Scrap CH THREE part 18

Scrap CH THREE part 18
There is a note taped to the telephone on DS Staples’ desk informing him that his superior officer wants to see him the minute he gets in. This causes the detective two irritations: 1. DI Roberts must have some serious words to impart having left a hand written note and 2. The Sellotape will take ages to shift from the receiver of his phone. Also he has used Staples’ own biro and left the top off it.
DI Roberts arrives at his office at ten o’clock sharp to find Staples waiting for him, nervously clutching a beige folder. ‘Come in and shut the door,’ he says in a friendly manner which the younger man finds disconcerting, ‘take a seat.’ He removes his coat and hangs it on the peg behind the door then takes a seat opposite at the wide desk which is strewn with case folders, pens and various pieces of office equipment. He clears a space in front of him and takes the folder from the DS. ‘What’s all this then?’ He opens the flap and scans the first few pages, all of which relate to the current investigation of Harry Tobin and his supposed dealings with Olav Merck and Danny Casey. ‘I thought I told you to keep me informed on this,’ he scolds, ‘yet you went ahead with a full scale raid without my express permission. Care to explain yourself?’
Staples is blushing slightly, especially as the raid was a complete waste of time and has probably put the man more than ever on his guard. ‘You weren’t available sir,’ he begins with his lame excuse, ‘and I did ask DI Harris and he gave permission to go ahead. We have to act on information received, as you have always said and our tip-off seemed a dead cert.’ this information is met with a cold stare from his superior. ‘In future you will okay any action with me, is that clearly understood?’ Staples assures him that it is quite clear and he is sent off with a flea in his ear and told to get on with the Kenny Kelly leads which have been awaiting his attention. ‘Somebody knows what happened to him and why and I want you to get to the bottom of it before the case goes cold.’
There is nothing more to be said and Staples skulks back to his own small office to do as he is told. More than once he has found himself complaining that being a copper is like being back at school but he has travelled too far down this career path to turn back now. He buzzes through for DC Long to come to his office and the man appears with biscuit crumbs down the front of his shirt, a stain on his tie and his trousers shiny at the knees. ‘You look like you slept in that rig-out,’ he observes as Long parks himself at the other side of the desk, ‘Roberts tells me we have some leads on the Kelly case, how come nobody mentioned this to me?’ Long says it must have slipped his mind and Staples has to stop himself from copying Roberts in his response to the man’s lax attitude. ‘Well, what is this information; do I get to see it?’ DC Long brushes the crumbs from his front and straightens his tie; ‘I’ll get the file,’ he says and disappears for a few moments while he fetches it. Staples can understand how annoying it must be when your men fail to keep you informed.
‘We had a phone call from an anonymous woman who said that Kelly had been caught with his hand in the till, whatever that means, and another from a man with an Irish accent who said he knows who ‘done him in’ but that we will do well to put it down to suicide if we know what’s good for us.’ DS Staples stares in disbelief at this non-information; ‘I can see why you may have thought it not worth mentioning but I do need to know about anything which comes in even if it doesn’t seem important, okay?’ D C Long agrees and asks if there is anything else he can do. ‘You can get me a cup of decent coffee if there’s one going,’ Staples replies, ‘otherwise you can get back to whatever you were doing. We must get a breakthrough on this case soon or it will end up in the dusty archives and get forgotten.’
Richard Tracey has been given one more day to investigate the Kelly case and has arranged to meet his old colleague for lunch at the Anchor near the dockyard. DS Staples is waiting for him at a table as he strolls in clutching his briefcase. They order their food and sit with their pints of bitter, discussing the lack of progress. ‘All fingers seem to point in the direction of Danny Casey,’ Tracey begins, ‘the man had been known to stay at the scrap yard even though the woman I spoke to there said she had never heard of him. He seems to be involved with this resurgence of the IRA which is threatening to bring the Troubles over to the mainland. Things are escalating in that department and people in high places are getting worried. The Coroner has confirmed that the man was dead before he went into the water and that he was probably killed before the rope was tightened round his neck to make it look like suicide.’
Staples says they have had no luck at all with their inquiries and the two agree that this one is probably going nowhere. The middle aged waitress brings their meals and sets them on the table. She removes the cigarette from her mouth to inform them that the guvnor said this is on him. Staples grimaces as he checks that no ash has fallen onto his plate and Tracey laughs; ‘still worrying about a speck of dirt?’ He chides, digging in to his steak and kidney pie and veg without hesitation. ‘You’re far too fussy for a copper, do you still gag at the sight of blood?’
A big black car pulls up outside and two men get out. As they enter the pub one of them waves to DS Staples and he nods in return. Tracey questions with a raised eyebrow and his companion tells him that the men are none other than Harry Tobin and Danny Casey. The suspects act as if they have not a care in the world as they order two pints of bitter and take their seats near enough to hear what they are saying. Both detectives put their ears on high alert but the conversation reveals nothing of interest and they assume this is for their benefit.
‘When we joined the force we thought we would be on the side of the good guys fighting the baddies and solving crime, didn’t we?’ Tracey remembers, ‘only we found out that most crimes are solved by someone telling us who did it and all we have to do is get the collar and write up the proof. What mugs we were: there are as many crooks on our side as there are on the other. It’s difficult not to get sucked in by it, especially when you see it going on and those who are on the take are driving around in flash cars wearing expensive clobber and going on foreign holidays, living in posh houses and even sending their kids to private schools.’ His colleague seems shocked by this rant. ‘Don’t include me in any of that,’ he warns, ‘I’m clean as the driven snow, me.’
Danny and Harry have taken an obvious interest in the detectives’ conversation and bid them a cheerful good day as they take their empty glasses to the bar and leave. DS Staples is still trying to convince his mate that he would never accept a bribe and hopes he would not either when the waitress comes to collect the empty plates. ‘Tight fisted gits,’ she grumbles as she walks away with the empties, ‘they get a free meal and don’t even leave a tip.’