Episode 16 - Perceptions

Chris had rung Gary  from the forensic lab to say that the heroin was only baking powder, but Gary decided that it would make things even more difficult for Nigel if he knew that, since his otherwise praiseworthy morals would force him to be honest, and this was not the time for honesty. It was important to know how far into the drugs scene the recipients of these courier trips were.

Cleo’s conviction that Mr Barclay, the dead manager of Pensioner’s Paradise, was killed for a more sinister reason than someone just having it in for him would fit in if he had been mixed up in drug trading.

Enquires at the OAP home had been delayed in view of the Bistro crime, but now it seemed as if the two were converging on one another. Crab was responsible for organizing the demolition of the kitchen even though he had in the end watched while Plimsoll did the job - and there was no reason to disbelieve the story since there had been a high concentration of alcohol in Plimsoll’s blood, as forensics had ascertained as soon as the dead man reached the HQ lab.

It was clear that Crab had smuggled drugs as far as the OAP home, so as his replacement, Nigel would be allowed to go through the act of delivering the stuff. He would be more convincing if he did not know that he had been duped by Jack and his contacts. He was clearly being tested for reliability. Nigel would eventually reveal his true identity, but keeping up the act was essential as long as Jack and the others involved (if detected) were not under arrest.

Towards Thursday evening Nigel phoned Gary at home. He had received his instructions. He was to seek out Mrs Peel, give her the sachet, collect his fee and not ask any questions.

“The plot thickens,” was Cleo’s immediate reaction. She was sceptical about Nigel carrying out the venture to the bitter end.

Friday December 11

Gary went to the office early  o Friday morning to tell Nigel to postpone his mission for a few hours, allowing more time to make preparations, but Nigel had already left and as fate would have it, had left his cell phone charging on his desk. If Gary had wanted to tip off Nigel about the heroin, or rather, lack of it, he could forget it.

When Nigel arrived at Pensioner’s Paradise, grumpy after catching a bus rather than driving, since he was at pains to appeal to be a poor student, Vera Alton was standing at the entrance smoking a cheroot, something she would never have done in Dorothy’s presence. She directed Nigel to Mrs Peel’s office.

Nigel’s overall performance was convincing, he thought. He gave Mrs Peel the sachet and she handed him a thin wad of notes. Relieved that his ordeal was over, he turned to leave, but Mrs Peel stopped him in his tracks.

“You’re Nigel, aren’t you?” she said.

Nigel’s poise tipped instantly into bravado.

“What makes you think that?”

“Admit it. You are Nigel from Middlethumpton police.”

“What makes you think that?” he stammered as his heart missed a beat or two.

“Your voice, Mr Bramley.”

“You must be mistaken. I’m Nigel Smith, Mrs Peel. I have an elderly relative here. She can confirm who I am,” he invented, hoping there was someone with that name at the home.

“You’re bluffing and I don’t believe you, Mr Bramley,” said Peel, suddenly drawing a small pistol and aiming at him. “What’s the game?”

Nigel was shocked.

“Put that away,” he stuttered. “You’ve got your stuff, haven’t you?”

“Does anyone know you are here, Mr Bramley?” Mrs Peel said in a cold voice that sent shudders down Nigel’s spine as bravado slipped into fright.

“Why?”

“Because I won’t want them to miss you before I’ve had time to dispose of you.”

“Put the gun down, Mrs Peel. You can keep the money. Just let me go.”

“I’m not interested in the money, Mr Bramley. For the record, how did you get into this?”

Nigel did not again try to correct his name.

“Jack at the pub liked me. I’m a friend of Brian Crab’s. I was on a visit.”

Peel did not relax her aim.

Since he had no choice, Nigel stood rooted to the spot. His police training was no good to him when faced unarmed with a seemingly ruthless opponent.

***

In the meantime Gary had received a call from Cleo. She was now convinced that Nigel should not be sent on a mission he could not deal with.

“If he’s already on his way. You’ll have to dig him out, Gary.”

“He’s a grown man, Cleo. He’ll follow his instructions and get out fast.”

“What if Mrs Peel recognizes him?”

“Why should she? They’ve never met.”

“But they’ve talked on the phone and we don’t know for certain that they have not met.”

There was a pause while Gary faced that fact.

“You’re right. I’d better get there.”

“Order a patrol car. You might want to arrest someone.”

“Right again, my love.”

“Would you like me to meet you there?”

“Heaven’s no. Drug-dealing is a life and death crime. I’m leaving HQ now. I’ll order a patrol car en route.”

“Good luck! Keep me posted!”

***

Vera was still standing at the entrance to the home smoking a second cheroot with obvious enjoyment Gary, now hurrying to find Nigel, was surprised to seeing Vera. She explained that it was important to see who went in and out of the home and confessed that Dorothy would not allow her to smoke at the cottage so would he please not mention her smoking anywhere else either.

“No time to chat, Vera,” Gary hissed. “There’s trouble. Where is Mrs Peel’s office?”

“Down that corridor,” Vera told him, pointing the cheroot. “I just sent a lovely young man there.”

“That was Nigel, my assistant, and he’s probably gone into the lion’s den.”

Vera was astonished when Gary sidestepped her and rushed toward Mrs Peel’s office. He stopped short at the door because he could hear Nigel pleading with Peel not to shoot. Gary could not risk bursting in, but he thought how theatrical the situation was and had a theatrical idea himself. He moved slightly away from the door, turned round and shouted at Vera to stop that damned smoking on the premises. Gary’s face told Vera enough. She was quick-witted and shouted back that it was her business and Mrs Peel wanted her to be happy.

A few seconds later Peel opened the door, distracted from her shooting mission by the shouting and mention of her name. Gary grabbed her right arm and twisted it downwards. The gun went off, sinking a bullet into the floor. Although he was trembling like a leaf, Nigel still had enough gumption to grab Peel’s left arm. Gary twisted Peel’s right arm so hard that she was forced to let go of the gun. Vera, who had been watching the scene with horror, ran the few steps to the scene and kicked the gun away. Gary told Vera to kick the gun out of the entrance. She was to tell the patrol cops what was happening.  They should be there any minute.

Vera’s dramatic shouts brought the patrol squad rushing in from their car, which was parked just outside the closed entrance gate. They relieved Gary and Nigel of the struggling housekeeper and handcuffed her. Gary commanded Vera to search her for any other weapon she might have concealed on her person, since there was no policewoman to do the honours. Gary cautioned and charged Peel with attempted murder and drug-peddling after which she was led cursing to the patrol car, pushed onto the back seat, and taken to HQ. She told the patrol team she could not and would not leave Pensioner’s Paradise under any circumstances. They told her she would do what she was told.

***

“That was exciting,” said Vera, when the action was finished. “I wish Dorothy had been here.”

“I’m glad she wasn’t,” said Nigel. “I don’t want her to see what a coward I am.”

“You’re not a coward,” said Gary. “Faced with a loaded gun I would have not known what to do unless I was armed and able to draw faster than the woman could shoot.”

“I think you were brave,” said Vera. “Introduce me, Gary.”

“Nigel, this is Dorothy’s sister Vera. Vera, this is my assistant, Nigel Bramley.”

“I’m Nigel. No one uses my surname. How do you do, Vera?”

Nigel offered her a hand that was still trembling. Vera hugged him spontaneously and told him to hold his head high.

“Excuse me, you two. I have to make some phone-calls,” said Gary.

He phoned Forensics. Chris Winter and a team-mate would drive to the home immediately. They would order Spot, a wiry, spotless Welsh terrier with a highly trained sense of smell, to search the home for illegal drugs. Spot and his trainer would be on the spot in no time, Chris punned, as he invariably did.

***

Vera was impressed with Gary in action (as she would later relate to her sister Dorothy). Seeing poor Nigel trying to cope with what could have been his death scene had stirred Vera. She thought he looked about nineteen. At twenty-nine Nigel was still very vulnerable.

“What will happen now?” Vera asked.

“The usual routine and then the arrest cell. I hardly recognized you behind that cheroot, Vera. Thanks for helping.”

“My pleasure if you can call it that,” said Vera. “Why don’t you take Nigel to the cottage where Cleo can look after him? He’s in shock, Gary.”

“Am I?” said Nigel.

“We should go back to HQ. Are you staying here, Vera?”

“I was sent here to snoop, Gary, and you’d be surprised at how busy I’ve been.”

“Come to dinner and tell us all about it.”

“I can’t blow my cover here by eating dinner with a cop and a private detective. No one would take me seriously as an elderly female whose relatives can’t use her when they are on vacation.”

“Is that what you’ve been telling people?” said Gary.

“Yes and I don’t want anyone blowing my cover,” said Vera. “It could cost me my life here.”

“Is it that dangerous?” Nigel asked. “That woman has been taken care of.”

“She might not be the only one of her kind. Anyway, in a place like this it’s dangerous not to mind your own business, Nigel,” said Vera. “You got a taste of that just now.”

“So I did.”

“Ask Dorothy to visit you and tell her what happened,” said Gary. “I’m sure she will want you back at her cottage, and to be honest, I want that too. I’ve no idea where this drugs investigation will lead us.”

“Fancy me being involved in a drugs’ case.”

“Not exactly involved, Vera,” said Gary.

“Well, you know – on the periphery.”

“And without you things would have been much trickier. Thanks, Vera. You certainly live up to the Price spirit.”

“Cheroots are good for the brain, Gary. You should try them.”

“Are you saying that my brain needs a boost?”

“Of course not. Seeing you deal with that awful woman has restored my faith in justice.”

As an afterthought Vera added “But smoking is an unhealthy habit. I agree.”

“Then give it up!”

“That’s easier said than done.”

“Then get those little grey cells onto it!”

“Touché,” retorted Vera, but not without treating Gary to a blown kiss as he retreated towards the gate with Nigel.

“Phone Dorothy now, Vera, and then go and pack,” Gary stopped long enough to say.

“If you say so, Gary.”

“I do!”

Humility was not one of Vera’s best traits, but she knew when she was beaten. She did not want to wait to be murdered in her bed or poisoned at dinner. Her mission at Pensioner’s Paradise was at an end. Any further action was police business and she knew it.

***

Gary and Nigel went towards Gary’s car, which was parked on the hill outside the home premises. Unexpectedly, Cleo came towards them with Max and Mathilda in their twin delux pushchair. They were nibbling at the home-made rusks Cleo had just bought at Crumb’s. Cleo’s curiosity had brought them to Pensioner’s Paradise. You never knew what you might see.

“Well, well! What do we have here? Conquering heroes, I hope,” she joked.

“Nigel is in shock Take him home for some empathy, there’s a dear,” Gary said.

“Are you going to tell me why Nigel is in shock?”

“No time. Nigel will explain.”

“What about Peel? Was it as I expected?”

“I would nave phoned from HQ in half an hour. On the nail again, Cleo, but Vera helped.”

“Vera?”

“She was smoking a banned cheroot at the entrance.”

“I’m sure that’s significant, but the twins won’t gnaw their rusks for ever, so I’d better get home and cook something.”

“Go with them Nigel. That’s an order.”

“Can I push?” Nigel asked.

“Be my guest,“ said Cleo, amused at Nigel’s attempt to get something right. “Pushing strollers is therapeutic!”

Cleo rolled her eyes at Gary, they exchanged an embrace, and Cleo set off for the cottage with her entourage having reminded Gary it was his turn to get the steaks.

“How many?”

“Enough as usual and before one please. It’s early closing day.”

“I’ll just get the steaks and come home, Cleo,” Gary decided. “I’ve had enough drama for this morning. I’ll phone Greg and tell him why Peel is at HQ. I can go in later with Nigel and talk to Peel. I expect she will want to get back to the OAPs.”

“Are you going to release that woman after what she did to me?” said Nigel.

“On bail and without her passport, or not at all.”

“That would be wiser,” said Cleo. “She’s still very much an unknown quantity and she may have more than one identity.”

“Right again, my love.”

“Nigel can recover with the kids and talk to Toni.”

“Who’s Toni?”

“Our Danish au pair, Nigel. What a pity you aren’t interested in girls.”

“Who said that?” Nigel protested. “As long as they don’t act like that Peel woman, Cleo. She held me up! I’m just not too keen on bedding down with a female, but I don’t feel in danger with you.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Did Peel make you an offer?” said Gary.

“I think I would have preferred that to the hold-up.”

***

Gary watched the little group strolling towards the cottage. It amused him to think that Cleo was the right person to get Nigel back onto the rails because he felt safe with her, as if she would be interested in little boys.

Gary went shopping and made for home. A few hours with his family was the order of the day, with a brief control at the villa. He could hardly believe that things were moving so fast: a drug ring almost broken, his new job, albeit to a post he did not really want except for the extra salary, and to top it all a house-move before Xmas.

***

Nigel recovered from his fright and was anxious to get back to HQ to write his report, so Gary decided to question Mrs Peel that afternoon and was lucky to find that Mia Curlew had time to act as chaperone. That was necessary since wily ladies had been known to accuse cops of various kinds of abuse if an interview was conducted without the presence of a policewoman, as Gary had learnt to his cost.

Since Nigel was not to be burdened by a confrontation with someone who had held him at gunpoint only a few hours earlier, he was sent to Greg Winter’s office to complete his report, though he tried to insist that he had recovered enough to face Mrs Peel and take notes. A digital recording would be adequate with Mia as a witness.

***

Peel was belligerent and rude. Mia Curlew told her to mind her language while Gary looked on. He had briefed Mia and was going to let her get on with it, he decided. Dealing with Mrs Peel was probably easier for a woman.

“Who is your contact, Mrs Peel?” Mia continued.

“Who is this person?” Peel retorted, addressing her question to Gary while pointing at Mia.

“A very competent detective, Mrs Peel,” said Gary. “Now answer the question!”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I’m sure you do,” said Mia. “I expect it was your dead lover, wasn’t it?”

“I haven’t got a lover.”

“I think Miss Curlew means Mr Barclay,” said Gary, and Peel looked startled.

“It’s not a punishable offence for employees to have affairs with their bosses; morally questionable, but not punishable,” said Mia.

“I expect you know that from experience,” replied Peel, looking from Mia to Gary and back again.

“No, Mrs Peel, so if you would just answer Detective Curlew’s question…”

“Of course. I remember now. You are living with that black woman,” said Peel.

“Cleo Hartley is my wife, Mrs Peel, so if you would refrain from issuing offensive remarks and answer the question I would be much obliged.”

“I’ve forgotten it.”

“Who is your contact, Mrs Peel?” said Mia in a much sharper tone than before.

“Mrs Peel, if you are mixed up in drug-dealing, helping us will help you now,” said Gary.

“How?’

“As a crown witness, you will enjoy the favour of the courts,” Gary explained.

“This was the first time,” said Peel.

“You mean it was the first time doing Mr Barclay’s job, do you?” said Gary.

“I had only taken messages and passed on instructions up to Mr Barclay passing over.”

“Did you know what he was up to?” said Mia.

“Not really. He did not talk much.”

“Weren’t you curious?” Mia asked.

“Yes, but I knew better than to ask.”

“Commendable, Mrs Peel,” said Gary. “I think I’ve heard enough and I have a suggestion for you.”

Mrs Peel did not react.

“I’ll send you back to the home in a patrol car. Inspector Curlew will accompany you and confiscate any passport and other travel documents you have. We cannot have you leaving the country, can we?”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“That’s what they all say, Mrs Peel. Be prepared to come back here for more questioning. You are not out of the woods yet and I expect you to cooperate.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Gary?” Mia asked, wondering what  Gary had in mind.

“Is that a good idea, Mrs Peel?” said Gary.

Mrs Peel nodded. She was as puzzled as Mia, but she had the sense not to comment.

A patrol car was commanded and Gary escorted Mrs Peel and Mia to HQ exit. Mia sat next to Mrs Peel and after briefing the squad car they set off.

That done, Gary went up to Greg’s office and put him and Nigel in the picture. Nigel would send his report to Gary’s PC if he was going home now it was already stored in the archives along with the other sparse data that had been collected about Mrs Peel.

If Greg was doubtful about Gary’s decision to release Mrs Peel, since she was under suspicion for the murder of Mr Barclay, he nevertheless did not comment. Nigel thought it was a reckless decision, but thought better of saying so. Gary was sure it was the right decision for the moment. Mrs Peel would be treated politely but Gary was sure that Mia would do a bit of investigating on her own if opportunity knocked.

Gary was convinced that there was too little evidence to accuse Mrs Peel of drug-dealing and even less to convict her of murdering Mr Barclay. When Gary phoned Cleo on the way home, she commented that the release had been premature and far too impulsive. Gary had the grace to agree, but defended his decision with the argument that Mia Curlew would see to it that the woman was not simply left to her own devices.

***

Cleo was not in the habit of saying “I told you so”, but when Mia rang just as she and Gary were about to enjoy their nightcap coffee in front of a blazing log fire, Cleo nodded wisely even before she had heard Mia’s news.

“There’s been a hitch,” Mia reported.

“Go on,” said Gary. “I expect you want to tell me that Peel is one of the three witches in Macbeth and you’ve come across her portable cauldron.”

“Quite a good guess,” said Mia, who was used to Gary’s reactions. “Mrs Peel is Mrs Barclay in real life.”

“Well, Well! Did she tell you that?”

“Not exactly. There was a lot of screaming in the foyer and Mrs Peel went to look what was going on – don’t worry, Gary. The patrol cops were still guarding her. Anways, she forgot to close the drawer out of which she had fished her passport in the name of Peel, and I just happened to take a quick look at what else was in the drawer.”

“A bit unconventional, don’t you think, Mia? You did not have a search warrant.”

“I just thought of what your wife would do in the circumstances, and did it,” replied Mia.

“Quite right, too,” interrupted Cleo. “Was that in Peel’s office?”

“It said Barclay, Manager, on the door, but that’s where she took me, Cleo.”

“She moved in after Barclay’s death, Mia,” said Gary.

“Barclay’s passport was among a bundle bound by an elastic band together with Peel’s passport in the name of Agnes Barclay. I’m surprised forensics didn’t find it earlier,” said Mia.

“Probably because Peel took possession of the documents immediately after Barclay was found,” said Cleo. “It increases suspicion against her, doesn’t it?”

“Cleo’s right. Did you confront Peel with the new findings?” Gary asked.

“Of course not,” said Mia. “I told her you had rung me when she was out of the room to say that her release had been caught up in a trivial formal error, so she would have to accompany me back to HQ to sort it out.”

“Good girl,” said Gary. “I presume that you pocketed all the documents.”

“Of course. Plain clothes detectives carry tote bags.”

“Officially, you have confiscated the docs. OK?” said Gary. “That’s how you will report the incident. No point in getting accused of rummaging in people’s property.”

“Thanks for the tip. So what do you think about that information?” said Mia.

“A brilliant addition to our findings. At least one of her passports is one too many and one identity would actually be enough for someone without criminal energy, assuming she does not use a stage name. Anyway, she did not inform the police that she was married to Barclay, unless that’s a fiddled passport, of course. If so, why? We’ll talk to her in the morning, Mia. Go home to your family. You’ve done a good job.”

“Thanks. Plenty to think about,” said Mia. “She’s a nasty piece of work and I wouldn’t put murder past her.”

“I’m starting to think in that direction, too,” said Cleo.