CHAPTER TEN
NEWBURY DISTRICT
Don drove back to his office and made a few discreet enquiries. He picked up the phone and dialled the Newbury number he’d just been given. The phone was answered after a few rings.
“Hello,” a male voice came on the line.
“Is that Fred Weston, the former constable from Brompton?” Don inquired.
“Who wants to know?” came the guarded reply.
“It’s Don Barton, the constable from Brompton, the present constable from Brompton.”
“Are you indeed? Are you the one the villagers call the Olympic torch?”
“Pardon?”
“In the village, they say you never go out. Nobody’s hardly seen you, except flashing by in that fancy van. You don’t walk anywhere and don’t even get down the pub from what I hear.”
“I’m ex-Traffic.”
Roars of laughter: “Of course! I should have known.
