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."