Coffee and Danish at the Blandford

Cantwell was about to enjoy a Sunday morning lie in when his phone rang. It was Temple ringing from the station. He asked him to come in to the station; he needed to discuss the case. Cantwell groaned inwardly. This was not his idea of bliss. He replaced the receiver and broke the news to Debbie. She just turned over telling him to make his own breakfast and bring her a cup of tea. In a fit of pique, he washed, dressed and left for the station without breakfast and without making her tea. If she couldn't be bothered to get his breakfast, he'd be blowed if he'd make her tea. Now, as he sat reading Truscott's report, he regretted it. His stomach rumbled and he imagined the fried bread, bacon and egg that he could have eaten.

"Go and get a coffee, Cantwell, and a bun or something. If your stomach rumbles again, you'll bring the ceiling down."

"I'll get you one as well, Gov."

They sat companionably drinking their coffee while Cantwell munched his way though a stale current bun. Temple pointed at the report, "What do you think?"

Cantwell shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing really ..."

"Nothing!" Temple exclaimed loudly. "What's wrong with you? It means that McBride's in this up to his eyeballs together with that lot up at the Blandford. This is the first real evidence."

"You'll never prove it, Gov. He'll just say that he was acting like a doctor and that anyone can consult him when they need medical care."

Temple swigged his coffee and pulled a face. "God! This tastes like bloody acorns. It's worse than we had in the war." He swilled the liquid round his cup. "Still, you're right, Cantwell. Knowing is one thing; proving beyond a reasonable doubt is quite another."

He walked across to the large blackboard that stood near the wall and picked up a piece of chalk. After tossing it around for a few seconds, he began scribbling on it.

"See! One drowned body: Ellacott. One pulverised body: Eager Beaver. One beaten woman: Brenda Ellacott. One very dubious bookie: Redbourne. At least two henchmen: Steele and Davey. Several so-called high-ups, numbers and names unknown - who don't want to know what's going on and certainly don't want us to know. Finally, the key to it all: more than a few dodgy dogs and good old Soppy Soper." He threw the chalk down and turned to look at Cantwell.

Cantwell stared hard at the writing. He could see the links but he knew that Baker would want more than what they had. Temple wiped the board clean and clouds of white chalk dust flew round the room.

"Come on, Cantwell, let's go up to the Blandford again. WingCo and wifey are the jittery sort. Let's make them a bit more jumpy. Mistakes are made when people get nervous."

Cantwell brightened up at the prospect. Glancing at his watch, he saw it wasn't yet eleven. He imagined he might get a coffee and a danish, if he played his cards right.

The Blandford car park was almost full weekend guests had swelled the numbers of the usual locals. Several smart looking couples were in the lounge bar. Cantwell glanced at his unpolished shoes and the frayed edges of Temple's jacket cuffs and thought they were well under-dressed for the place. Without a shred of self-consciousness, Temple went to the bar and ordered two coffees and two danish pastries. The barman, one whom they had not seen before, nodded. He returned with a tray and placed it on the counter.

"Busy, I see." Temple commented.

"Yep. Weekends are getting really good bookings. The Jacksons are really pushing the place."

Temple and Cantwell sat at a low table. The room was a buzz of chatter and laughter. One young couple were puffing away at brightly coloured Balkan Sobranie cigarettes. The woman had a long mother of pearl cigarette holder, which she held in a posed way that irritated Temple. Just as he was about to comment to Cantwell, he spotted Judith Jackson entering the room, a smile on her lips. Her eyes roved round the room until she spotted whoever she was looking for. She appeared not to have noticed Temple.

Suddenly Dr McBride appeared. He headed straight for the bar and ordered a large whisky. He drank almost half of it in one swig. He saw Judith Jackson and immediately crossed the room to be at her side. They spoke together for some minutes, then together they left heading in the direction of the office.

"Guest suddenly taken ill, do you think? Emergency summoning from the management! Or is it distribution of the winnings time?" Temple snarled.

"From Saturday night, you mean?"

"Yes! from our little dodgy dogs running their hearts out at the Halfway." Temple glanced at Cantwell. "You still hungry?"

"Yes! I didn't have breakfast. Debbie was miffed that I had to come in to work. She was in a real strop. Refused to get out of bed."

"Well go and get yourself another coffee and danish, get me another coffee." He gave him a half-crown coin. "Bring them out to the lounge, we can get a better view of the office from there." He crossed the lobby and went into the bright open reception area. An array of large chintz chairs and sofas faced either towards the windows overlooking the gardens, the fireplace or they were scattered at random round small tables. He selected an armchair at an angle to the fireplace. From there he had a clear view of WingCo's office but was shielded from general view by a large overgrown potted plant that looked as though it had been extracted from the Amazon rainforest.

Cantwell emerged from the bar carrying a tray. He peered round, then caught sight of a wave from Temple from behind the thick green fronds. This beat a morning at the station, he thought, as he settled into the soft seat of an armchair. As he sat munching the apple danish, he watched Temple eyeing the office door.

"You know something, Cantwell. I think we'll stay here until we've had enough or been observed. Either way, I hope we can cause a bit of discomfort."