Baker's Satisfaction

Temple found himself in a position that he was not used to. He was angry and wanted to lash out in all directions. He knew what was behind the shootings. He was sure that with the right resources he would get to the bottom of it. But he also knew he would not get those resources and that he could expect little or no help from Baker if he pursued the obvious routes. Whether Baker was totally crooked, Temple was not sure. That he was a weak and ineffectual leader was not in doubt, neither were his wife's social ambitions.

Temple made himself a strong coffee and sat in his living room looking out of the window onto the scene of the shooting. Neighbours had avoided talking to him, obviously aware of his mood. But then again, he had always appeared taciturn, particularly since his wife and daughter had left.

He sipped the drink and mused his procedure. In the War, things had seemed simple, find the bastards who were shooting at you and your men and kill or capture them. No questions asked, no answers expected. But here, questions would be asked and answers would have to be given. He did not like the odds of coming out of this unscathed. Of one thing he was grateful, he had the confidence and support of Sam Walters. The trouble was, Sam Walters was over a hundred miles away.

After several minutes during which he paced back and forth across the room, he came to a decision as to how he would act. It was totally against his instincts but then again, he knew his instincts were not perfect.

Back at the station by mid morning, Temple decided to wait for Baker to summon him. He would not take the initiative. This would wrong-foot Baker, he surmised. So, he sat at his desk and waited and waited.

In his own large well furnished office, Baker pondered why Temple had not come storming in to see him. It was so unlike the man. He had been plagued all morning by requests from the press and from headquarters. Both wanted to know what was going on. He had fobbed off the press but the Area Commisioner was another matter.

At last, Baker rang down to the Duty Sergeant and told him to ask Inspector Temple to come to his office. Baker could not see how he would be able to put it off any longer. Temple was, after all, the senior detective in Starmouth.

The two men eyed each other for what seemed to Baker an eternity.

"Sorry about Cantwell and his wife. Dreadful thing to have happened on your doorstep. Dreadful." Temple merely nodded a reply. "I think that he may have come across something at the docks. He never was very good at seeing the full picture, was he?" Temple did not respond. "What do you think, Temple? A smuggling ring, perhaps and he got too close?"

Temple knew damn well it was no smuggling ring. The idea was absurd. But, if that was how Baker wanted to play it, then that was exactly how he would play it too.

Baker waited for the full frontal attack assuring him that it was Redbourne and no smugglers who were behind it.

"I think you may be right, Sir." Temple said. "At least it's a possibility that can't be overlooked."

Baker was dumbfounded. Relief washed over him like the heat from a hot bath. He visibly glowed with surprise and the feeling of tension draining away. Never, in his wildest dreams, had he thought Temple would comply with such reasoning. Perhaps the shootings had unnerved him. But Baker was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Whatever the cause, Temple was compliant and he would not waste the opportunity.

"Good, Temple, very good. We are both on the same track. I want you to get to the bottom of this dreadful affair. Constable Truscott will act as your sergeant, while Cantwell is on sick leave. He's already asked especially for the chance to do this." Temple nodded tacit agreement. "Of course, you'll ask me for any extra resources you need. I don't need to tell you that we must have this solved as soon as possible. Though, of course, since it's a docks issue, I expect any evidence will be long gone. Still, I know you'll do your best, Temple."

Baker stood up but advisedly did not put out his hand as Temple rose to leave. Once the door closed, Baker sat down and nodded his head in satisfaction at the way he had handled the situation. He decided he would reward himself with a lunch at the golf club. After all, he felt, he deserved it.

Temple went to the incident room. He allocated jobs to constables, sending them to the dock area; telling them to take statements; advising them of known villains; issuing photos.

Satisfied he had behaved exactly as if he thought the inception of the shootings had been at the docks, Temple edged away back to his office. Now for the real work.

He had just begun thinking about the situation when Truscott came unceremoniously into the room: "Gov, can I have a word?"

"I'm busy, Truscott, so ..."

"Gov, what are you playing at?"

Temple was shocked both by the question and that it was Truscott who had asked it. Before he could say anything, however, Truscott launched into another statement.

"I'm not quite the fool you might take me for, Gov. I think you should play straight with me."