Chapter 19

Walsh

Gandalph introduced himself to the woman at the reception desk, telling her he was an ex-colleague of Freddy Walsh. It was immediately apparent Walsh was a patient. She made a quick phone call then declared he was in one of the day rooms, gave him directions and bestowed a pleasant smile upon him.

The nurse who met him at the door pointed to a man sitting alone by a window then went about her business.

Freddy looked up at him. “Who are you? I don’t know you.”

Gandalph nodded agreement. “No, you don’t. I’m DC Randalph, but you can call me Steve.  I need your help, Mr Walsh. I’m part of a small team looking into the circumstances surrounding the arrest of Leonard Turner, a young man you may have known better as just Lennie. It was back in the days when you and Reg Barker worked together on the regional drug squad.” He showed him his identification.

Freddy turned his head to stare out of the window. “The name means nothing to me, sorry. Now, fuck off.”

The DC pulled up a high-backed chair and sat down. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Freddy. You see, we know all about you and Reg, and the rest of the squad. We know you knew Lennie. He mentioned you often in his notebooks. Dave and Ken. Zebra Three. We know you called yourselves that. It’s from Starsky and Hutch. I remember watching the show. They were cool." He leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “This enquiry isn’t about trying to blame anyone, Freddy. It’s about Lennie. He didn’t deserve what happened to him. You’ve done prison visits. You know what Risley would have been for someone like him.” He stood up. “I’m going to the shop at reception for a newspaper. Do you want anything?”

Freddy shook his head. Gandalph just said, “OK, please yourself, I wasn’t asking for the money.”

As he walked to the exit, Walsh called to him. “Get me a copy of the Times, son. I can’t read this trash they leave lying around here.” When Gandalph nodded, he added, “And a packet of those oatmeal biscuits.”

On his return, the DC handed over the paper, a small packet of four oatmeal biscuits and poured milk, from the carton he’d purchased, into a plastic cup. He settled back down on the chair and, putting his coffee on the table alongside, declared, “I thought the milk would make the biscuits more enjoyable for you.” He shook open his copy of ‘The Telegraph’ as Walsh unfolded his ‘Times’.

“I thought we could do swapsies later on,” Gandalph smiled, across the top of his pages.

An hour later, having discussed whatever took their fancy from the news, Freddy declared he was tired and Gandalph admitted he had to go anyway. “But I’ll be back tomorrow, if you don’t mind?

Freddy brushed it off with a “Entirely up to you, son. I won’t be holding my breath.” At the door, Gandalph looked back.

“See you tomorrow, Freddy.”

Accompanying a weak wave was, “Yeah, see you tomorrow, son.”

****

Back at Sutton Box, Thurstan asked, “How’d you get on with Walsh?”

Gandalph mulled it over briefly then said, “Initially, he was a bit hostile, but I broadly explained what we know about him and Barker, embellished it a little, and told him it was all about Lennie then left him to cogitate whilst I got us some stuff from the shop there. When I came back, I thought it best to avoid the subject and just be a visitor for him which he seemed to appreciate, and then we got talking about whatever was in the newspapers I’d bought. I’m going back tomorrow, Boss, and it may take more than a few visits, but the thing is, I checked with reception and I’m the only visitor he’s had. He’s got no next of kin on his record. It’s a bit sad.” He stared into his cup before taking a sip. “I’m working on being his mate. How did you get on with your mysterious stranger?”

Thurstan recounted the meeting and declared, “Unfortunately, my prison warder couldn’t remember Leroy’s surname, but I’ve had a quick look on the intel system, and I reckon it’s a bloke called Leroy Johnson. All the info fits but I need to do a bit more reading.”

His mobile rang.It was the history buff, Richard Tadley.“Hello, Richard. What can you tell me?”

“Well, although I haven’t got a complete list of the membership of the St Helens Borough Police through the years, I have got something straddling the relevant period. Flitcroft doesn’t appear in the 1904 list of officers. Similarly, he’s not in the list I have for 1906. The next one I have is 1910, and he’s still not listed so he must have gone somewhere, probably, in 1903 or 1904.”

Thurstan was thoughtful. “I suppose you’ve no idea where he went?”

Tadley could hardly contain himself. “Oh, of course I know where he went. Using a bit of deduction, I settled on the question of where he was most likely to get employment. The railways seemed the most obvious, so I contacted a colleague in Southport who I know has extensive records of the various railway police establishments of that time in the North-West. It took quite a while, but he found him.

“Anyway, to cut a long story short, Flitcroft joined the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway police. He’s not on their 1903 list but he is on the 1904 one. As you know, the lists were issued once a year so there’s always going to be some people who may have joined too late in a year to appear. He’s shown as Thomas Laughton Flitcroft.”

“Tremendous job, Richard. Anything else you can tell me?”

“Yes, there is, but I had to use a friend who has a subscription to a genealogy site. I’ve invited her along to your AGM bash. That’s alright, isn’t it?”

Thurstan couldn’t restrain a little wince and hoped she didn’t drink like a fish but thought Tadley might be trying to lull her into a more meaningful relationship, given he wasn’t, apparently, inviting the Railway Police buff. “Yes, fine, Richard. What did she come up with?”

“Flitcroft worked and lived in Wigan. She did me a flow chart which I can email you. I assume you may want to enquire with the descendants on some matter or other. I don’t think there’s anything else but if there is, I’ll put it in with the flow chart.”

Call finished, Thurstan got up, checked his watch, tapped it a few times, muttered, “Bloody battery” and slid his arms into his jacket. Gandalph looked up from his computer. “I’ve just thought on, Boss. I think Johnson calls himself Leroy Johns these days. He used to work for Mickey Fenton. Turned his back on that sort of thing and runs an outreach project for the kids in Liverpool 8 now. My mate’s a beat bobby down there and occasionally gives an input for him. I could ask him if he can put us in touch. In the meantime, I’ll check the intel system for you. What we got planned for tomorrow?”

The DCI glanced at the wall clock. “Well, you crack on with finessing Walsh and I’m going to see if I can catch up with this Tim Beck fellow. But right now, I need to get myself home after a visit to my local butcher's. I promised Lizzie I’d cook her a special meal this week and today feels like a good time to surprise her.”