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."

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.

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."