Retribution - A Dish served Cold

Chapter Twenty-One

Bob Thompson found Angela in a tiny room that served as her office, seated at her desk, concentrating on typing a report. The ancient machine's keys rattled with an irregular beat from someone using two fingers.

"She pointed to the spare chair. "Park your backside. I suppose you need to ask me some questions?"

He grinned when he saw the remains of a sandwich and a cold cup of tea from the canteen on her desk. "I can come back later, but we need to talk."

Angela toyed with her pen. "Never seen that man before and haven't a clue why he picked on me."

"Because someone paid him, so there must be a good reason. What cases have you been working on?"

Angela hesitated. She had been expecting this conversation since arriving back at the station. "A few nasty domestics. The worst was a wife who stabbed her husband when she discovered him bonking the next-door neighbour. Central services had the wife in secure accommodation while we waited for a medical report. The husband lost a lot of blood and remains critical."

Bob raised an eyebrow. "Well, someone doesn't like you. There are inferences we need to explore. I suggest the force takes you home. If you can think of anything, let me know."

"Of course," said Angela.

***

Ready to interview Brian Jones, Inspector Philip Holland's team chatted in a storeroom at nine in the morning. They waited while the duty sergeant brought him from his overnight cell. He was a mess at five foot six, thin-faced, unshaven and looking as if he had been in a fight with Henry Cooper and lost every round.

No longer dressed in his street clothes, someone had supplied a pair of oversized blue overalls.

Holland pointed to a chair and commenced with the preliminaries.

"I need five minutes to speak with my client," said solicitor Brenda Woods.

Holland stopped the interview. "I'm going for a piss. You have your five minutes."

When Holland and his assistant returned, Brenda glanced at her watch.

"Is it okay for me to continue?"

Brenda nodded.

Holland could see this was going to be a no-comment experience. "Mrs Woods, I will read out the charges and statements from the prime witness, Sergeant Thompson and Sergeant Newton, the Police Officer your client savagely attacked and threatened rape."

"Two things, Inspector. Miss and a court of law will decide if my client attacked and threatened a police officer."

Holland shrugged. "If I introduce you to the female officer this man attacked and another officer who witnessed the brutal assault, would that convince you of your client's guilt?"

Brenda smiled. "No, it would not. I believe the officer in question used a weapon against my client. Scared shitless, he defended himself."

"I have a problem with a police officer with a weapon. Not on my patch, and anyway, it's against the law."

"I'm pleased you agree with me."

"I disagree with you. Where's the weapon? What was it? Large or small?"

"It was an aerosol. A spray can."

"Strange sort of weapon," said Holland. "Tell you what, if he pleads guilty. I'll have a word with the magistrate to go easy on him."

Brenda sighed. "And you would consider that a fair trial?"

"For attacking one of my officers, I would prefer to grab him by the throat and knock the shit out of him. But that's also against the law."

"My client is sorry for the misunderstanding, but he never started the fight."

"Have you asked him about his mate in the red Cortina who drove away the minute my sergeant arrived?"

She appeared embarrassed. "Are you going to charge my client?"

"You'd better believe it. Do you want to watch?" He stood. "I've had enough of this. Brian Jones, you will be charged with attacking a police officer with intent to cause harm. Sergeant, take him away, caution him, and ensure the paperwork is perfect. Can't have some smart-arsed lawyer getting him off because we fucked up. With luck, he will appear before the magistrate tomorrow morning. For now, he can relax in a cell."

Brenda was fighting to control her anger. "I make the assumption we have finished."

"The sooner that arsesole is behind bars, the better. Concerning the weapon, your client lied through his teeth."

"I don't care." She checked her watch against the office clock. "Must dash, have a stupid woman charged with shoplifting from Marks and Sparks."

"It's what they pay you for," said Holland.

She hurried along the corridor and shouted, "Only just."

***

Holland sat in his office thinking about what he would say to Angela as he picked up the telephone. When she answered, he glanced at the time, noon. "It's inspector Holland. Thought we might have a chat. I hope I didn't wake you."

"You did. My fault, but I expected you might have wanted to see me When I arrived for my shift."

"Did I detect a hint of sarcasm there? I've had the bastard who attacked you charged, but he told his brief you had a weapon. I told her he was spinning a yarn. So, what did you spray at his face."

"Hairspray, sir."

"Nothing unusual for a woman to carry in her handbag. That ticks the right boxes. I'd appreciate your report on the incident ASAP."

"It's on my desk, sir. I'll read it over one more time before I sign it. Is that okay?"

"Perfect, I'll pop up and take a look later. Do you mind if I use a red pen if I see anything you might want to change?"

Angela was neither hostile nor defensive at the suggestion. "Be my guest, sir."

"Go back to sleep. I'll talk to you tomorrow before you end your shift."

"Yes, sir."

The line went dead.

His office door opened, and a constable poked his head inside. "Excuse me, sir."

Holland lifted his head. "I'm late for a meeting, Constable. Is this important?"

"Your wife wants to know when you'll be home?"

"Shit." Holland rolled his eyes. gazed at him. "Thanks. I'll deal with her in a minute."

The office door closed.

"Never rains, but it pisses down." He stood, grabbed his car keys and left his office.

On his way out of the station building, Holland ordered the desk sergeant to ensure Brian Jones did not leave his cell.

The sergeant made a face. "I'll do my best, sir."

Holland shook his head. "God help us."

The sergeants watched as Holland left.