Home Security

                                                   

Detective Sergeant Brian Ellis removed his hat, took the proffered cup and saucer, and settled in the armchair beside the gas fire. The middle button of his tunic pressed a reminder, as if one were needed, that he did the right thing by refusing the offer of Victoria sponge.

"Thank you." He smiled. "Just relax Mrs. Stimmings and talk me through the whole thing. This is simply a witness statement, so there's no need to feel worried. Take your time." He opened the black leather organiser on his lap. "I will take a few notes if that's okay. Then we can go over some of the details later if we need to."
Joyce Stimmings smiled. "Hey Simon; Shut up; Now!"
Ellis smiled. "Simon?"
"One of my husband's little jokes. His boss was called Simon. George said he'd spent thirty years waiting for the chance to tell that man to shut up. When we got the speaker, he re-named it Simon so he could do it every day."
Joyce took a deep breath. "Let me see, it was Tuesday the seventeenth. It was the day after Gwen next door's birthday. I remember it was a dull, drizzly morning and I wasn't sure I'd get my washing out. I remember Pop-master had just finished on the radio, so it must have been about quarter to eleven when the door bell rang.
They were a charming young couple. I thought they were from that church in the middle of town; you know the one. He was in a smart tan suit, but no tie. Why do youngsters do that? It looks so scruffy. He looked a bit Mediterranean, if you know what I mean. She was about my height, nice smile, lovely flowing blonde hair, wearing a blue jacket and skirt, yellow blouse, and white heels. Her make-up was more Boots No7 than Max Factor, but nevertheless well turned out.

They told me they weren't Police Officers, but 'Constabulary Approved Consultants'. I said, "A bit like New Tricks on the telly then?" That made them smile. They showed me their identification cards, so I let them in out of the rain. They were a pretty good likeness, but nobody looks exactly like their passport picture, do they? You don't, do you?"

D.S. Ellis smiled what he hoped was a smile of encouragement.

"I told them, "My George worked for the Customs at Dover. He used to say the best way to get searched was to look exactly like your passport photo." George could spot a bad 'un at fifty paces. Well, except for the one that actually shot him of course. "She shot a glance at a framed certificate on the wall beside the fireplace. It bore a royal crest of some description and the word commendation formed the ornate heading of a lengthy dissertation. There was a heavy wax seal and an elaborate signature at the foot of the page.

Joyce continued, "We sat in the lounge and the man, Bobby, asked about window and door locks. I suggested he had a look around downstairs. Terry, the young woman – I remember thinking it was a funny name for a woman – came through to the kitchen and I put the pot on. They'd said no to tea, but I insisted. I didn't want them to think I had no manners. You can't have visitors and not give them tea, can you?"
"No, you can't." Brian smiled, raising his cup in gratitude.
"I told Terry "I don't remember making the appointment. There is nothing marked down on the calendar, and I always mark things down – my age, you see?"

My hands are a bit shaky these days, but I managed to bring the tray into the lounge without spilling anything. George would have been proud of me. Bobby reckoned the appointment had been made through the station, a month previously.
"George's only been gone a couple of weeks", I said, "It must have slipped his mind. Putting things on the calendar- never George's strongpoint."

George had dealt with security ever since we married – what with his job, it made sense. He had the box put on the outside wall. Apparently you can just have the empty box fixed to the wall. It looks like you've got an alarm and burglars go somewhere else, see. But, I told them, George wouldn't have any of it. He insisted on the real thing. He'd heard about burglaries in Kent from houses with these dummy boxes. It had turned out to be the company that was installing them. They were caught red-handed. They'd gone in through an upstairs window, and a neighbour spotted their ladder. She called the Police. The newspaper showed a photo of their company van, with the logo on the side, 'We take your valuables seriously'. Quite ironic really when you think about it!
My George reckoned there was a comma missing!
Ellis laughed. He'd heard the same rumour and had dismissed it as apocryphal.