The Last Linslade Bobby Chapter Six, Part Four & Ch7 Pt1.

Chapter Six continued....

I called round to see the lady the next day, and a lady
did indeed answer the door. But when I asked if she was Mrs. so and
so, I was told that Mrs. so and so had died fifteen years ago! I
wrote off the crime report saying the IP was delusional and had a
sandwich missing from the picnic. The retired solicitor had mislaid
the will in amongst the huge mountains of paperwork in his flat and
could not find it. I later heard the fortune was almost a million
pounds.

There
is a photo some where near here of me on my little Honda Noddy Bike,
note how I am swathed in bright yellow gear on a white machine with
big POLICE letters all over it. Currently (2012) the EU is trying to
force motorcyclists to wear hi-viz jackets. I have lost count of the
numbers of times I was almost tee-boned, pushed into the kerb, cut up
or just ignored when I was riding that motorcycle as a Police
Officer. If the general public driving a car cannot see a copper on a
motorcycle, just what use is there making hi-viz law? They will
certainly not see (and frequently do not see) motorcyclists today
even when they ride with a headlamp on. This is me on my soap box,
but I ask you to go to the SMIDSY website for an education on this
subject, (Sorry
Mate
I
Didn't
See
You).
The story this brings up is of the traffic lights at Vimy Road when
TESCO was first opened. Being a 'mobile unit' on a motorcycle I could
now be sent to assist other officers around the town and villages if
they called for help. By 'help' I mean that they are in trouble and
need instant back-up. With my little blue light flashing away I set
off from Station Approach to an assistance call in Leedon Farm Estate
(now called Meadow Way). As I approached Vimy Road the lights were
amber going to green. A car in Vimy Road jumped the lights and pulled
out across my path. Unseen behind me was a panda car driven by PC
Martin Pennell coming at some speed, who cut across the lights on the
wrong side, as that lane was clear of traffic. The panda had its blue
lights going and a siren, I only had a blue light. The car that
jumped those lights from Vimy Road stopped to let the panda by, but
completely ignored me. I was only doing about 30mph-ish but had to
swerve hard round the back of this car to miss it, but in doing so I
clipped the kerb on its nearside. This threw me off the bike, but by
now I was down to 10-15mph. So in front of lots of Tesco shoppers and
others I laid my little Honda down on the road and slid along on its
fairing on my side! The panda had seen this, but I waved him on to
assist the officer in need of help and I picked up my bike, put it on
the stand, made the car driver pull over to the side and I issued him
with a Fixed Penalty Notice for jumping the lights. I was fuming but
kept my head. I then went to my home address and 'repaired' the
fibre-glass fairing damage and painted it white. The scratch now was
almost invisible but my pride had a huge dent in it. The panda driver
told HQ on his radio that I had come across a traffic incident and
had had to deal with it. Only he and I knew of my fall, officially.

Why did that driver see a panda car but not me?
Obviously they were not aware enough of motorcycles. The FPN fine was
just £60 with two points on his licence.

Prior to my being mobile, I had attended a series of
thefts from cars in Knaves Hill. I guessed it was a local lad doing
the thefts as he entered the cars the same way by punching out the
driver's door lock with a small Phillips screwdriver and the cars
entered were all in and around one area of Knaves Hill. I had two
suspects but required evidence. This was a case where the SOCO was
invaluable. Pete Sowery had dusted each car for fingerprints, one of
the cars he treated had also been 'TWOC'd, taken without the owners
consent. That is it had been broken into, things stolen and driven
about then abandoned, but not far from the original place it had been
taken from. Pete found a set of good fingerprints behind the mirror,
just where you would leave your prints if you adjusted the interior
mirror. As TFMV (theft from motor vehicle) was of a very low priority
it was three months before I had a statement back from the finger
print bureau at HQ with the identity of their owner. It was one of my
suspects. It was never any use putting finger prints forward from a
crime scene without suggesting a culprit in those days otherwise it
would take literally years to do each one. My suspect lived in
Soulbury Road, or did when he carried out the thefts. He was now
living in Bedford so I rode over to Bedford Police Station after
arranging with him to collect his solicitor and be interviewed. I
'arrested' him in the custody suite and interviewed him on tape. He
denied it all. Then I played my trump card with the fingerprints, he
having already said he had never been in the car or near it, never
worked for Vauxhalls (it was an Astra), never worked in a garage and
so on. So how did his prints get behind the interior mirror then? He
then admitted it all and the other thefts. I charged him with this
theft and TWOC, with the others all as TICs ( taken into
consideration) which gave me quite a big number of detected crimes.
A good days work out on my Honda, out to Bedford and back.

I mention the prioritising of crimes above. I need to
explain that police group crimes in a certain order to investigate,
there not being enough of us to investigate all crime. Obviously
murders and rape come first, then serious offences against the person
(GBH), then serious against property such as burglary of a private
house, then burglary other (factories etc) and less serious offences
against the person (ABH, common assault,) then thefts of
cars/property, then thefts from cars, shoplifting, and so on down the
scale to local by-laws and (back then) parking and minor traffic
offences. (Police no longer deal with parking offences, the Council
does). Fingerprints found at a crime scene for murder would be seen
too that day, a TWOC would get fitted in as and when.

CID set up a trap for a couple of well known, juvenile
burglars who lived in Nelson Road. I was to be used as I had the
station motorcycle and these two often made off escaping on a
motorcycle up ally ways. The idea was for me to chase them. It all
centered around Chaimblains Barn sand quarry, they were going through
rear gardens to break in. I hid in the quarry on my little road bike,
it was no off road machine. Alas theirs was and they left me
stranded, skidding about in the loose sand. It seemed no one on CID
knew that little commuter Honda motorcycles with big fairings are no
use in sand pits. There were caught at the boundary of the pit by two
other officers hiding there. The motorcycle they were using was
stolen with the plates remove.

Chapter
Seven.

The
Eldery and Special Constables.

I did not get to use the motorcycle every day as the LBO
for the villages often needed it, so I was often back walking the
beat. Today when you see young coppers and even more PCSOs walking,
they walk far too fast. No one can keep up a walking pace as theirs
for an eight hour shift. You need to pace yourself and two miles per
hour is an ideal amble, not too fast. Each shift then ran for a seven
day period so if you wear yourself out on day one, you are in serious
trouble. It was whilst I was wandering about Bideford Green when an
elderly gent approached me. He was of a short stature with a very
heavy east-European accent. It turned out he had retired in the UK
after working here since WW2 and was now drawing a state pension from
his mother country. (Leighton has a high population of east Europeans
from WW2, Brooklands was a displaced persons camp in the late 1940s.)
They rightly demanded that each year he produce proof he was still
alive to draw his pension. He produced a form that required a
professional person's signature. A doctor wanted a fee as did a
solicitor, but I was happy to do it for nothing, but he would have to
bring the form into the police station so I could add the station
stamp to my signature. The next day he arrived at the agreed time,
the start of my shift and had another chap who also required proof he
was still breathing. I met these two each year at about the same time
for the next five or six years until I was moved to the Crime Desk in
Dunstable. I often wondered who signed their 'proof' for them after
that.

I have told the story of the large lady who died in the
cottage at the junction of Old Road and New Road by Pig Hill, luckily
the next two tales have a happier end. Walking a beat lets you know
about the local residents. In return they get to know you. Not far
from The Hunt Hotel in Church Road, on the opposite of the road are
two Victorian semi-detached houses with their front doors opening
onto the pavement. They are almost opposite Waterloo Road. On an
early shift I would see the milkman delivering the milk to the
doorsteps along the quiet streets. It was usually Ron Millers Dairy
who were based in Wing Road. Over a period of three days I noticed
that the milk at one of these two semis was not being taken in. The
milkman had noticed it as well about the same time as I had. We
knocked on the door of the house but got no reply. I then tried the
back door, no reply. I tried the adjacent house and they confirmed no
one had been seen or heard for a few days, but they did add that the
elderly lady resident was very quiet anyway. So I lifted the letter
box and sniffed. This is often a quick way to find out if someone has
died, you can smell the body! It does not always work as some people
live in very unhygienic conditions and their houses pong normally.
The house had large sash windows on the ground floor and I noticed
the front room window had its curtains pulled. This again is not
uncommon with elderly people who find climbing stairs becomes more
difficult as time passes so they sleep downstairs. Old wooden sash
windows have a central window lock that is a gift to any burglar. All
you need is a knife, push it up between the two halves of the window,
then force the blade across the latch which will more often than not,
undo. These latches are usually so worn they no longer 'lock'. I did
just this and had the bottom half of the window pushed up enough for
me to climb in from the pavement. The neighbour and milkman stood
back to watch as I put my leg through. I found the settee was under
the window so at least my entry would be reasonably easy. I ducked
under the upper half and into the room, standing on the sofa. Then a
loud noise came from the settee under my feet. I was standing on the
poor woman. She was ill but conscious but not really aware of who I
was or where she was. I got HQ on the radio to send me a doctor and
an ambulance. The doctor arrived within minutes, again he was from
the surgery in Leighton Road nearby. The lady was weak and had
hypothermia. An ambulance arrived a few minutes later and the doctor
asked who had ordered it. I said I had. He was not pleased with me as
he claimed it was his decision whether an ambulance was required. I
came back with the fact that I was certain she needed an ambulance,
as she did. I think the doctor was just annoyed I had preempted him,
but then I had seen a lot of similar cases. The lady was whisked off
to the L&D and I noticed a few months later the house was for
sale. She had been moved into a warm Care Home.

The Special Constable in Leighton and Linslade was a big
boost to the manpower levels. We were such a small station the
arrival of three Specials on a Friday or Saturday night would double
the numbers in the van-crew. I was often delegated to 'drive the van'
if I was on a late shift and many, many times only Special's were my
team. One was SC Ben Rolt who served in the town for many years. Once
up to speed a Special had the same powers as a regular officer but
alas they did attract the 'uniform carrier', more of them soon. The
majority of Specials used the duties to see if they would want to
join up eventually.

Another day I was out with a Special Constable. I was
often issued with a brand-new shiny 'Special', their boss Ben Rolt
used me as a trainer as I was a Tutor Constable (one trained to train
up new officers). Most probationers were put with a patrol officer
for their ten-week tutorship. Specials were often sent out with me to
get the basic grounding of how to deal with what, and where and by
whom. This day I had SC Beverly Major, a mature woman with me who had
sadly lost her husband, how ever she was keen and had a very level
head on her wise shoulders. It struck me that her make-up was a bit
bright for her age but as time passed and we all got to know her, she
became very popular and a natural organiser in any incident. She did
not join the police as a regular but did become a civilian
front-office worker at Dunstable. Many people who joined the
'specials' did so to look at the job of being a police officer with
the idea of eventually joining, sort of testing the waters first.
Although a Special Constable does not get paid, they are all
volunteers, they have exactly the same powers of arrest as a
full-time constable as they too hold the Queens Warrant. On this her
first day out on the beat, we were sent by the radio to a house in
Knaves Hill. An elderly lady was in distress and had fallen and could
not get to a phone. Her neighbour had dialed 999 and an ambulance was
on its way, but could we get to the house as it was all locked up.
This simply meant I was to break in, the lady had locked up her house
to retire to bed, but could not now get to unbolt and unlock the
doors. When we arrived the neighbour was waiting for us and she told
us she could not see the lady and assumed she was on the floor
somewhere. We found a ground floor kitchen window was the easiest to
open, as only a small pane of glass need to be broken. I broke the
skylight glass with a brick, opened the window and slid through onto
the kitchen work surface, only to find it packed with dirty cups,
plates, cooking utensils and the like. I had slid in too quickly as I
shot all these cups and thing onto the floor and most of them broke.
Knowing the lady would have heard all of this I called out to her,
telling her who we were. I crunched my way across the kitchen floor
in the dark as all the curtains were drawn, the reason I had not seen
the crockery. I unlatched the back door as I passed it and went into
the front room. There, sitting on the sofa, was the elderly lady
obviously pleased to see someone. I opened a curtain and then sat
down beside her. Now, she had collapsed onto that settee in a sitting
pose thirty six hours earlier and had been unable to get up again.
She had urinated and defecated into it quite a few times and that
urine was now soaking into my uniform trousers! I kept a straight
face and told her an ambulance was on its way. My 'Special had got
her a drink meanwhile, cleaned up the kitchen, washed up the dishes
and was still giggling at my situation, trying very hard not to burst
out laughing. Once the lady had been taken away I arranged a glazier
to fit a new pane of glass and the neighbour would wait for them. I
managed to get a panda car to take me home to change my now wet and
stinking trousers, but not before I was made to find a plastic bag to
sit on so as to not leave a mess in the panda car. Beverley came home
with me and she and my wife were unable to control their mirth at my
trousers.

Continued.....