Who Killed Robin Koch?

All the birds of the air
fell a sobbin' and a sighin'
when they heard of the death
of poor Cock Robin.

The media went into overdrive the very second the police made the announcement. I was already on the scene having zipped across London from Canary Wharf in in response to a tip-off from one of my stringers in Kew. It was a big, big story. Robin Koch had been murdered in Kew Gardens after the official opening of the "Green World Project", A project into which he had put enormous energy...and vast public funds. A suspect had been arrested and a further bulletin would be issued soon.

Greatly loved by some and hated by just as many, his death was sensational news. He'd been the leader for ten years or so and though he had promised to stand down on numerous occasions no one really thought he would. Now he was gone! Who had done the deed? Who would take his place?

Rumours that the man responsible for the murder was already in police custody "Couldn't be confirmed at this stage." The Chief Constable had told the assembled press corps rather pompously…which was odd because eye-witnesses reported having seen a man being led away from the scene in handcuffs shouting "I did it! I did it for the party!" One witness claims to have seen a policeman holding a lethal looking crossbow. The man detained turned out to be a political activist from East London named Sid Banques, an ex union leader, he was always in the news for something or other; the tabloids loved him and had christened him "The Cockney Sparrow". I wondered how they would take the news that their favourite was locked up, accused of murder. I could imagine the morning's headlines…all based on the old nursery thyme "Who killed Cock Robin". I cringed at the thought of all those ghastly tabloid puns that were inevitable.

"It looks like an open and shut case," I was told later by a D.I. at Scotland Yard I've known for years (No names, I protect my sources) "The fly-on-the-wall camera picked up the whole thing. Unless the post mortem shows anything else I can't see how we can avoid charging him. He looks as guilty as hell." Something about the way he said it made me suspicious, if they had him on camera why the reticence? I questioned him about the crossbow and arrow. "Oh yes." He'd said, "We have them and we did take an arrow out of his chest." So I wondered again why the reluctance to charge him?"

I pressed the point again and this time he was a little more forthcoming. "Well." He said slowly "You can't quote me on this but when we examined the scene more closely we found some blood in one of those little marble dish shaped sculptures that surround the ornamental fish pond. The arrow came from the other direction and he fell onto the edge of the pond but the blood couldn't have come from the arrow wound…so how did it get there? The Path boys are organising a DNA report to make absolutely sure that the blood is his." I leaned back in my chair "Not another conspiracy theory." I said "Surely not another one!" He shrugged. "How else do you explain it?" I couldn't answer that so I just nodded and asked to be tipped off as soon he knew anything.

By the time I got back to Canary Wharf to write up my notes and talk to the Editor about the story, the "He-was-a-great-Man" brigade was already at full steam ahead. His heir apparent was in great voice, by the end of the day he had been on every TV and Radio station that he could get to, his voice breaking dramatically at the right moment and…did I see a tear from those so, so sad eyes under those beetling brows? His performance improved with each broadcast. Watching him I was reminded of the Town Beadle of old, singing the praises of the great and the good to the open-mouthed peasants who were supposed to believe everything they were told. But times have changed. Now no one believes anything they're told by "Authority". But to be fair he weaved a good verbal shroud, I almost believed him myself.

But not all took the same view. Koch had made a lot of enemies in the ten years he had been on top. Now they were about to make themselves heard. The first to pick holes in his reputation was the woman who had once been one of his staunchest supporters, Glenys Johnson. On the Jeremy Paxman show that night, with her heavy glasses perched on the end of her nose and looking like the wisest of owls, she declared that she would say nothing detrimental about her departed leader, then proceeded with consummate skill to dig his political grave, ending with the ringing condemnation that "He had lost touch with the principles that the party had made such sacrifices for."

The procession of dignitaries offering their comment, support and involvement continued. The Archbishop, Monsignor Rook, declared he had always been an admirer and announced that he would personally conduct the requiem mass. The leader had been a late convert to his faith and he was determined to demonstrate to all who would listen that leaders should set an example to those they lead. This would be a golden opportunity, there was no way he was going to miss it.

The Mayor of his home town in a whining, insincere voice informed anyone that was listening that he had instructed the Town Clerk to make the arrangements for a day of mourning. Also at the crack of dawn the day after the attack he intended to open a magnificent "Book of Condolences." He and the Leader Elect were to be the first to sign it, closely watched by every TV channel of course…To record the event for posterity!

To avoid any chance of dispute or unseemly activity it was decided the Speaker John Linnet would be in charge of the ceremonies, it would they thought also provide the link between all the various groups who felt they wanted to be involved. Ironically the chief mourner chose to wear grey and a brooch of gold and diamonds in the shape of a dove. The beautiful jewel had been given to her by a visiting Head of State and she loved it to bits. Her explanation was that he too had loved the design and it's peaceful connotations were entirely appropriate to the aims and objectives of his life's work.

During his lifetime Koch had set about breaking virtually every tradition in the book. In his will he continued the trait. His coffin, he directed, should be carried by those he had lead for so long. There was an immediate rush to volunteer for this duty led by his expected successor Gordon Kite. No one wanted to miss the chance to be seen on every television set in the land paying homage to their leader. Several of the women he had promoted insisted on being allowed to join the procession in front and behind the coffin. It only remained for the actors and other luvvies with whom he had spent so much of his time to volunteer their talents. They too couldn't resist the chance to shine on the same day. They would provide a choir that would sing psalms and other songs at the funeral to show their appreciation of the honours he had showered upon them. And the Great Bell? That would be rung by another of their number, an actor dressed as John Bull. That to me seemed appropriate…he had been involved with bull all his life so why not now?

I watched all this with growing disbelief and distaste, OK, politicians will always seek to further their careers at the expense of others but this was getting too much. I rang my contact at the Yard again. "Ian" I began,
"I can't talk at the moment, meet me in El Vino's at six this evening." The phone went dead. I met him at six…on the dot. He was sitting in the corner on the only bar stool in there. "What's going on," I asked. "All I can hear at the moment is who is to do what and when. They're all falling over themselves get a piece of the action.."
"Yes well it's not that simple." He looked troubled "What's more I don't think "The Cockney Sparrow is guilty of murder. Oh! He shot him with the crossbow alright, but that's not what killed him." Now he certainly had my attention, this looked like being something very unusual. "More," I said "Tell me more."
"I'll tell you everything," he said morosely, "But it won't do you any good. They're gonna hush this one up for sure. So, if you want to me to give you all the latest you'd better switch off that tape recorder in your pocket, cos I'm gonna deny everything after I've told you."

I reluctantly put my hand into my side pocket and switched off the tape. I wanted know what he had learned from his path lab. "Well," he continued satisfied that we were now off the record. "The report came back earlier today, it has since disappeared. The gist of it was that the arrow didn't finish him off. That entered his body from the right and stopped just before the heart. But…entering from the left of his chest, just under the arm, was a small puncture, so small we nearly missed it, for a while we couldn't decide what could have caused it. Then we finished our search of Kew and in the fish pond near the dish with blood in it we found a short dagger, the Scotsman who found it called it a dirk. It had been filed into a thin sharp blade and that's what finished him off. "
"Yeah?." I said. And added weakly "Not in the back then, where you'd expect a politician to be stabbed." I didn't know what else to say. This was a bombshell. I could see the front page in my mind's eye now. "Who Killed Cock Robin?" It wasn't the Sparrow. "Great stuff!" I heard myself say. "When does all this hit the fan?"
"It doesn't." He said flatly. "And it won't. Not now not ever. The files have been destroyed and the dirk has vanished. As far as anyone is concerned The Cockney Sparrow killed him. He's been declared criminally insane and at the moment is probably enjoying his tea in Broadmoor."

I leaned back and looked down at him. "You're joking, of course, you'd never be a party to anything like this."
"I'm not." He said and looked me straight in the eye. "I was never involved. It was never my case. I strongly advise you to take the same view. In any case your Editor wouldn't be able to publish the story cos there's no proof." I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach…the biggest story of my life had just gone up the Swanee and I knew there was nothing I could do about it. But I knew he was right. "You in a hurry?" I asked him. "Nah." He said in it in such a way that I knew we were set 'til closing time.

END