Oh, What a Night

Time to lob Part 63 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”out there for the world to see.

Strange news is a little thin on the ground today, this seems to be the oddest I could find.

 Back on track today with the quiz question. A really easy one related to the number 63. For people of my vintage it should be a doddle, but as always, you do get the answer.

OK, the quiz question out of the way, here is my mantra. This is a serial. Any new-joiners should start with the opener known as Part One.   

The troublesome recap has now settled into its new home. You can find the recap here!

Now read on...

As Jones was putting away his phone, Smithy arrived back with another of the thugs. A few minutes later, Brown and Johnson arrived with their collars. Smithy interrogated the thugs while Jones chatted with the deaf Michael in sign language. It wasn’t long before an ambulance arrived

The ambulance men tended to the victim before announcing that they wanted to take him to the hospital to ck him over. Jones told Brown to travel with the victim to the hospital and get a full statement.

Ten minutes later, Sergeant Collins arrived in the paddy wagon, drawn by four black llamas. The four thugs were packed inside.

Jones checked his watch and swore under his breath.

“You two better get back to the station and deal with that lot.” Jones waved a hand towards the departing paddy wagon. “Charge them all with assault and throw the book at mine. I have to meet Professor Ibsen. I’ll catch up with you when I get back.”

Jones strode off down the street, dodging fellow pedestrians. He had barely gone a hundred yards when a Bentley pulled alongside. The rear passenger window glided open.

“Inspector!” David Heatherington smiled causing Jones to shudder. “How fortuitous! May I offer you a lift?”

Bending at the waist, Jones peered into the luxurious interior. The smell of sandalwood and leather wafted from within.

“It’s OK. I’ll walk, I’ve plenty of time.” Jones straightened up.

“I insist!” Heatherington opened the door and shuffled across the back seat. “Besides, it will give us time to catch up.”

With a sigh, Jones climbed inside the Bentley.

“Where too, sir?” The driver asked politely.

Jones told him and a glass panel slid up between him and the driver.

“It would seem that police expenses have improved somewhat.” Heatherington said in a dry tone, the hint of a sparkle in his eye.

Jones pursed his lips and stroked his moustache. “I am the guest of Professor Ibsen. It was the only time and place available for our meeting. Sometimes this is a terrible job, but somebody has to do it.”

“Indeed.” Heatherington gave a laugh.

“I assume that you want to see if I have any leads on Victoria Adkins?” Jones looked for a reaction from the State Security man. “Well, if you are, then I’m afraid I have nothing to help. Unless it wasn’t your men who went to search Sergei Plutov’s lodgings?”

There was the merest hint of a twitch from Heatherington’s left eye before he spoke.

“They were not my men, Inspector.” Heatherington inspected the back of his left hand. “Do you know what they took away with them?”

“Nothing as far as I can tell.” Jones stared out of the window. “Why is your driver taking us round and round the block?”

“Let me assure you that you will be on time for your luncheon.” Heatherington pressed a button on his armrest and a drinks cabinet opened. “Brandy?”

Jones declined.

“I assume that your wife has been reading between the lines for you on the latest news?” Heatherington asked as he poured himself a generous measure of brandy into a glass.

“Yes, she believes that Cowell will have to resign and that Sir Terence Cauldron will become the next Prime Minister.”

“Which makes the need for me to talk to Victoria Adkins all the more urgent.” Heatherington swirled the brandy in the glass while his staring at Jones. “Who is Sergei Plutov?”

The question caused Jones to raise an eyebrow in the direction of Heatherington. Jones stroked his moustache again and sat back into the red leather upholstery. The two men observed each other for a while before Jones told Heatherington about Sergei Plutov and the outcome of their visit to his lodgings. Heatherington listened intently while swirling his brandy in the glass.

“Could Mr Plutov’s lady friend be Victoria Adkins?” Heathrington asked when Jones finished.

Jones shrugged and said nothing.

“But you think that the muscled man in the shell suit could be Darrius Kipling.” Heatherington stated flatly.

Again, Jones just shrugged.

“I will get one of my men to contact your man Johnson to help him with the Russian Embassy.” Heatherington pressed another button on his console. “You are probably considering hauling in Darrius Kipling, aren’t you?”

“It had crossed my mind.” Jones nodded. “But I did say I would give you until Monday and what with the overtime situation the way it is...”

“Thank you, Inspector.” Heatherington smiled and then produced a piece of paper. “This outlines all of Darrius Kipling’s movements for the last few days. He has been trying to locate Phillip Duncan, but that apart, we have discovered very little. Can you spot anything?”

The paper was handed to Jones who studied it before shaking his head. “There is nothing obvious there, but I’ll give it a closer look later.”

Heatherington expressed his thanks and the two made small talk for a while before the Bentley drew up outside the restaurant. The two shook hands before Jones climbed out of the car which then pulled away, soon to be lost from view amongst the heavy central London traffic.

 

Is it a Gun Is it a Knife Is it a Wallet This is Your Life

Before I let you loose on part 41 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”, I should offer my apologies at the lack of updates in the last week. This was down to a very busy week and a particularly difficult part of the plot to put into words.

I normally write a couple of episodes ahead of what I am posting. Before I start writing anything new, I give the previous couple of episodes a read and a quick edit. Then I do my writing, then another edit on the piece I am due to post. Sometimes this also involves tweaking earlier bits in my manuscript. Well, such were the difficulties in part 43; this has taken a lot longer to reach you than I would have hoped.

Now, I think that the lyric today is an easy one, so instead I give you a picture I took last week, but as always, I give you the answer.

OK, the quiz question out of the way, here is my mantra. This is a serial. Any new-joiners should start with the opener known as Part One.    

The troublesome recap has now settled into its new home. You can find the recap here!

Now read on...

David Heatherington, the security man pressed his palms together and rested his nose on his two forefingers. Despite steeling himself as soon as Heatherington started the move,  Jones found himself giving  a shudder.

“An interesting response, Inspector.” Heatherington dropped his hands and gave a smile that, for once, managed to implicate his eyes. “However, we really do not have time to explore it further. I need to ask a couple of favours.”

“I see.” Jones stared at the lift door.

“In the spirit of co-operation, I wondered if I could see Phillip Duncan’s statement?”

Jones opened his folder and pulled out a copy of Dunker Phil’s statement which he passed to the security man.

“Sir Terence hates Horse Racing, you know.” Heatherington stated as he started to read. “Yet, on the spur of the moment, he decided he wanted to host a small gathering at Newmarket on the 15^th. He took the hospitality box next to Vera, Veronica and Violet Adkins. Among his guests was Sir Andrew Witherspoon.”

“That is, as you would say, interesting.” Jones watched Heatherington as he continued to read.

“Indeed.” Heatherington turned the page slowly. “Victoria Adkins worked for Sir Terence’s electronics company in Research and Development. Gossip suggested that they had an affair, although I cannot substantiate such tittle-tattle.”

“Victoria Adkins? A fourth sister?” Jones closed his eyes and clenched a fist. “Why didn’t I...”

“Memory playing tricks? I know how that feels. Even now it takes an effort to recall her. ” The security man continued to read. “She’s gone underground. Nobody seems to have seen her for nearly two weeks. Sir Terrence has had his feelers out trying to find her. I want to find her first.”

“Mr Heatherington, wouldn’t we better off discussing this in an office, in the form of a case review?” Jones asked the security man who in response plucked the folder from under Inspector Jones’s arm.

“It is the old cliché, walls have ears.” Heatherington opened the folder and slipped Dunker’s statement back into it.

“Lifts have walls.” Jones curled his lip.

“I’ve checked. I would describe this lift as a deaf mute where it not for the loquacious manner in which it mutilates the classics.” Heatherington flipped through the pages in the folder. “I would be very grateful if you did not interview Sir Terrence or Sir Andrew unless you clear it with me first and it would be beneficial if you did not pull Darrius Kipling in just yet. My men are keeping a close watch on Darrius, he is more use to us on the streets at the moment.”

“That’s three favours.” Jones paused and stroked his moustache. “Besides Darrius Kipling is my prime suspect in the murder of an unidentified man whose body we dragged from the Thames.”

“You have the evidence to support that?” Heatherington snapped shut the folder and looked at Jones who nodded. “A further complication, but my request still stands. I’m rather hoping that Mr Kipling will lead me to Victoria Adkins.”

“Why do you think he would?”

Heatherington handed back the folder and punched the button for the ground floor. “Just a hunch.”

The two men stood in silence observing each other as the lift counted down the floors and regaled them with the timeline of the English Civil War.

The two men left the lift and walked in silence to the car park.

“Inspector, can I rely on you to respect my wishes on those little favours?” Heatherington asked as he offered his hand to Jones. “In return, I will make sure that you are immediately informed of any developments from my end.”

“I’ll not interview Sir Terrence or Sir Andrew.” Jones shook the security man’s hand. “And I will give you the weekend to follow your hunch on Darrius, but after that we’ll have to see.”

The security nodded and gestured towards an old Bentley S3 Continental in the far corner of the car park.

The Bentley moved around and stopped next to the security man. A chauffeur dressed as William Pitt the younger leapt out and opened the rear door.

“That seems fair given the circumstances.” Heatherington climbed into the Bentley. “I will be in touch on Monday.”

The chauffer closed the door and leapt back into the driver’s seat. Jones watched the Bentley leave and then glanced at the Pink Zephyr and his own Datsun. Shaking his head, he thrust his hands deep into his trouser pockets and sauntered back into the station.