Scrap CH THREE part 6

Scrap CH THREE part 6
Jim Staples has spent the entire morning tending to his garden, mowing the grass, digging over the flower borders and setting out hundreds of bedding plants and is enjoying the final phase, that of watering them in. There is something uniquely satisfying about playing with a hose pipe, almost as good as having a bonfire, and he is wandering along dreamily enjoying his first day off in the past nine. Louise has taken the children to visit her mother, as she seems to do every day if the old witch isn’t at their place and he is looking forward to settling down on the patio with the Daily Mail and a nice cold beer.
His stomach churns as he hears the sound of the Trimphone burbling away from inside the hall and he leaves it for a good sixty seconds before fearing it could be something important. Reluctantly he turns off the water supply, drops the hose, eases his shoes off outside the kitchen door and answers the still ringing phone. ‘You took your time,’ grumbles DI Roberts, his boss, ‘we need you to come in so how soon can you get here?’ Jim knows there is no use arguing and says he will get cleaned up and be there as soon as he can. ‘Well get your skates on,’ continues the older man, ‘we’ve got a murder on our hands.’
This news changes everything and Jim is ready in no time and driving towards the station at speed. This is his first murder since moving from the Met and an investigation which will see him taking a leading role for once.
He passes Fat Frank on the Low Road, who is pootling along in the other direction with all the windows open and the stereo blaring. He frowns in reply to Frank’s cheery wave and continues on his way, momentarily wondering what the man is up to. He’s bound to be involved in some scam or other and Jim will be there to feel his collar when he slips up.
Several of Jim’s colleagues are gathered in the briefing room when he arrives, all waiting to hear about the murder case. There are not enough chairs so some are sitting on desks and others standing, most of them smoking and all talking at once. The gathering fall silent as DI Roberts enters the room, a folder under his arm, which he opens and spreads the contents on the table in front of him. ‘Pass them round will you?’ He says, handing a pile of photocopy images to the nearest officer, ‘the man was fished out of the docks at eleven o’clock this morning. Nobody seems to know who he is and we don’t yet know how long he’s been in there. I want interviews with everybody we can get hold of who was at the dockyard over the past 24 hours, anyone who may have seen anything, anyone who has a clue to his identity.’
There is a brief discussion amongst the gathering as the images are inspected, some saying they have seen him somewhere, some not. Jim looks at the bloated face, the thick cord which is wrapped tightly around the neck and thinks he has seen the victim before so he speaks up. ‘I’m sure I’ve seen this man somewhere,’ he begins, causing the others to stop talking, ‘it may have been at Harry Tobin’s yard. I had to go there last week to follow up a lead on that drug smuggling tip-off and I think he was there on one of the boats tied up at the quay.’
Roberts is happy to know they have something to go on and dispatches his DS to go and have a word with Tobin. ‘Show him the picture and see what his reaction is. You can take DC Long with you; he can take notes and see if a fresh pair of eyes can give us new insight. There’s something going on down at that yard so it won’t do any harm to have a sniff round.’
Prince is delighted at his sudden opportunity to have a sniff round, and he pays particularly unsettling attention to DC Long’s crotch as the two officers wait for Harry Tobin to finish some crucial operation he is performing on a tractor in the big barn. ‘Will you take control of your dog please sir?’ Long asks, in a slightly quavering tone as he presses his back against the wall in a vain attempt to get away from Prince. He is not keen on dogs, especially ones with spiteful looks in their eyes.
Harry hauls himself up out of the pit below the tractor, takes Prince by the collar and tethers him in his usual place by the door, from where the dog stands with his hackles raised menacingly. He licks his lips as if in warning of where he would like to sink his teeth, given the chance.
Staples shows Harry the picture and the man raises his eyebrows, inspects the image then hands it back. ‘Never seen him before in my life,’ he lies, ‘what happened to him?’ Long says he thinks it rather obvious that the man has been murdered and Harry counters, suggesting he may have hanged himself. The two officers had not even considered this possibility but plough on anyway. ‘His body was found in the water down at the docks at eleven o’clock this morning and we are reliably informed that he has been murdered. Are you certain you have not seen him before?’ Harry shrugs, selects a socket from the rack and fixes it to an extension bar; ‘I don’t know why you’re asking me,’ he says coolly, ‘even if I did know him what makes you think I would have anything to do with his demise?’
The officers say that if he thinks of anything that may be useful to their inquiries will he let them know and Harry says of course he will, then turns back to the job of stripping down the almost new Massey Ferguson tractor, which needs to be ready for shipping on Friday. Prince watches intensely as the men get back into Staples’ car and drive slowly from the yard. As soon as they are out of sight Harry gets on the blower.
Danny picks up the receiver on the first ring; ‘Casey’s scrap metal merchants,’ he says brightly, ‘I just had a visit from the Old Bill,’ says Harry Tobin, ‘they could be heading your way. They showed me a mug shot of Kenny Kelly; they fished him out the drink this morning.’ Danny takes his feet off the table and stands up, peers out the window and sees DS Staples’ car bumping along the track. ‘You didn’t tell them anything did you?’ Harry says of course he didn’t and Danny is glad of that, ‘keep it that way,’ he adds, replacing the receiver and adjusting his clothes to more or less cover his hairy chest which he had been scratching whilst enjoying a coffee break.
Rosa is pegging out a line of nappies when Danny lurches down the steps from the office. ‘Make yourself scarce,’ he orders, ‘it’s the coppers.’ Rosa knows better than to argue and disappears into the kitchen, shutting the door behind her as the Ford Zephyr pulls into the yard.
Danny strolls nonchalantly over and sticks his head into the car through the driver’s window. ‘And what can I do for you this fine day?’ He asks with a smile. ‘We’d like a word if that’s convenient,’ begins Staples, ‘in your office perhaps?’ Danny leads them up the steps and clears junk from the chairs so they can sit. DC Long hands him one of the photocopies; ‘do you recognise this man sir?’ He asks in his best grave tone, ‘he was found floating in the docks this morning and we need to know who he is and why he has been killed.’
‘Can’t say I recognise him,’ says Danny, rubbing his chin as if in contemplation, ‘what makes you think that I might know him?’ He immediately suspects Tobin but the officers are giving nothing away. ‘We’re just making general inquiries at this stage,’ assures DC Long, ‘and you’re sure you don’t know who he is?’ Danny shakes his head, hands the paper back and shrugs his shoulders in dismissal; ‘never seen him before in my life.’
DC Long’s eyes are all over the place, scrutinising his surroundings and making Danny feel uneasy despite his outwardly cool demeanour. ‘Is there anyone else at home I can show this to?’ He asks, having spotted the half full laundry basket on his way to the office. Danny says he is on his own so Staples suggests he hang on to the photocopy and show it round. ‘Let us know if you have any luck, won’t you?’ Danny says he will do that and the two officers wish him good day and head off, taking a good long look round before they drive away. ‘He knows who the man is,’ says DC Long to his colleague as he lights up a cigarette, blowing the smoke out the window and coughing as it blows back in his face. ‘He certainly knows more than he’s letting on to us,’ agrees Staples.
They spend the next hour travelling round showing the photocopy to anyone they think may be of assistance but draw only blanks every time. ‘Somebody must know who he is,’ says Staples as they head back for the station. DC Long agrees and hopes the canteen will still be open as his stomach is rumbling through lack of food.
Rosa finishes hanging out the laundry and asks what the police wanted. ‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ snaps Danny, ‘just a bit of business.’ Rosa is not convinced but she says nothing, anyway the baby is awake and crying for another feed so she returns to her ‘women’s business’ and lets her husband get on. Part of her is hoping that Danny is about to get his collar felt so she can be rid of him but she fears knowing exactly what he is involved in knowing that it is nothing good. ‘I have to go out,’ Danny says on his way up the stairs to pack, ‘I may be gone some time.’