Scrap CH THREE part 45

Scrap CH THREE part 45
Maurice Freeman has been summoned by his client Dave Cameron to attend him at the local nick where he has again been brought in for questioning. His friend DI Roberts has called him personally after DS Staples insisted that the matter of 12lbs of cannabis found in Cameron’s garage is too great an amount to be overlooked. For once his superior agrees and has no option but to further investigate.
Cameron has up until now made no comment when asked the expected questions and has been sitting in his freezing cold cell waiting for his brief to show up and get him out. He is livid that someone has informed on him and has been going over in his mind the names of a few men who may have done the deed. One in particular, Beanpole Brett, has been muscling in on his turf, selling cut-price merchandise and depriving him of his customers, but would he have the nerve to rat on him? So what about Ken Chapman, who he has heard is bringing in large quantities of various goods by road? He doubts the man would have the bottle, so that leaves Olav Merck, who surely would see Dave as small fry compared to his operation, or Danny Casey, who as far as anyone knows, is only interested in arms and explosives?
Freeman arrives at the front desk and is forced to wait for twenty minutes before Roberts sends down for him. DS Staples is in the room along with his boss, which is cause for alarm in the lawyer’s view. ‘Would you care to tell me exactly the nature of the alleged offence?’ Asks Freeman as he ignores the younger man and takes a seat opposite Roberts. ‘We haven’t charged your client Mr Freeman, we simply wish to question him about the cannabis found at his premises but so far he is refusing to give us any information.’ Freeman takes a long drag on his cigarette, ‘he is perfectly within his rights to say nothing,’ he reminds the police officer, quite unnecessarily. ‘Now if I can speak with Mr Cameron in private please?’
Dave Cameron rubs his arms to warm them as he is escorted into an interview room and breathes a sigh of relief to see Freeman waiting for him. The escort leaves the room and Cameron takes a seat opposite the lawyer. ‘I don’t know what they’ve told you but whatever they found in my garage has nothing to do with me,’ says Cameron, ‘if I was involved in drugs I wouldn’t stash them at my own gaff now would I? Someone must have planted them, if you’ll excuse the pun, but they are nothing to do with me and the Old Bill can’t prove otherwise.’
Freeman shakes his head at this outrageous pack of lies, but he is paid to defend not condemn and he must work out a way to get his man off somehow. ‘Of course you are quite right in asserting that the evidence is circumstantial but the fact is the drugs were found on your premises and I guess they are worth a considerable amount of money so if we are to insist that they were placed there without your knowledge or consent we are implying that someone has wasted a lot of money in order to frame you. Even I find this hard to believe and frankly I am not happy that you are asking me to put this forward as the reason for the goods being on your premises.’
There is a long pause during which the man in the black wool coat opens his briefcase and takes out some papers. Cameron fidgets in his seat, waiting for words of wisdom to come his way. ‘You will get me off though, won’t you?’ Freeman looks up from his papers, peering over his half spectacles. ‘Yes Mr Cameron, I will ‘’get you off’’ but I am getting a little weary of your shenanigans; I’m fast getting a reputation which I would prefer not to have.’ He sits for a few minutes, making notes and turning pages. ‘Right, we will stick to what you have told me and I will speak to DI Roberts; you should be out of here within the hour. But I warn you, this business of yours is getting out of hand and I am finding it increasingly difficult to comply with your instructions so I must urge you to be more vigilant in future, do you understand?’ Cameron says he understands and hopes that Freeman also understands the position he has found himself in. They exchange frosty looks and the lawyer leaves the room, intent on doing his duty towards the man for the last time. Cameron in equally intent on keeping Freeman on the payroll and has no intention of letting the fish simply swim away.
DS Staples is in no mood for gossip when he arrives home after a frustrating day at the office. Once again he has been forced to back down and this time with the added insult of having a brown envelope pressed into his hand by his boss as he left his office. The grim look on his senior officer’s face has made it clear that he must keep his mouth shut. He has stopped along the coast road on his way home to open the envelope and his stomach is in knots after finding it contains £500 in used £10 notes. He is furious that he has been conned into accepting a bribe and he knows he is now in the hands of DI Roberts, who he has discovered is as bent as any copper he worked under in the Met. So much for being one of the good guys, fighting crime and protecting the community; he is now what he has always despised: a bent cop, and the truth lies heavy in his heart.
Louise is full of the joys of spring as she opens the front door to admit her husband to the bosom of the family home. She kisses him on the lips, helps him off with his coat and brings his slippers from where they have been warming on the hall radiator. ‘I’ve cooked your favourite tonight,’ she gushes, ‘toad in the hole and apple pie for dessert. Daisy has just left, we had been nattering for so long we forgot the time. Sam will be wanting his dinner and she hasn’t even started on it yet.’
Her husband seems more than usually distracted but he manages to mumble a reply. ‘I suppose she will try her usual trick of frying an onion so the kitchen smells like she is cooking something,’ he remembers. ‘Works every time,’ laughs Louise as she disappears into the kitchen to serve up dinner. ‘I’ll just go up and kiss the kids goodnight,’ says the weary detective. He looks in at the sleeping infants, kisses them gently, adjusts the coverlet on his son’s curled up form and stands for a moment in contemplation. All the dreams he had for his babies, the example he vowed to set for them of a decent, honest, upright citizen have now been soured. He feels trapped, disgusted with his own foolishness. Is there nobody in this life who is not corrupt or corruptible?