Nothing Ventured

5

‘Your last day in uniform,’ said Fred as they left the nick and set out on their evening patrol.

‘Unless I’m not cut out to be a detective,’ said William. ‘In which case, I’ll be back on the beat in no time.’

‘Balls. You’ll make a name for yourself, and everyone knows it.’

‘Only thanks to you, Fred. You’ve taught me more about the real world than I ever learned at university.’

‘Only because you’ve led such a sheltered life, Choirboy. Unlike me. So which unit will you be attached to?’

‘Art and Antiques.’

‘I thought that was just a hobby for people with too much time and money on their hands, not a crime.’

‘It can be a very lucrative crime for those who’ve worked out how to find a way around the law.’

‘Enlighten me.’

‘There’s a scam going on at the moment,’ said William, ‘where professional criminals steal paintings without any intention of selling them.’

‘You’ve lost me,’ said Fred. ‘Why steal something you don’t intend to sell or pass on to a fence?’

‘Insurance companies are sometimes willing to make a deal with a go-between rather than pay out the full amount on a policy.’

‘A fence in an Armani suit?’ said Fred. ‘So how do you nick ’em?’

‘You have to wait until they get too greedy, and the insurance company refuses to pay up.’

‘Sounds like a lot of paperwork to me, so I’d never have made a detective.’

‘Where are we patrolling tonight?’ asked William, well aware that Fred didn’t always follow daily orders to the letter.

‘Saturday night. Better check the Barton estate and make sure the Suttons and Tuckers aren’t spoiling for a fight. Then we’ll head back to Luscombe Road before the pubs close. Might even find a drunk and disorderly for you to arrest on your last night on the beat.’

Although William had spent two years on probation with Fred, he knew almost nothing about his private life. He could hardly complain, because he himself was just as secretive, but as it would be their final patrol together, he decided to ask Fred something that had often puzzled him.

‘What made you join the force in the first place?’

Fred didn’t answer for some time, almost as if he was ignoring the question. ‘As I’m never going to see you again, Choirboy,’ he eventually replied, ‘I’ll tell you. To start with, it wasn’t in the first place. And was more by accident than design.’

William remained silent as they turned into an alley that led to the back of the Barton estate.

‘I was born in a tenement block in Glasgow. My father spent most of his life on the dole, so my mother was our only source of income.’

‘What did she do?’

‘She was a barmaid, who learned soon enough that she could earn a damn sight more doing favors on the side. Trouble is, I’m still not sure if I was the result of one of those favors.’

William didn’t comment.

‘But the cash dried up when she began to lose her looks, and it didn’t help that my father gave her a regular black eye if she didn’t come home on a Saturday night with enough cash to pay for his next bottle of whiskey and the chance to back another fourth-place nag.’

Fred fell silent, while William thought about his own parents, who usually went out to dinner and the theater on a Saturday night. He still found it difficult to comprehend the tyranny of domestic violence. He’d never once heard his father raise his voice in front of his mother.

‘London’s a long way from Glasgow,’ prompted William, hoping to learn more.

‘It wasn’t far enough for me,’ said Fred, flashing his torch down an alley and grinning when a young couple scurried away. ‘I was fourteen when I left home. I jumped on the first tramp steamer that would have me. I’d seen half the world by the time I was eighteen and landed up in London.’

‘Is that when you joined the force?’

‘No. I still looked on them as the enemy. I spent a few months stacking supermarket shelves before becoming a bus conductor. Soon got bored with that, so decided to join either the army or the police. If the police hadn’t interviewed me first, I might be a general by now.’

‘Or dead,’ said William, as they walked onto the estate.

‘You’re just as likely to be killed in this job as you are in the modern army,’ said Fred. ‘I’ve lost seven colleagues in the past twenty years, and far too many others, injured and invalided out of the force. And at least in the army you know who the enemy is, and you’re allowed to kill them. We’re expected to handle drug dealers, knife crime, and gang warfare, while most of the public prefer not to know.’

‘So why did you stick at it when you could have chosen a far easier life?’

‘We may have come from opposite sides of the tracks, Choirboy,’ said Fred, ‘but we do have one thing in common — we’re both a bit bonkers, but at least we’re doing the job we were destined for. And let’s face it, I’ve never had a job that’s half as exciting or rewarding as being a Met copper.’

‘Rewarding?’

‘I don’t mean financially, although if you put in the overtime, the pay’s not too bad. Deprehendo Deprehensio Vitum,’ said Fred. ‘Overtime Solves Crime.’

William couldn’t stop laughing, and Fred added, ‘Don’t worry, it’s the only Latin I know. What I enjoy most about the job is that no two days are ever the same. And, more importantly, this is my manor, and I know almost everyone who lives here. They may not always be one big happy family, but they’re my family, and although I’d never admit it in the canteen, I like to kid myself that I’ve made a difference.’

‘And you’ve got two commendations to prove it.’

‘Not to mention three suspensions, but as I’ve only got a few months left before I hang up my truncheon, I won’t be stepping out of line again. Wouldn’t want to do anything that would affect my pension,’ he added as they strolled off the Barton estate.

‘It’s quiet tonight,’ said William.

‘They saw us coming, and like rats, they disappeared down the nearest drain. They’ll reappear the minute we’re out of sight. But then, we wouldn’t want any trouble on your last night on the beat, would we, detective?’

William laughed, and was about to ask another question, when Fred glanced across the road and said, ‘Silly old moo. But I don’t suppose she knows any better.’

William suspected that another piece of homespun philosophy was about to be dispensed, although he couldn’t see what Fred was going on about.

‘Number twenty-three,’ said Fred. ‘Mrs. Perkins.’

‘Burgled a couple of weeks ago,’ said William. ‘A TV and a VCR, if I remember correctly.’

‘Five out of ten,’ said Fred. ‘Now earn the other five.’

William stared at number 23 but was none the wiser.

‘What do you see, Choirboy?’

‘Two empty cardboard boxes.’

‘And what does that tell you?’

William tried to think like a thief catcher, an accolade only given to those who, like Fred, could smell a crime even before it took place.

Fred let out an exaggerated sigh. ‘Mrs. Perkins’s insurance company must have paid up, so she’s now the proud owner of a new television and VCR. But what she doesn’t know is that a burglar often returns to the scene of the crime a few weeks later, well aware there will probably be a brand-new TV set for them to steal. And in her case, she’s actually advertising the fact. All the villain has to do is wait until she goes out one evening to visit her friend Mrs. Cassidy at number ninety-one, then pop back in and rob her a second time.’

‘So what should we do?’ asked William.

‘Have a quiet word with her, and suggest she destroys the evidence,’ said Fred as he knocked on the door of number 23. Mrs. Perkins answered almost immediately, and once Fred had explained why two policemen were standing on her doorstep, she hastily removed the boxes, thanked him, and offered them a cup of tea.

‘That’s good of you, Mrs. Perkins, but I’d better get on.’ He touched the rim of his helmet before they continued on their round.

‘When do you start your new job?’ Fred asked after they’d walked a few more yards.

‘I’m taking a couple of weeks’ holiday in Italy before reporting to Scotland Yard on the first of October.’

‘Lots of pretty girls in Italy, I’m told.’

‘Most of them framed.’

‘Framed?’

‘In gold.’

Fred laughed. ‘I’ve never been to Italy, or even Scotland Yard for that matter, but I’m told they’ve got the finest snooker room in the Met.’

‘I’ll come back and tell you what it’s like...’

‘You’ll never come back, Choirboy. Lambeth has just been the first rung on what I expect will be a very long ladder. But be warned, on your way up you’ll come across plenty of snakes who’ll be only too happy to send you back down a ladder, and some of them will be wearing blue uniforms,’ he said, rattling a shop door to make sure it was locked.

William chuckled. Never a shift went by when he didn’t learn something from Fred.

‘Evenin’, Jacob.’

‘Hello, Fred.’

William looked down at a man who was sitting cross-legged on the pavement, nursing a half-empty bottle of whiskey. When he was first on the beat, Fred had taught him that there were four types of drunks: the sleepers, who fall into a drunken stupor, and when they eventually wake up, go home; the harmless, who are usually drowning their sorrows and are rarely any trouble; the lovers, who want to take you home and try on your uniform; and the aggressive ones, who are looking for a fight and consider a policeman fair game. Fred could identify each category at a dozen paces, especially those looking for a fight, who regularly ended up spending the night in a cell, and were often a completely different person the following morning. William had come across all four types over the past couple of years, and thanks to Fred’s common sense and strong right arm, he only had one or two bruises to show for it.

‘Which category?’ asked William.

‘Drowning his sorrows. Spurs must have lost this afternoon.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Jacob’s as good as gold when they win, but if they lose, he’s a lost cause.’

They turned into Luscombe Road to see a few locals making their way home from the Marlborough Arms.

‘Disappointing,’ said Fred. ‘Luscombe Road isn’t what it used to be since the council cleaned it up. I was hoping we might come across a drug dealer, or even Lenny the Snitch, so you’d have something to remember from your last night on the beat.’

‘We could always arrest her,’ said William, pointing to a girl in a short black leather skirt who was chatting to a man through an open car window.

‘What’s the point? She’ll only spend the night in a cell, pay a fine in the morning, and be back on the game tomorrow evening. It’s not the girls I’d like to nick, but the pimps who live off them. And one in particular,’ Fred added.

The car sped away when the driver spotted two policemen in his rearview mirror. They ambled on toward the town center, Fred regaling William with stories, some of which he’d heard before but were worth a second outing, and others that he wasn’t sure hadn’t been embellished with the passing of the years.

William was going to ask Fred about his retirement plans when his mentor grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest doorway, suddenly no longer the friendly neighborhood bobby but transformed into a policeman who’d spotted a real criminal.

‘It’s our lucky night,’ said Fred, nodding in the direction of a giant of a man clutching a terrified girl by the neck. ‘I’ve been after that bastard for years. Don’t bother reading him his rights. That can wait until he’s banged up in a cell.’

Fred drew his truncheon, leaped out from the shadows, and began running toward the assailant, causing several other girls to scatter like pigeons in every direction the moment they saw him. William followed and quickly overtook the old-timer, who was not only thirty years older, but hadn’t won the 100 yards in his last year at school.

The thug looked around and, seeing William heading toward him, let go of the girl, who fell on her knees, whimpering. That was when William saw the knife, but he was only a couple of strides away and committed to the tackle. He dived low, hitting the man just below the knees, causing them both to crash onto the pavement. By the time William had recovered, the man was already back on his feet. William instinctively raised an arm to protect himself as the knife was thrust down. The last thing he remembered was the shock of the blade entering his chest.

‘Officer down, officer down! Urgent assistance required in Luscombe Road!’ shouted Fred over his radio, as he leaped on the assailant.

His eyes opened. He blinked and looked around the unfamiliar room. His parents and sister were standing by the side of the bed, and a senior officer he didn’t recognize was stationed by the door. Three pips on each epaulette indicated that he was a chief inspector.

William gave his family a weak smile as he tried to sit up, but he could only manage a few inches, suddenly aware that his chest was heavily bandaged. He slumped back down.

‘How’s Fred?’ were his first faltering words.

None of them seemed willing to answer the question. Finally the police officer stepped forward and said, ‘I’m Chief Inspector Cuthbert, and I’m sorry about this Constable Warwick, but I have to ask you some questions about what happened on Saturday night, because as you well know, we can’t hold a suspect for more than twenty-four hours unless we have enough evidence to charge them.’

‘Of course, sir,’ said William, once again trying to sit up.

The chief inspector opened a large brown envelope and extracted several black-and-white photos of different men, one of whom William would never forget.

‘Is that the man you attempted to arrest on Saturday night?’ asked Cuthbert.

William nodded. ‘But why do you need to ask me, when Fred could identify him in person?’

Chief Inspector Cuthbert remained silent as he placed the photographs back in the envelope.

The parish church of St. Michael and St. George was rarely full, even for the mayor’s annual carol concert, but on this occasion the pews were packed long before the choir had entered the nave. PC Fred Yates QGM had been granted a full police service funeral, while a uniformed guard of honor lined the approach to the church.

The funeral cortege was escorted by mounted officers, and Fred’s coffin was draped in the blue and silver colors of the Metropolitan Police, along with the Queen’s Gallantry Medal and a silver trophy resting on top. Inside the church, senior officers were seated at the front, while those who couldn’t find a seat had to be satisfied with standing at the back. William, seated in a wheelchair, was pushed down the aisle by his father, and the congregation rose to acknowledge him. A church warden guided them to reserved places in the front row.

He who would valiant be...

William held up well, until the coffin, borne on the shoulders of eight serving officers, made its slow progress down the aisle toward the chancel, when he was unable to hold back the tears. The parish priest looked down from the altar steps and offered prayers for the locals from Fred’s patch, many of whom rarely, if ever, attended a church service. They had come to pay their respects, even though some of them didn’t know Fred’s second name. William looked around and spotted Mrs. Perkins among the mourners.

To be a pilgrim...

When the congregation knelt to pray, William bowed his head and recalled Fred’s words: I like to kid myself that I’ve made a difference. He only wished that Fred could have been there to witness what a difference he’d made.

The hymns were sung lustily by Fred’s colleagues and friends, which William knew Fred would have appreciated, although he would have described the eulogy delivered by the station’s chief superintendent as way over the top. William could hear Fred chuckling away when the super talked about his commendations. What about my suspensions? he could hear him saying.

After the priest had given the final blessing, the congregation stood and the pallbearers resumed their duties, bearing the coffin back down the aisle and out of the church to the burial plot. William tried to stand as it passed by, but he couldn’t quite manage it until the desk sergeant and the super came to his aid.

When they got home that night, his father suggested that it wouldn’t be a disgrace if William felt he had to leave the force. He was sure his colleagues would understand. ‘You could go to night school, study law, and then join me in chambers, where you could still fight criminals, but in the safety of a courtroom by day, rather than on the streets at night.’

William knew his father was right. But it was Fred who had the last word.