The Cop Killer (12 page)

“Hi Wack, you there, the lady in the stupid hat”.

All at the charity table looked up to see a man one in a group obviously of the minion type of race goers. The man was wearing a Santa outfit and the worse for drink.

Another man was wearing a costume of a horse, which as he walked appeared to give the impression he was riding it.

Miles whispered to Rupert, “There is always one”

The group of men strode over and began to handle all the charity goods some men throwing items up and down as if they were juggling except that all the items were hitting the ground.

“I say lady, give me that hat?”

With that, Santa took the hat, pulled off his hood and put on the hat to loud laughter.

“I say” called Everett “that hat cost me five hundred pounds, give it back immediately”.

Santa looked up, took off the hat then rammed it onto the head of poor Mrs Fiona Everett forcing it over her eyes.

He swung, around, grabbed Rupert by the front of his coat and head butted him, causing the victim to instantly sink to his knees, blood spurting from his nose.

Most of the group of yobs walked off, taking and throwing items as they left, but the Santa man and two others remained then, seeing all the many people now standing around, including many Chinese tourists who were filming the whole affair as Chinese tourists do.

“Good heavens” cried Mavis, “Miles do something”.

 He looked up and saw two police uniforms approaching. 

At first he was relieved, was it Sergeant Striker?”.

But then, he sighed, it was Dopey Doris, “oh” he thought, “I shouldn’t say that”. 

In any event, it was too late Inspector Scot-Ling and the newly arrived probationer the name of whom he no longer recalled both arrived.

“Hell” thought Ridwell, “I distinctly recall Chief Superintendent Denton-Smyth assured me he was going to get her to patrol with an experienced man.

 What could she do with a probationer?”

“What the hell was he going to do?”

Especially if those standing around recognised him.

“Oh blast all those Chinese potential filmmakers, it would all be on you tube by the evening, Christ he thought “why me”?

“I say, you three, calm down,” said Inspector Doris

“Calm down my arse hole, you an Inspector you are a fucking Dink,”

“Come here you bitch”, Mr Santa was on a roll.

He grabbed forward but as he did so, she grabbed his arm, simultaneously hitting his elbow so that it bent with a crack.

 She struck him under the chin with her knee, he was unconscious immediately.

His two associates looked on, the one, a man with bright ginger hair displaying a badge, pulled a knife.

There was a gasp from the Tarporley members, many were thinking, “This was not my idea, it is down to Mavis and Fiona”.

  The host of onlookers stood in silence whilst the Chinese tourists continued to film.

Ginger top walked towards the officers drawn knife in hand, the probationer, not knowing why he had joined in spite of his mother’s advice.

Ginger suddenly lunged forward but then looked up and then down as the lady Inspector kicked the weapon from his hand.

 The knife shot up into the air, then descended, landing sticking into the tabletop, its handle still quivering, the table now containing hardly any goods. 

Ginger was not able to stare in amazement long for a foot struck him in the stomach causing him to crumble to his knees.

The third man thought he would have better luck and so charged with brute force towards the Inspector who was still standing, calm and smiling, as he came forward she spoke,

 “Never meet force head on rather side step, using the force against itself”.

With that as the thug came with arms reaching out to grab her she put out her leg tripped him up, simultaneously she bent down so that he landed on her back she flipped him over and as she rose, she struck him a rabbit punch across the throat.

All three men now lay prostrate on the ground.

She stood over all three men lying on the floor, no trouble to anyone.

She her herself was a little unkempt for her tunic had ripped open; she removed it causing her to exhibit her uniform shirt, with its rolled up sleeves.

The whole incident took only seconds, when done, all at the charity table looked on in amazement.

Their amazement continued as they looked up and across the wide street to hear a loud cheer from the crowd whilst simultaneously they saw about 150 Chinese tourists no longer filming but all bowing in unison.

Dopey Doris looked, seeing the reaction of the Chinese guests she acknowledged them by returning their bow.

Those non-Chinese people looked on in amazement; the remaining race goers drunk and sober looked, but then quickly went on their way, the first race was due.

Ridwell had heard rumours that this new lady Inspector had tattoos; he had also heard they were very rude items on both her breasts and buttocks. 

He now had his doubts at the accuracy of the rumours, for the ones he could see on the inside of her arms were that of a dragon and must mean something, though he knew not what.

He could hear murmurs from the now dispersing crowd some asking the Chinese visitors why they were bowing and receiving the response, “Shaolin, she Shaolin, very honourable person”.

“What’s going on here?” Was the sudden interruption as Sergeant Striker arrived together with four constables.

He was about to bellow but saw the Chief-Constable and changed his tone.

Inspector Doris updated him as to what had transpired and stated that the arrests were down to the new probationer Chris Thomas.

She approached the chief, “Excuse me sir”, she whispered “best not to mention anything to anyone about my involvement here, better to leave it and give the credit to the probationer, Chris Thomas”.

“Why yes, yes Inspector naturally, I am off duty after all, better to keep me out of it also”.

“Did you hear all that Constable Thomas, mums the word as to my involvement?” she said

“Yes Maam”, he replied, his posterior returning to normality from the half a crown sixpence mode.

The first time she recalled being addressed as “Maam” since she had arrived.

A siren heralded the arrival of a large police van and the three miscreants were soon loaded up and gone, so where all the ladies and their gentlemen from the Tarporley Ladies circle, not to the races either but the safety of homes.

Inspector Doris Scott-Ling left the police van went into her office and put on a clean shirt she always kept for such an occasion.

The following Monday morning Woodcock was up and ready for his journey by car to the Home Office in London, his normal meeting with the Chief Inspector of Her Majesty’s Constabulary, other Inspectors and with the Home Secretary. There came a knock on the door when opened it was Sid Watkiss his driver,

“Morning Mrs Woodcock, if you might tell the boss I am here”.

“I will Sid, come in for a drink”.

“No better not just in case we get a call”, replied Sid

”OK Sid I will tell him, he will be out soon, he is making a call I think”.

“Good morning, Police Headquarters Manchester, how can I help you, please?”

“Could I please speak with the Chief Constable?”

“May I ask who is calling please?”

“Yes of course, it is Christian Woodcock, Her Majesty’s Inspector of Constabulary”

“Please hold the line Sir”.

“Hello Christian, how can I help, Quinten here, not a problem with our recent Inspection I take it”.

“No indeed Quinten, if they were all like yours my life would be much easier”. I wonder if you might just help me with something”.

“Of course, if I can” replied Quinten.

“It may seem a strange request Quinten but I wonder if you have had any suspicious deaths among your officers recently?”

“I can answer that immediately, no, none at all,” replied Chief Constable Johns.

“Well that is something I was starting to wonder”.

“”Anything suspicious going on Christian or is it Home Office bullshit statistics again?”

“No, it doesn’t matter, if you haven’t had a death amongst your officers especially in the young, fit and healthy that is it”.

“No nothing suspicious here, in fact the only death we have had was a natural cause.

 A young officer from the mounted branch collapsed and died at Chorlton Lake some short while ago.” 

“Nothing to suggest it was a crime, no injuries, we did think at first it was a suicide by drowning but it turned out to be natural causes some type of rare heart attack.”

“Oh I see, interesting”.

“Is there a problem Christian?”

“Anything I ought to know about”.

“No nothing at the moment, thank you for your help”.

The call ended.

Sid Watkiss a retired police traffic officer who showed no visible eye problems had been driving the various Inspectors of Constabulary for that region for five years so was not only a very experienced driver but knew the routes to most places, more importantly he knew the ropes of the job so to speak.

He guessed but did not comment that although his current boss Mr Woodcock had not said much about the deaths of these young officers seemingly fit and well albeit recorded as natural causes he was likely to raise a question or two.

Chief Constable Quinten Johns did not like problems or any suggestions of large enquiries or work.

He had no leave planned so anything likely to blow up would fall to him directly not his deputy or assistant.

He turned over his telephone contacts book, picked up the phone and dialled the number.

“Hello Chief Superintendent Mary Harris”

“Hello Mary the Chief here, may I ask if there were any further brick bats from the death of the mounted officer, sorry I don’t recall his name, it was a male officer I think?”

 “Yes Sir, Rick Masterton, no nothing. The Coroner was happy with natural causes; he signed the death certificate as natural causes.” 

“The welfare officer visited the next of kin, the funeral went ahead Ok as you recall, and we picked up the bill, as it was death on duty.  No sir all straight forward is there a problem?”

“No Mary, no it’s just something the HMI mentioned but in view of what you say it is nothing, I am sorry to bother you.”

“No problem sir”, she replied

The call was ended, Quinten Johns could relax once again after all he had only had a passing brief on the case involving this Rick fellow.

The normal meeting at the Home Office went well and on completion, the normal final question put by the Home Secretary, “Gentlemen and ladies anything under any other business?”