating fast will just make it worse."
The hospital staff were unhelpful and answers to Temple's questions were sparse. Her injuries were not life-threatening; she had not regained consciousness; she could not answer his questions in the foreseeable future. 'Well, thank you, doc.' Temple muttered under his breath, as he put the phone down.
Never one for patience, especially whilst on a case, Temple pondered as to how he could push the investigations further. Remembering the contents of Ellacott's wallet and Redbourne's business cards gave him his next port of call.
Cantwell came into the office just as Temple was leaving: "Where are we going, Gov?"
"We are not going anywhere. You stay and write up the report on today's events. Wait for a call back from the Path Lab on those pills. I'm going to Redbourne's place to check out about Ellacott's dealings with him. I'll see you when I get back."
Cantwell's heart sank, he knew these 'see you when I get back' statements meant he would be late home yet again. Debbie would be livid, they were supposed to be going to the flicks tonight.
Temple strolled through the town until he came to Redbourne's office. A gilt plaque proclaimed 'Mr R. Redbourne, Turf Accountant' outside a green door complete with brass knocker and letterbox. Without knocking, Temple walked in and climbed the flight of stairs to the first floor. A pretty blonde typist was sitting behind a large oak desk. She straightened her back and smiled.
"Can I help you, sir?" she asked rather winsomely.
"I've come to speak to Mr Redbourne." He flashed his police card at her.
"He's in a meeting."
"No problem, I'm in no hurry." He strolled over to the window.
Loud voices, raised in argument, came suddenly from inside the office. Without further ado, Temple pushed past the reception desk and opened the door. Redbourne, a thickset man with a deep scar across his left cheek, was behind the desk. Two men were facing him, their hands placed firmly on the shoulders of a third man sitting in front of the desk.
"Trouble, Redbourne?" Temple asked sardonically.
"Who the hell let you in?"
"When there's trouble call a policeman, isn't that what they say? I heard the trouble - so I came."
Redbourne nodded to his two men. The tall, leaner one stepped aside. The shorter one released his grip on the seated man's shoulder.
"What do you want?" Redbourne asked.
"From what little I could hear, I thought it was you who was asking the questions of this gentleman. Who is he, by the way?
"This thieving bastard," he pointed, "goes by the name of Beaver or 'Eager' as his friends call him. But he ain't no friend of ours. He's the first in line to pick up his winnings but the last to pay his debts. He likes his little flutter on the dogs and the gee-gees"
"I'm sure Mr Beaver will be paying his debts in due course, won't you, Mr Beaver?"
The seated man was sweating profusely. He nodded vigorously in response to Temple's question. But it was Redbourne he addressed when he spoke:
"You'll get your money, Mr Redbopurne. Some of those dogs was dodgy, Mr Redbourne, you know that!" He saw the look on Redbourne's face and stopped jabbering. "I'll give you half your money next week and the rest the week after. God's honour, I will."
"With interest, Beaver." Redbourne leaned forward menacingly, "And you bloody better had!"
"Or what?" Temple asked. "What will you do? Same as you did to Ellacott?" He glanced at Eager Beaver. "Get out now, Mr Beaver. Be more sensible in future. Don't punt with sharks, or there'll be blood in the water."
Beaver didn't need to be told twice. He left rapidly nodding to Temple as he did so. Temple looked at the other two men. The tall, lanky one fitted the description that Cantwell had given of the man who jumped over Ellacott's back fence.
"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends, Redbourne?"
Redbourne cracked each of his knuckles in turn:
"This is Charlie Davey," he nodded towards the shorter, stockier man. "This is Ted Steele. They help me out in the office and on the racetracks. Invaluable they are."
"That's an unusual way to describe your henchmens' activities. 'Helping you out'." Temple looked at the two men, then directed a question at Steele: "Where were you between 10:30 and 11:30 this morning?"
"He was here in the office." Redbourne responded before Steele had the chance."
"Of course he was! How stupid of me to think he could possibl;y have been beating up little Mrs Ellacott." Temple nodded to himself then turned towards the door. "I'll be leaving then." As he did he heard an audible whistle of relief come from Charlie Davey. Temple went back to the desk and banged it hard with his fist. "If I find out differently, Redbourne, you're for the chop, this time. Understand?"
There was no response. Temple leaned forward and seized hold of Redbourne's tie, twisting it round his hand and pulling Redbourne out of his seat.
"Understand?"
Ted Steele stepped towards Temple, but Redbourne held up his hand to stop him. "I understand."
Temple pushed him away, turned on his heels and left the office, slamming the door as he did so.
"I'd look for another job, if I were you, love. It's not too good for your health around here." The young typist, eyes wide with shock, did not respond.
"I'm going to phone the hospital to find out about Brenda Ellacott's condition. You take your time, Cantwell. You'll get the most almighty indigestion from the looks of that bread - so eating fast will just make it worse."
The hospital staff were unhelpful and answers to Temple's questions were sparse. Her injuries were not life-threatening; she had not regained consciousness; she could not answer his questions in the foreseeable future. 'Well, thank you, doc.' Temple muttered under his breath, as he put the phone down.
Never one for patience, especially whilst on a case, Temple pondered as to how he could push the investigations further. Remembering the contents of Ellacott's wallet and Redbourne's business cards gave him his next port of call.
Cantwell came into the office just as Temple was leaving: "Where are we going, Gov?"
"We are not going anywhere. You stay and write up the report on today's events. Wait for a call back from the Path Lab on those pills. I'm going to Redbourne's place to check out about Ellacott's dealings with him. I'll see you when I get back."
Cantwell's heart sank, he knew these 'see you when I get back' statements meant he would be late home yet again. Debbie would be livid, they were supposed to be going to the flicks tonight.
Temple strolled through the town until he came to Redbourne's office. A gilt plaque proclaimed 'Mr R. Redbourne, Turf Accountant' outside a green door complete with brass knocker and letterbox. Without knocking, Temple walked in and climbed the flight of stairs to the first floor. A pretty blonde typist was sitting behind a large oak desk. She straightened her back and smiled.
"Can I help you, sir?" she asked rather winsomely.
"I've come to speak to Mr Redbourne." He flashed his police card at her.
"He's in a meeting."
"No problem, I'm in no hurry." He strolled over to the window.
Loud voices, raised in argument, came suddenly from inside the office. Without further ado, Temple pushed past the reception desk and opened the door. Redbourne, a thickset man with a deep scar across his left cheek, was behind the desk. Two men were facing him, their hands placed firmly on the shoulders of a third man sitting in front of the desk.
"Trouble, Redbourne?" Temple asked sardonically.
"Who the hell let you in?"
"When there's trouble call a policeman, isn't that what they say? I heard the trouble - so I came."
Redbourne nodded to his two men. The tall, leaner one stepped aside. The shorter one released his grip on the seated man's shoulder.
"What do you want?" Redbourne asked.
"From what little I could hear, I thought it was you who was asking the questions of this gentleman. Who is he, by the way?
"This thieving bastard," he pointed, "goes by the name of Beaver or 'Eager' as his friends call him. But he ain't no friend of ours. He's the first in line to pick up his winnings but the last to pay his debts. He likes his little flutter on the dogs and the gee-gees"
"I'm sure Mr Beaver will be paying his debts in due course, won't you, Mr Beaver?"
The seated man was sweating profusely. He nodded vigorously in response to Temple's question. But it was Redbourne he addressed when he spoke:
"You'll get your money, Mr Redbopurne. Some of those dogs was dodgy, Mr Redbourne, you know that!" He saw the look on Redbourne's face and stopped jabbering. "I'll give you half your money next week and the rest the week after. God's honour, I will."
"With interest, Beaver." Redbourne leaned forward menacingly, "And you bloody better had!"
"Or what?" Temple asked. "What will you do? Same as you did to Ellacott?" He glanced at Eager Beaver. "Get out now, Mr Beaver. Be more sensible in future. Don't punt with sharks, or there'll be blood in the water."
Beaver didn't need to be told twice. He left rapidly nodding to Temple as he did so. Temple looked at the other two men. The tall, lanky one fitted the description that Cantwell had given of the man who jumped over Ellacott's back fence.
"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends, Redbourne?"
Redbourne cracked each of his knuckles in turn:
"This is Charlie Davey," he nodded towards the shorter, stockier man. "This is Ted Steele. They help me out in the office and on the racetracks. Invaluable they are."
"That's an unusual way to describe your henchmens' activities. 'Helping you out'." Temple looked at the two men, then directed a question at Steele: "Where were you between 10:30 and 11:30 this morning?"
"He was here in the office." Redbourne responded before Steele had the chance."
"Of course he was! How stupid of me to think he could possibl;y have been beating up little Mrs Ellacott." Temple nodded to himself then turned towards the door. "I'll be leaving then." As he did he heard an audible whistle of relief come from Charlie Davey. Temple went back to the desk and banged it hard with his fist. "If I find out differently, Redbourne, you're for the chop, this time. Understand?"
There was no response. Temple leaned forward and seized hold of Redbourne's tie, twisting it round his hand and pulling Redbourne out of his seat.
"Understand?"
Ted Steele stepped towards Temple, but Redbourne held up his hand to stop him. "I understand."
Temple pushed him away, turned on his heels and left the office, slamming the door as he did so.
"I'd look for another job, if I were you, love. It's not too good for your health around here." The young typist, eyes wide with shock, did not respond.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
What are we looking for, Gov?
According to the notes Cantwell and Temple wrote, the forensics boys did their usual superficial job. They left the flat in an even worse mess.
When they were alone again, Cantwell and Temple looked around the place. Someone had been looking for something. Hopefully they had been disturbed by the knock at the front door before finding whatever it was.
Cantwell opened various drawers then closed them:
"She's going to have a fit when she sees the place. Last week when I came here to take her statement about her husband having gone missing, the place was neat as a pin. Strange really."
Temple was surprised that he thought it strange and said so.
"Well she looked a bit of a fast one, Gov, not a proper housewife."
"Oh really, so in your vast experience of 'fast' women, how did you put Brenda Ellacott into that category?"
"She had peroxided her hair, like those girls in Picture Post. Anyway, just look at her shoes and clothes." He pulled open the large dark oak wardrobe in the bedroom. He indicated several pairs of very high-heeled shoes in shades of red and blue. "Not what you'd call everyday shoes are they, Gov?"
Although, Temple had never met Debbie Cantwell, he imagined she would not wear red high-heels. So what made Brenda Ellacott different? Where would she go that Debbie Cantwell wouldn't? They rummaged through the clothes. These painted the same picture of the woman: elegant costumes, high quality dresses, silk scarves. These were not the run-of-the mill clothes of most Starmouth women.
Temple wondered whether Canwell's assessment wasn't so foolosh after all. What sort of places would Ben and Brenda Ellacott go for her to wear such items?
"How did they afford all this?" Cantwell asked. "He was only a small town pharmacist after all. Though I've heard he was quite a gambler too. Bet on the dogs mainly and if he knew Redbourne, I guess there were bets on some pretty dodgy dogs."
"Whoever was rummaging through the flat and beating Mrs Ellacott senseless wasn't after the clothes, that's for sure. Keep looking, Cantwell."
"What for?"
Sometimes, Temple thought Cantwell's stupidity was so gross that he acted it out just to irritate him. At other times, he knew that his sergeant was just bloody daft. However, after two hours they were both ready to call it a day. They had gone through every room and every drawer.
"Only the toilet left, Gov. So we're all done."
"Cantwell, climb on top of the toilet seat and look into the cistern. I'll flush the water and you put your hand in."
Temple watched him climb gingerly onto the wooden toilet seat. He wobbled and grasped the toilet roll holder. Temple pulled the chain and prodded Cantwell to reach into the cistern. He put his hand in for a second then quickly jumped down.
"Nothing, Gov."
"You didn't search around the edges, Cantwell. Here get out of the way, let me do it. Flush it again."
Temple felt the bottom of the tank first, then the sides. Bingo! The tape was pretty well solidly stuck against the sides of the ceramic cistern. He had to rip it off before the water filled it again. He waved the packet triumphantly at Cantwell.
"Nothing! So what's this then." Temple saw his look of surprise and genuine pleasure.
"Well done, Gov. Your Met training did you proud."
"Nothing to do with Met training, Cantwell. It's called persistence. Anyway, let's see what we've got here."
They went into the kitchen and put the package on the table. The covering was heavily waxed cloth tied with waxed string. Cutting the string, Temple discovered yet another wrapping inside the outer one. Inside this, there were two separate small bundles. The smaller one was given to Cantwell. He opened it carefully. It contained two brown glass bottles each full of tablets. The larger package held a wodge of £5 notes rolled up. They estimated there was about £200 in the roll.
"Go back and phone for a car. These will need to be sent off to the path lab. We can't carry it back."
"Told you we should have taken a car, Gov."
When they were alone again, Cantwell and Temple looked around the place. Someone had been looking for something. Hopefully they had been disturbed by the knock at the front door before finding whatever it was.
Cantwell opened various drawers then closed them:
"She's going to have a fit when she sees the place. Last week when I came here to take her statement about her husband having gone missing, the place was neat as a pin. Strange really."
Temple was surprised that he thought it strange and said so.
"Well she looked a bit of a fast one, Gov, not a proper housewife."
"Oh really, so in your vast experience of 'fast' women, how did you put Brenda Ellacott into that category?"
"She had peroxided her hair, like those girls in Picture Post. Anyway, just look at her shoes and clothes." He pulled open the large dark oak wardrobe in the bedroom. He indicated several pairs of very high-heeled shoes in shades of red and blue. "Not what you'd call everyday shoes are they, Gov?"
Although, Temple had never met Debbie Cantwell, he imagined she would not wear red high-heels. So what made Brenda Ellacott different? Where would she go that Debbie Cantwell wouldn't? They rummaged through the clothes. These painted the same picture of the woman: elegant costumes, high quality dresses, silk scarves. These were not the run-of-the mill clothes of most Starmouth women.
Temple wondered whether Canwell's assessment wasn't so foolosh after all. What sort of places would Ben and Brenda Ellacott go for her to wear such items?
"How did they afford all this?" Cantwell asked. "He was only a small town pharmacist after all. Though I've heard he was quite a gambler too. Bet on the dogs mainly and if he knew Redbourne, I guess there were bets on some pretty dodgy dogs."
"Whoever was rummaging through the flat and beating Mrs Ellacott senseless wasn't after the clothes, that's for sure. Keep looking, Cantwell."
"What for?"
Sometimes, Temple thought Cantwell's stupidity was so gross that he acted it out just to irritate him. At other times, he knew that his sergeant was just bloody daft. However, after two hours they were both ready to call it a day. They had gone through every room and every drawer.
"Only the toilet left, Gov. So we're all done."
"Cantwell, climb on top of the toilet seat and look into the cistern. I'll flush the water and you put your hand in."
Temple watched him climb gingerly onto the wooden toilet seat. He wobbled and grasped the toilet roll holder. Temple pulled the chain and prodded Cantwell to reach into the cistern. He put his hand in for a second then quickly jumped down.
"Nothing, Gov."
"You didn't search around the edges, Cantwell. Here get out of the way, let me do it. Flush it again."
Temple felt the bottom of the tank first, then the sides. Bingo! The tape was pretty well solidly stuck against the sides of the ceramic cistern. He had to rip it off before the water filled it again. He waved the packet triumphantly at Cantwell.
"Nothing! So what's this then." Temple saw his look of surprise and genuine pleasure.
"Well done, Gov. Your Met training did you proud."
"Nothing to do with Met training, Cantwell. It's called persistence. Anyway, let's see what we've got here."
They went into the kitchen and put the package on the table. The covering was heavily waxed cloth tied with waxed string. Cutting the string, Temple discovered yet another wrapping inside the outer one. Inside this, there were two separate small bundles. The smaller one was given to Cantwell. He opened it carefully. It contained two brown glass bottles each full of tablets. The larger package held a wodge of £5 notes rolled up. They estimated there was about £200 in the roll.
"Go back and phone for a car. These will need to be sent off to the path lab. We can't carry it back."
"Told you we should have taken a car, Gov."
Monday, November 30, 2009
The Flat on Albion Hill
Temple rather route marched Cantwell up the hill. The rain had not, as predicted, stopped. Cantwell swore that it was worse. He looked miserable and kept his hands firmly in his raincoat pockets.
"Little bit of water won't do you any harm, Cantwell. Anyway, aren't you Devonians used to water?"
"That's probably it, Gov. Seen too much bloody rain. You've heard the rhyme 'Come to Starmouth in sunny Devon where it rains 6 days out of 7'. That's why I hate rain."
Cantwell was right, it was raining harder, rivulets of water gushed over the gutter splashing onto the road. Ellacott's flat was halfway up the hill. It was the top floor of a converted Edwardian house. The wooden gate needed a lick of paint as did the front door. The landlord obviously paid little attention to the property.
Cantwell rang the doorbell but there was no response. After more ringing and knocking, Temple was beginning to get impatient. Suddenly, Cantwell tugged his sleeve and pointed to the upstairs window. A net curtain rippled slightly though the window itself was closed.
Temple lifted the letterbox and called out. Still no response.
"Go round the back, Cantwell, see what's going on round there."
"There's no back door, Gov, it's..."
"Just do it!"
Cantwell slouched down the side path which was slippery with moss and lichen. Four stone steps led down to the rear garden. Just as he rounded the edge of the downstairs flat, he saw a man running fast to the far end of the garden. Realising he would never catch him, he hastened instead to the back of the building and looked up. The top bay window was open and a curtain hung limply over the sill caught on the pebble-dash beneath.
Temple heard him calling out for Mrs Ellacott. Then, there was shouting: "Police! Stop!" Temple thought 'What the hell!', and set off to the back garden.
When he arrived, he found Cantwell half over the garden fence. As soon as he saw Temple, he rushed back: "Gov, I think some bloke's jumped from the upstairs window and run off down the back alley. He was away before I could reach him."
"Well let's stop pussy-footing about and break down the door." Which is exactly what they did. Cantwell's bulky frame did sometimes serve a purpose!
The flat looked as if a bomb had hit it. Broken crockery littered the kitchen floor, a frying pan had spilled its greasy contents over the green mottled lino. The long corridor leading past a small side room and to the rear reception had paper and books strewn its entire length.
At first, there was no sign of Mrs Brenda Ellacott in the large, bright sitting-room. Only the draught from the open window ruffled yet more papers in disarray on the carpet. A metal lampstand lay on its side; curtains were ripped from their poles.
"My God, Gov, there's been one helluva struggle here. Where is she?"
It was as Cantwell spoke that Temple caught sight of a red high-heeled shoe poking out behind the settee. Brenda Ellacott was lying on her back, a trickle of blood came from the back of her head. He reached down and felt her pulse, she was still alive but unconscious. Her face was puffy and red and her left eye was swollen. She had obviously been severely beaten.
"Go to the nearest phone-box. I think we passed one at the base of the hill. Get an ambulance, then phone the station and get the forensic boys here asap."
To his credit, Canwell moved fast, without a further word. When the chips were down, he usually did the right thing.
Temple rummaged round the bedroom and found a blanket to cover Mrs Ellacott. She was cold and her shallow breathing and pallour worried me.
"Ambulance is on its way, Gov. Forensics will be here soon. Also I gave a description of the bloke I saw getting over the fence. Though he's probably long gone by now."
They heard the ambulance before it arrived, the siren blaring. The neighbours would no doubt be out and the tongues wagging. In small town Starmouth, such events caused a stir.
There would be a few more events to get the tongues wagging even faster and not before too long either.
"Little bit of water won't do you any harm, Cantwell. Anyway, aren't you Devonians used to water?"
"That's probably it, Gov. Seen too much bloody rain. You've heard the rhyme 'Come to Starmouth in sunny Devon where it rains 6 days out of 7'. That's why I hate rain."
Cantwell was right, it was raining harder, rivulets of water gushed over the gutter splashing onto the road. Ellacott's flat was halfway up the hill. It was the top floor of a converted Edwardian house. The wooden gate needed a lick of paint as did the front door. The landlord obviously paid little attention to the property.
Cantwell rang the doorbell but there was no response. After more ringing and knocking, Temple was beginning to get impatient. Suddenly, Cantwell tugged his sleeve and pointed to the upstairs window. A net curtain rippled slightly though the window itself was closed.
Temple lifted the letterbox and called out. Still no response.
"Go round the back, Cantwell, see what's going on round there."
"There's no back door, Gov, it's..."
"Just do it!"
Cantwell slouched down the side path which was slippery with moss and lichen. Four stone steps led down to the rear garden. Just as he rounded the edge of the downstairs flat, he saw a man running fast to the far end of the garden. Realising he would never catch him, he hastened instead to the back of the building and looked up. The top bay window was open and a curtain hung limply over the sill caught on the pebble-dash beneath.
Temple heard him calling out for Mrs Ellacott. Then, there was shouting: "Police! Stop!" Temple thought 'What the hell!', and set off to the back garden.
When he arrived, he found Cantwell half over the garden fence. As soon as he saw Temple, he rushed back: "Gov, I think some bloke's jumped from the upstairs window and run off down the back alley. He was away before I could reach him."
"Well let's stop pussy-footing about and break down the door." Which is exactly what they did. Cantwell's bulky frame did sometimes serve a purpose!
The flat looked as if a bomb had hit it. Broken crockery littered the kitchen floor, a frying pan had spilled its greasy contents over the green mottled lino. The long corridor leading past a small side room and to the rear reception had paper and books strewn its entire length.
At first, there was no sign of Mrs Brenda Ellacott in the large, bright sitting-room. Only the draught from the open window ruffled yet more papers in disarray on the carpet. A metal lampstand lay on its side; curtains were ripped from their poles.
"My God, Gov, there's been one helluva struggle here. Where is she?"
It was as Cantwell spoke that Temple caught sight of a red high-heeled shoe poking out behind the settee. Brenda Ellacott was lying on her back, a trickle of blood came from the back of her head. He reached down and felt her pulse, she was still alive but unconscious. Her face was puffy and red and her left eye was swollen. She had obviously been severely beaten.
"Go to the nearest phone-box. I think we passed one at the base of the hill. Get an ambulance, then phone the station and get the forensic boys here asap."
To his credit, Canwell moved fast, without a further word. When the chips were down, he usually did the right thing.
Temple rummaged round the bedroom and found a blanket to cover Mrs Ellacott. She was cold and her shallow breathing and pallour worried me.
"Ambulance is on its way, Gov. Forensics will be here soon. Also I gave a description of the bloke I saw getting over the fence. Though he's probably long gone by now."
They heard the ambulance before it arrived, the siren blaring. The neighbours would no doubt be out and the tongues wagging. In small town Starmouth, such events caused a stir.
There would be a few more events to get the tongues wagging even faster and not before too long either.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Sergeant Tom Cantwell
As Temple looked out of his office window, the rain lashing down the windows, he saw Cantwell running across the car park. Running is too extravagant a description of Cantwell's movements. Let's say he moved faster than usual. Since usual is sitting down and drinking coffee, you'll get my meaning!
Anyway, his heavy footsteps soon thumped down the corridor. The door opened and a rather breathless Cantwell came in:
"Think we've had a break, Gov." He wheezed. "A chap called Fudge found this on the beach." He handed Temple a sodden leather wallet.
"It's Ellacott's, Gov. His initials 'B C E' are embossed on the outside. Also, there are some business cards. See." Sure enough there was a wadge of cards 'Ellacott's Pharmacy, 27 Rolle Street, Starmouth'.
"There's also a card from Redbourne's Turf Accountants. There isn't any money though."
"This Fudge chap have anything else to say?"
"No, Gov. I reckon he hoped there'd be some money in it. He says he read about Ellacott having gone missing and when he saw the cards, he rang the station."
Temple looked at the wallet: "Did Ellacott chuck it in? Did someone rob him, take the money and throw it away? It raises questions, Cantwell, but gives no answers."
Cantwell's face fell. Like a child, he was easily deflated. Temple thought for a minute then decided what they needed to do: "We're going round to see Mrs Ellacott. Show her the wallet and see how she reacts."
"Are we taking the car, Gov?"
"No, it's not worth it. The walk will do us good."
"It's raining!"
Temple glanced out of the window. The rain had dwindled to a drizzle. It would soon stop. From the corner of his eye, he could see the look on Cantwell's face. Something inside him made him force the issue. After all, to Temple's mind Cantwell had had it easy so far, he hadn't been in the Army for six bloody years - marching in all weathers. He'd had a little desk job somewhere in Exeter. War effort! Some effort that was Temple's view.
"Drizzle, Cantwell, just drizzle. It'll have stopped before we're halfway up Albion Hill."
Anyway, his heavy footsteps soon thumped down the corridor. The door opened and a rather breathless Cantwell came in:
"Think we've had a break, Gov." He wheezed. "A chap called Fudge found this on the beach." He handed Temple a sodden leather wallet.
"It's Ellacott's, Gov. His initials 'B C E' are embossed on the outside. Also, there are some business cards. See." Sure enough there was a wadge of cards 'Ellacott's Pharmacy, 27 Rolle Street, Starmouth'.
"There's also a card from Redbourne's Turf Accountants. There isn't any money though."
"This Fudge chap have anything else to say?"
"No, Gov. I reckon he hoped there'd be some money in it. He says he read about Ellacott having gone missing and when he saw the cards, he rang the station."
Temple looked at the wallet: "Did Ellacott chuck it in? Did someone rob him, take the money and throw it away? It raises questions, Cantwell, but gives no answers."
Cantwell's face fell. Like a child, he was easily deflated. Temple thought for a minute then decided what they needed to do: "We're going round to see Mrs Ellacott. Show her the wallet and see how she reacts."
"Are we taking the car, Gov?"
"No, it's not worth it. The walk will do us good."
"It's raining!"
Temple glanced out of the window. The rain had dwindled to a drizzle. It would soon stop. From the corner of his eye, he could see the look on Cantwell's face. Something inside him made him force the issue. After all, to Temple's mind Cantwell had had it easy so far, he hadn't been in the Army for six bloody years - marching in all weathers. He'd had a little desk job somewhere in Exeter. War effort! Some effort that was Temple's view.
"Drizzle, Cantwell, just drizzle. It'll have stopped before we're halfway up Albion Hill."
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Inspector Temple
Although neither Temple nor Cantwell knew it at the time, that was how this all began. A 'missing' man. I say 'missing' because that's what their desk sergeant filed when Brenda Ellacott phoned in.
If you are to follow the story, you need to know some basic facts. Everything took place in Starmouth in South Devon in 1950. It was, and still is, a typical English seaside resort lying on the eastern edge of a wide estuary. The town's western edges front the meandering river; the southern aspects face the sea.
Starmouth is well served by buses to Exeter and it lays claim to a neat little railway station right in the middle of the town centre. In the town itself, entertainment came in two forms: the cinema and the pub. There were three cinemas each providing escape from the drab reality of 1950s Britain still suffering from the aftermath of war. Cantwell's wife, Debbie, practically lived in them. Three times a week at the local flicks and once a week in Exeter.
The pubs came in many shapes and forms. There were the homely snugs and the more up-market lounge bars of the pretentious hotels. They all provided a means of dulling the senses. It came at a high price for many though and I don't just mean financial.
You also need to know about the Exeter and Plymouth Greyhound race tracks and the flapper track at the Halfway. This is where the poor old dodgy dogs are to be found. Not that it's their fault, you understand. It's the bloody bastards who are up to the dodgy business.
I suppose you also need to know a bit about Detective Inspector James Temple. He was aged 35 when the case began and had been demobbed from his regiment for five years. Though memories and nightmares of the war still haunted him. He was alarge chap, about about six feet three and had a mane of unruly blonde hair and deep blue eyes.
Theoretically, he was still married to Barbara and hade an eight-year-old daughter called Sally. But he hadn't seen either of them for over a year. Barbara lasted precisely eighteen months in Devon. A Londoner born and as she said, "A Londoner I'll die!" So saying she packed her bags and, together with Sally, went back to Camberwell to be with her mother and sister.
Do he miss them? Not Barbara, not one bit. She couldn't cook, couldn't sew and spent money like it was water. But, he told Cantwell that he missed Sally. He only met her when she was four. He'd been away in Italy, Sicilly, Germany and France - too busy fighting. So when he first saw her, she fled behind her grandmother's settee. Not a good start. Still they grew on each other. So, yes, he said he did miss Sally.
That's some of the personal stuff out of the way. You'll get to know Sergeant Cantwell as the investigation proceeds.
If you are to follow the story, you need to know some basic facts. Everything took place in Starmouth in South Devon in 1950. It was, and still is, a typical English seaside resort lying on the eastern edge of a wide estuary. The town's western edges front the meandering river; the southern aspects face the sea.
Starmouth is well served by buses to Exeter and it lays claim to a neat little railway station right in the middle of the town centre. In the town itself, entertainment came in two forms: the cinema and the pub. There were three cinemas each providing escape from the drab reality of 1950s Britain still suffering from the aftermath of war. Cantwell's wife, Debbie, practically lived in them. Three times a week at the local flicks and once a week in Exeter.
The pubs came in many shapes and forms. There were the homely snugs and the more up-market lounge bars of the pretentious hotels. They all provided a means of dulling the senses. It came at a high price for many though and I don't just mean financial.
You also need to know about the Exeter and Plymouth Greyhound race tracks and the flapper track at the Halfway. This is where the poor old dodgy dogs are to be found. Not that it's their fault, you understand. It's the bloody bastards who are up to the dodgy business.
I suppose you also need to know a bit about Detective Inspector James Temple. He was aged 35 when the case began and had been demobbed from his regiment for five years. Though memories and nightmares of the war still haunted him. He was alarge chap, about about six feet three and had a mane of unruly blonde hair and deep blue eyes.
Theoretically, he was still married to Barbara and hade an eight-year-old daughter called Sally. But he hadn't seen either of them for over a year. Barbara lasted precisely eighteen months in Devon. A Londoner born and as she said, "A Londoner I'll die!" So saying she packed her bags and, together with Sally, went back to Camberwell to be with her mother and sister.
Do he miss them? Not Barbara, not one bit. She couldn't cook, couldn't sew and spent money like it was water. But, he told Cantwell that he missed Sally. He only met her when she was four. He'd been away in Italy, Sicilly, Germany and France - too busy fighting. So when he first saw her, she fled behind her grandmother's settee. Not a good start. Still they grew on each other. So, yes, he said he did miss Sally.
That's some of the personal stuff out of the way. You'll get to know Sergeant Cantwell as the investigation proceeds.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Whatever happened to Ben Ellacott?
Let me introduce this blog, who I am and what the blog is about.
I am retired Detective Inspector Tom Stringer. For 15 years I worked as a detective sergeant under Detective Inspector Cantwell. He was a bit of an old buffer - but he told a good story. He talked all the time about Inspector Temple. Theirs was a love-hate relationship. Temple taught him everything he knew, but he rather resented Temple's manner.
Anyway - to cut to the chase. When Cantwell left the force, he gave me a large package and told me to read the contents at some stage in the future. Well, I never had the time - too busy on the job. I left the police and set up my own PI office. I ran this for a number of years. The usual round of divorce cases, insurance fraud, that sort of thing.
However, I retired last year and opened Cantwell's package. It contained Temple's and Cantwell's notes on what Cantwell called 'The case of the Dodgy Dogs'. I was intrigued. I knew at least two of the crooks they had been after and I remember the stink the investigation caused at the time.
The county set in South Devon tried to keep the facts away from the public - too much dirt would stick, I guess. But now I think it's time to put the record straight. I owe it to both Cantwell and Temple.
What you'll read is their account. I've changed some tenses and filled in some details that I recently discovered. But basically this is the story.
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So - to start at the beginning:
It had been raining for days. The sort of weather that only happens in Devon, where it is always supposed to be sunny. The river Exe flowed fast and wide overflowing its banks and carrying debris from its upper reaches on the moor.
Ben Ellacott ran breathlessly along the margins of the river. His shoes squelching in the thick, red mud. They had been polished bright by Brenda that morning but now were unrecognisable clumps of sodden leather that hindered his running. And run he must. Redbourne's men were gaining on him. True, the short stocky man had stopped to get his breath but the tall, lanky one called Steele, who ran on the higher drier ground of the pasture, was parallel now with him.
A twisted willow hung precariously over the swirling waters of the river. Ellacott held on to its trunk, as a sudden stitch caught at his side. Looking up towards Redbourne's man, Steele, he realised any escape via the road had been cut off. To outrun Steele would be impossible. He was trapped. Unless... he glanced at the river, at its further bank. At this point the river ran straight, but five yards ahead it bent into a looping meander. If, he entered the water at that point, he would be carried to the opposite bank and safety.
Steele seemed to read his mind, he ran speedily down from the high ground directly towards him.
Ellacott pushed himself away from the trunk and stumbled to the point that he saw as giving him some hope of escape. "What the hell! Nothing to lose." He said softly as he braced himself against the sudden shock of the cold water.
Steele yelled at the other man and waved him on, pointing at Ellacott.
Steele later said that Ben Ellacott gave no indication that he either heard or saw him coming towards him. He said that he made a grab for Ellacott but that he slipped from his grip and fell into the river. That's what he said ... Of course his side-kick Drake confirmed everything - but then he would, wouldn't he?
I am retired Detective Inspector Tom Stringer. For 15 years I worked as a detective sergeant under Detective Inspector Cantwell. He was a bit of an old buffer - but he told a good story. He talked all the time about Inspector Temple. Theirs was a love-hate relationship. Temple taught him everything he knew, but he rather resented Temple's manner.
Anyway - to cut to the chase. When Cantwell left the force, he gave me a large package and told me to read the contents at some stage in the future. Well, I never had the time - too busy on the job. I left the police and set up my own PI office. I ran this for a number of years. The usual round of divorce cases, insurance fraud, that sort of thing.
However, I retired last year and opened Cantwell's package. It contained Temple's and Cantwell's notes on what Cantwell called 'The case of the Dodgy Dogs'. I was intrigued. I knew at least two of the crooks they had been after and I remember the stink the investigation caused at the time.
The county set in South Devon tried to keep the facts away from the public - too much dirt would stick, I guess. But now I think it's time to put the record straight. I owe it to both Cantwell and Temple.
What you'll read is their account. I've changed some tenses and filled in some details that I recently discovered. But basically this is the story.
***********************************************************************************
So - to start at the beginning:
It had been raining for days. The sort of weather that only happens in Devon, where it is always supposed to be sunny. The river Exe flowed fast and wide overflowing its banks and carrying debris from its upper reaches on the moor.
Ben Ellacott ran breathlessly along the margins of the river. His shoes squelching in the thick, red mud. They had been polished bright by Brenda that morning but now were unrecognisable clumps of sodden leather that hindered his running. And run he must. Redbourne's men were gaining on him. True, the short stocky man had stopped to get his breath but the tall, lanky one called Steele, who ran on the higher drier ground of the pasture, was parallel now with him.
A twisted willow hung precariously over the swirling waters of the river. Ellacott held on to its trunk, as a sudden stitch caught at his side. Looking up towards Redbourne's man, Steele, he realised any escape via the road had been cut off. To outrun Steele would be impossible. He was trapped. Unless... he glanced at the river, at its further bank. At this point the river ran straight, but five yards ahead it bent into a looping meander. If, he entered the water at that point, he would be carried to the opposite bank and safety.
Steele seemed to read his mind, he ran speedily down from the high ground directly towards him.
Ellacott pushed himself away from the trunk and stumbled to the point that he saw as giving him some hope of escape. "What the hell! Nothing to lose." He said softly as he braced himself against the sudden shock of the cold water.
Steele yelled at the other man and waved him on, pointing at Ellacott.
Steele later said that Ben Ellacott gave no indication that he either heard or saw him coming towards him. He said that he made a grab for Ellacott but that he slipped from his grip and fell into the river. That's what he said ... Of course his side-kick Drake confirmed everything - but then he would, wouldn't he?
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