Clive Baker is told a thing or two!

It was one of those early Spring days in Starmouth when all that's bright and beautiful in the world seems centred on East Devon. The sun was high, the sky was the palest of pale blue and the sea was calm. The red cliff, that dominated the end of the promenade, seemed to glow in the strong light. In other words, thought Superintendent Clive Baker, it was a perfect picture postcard vision of his world, his little town.

He enjoyed a Sunday stroll along the promenade, just before lunch. He and his wife always had a late lunch on Sunday, so he relaxed below the brow of the Point, as the local cliff was known. Nestling beneath it, the small cafe looked inviting. He went in and bought a cup of coffee, then went to sit at an outside table.

"Morning, Clive!" The voice uttering the name was carefully modulated and clipped. Baker almost spilled his coffee, he recognised it instantly. "May I join you?" Baker nodded and a tall smartly dressed man sat down next to him. He clicked his fingers at the woman serving behind the counter. She brought out a tray with coffee and biscuits.

Baker guessed immediately that this gesture of seeming camaraderie was not purely social. Anxiety began to prick him. He coughed before speaking:
"What a splendid day, Geoffrey. Are you taking a well deserved break from County Council affairs?"

Councillor Geoffrey Bellamy did not respond. He sipped his coffee and snapped a ginger biscuit in half. The two men sat in silence for what seemed to Baker like an eternity. His agitation was rising by the second. He hoped that his instincts about the purpose of Bellamy's sitting with him were wrong.

At last, Bellamy cleared his throat: "I thought we'd agreed that your men would stop interfering with the business affairs of some of our hardworking townspeople."

"We did and I have told my juniors to do just that. Why? Is there something wrong?"

"They're damn well not listening." Bellamy snapped back. "Two of your plain clothes lot were up at the Blandford this morning. Mrs Jackson saw them. And," he leaned closer to Baker, "last night and for two or three nights previously, a uniformed constable was standing outside Dr McBride's surgery. He was seen taking notes. It's bloody well not good enough. These are prominent members of the community going about their business. Your men are harassing them."

Baker drank the last drops of his coffee, trying to give himself time to think of an answer. The grains of coffee were bitter against his tongue and he wanted to spit them out. Instead, he swallowed them. Before he could respond, however, Bellamy had started up again.

"My daughter, you know, works for Mr Redbourne. She tells me that he's very put out by the way two of your men are dogging him."

"What can I say, Geoffrey. I'll deal with the situation. I have already spoken to the officer I think you are referring to. He's not a local man and is somewhat stubborn. I'll speak to him again."

"Don't just speak to him. Give him orders. You're the Chief Superintendent, after all. Get him transferred, if all else fails."

"Not as easy as you think. He was a major in the war, received a gallantry medal and was highly regarded by the Met."

"Well let the bloody Met take him back! We don't want or need his sort down here." He got up and left Baker musing over the situation.

The return walk home was unpleasant. Neither the sun, nor the sky, the fresh sea air or the seagulls flying could raise his spirits. Thoughts were going round his head. He had always secretly rather admired Temple's persistence and determination. He was the sort of detective he had once aspired to be himself. But his wife's ambitions for socialising had put pay to that.

As soon as he opened his front door, his wife rushed towards him: "Clive, you are so late! We've got to get a move on."

"Why? Who ..."

"We've been invited to a garden party at Sir Martin and Lady Bulstrode's place. We're to be there by 3 o'clock. There's so much to do before then."

By the time the day was over, Clive Baker knew exactly how he had to deal with Temple on Monday morning. He would do anything for a quiet life. If his wife thought he might put any chance of an honour at risk, she would go berserk. And he would certainly be doing that if he annoyed Councillor Geoffrey Bellamy.