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.

The Man Who Preached the Funeral

Just a flying visit to bring you part 40 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”.

Another difficult track lyric that provides the title, 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...

The lift doors opened. The lift greeted the pair with a quote from The Simpsons in the original Greek.

The security man pressed the button for the ground floor, waited for the lift to start to move and then pressed the stop button. The lift gave a shudder and halted between floors.

“Inspector, we do have a leak.” The security man turned and faced Jones. “You were right, it was one of my men who reviewed the CCTV footage with your constable, but none of my men were authorised to talk to Sir Terrence.”

“I didn’t tell my men where we were going until we were in the car. Unless...” Jones stroked his moustache. “Unless one of them made contact while I was inside the club.”

“It is a most irritating complication.” David Heatherington withdrew a business card from his backpack and gave it to Jones. “This makes it all the more imperative we co-operate fully. That is if you feel that you can trust me?”

Jones turned the business card over in his fingers and said nothing.

“Inspector, the reason I am interested in this case is because of the interest of Sir Terrence Cauldron – not on his behalf.” Heatherington placed the bag on the floor then clasped his hands together. “There is always curiosity about ambitious men and sometimes there is a need to clarify the methods such men are willing to employ to satiate that ambition.”

“Are you saying that people suspect that Cauldron is planning a coup?” Jones asked incredulously

“Sir Terence is a very rich man. He made a fortune with his electronics business to add to the family fortune before he reached the age of thirty.” Heatherington stared at the ceiling of the lift. “He then entered politics and within three years became a cabinet minister and the darling of the media. Such success can invoke jealousies.”

“So somebody asked you to find something that would slow his progress down.” Jones sneered.

“Inspector, let’s just say that we were asked to make sure that we were getting exactly what was written on the tin.” The security man looked at the inspector and raised his eyebrows.

“I see. So just where did our two investigations start to overlap?” Jones asked flatly.

“Around the time that Sir Andrew Witherspoon felt the need to inform Cauldron of his meeting with Vera Adkins.” Heatherington sighed. “But I cannot explain why.”

“You mean you won’t explain.” Jones snapped back.

“No, I do mean cannot.” The security man shook his head. “So many of the files seem to be missing and my normally reliable memory keeps failing me. Yet, everyone else seems to rationalise and accept it all as being perfectly normal.”

“The whole world is out of step except me.” Jones mumbled.

“A very apt phrase! There is something that enables you to see things that others, including myself, seem to miss.” the security man jabbed a finger towards Jones. “Take the fish and chip wrappers for instance. Everyone reads their fish and chip wrappers as they eat from them, yet you are the only person who noticed that story. Such is the hysteria of the moment, I find that... odd.”

David Heatherington leaned slightly towards Jones and waited for a response.

“Oh come on, are you suggesting that I had something to do with it?” Jones looked at Heatherington open mouthed.

“It was a theory I briefly considered, along with others equally ludicrous, but did you?” Heatherington asked flatly.

“Of course not.” Jones spoke emphatically, but couldn’t hold the gaze of the security man.