Vengeance On Tyneside

Chapter Two

Chapter TwoThe morning had run quite smoothly for DCI Alan Johnson, allowing him and his sergeant to catch up with some paperwork. Superintendent Blake was a stickler for having all paperwork up-to-date and filed away. The superintendent had only been at the Newcastle Police Station for a few months, but already he had upset several officers due to his fixed ideas on how things ought to be done.

“Okay, that's sorted,” Alan said, throwing a bunch of papers in the out-tray. “Shall we pop out for a bite to eat? It's on me.”

“Aren't we supposed to file everything?” Sergeant Andrews asked.

“I just did.” Alan nodded towards the tray on his desk. “It's all on the computer, anyway. If the superintendent wants it placed somewhere else, then he can pick it up and do it himself.”

The sergeant looked back down at the papers on his desk and hid a broad smile.

Andrews was well aware that the DCI and Superintendent Blake didn't get on well together. Well, to be accurate, they didn't get on at all. If it had been down to Blake, Alan would have been out on his ear a couple of months ago, when they'd had words in the incident room. However, on that occasion, Chief Superintendent Lowes had sided with the DCI. Therefore there was nothing Blake could do about it. Nevertheless, they continued to look daggers at each other whenever they met.

“Well, are you coming, or are you happy to sit there and fill in more forms.” By now, Alan was pulling on his jacket.

“Yes, of course I'm coming,” Andrews replied, jumping to his feet. “I'm almost done, anyway. So, boss, where are you taking me?”

He smiled as he began to list the names of a few high class restaurants in the area. However, he was sharply interrupted by the DCI.

“The pub, Andrews! Don't push your luck.”

* * *

“So, are you looking forward to the dinner this evening?” Andrews asked, once their meal had been served.

They had both opted for a bowl of soup and a sandwich, mainly because of the event that evening; neither wanted to spoil their appetite.

“Yes, I am and so is Agnes. It should be an excellent evening and Lowes deserves nothing less. He's a fine officer and he's a gentleman. I'm just thankful this isn't his retirement party. I understand he plans to stay on for another couple of years.”

“I suppose Superintendent Blake will take over, when the time comes,” Andrews said, before taking a bite from his rather large cheese and pickle sandwich.

“I hope not,” Alan replied. “Or, at least, I hope I've retired before he does.”

Andrews was silent for a long moment. “Come to think of it, I don't think I would like to be at the station either, if Blakey were to take over.”

“Blakey? Where did that come from?” Alan asked. But then he grinned when he recalled the old TV show, On the Buses. “Well, if it does work out that way, perhaps we could open our own detective agency.”

“That's not a bad idea, sir,” Andrews smiled. “I'm sure Mrs Lockwood would also be interested in joining the agency.”

“Indeed she would. In fact, it would be difficult to keep her away,” Alan replied. He paused. “Talking of Mrs Lockwood, I wonder how she's getting on? She went to the coast today to see how it looked these days.”

“I think she's in for a surprise.”

“A shock, more like,” said Alan, downing his pint.

* * *

Back at the station, Alan had just sat down at his desk when his mobile phone rang.

“Alan, you must come quickly,” Agnes said, before he had a chance to say a word.

“I don't believe it!” DCI Alan Johnson was already on his feet before Agnes had finished speaking. “That was Agnes on the phone. She's found a woman lying in a pool of blood. An ambulance is already on the way.”

“Where is she? Where did she find the woman?” Sergeant Andrews asked, grabbing his jacket.

“The Central Station,” Alan paused. “Get some uniformed officers over there. Once the press gets hold of this, they'll be swarming around looking for a story.”

The paramedics were already attending to the victim when the DCI and his sergeant arrived at the scene. Agnes was standing nearby, wringing her hands in despair. After a quick word with the paramedics, Alan left his sergeant with them while he made his way across to Agnes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, wrapping his arm around her.

“Yes – I think so,” she replied, slowly. “I…” Agnes broke off.

“I understand. It must have been a terrible shock for you to find her lying there.”

“Yes, it was. But that's not the only reason.” She glanced across towards the woman. “You see, I saw her earlier today – while I was at the coast.”

“Did you speak to her?”

Agnes shook her head. “No, I simply saw her. She was with a man, who I took to be her boyfriend. They were walking along the beach at the time.”

“How can you be sure it's the same woman?”

“Because of her red dress,” said Agnes. “It stood out against the golden sands. Actually, I've seen her three times in all today, if you include my finding her here.”

“Do you see the boyfriend now?” Alan waved his hand in the direction of the gathering crowd.

“No,” she replied, after glancing at the faces nearby. “I don't see him, though he could still be lurking around somewhere. They'd had a bit of an argument – well, perhaps it was a big argument,” she added, thoughtfully. “Because she stomped off and left him standing on the beach. When he did decide to move, he walked off in a different direction. Though, on reflection, the last time I saw him, I got the impression he could be following her.”

“So you saw them both after the episode on the beach?”

“Yes.”

“Where was that?”

“It was outside a café. I was inside having a coffee, when I saw the woman. She was alone. I thought she was going to come in, as there were a couple of empty tables. But she must have changed her mind as she hurried away. A few moments later, I saw the man. My guess was that he was following her.”

Agnes fell silent as she thought through her last sentence. Was it possible that this man killed her?

“Is there a chance that this man might have spotted you while you were watching them?” Alan asked.

“No, I was up on the Promenade looking down at them. I doubt he even knew I was there.”

It was at that point that Andrews joined them. “The paramedics are ready to take her to hospital.”

“Will she be alright?” Agnes asked.

“They don't know.” Andrews glanced towards ambulance crew as he spoke. By now they were lifting the stretcher into the ambulance. “It seems she's lost a lot of blood. But they won't know the full extent of her injuries until they get her to hospital. They did manage to get her name, address and her parents' address.” He looked down at his notebook. “Wendy Hamilton – she rents a flat in Byker. Her parents live in Wallsend. She isn't wearing a wedding ring, so we can assume she isn't married.”

“If only I had left the café earlier, I might have caught the train she was on and seen whoever did this to her,” Agnes said, wistfully. She glanced at the ambulance crew. “Do you think I should go with her to the hospital?”

“Agnes, I think you have done everything you can for Miss Hamilton,” Alan replied, quietly, but firmly.

“All I did was call for an ambulance. Surely, anyone who found her would have done that.”

“But no one else found her. No one heard her call out for help except you – or if they did, they didn't respond.” Alan paused. “Besides, I need you to make a statement about what you saw this afternoon. Perhaps you could even help one of our officers create a picture of the man you saw on the beach.”

Alan wanted to keep Agnes from going anywhere near the hospital. His main concern was that the man who had tried to kill Wendy Hamilton might go there to try again. He was planning to have a uniformed officer outside her room for that very reason. But there was more to it than that. He wasn't totally convinced that Wendy's boyfriend hadn't already spotted Agnes watching them earlier in the day.

If she had recognised the young woman simply because of her red dress, it was possible the man might have noticed the rather striking blue skirt Agnes was wearing. If he was responsible for trying to murder the young woman, he might also believe it necessary to kill Agnes. Now, he needed to get her away from here before the press arrived. The last thing he wanted was her picture to be spread all over the newspapers.

“Yes, I suppose you're right,” Agnes replied. “It's just that I feel I could have done more for her.”