Chapter 2

Sutton Box

St Helens wasn’t the most attractive of towns but, to be fair, Britain had much worse. There were mixed views as to whether it was a good place to live; the reported supposed crime rate may have caused many people to pause in thought. The Office of National Statistics wasn’t helping either. They once rated it in the top ten places where depression was rife, and the NHS followed up with the declaration the townsfolk were the country’s second highest spenders per head on anti-depressants.

At 10 am, Thurstan stood outside the small, now and then open, police post feeling relieved it was not the dilapidated Victorian hovel he’d been expecting. In fact, it was quite a modern little thing, almost cute.

“Thah reet, cock?” Mysteriously appearing alongside, the smiling old man spoke in a manner that told Thurstan he was never rushed. The DCI looked down at the little terrier on a lead beside them and could have sworn it was smiling too.

“If yuh wantin’ to report sommut yur’ll af ter use phone. Theh dun’t oppen this un up every day,” the old man said.

Thurstan smiled back. “No, it’s OK. I’m waiting for a bobby to open it up for me. It’s arranged.”

“Oh. Ar’ thee new un behind desk? I never knew theh were oppnin it up full time agin. Ther were nowt int paper.”

“No, they’re not. I’m just working on some old cases and need the peace and quiet to concentrate.”

The old guy gave a nod that imparted prior knowledge. “Ah, reet. It be what all boxes were about. I stud ere an sin ‘em take ‘em in mi sel.” He looked up at the darkening clouds. “I think it’ll be tippin’ down soon, so best be off. It were reet nice to meet yuh.” With that, he and the terrier turned as one and wandered off.

Before they’d managed to leave the car park, an officer sauntered around the corner. Dressed in a yellow jacket festooned with belt kit and a radio, he called out as he approached. “Thurstan Baddeley?” Thurstan gave him a casual thumbs up.

“Sorry, I’m a bit late. My mate’s just gone to take a crime report and I thought it didn’t need both of us, so he dropped me off at the top of the road and I walked down. I didn’t want to leave you hanging around and, anyway, the locals like to see a bobby on foot now and again.”

He produced some keys from his jacket and began opening the shutters and front door. “I take it that’s your car? You have locked it, haven’t you?”

Thurstan wanted to say No, I left it open because I love having my property stolen but settled for a simple “Yes.”

On entering, he found himself facing the ‘front desk’, a wide partition separating the desk officer from members of the reporting public. Countertop lifted, the officer, who’d introduced himself as ‘Davvo’, took him on a guided tour.

“Office, another office, computer over there and them’s your boxes. Corridor leading to kitchen on the right and showers on the left, further down you’ll find the Cons’ room to the left and toilets down there on the right. Feel free to help yourself to tea, coffee and sugar. The milk’s in the fridge and if you run out of anything, please replace it. I’m assuming you’ve not worked here before, so I’ll show you on the map at the front desk how to get to the big supermarket, Morrisons.” He turned to retrace their steps then asked over his shoulder, “You one of these ex-job people come back as a civvy to do stuff no one else wants to do?”

Thurstan replied, “No, still in the job.”

Davvo laughed. “Who’d you upset?”

Thurstan smiled, “No one important, just the Chief Con.”

The last thing Davvo did before he left Thurstan to his own company was to give him a set of keys and show him how the security alarm worked.

A marked police car swung around in the car park, ready to go. “Right, there’s my mate. I’ll leave you to it. Oh, and there’s a chippy just down the road, on the left, next to the Chemist. They’ve got pies, kebabs, fish ‘n’ chips, all good stuff. See yer, matey.”

Thurstan retrieved his ‘World’s Greatest Defective’ mug. His car’s indicators flashed, and he returned to make himself a hot drink, locking the front door to prevent the more persistent interrupting him. The little fridge had seen better days, but it seemed to work, and inside was reasonably clean. The milk smelled fine, there was water in the kettle, a pyramid tea bag in his cup and two of his own sweeteners. In his new office, he slid a file from the first box.