The Note Book (Part3)

Pete Docherty switched on the gas ring and left it running on full in an
attempt to get some heat into the caravan. He'd woken up feeling like
death and had peered through bleary eyes at condensation running down
the windows of Smithy's Pegasus GT70. He was still fully dressed from
the previous night and ached from head to toe from his nocturnal
exertions and his beating some days earlier. This hideaway would be
his home for the next few days, until he was sure it was safe to be
seen out and about again. He found the kettle, pumped some water into
it from the tap above the small sink and placed it on the burning
ring.

In a small cupboard above the gas ring he found tea bags and a mug;
enough for a brew. There was absolutely nothing in the small fridge
but a bad smell, so he slumped back onto the bed and sipped the black
tea whilst slowly gathering his thoughts. Docherty was a pragmatic
man and knew that he'd been extremely lucky the previous night. If
Smithy hadn't collected him and driven him safely away from the
scene, he might well be in an interview room trying to explain away
his presence in Ossett at one thirty in the morning. It had been a
close call and worse still, a fruitless mission.

He'd been sure that Makepiece's warehouse would have had something of
value worth nicking, especially as Makepiece went to such lengths to
keep its presence a secret. When he'd found the address in the safe
at the Tempo nightclub he'd been sure it would pay dividends. Instead
he'd been on the receiving end of a thumping and nearly been caught
stealing nothing whatsoever in Ossett. He needed to regroup, stay low
and plan his next attempt at creating lasting damage to the kingdom
of Makepiece. His phone began to vibrate in his pocket.

'Peter, where the hell are you?'

'It's all right Meg, I'm perfectly safe. I'm just keeping my head down for
a few days until the dust settles. Are you OK?'

'No I'm bloody well not Peter. That copper was outside the house this
morning looking for you and I want to know what's going on.'

'What copper?'

'That Oldroyd that put you away last time. He wouldn't have been there if
he didn't suspect you of something, so what's going on?'

'Did you report the car stolen as I asked Meg?'

'Yes I did, now tell me what's going on'

'I was doing a job and the coppers must have spotted my van nearby so I
legged it and got Smithy to pick me up. We got clean away, so all
they've got is a sighting of the van and you reported it stolen.'

'So why are you hiding somewhere if there's nothing to hide from?'

'Just being careful Meg, didn't want the coppers coming round asking
questions so I thought I'd lay low for a while. Did you tell Oldroyd
what I told you to tell him; out fishing with Smithy?'

'Didn't tell him anything; just told him to bugger off that's all.'

'That's my girl, well done.'

'Don't you well done me Peter Docherty, the police just rang to say your van
is on the Ossett Trading Estate so you can get yourself over there
and collect it and then get back here. We have things to discuss.'

The phone instantly clicked off: his ear had just been boxed.

Docherty finished his tea and wiped cold condensation from the window with the
edge of his hand. Through the grey October morning he could see
Smithy's featureless and well trodden back garden and the rear of his
house, but no signs of life. His watch told him it was ten thirty and
he knew smithy would be at work so there was no chance of a return
trip to Ossett. It would have to be the bus.

Annie Waters had just finished her Google search and was now fully up to
speed on the Gladstone bag and Harry Houdini. She tucked the
information away into one of the cupboards of her formidable mind and
smiled across at her sergeant. He was staring intently at his
computer screen, sifting carefully through the information that their
system kept on Peter Brendon Docherty. The section on known
associates threw out just one name and Oldroyd read it out loud to
himself.' Robert Malcolm Smith, ne'er-do-well of this parish.'

Annie beamed. 'What's a ne'er-do-well sarge?'

'Not what Annie; who. Robert Malcolm Smith, that's who. If I'm right and
Docherty was at it last night when Angie found his van, he'd have
needed a mate with a get away car. Smithy may well be our man.'

'That's an awful lot of ifs sarge.'

'I know it is, but if brains were dynamite, Smithy wouldn't have enough
to blow his hat off. Just the sort of mate to risk playing get away
driver in the early hours.'

Oldroyd sat back in his chair looking pleased with himself.

'I don't want to rain on your parade sarge, but if Docherty was at it,
what exactly was he at? If he was rummaging around in someone's safe
last night why haven't we had any reports?'

'That thought had crossed my mind too Annie. There isn't a lock that
Docherty can't pick so you tell me what the possibilities are?

Annie held Oldroyd's gaze for several seconds and then turned to fully face
him on her swivel chair.

'Number one; he wasn't there at all and your theory is wrong. Number two; he
was there, but was frightened away by Angie before he had chance to
do anything. Number three; he broke in somewhere and there was
nothing worth nicking so he left nothing disturbed. Number four; he
broke in and nicked something that the owners don't want to report.
Number five; he broke in and the owners don't know about it because
they haven't opened up for business yet.' Annie paused for a few
seconds before her final flourish...'and my best guess is number one;
he wasn't there at all.'

Oldroyd smiled at his apprentice and gave her his wise owl look.

'Have you read Angie's report?'

'Had a quick skim through when I came in this morning.'

'Anything seem odd to you?'

Angie didn't immediately respond because she now knew two things for sure;
firstly, she hadn't taken enough notice of the report and secondly,
she knew Oldroyd had read every word several times. Oldroyd sensed
the hesitation and continued his lesson.

'It was locked and it was very carefully parked out of sight between two
HGV trailers. Not exactly the work of some opportunist scally looking
to dump his stolen vehicle. The driver of that van meant it to be as
out of the way as possible and meant to return to it. It wasn't
abandoned, it was waiting for the person in possession of the keys to
return, probably carrying loot. Angie sensed that straight away and I
think she was right. Have you seen the report on the van being stolen
yet?'

'Not yet sarge, it wasn't on the system before we went out.'

'Right, well that's your next job and I want answers to the following
questions: what time was the van reported stolen; who reported it;
what time did Angie find it; does Smithy own a car and if so does it
show up on CCTV anywhere between his address and Ossett after one
fifteen this morning?'

With that Oldroyd jumped up from his well worn chair and headed for the
mystery drinks dispenser. Annie picked up instantly on her sergeant's
new found purpose and channelled it onto the keyboard of her Dell
desk top with added gusto.