Chapter 7
995 Words
7
‘Told you this was pointless,’ Frank Vine announced to no-one in particular as he huffed and puffed and sat back in his chair. ‘Bloody Land Registry’s website is down for maintenance and there’s no-one on the phones until eight o’clock.’
Frank had been threatening retirement for a few years now, but had never actually gone through with it. He’d recently started making more noises about it to Culverhouse but the DCI knew that Frank was a creature of habit, and that retiring and moving away was probably just a pipe dream for him. Besides which, the amount of work he actually contributed was more or less akin to him not being there anyway.
‘Nothing on the PNC?’ DS Steve Wing asked. If the address had been linked with any investigations or reports of crimes in the past, the Police National Computer would have records linked to it, which would undoubtedly give some background information on the homeowner’s name and particulars.
‘Nope. We’re gonna have to sit and wait it out. Which makes me wonder why we couldn’t have done that at home,’ Frank replied, directing his comment to Steve and giving a knowing look in the direction of DC Ryan Mackenzie, a relative newcomer to the team who had already gained a reputation for doing things completely by the book. She had joined the team fairly recently, and had made a strong impression from the start — particularly as Culverhouse had only seen her name and expected a new male officer.
‘Don’t look at me,’ Ryan replied. ‘I don’t think any of us are particularly jumping for joy. Especially not me. I’m due to go off call at nine, and I’ve got a date night planned with Mandy.’
‘Here’s a question,’ Steve started. From the other side of the office, Wendy had a feeling she knew what was coming next. ‘What do you lot actually do? I mean, y’know. When you’re getting down to it. I mean, there’s nothing to put in, is there?’
‘“Put in”? My, Steve, you put it so delicately. It’s a wonder you’re still single,’ Ryan jabbed.
‘No, what I actually mean is... Well, the gays, I can sort of see what they do. I get that. But your lot, that doesn’t make sense. I mean, do you just sort of...’ Steve trailed off, making clumsy conjoined scissoring actions with his fingers.
‘Yeah. Something like that,’ Ryan replied, sharing a pitying glance with Wendy.
‘Still no word from the scene?’ Steve asked Frank, aware that he should probably change the topic of conversation.
‘I know as much as you do. Probably still playing with their hoses,’ Frank replied, giving Steve a good minute or so of chuckling at the weak innuendo.
While Steve was chuckling to himself, Debbie Weston left Culverhouse’s office and returned to her desk.
‘Here, what was that all about?’ Steve asked. ‘Not asking for a pay rise, I hope.’
‘No, just a partition wall around my desk so I don’t have to listen to your crap or watch you flick bits of sausage roll off your jumper all day,’ Debbie replied, being met with a chorus of Ooooh!’s from Steve and Frank.
‘Bloody hell. Been saving that one up, have you? Never had you down as joining in with office banter.’
‘When did bullying become “banter”, exactly, Steve?’ Ryan chipped in. ‘I’ve always wondered that.’
‘Bullying? I only said was she asking for a bleedin’ pay rise. That’s bullying now, is it?’
‘I’m talking about all the other times you decide to make snide comments. I know you’re trying to be funny and impress your little mate over there, but maybe you should learn some actual jokes rather than resorting to picking on people.’
‘I’ll have you know I’m a Detective Sergeant and you’re a Detective Constable,’ Steve said.
‘And I’m about to send an email reporting you for workplace bullying,’ Ryan replied. ‘So if I were you I’d get back to your sergeant’s duties. Whatever they are.’
Wendy, Frank and Debbie tried to stifle their laughter as Steve slunk off back to his desk.
Wendy answered the ringing phone on her desk. It was the station duty office, otherwise known to punters as the front desk.
‘We’ve got Mrs Wilson here,’ the caller told her. ‘Something about a vice den being set up in the house across the road. Drugs, prostitutes, the lot apparently. She reckons she’s seen foreign dignitaries and members of the royal family popping in and out, smacked off their t**s on heroin.’
Mrs Wilson had something of a reputation at Mildenheath Police Station. She was a rather sweet old lady who lived on the outskirts of town, but she was undoubtedly mad. She’d be in at least once a week, with some outlandish theory of hers which absolutely required a full CID response, as far as she was concerned. She’d been living on her own for years, and clearly relished the drama.
It was usually the case that a CID officer would go downstairs, take a very brief statement, reassure here they’d look into it, then come back upstairs and chuck it in the bin. It was a common misconception that all reported crimes had to be investigated.
‘Steve? Time to earn your dignity back,’ Wendy called out. ‘Mrs Wilson’s in reception for you.’
Wendy watched as Steve’s body language told her everything. He closed his eyes, dropped his shoulders and sullenly left the major incident room, heading towards the station duty office.
Seconds later, Culverhouse’s office door flew open and he came marching out into the middle of the room.
‘Right. Listen up, you lot. I’ve just had Trumpton on the phone. The chopper found nothing, believe it or not. The only heat sources were from the fire itself and the crew attending the scene. Nothing in the surrounding woods at all, apart from the odd badger. They’ve managed to keep the fire down enough to get round the back of the house now, and they’ve found something a bit juicy. A dead body, to be precise. Good job you came in, isn’t it?’
‘What, in the house?’ Wendy asked.
‘Nope. On the back patio. Fallen from height, apparently. Probably to escape the fire. Inches away from the safety of the swimming pool, poor bastard. But here’s the juicy bit. The body was the homeowner and the only person who lived there — one Mr Frederick Galloway. Ring any bells?’
‘Freddie Galloway?’ Frank asked. ‘The Freddie Galloway?’
‘Got it in one, Frank. And it looks like his change of career from armed robbery to bungee jumping didn’t go down too well.’
- Writer
