Shooting Elvis by Stuart Pawson Read Free Book Online

for use in the investigation. At least a hundred people have access to that picture, and one of them leaked it to the press. It’s not the sort of behaviour expected of professionals, and whoever leaked it will be out onhis neck if we find out who it was. That’s all.’
    Off they went, every one of them hurt by my comments. Except for the one who took the pieces of silver. We’d had a good run at Heckley, with the best team in the business, but time was catching up with us. Some of my top officers had moved on, and I hadn’t always had a say in their replacements. I held no truck with prejudices of any kind, but political correctness, carried to its extremes, was just as damaging. Policemen – and women – were individuals, with different strengths, priorities and abilities. If you were backs to the wall in a city pub with a bunch of yobbos facing you down, you didn’t want to be with the fast-track graduate with the Bachelor of Law degree, unless he was also a black belt in tai kwando, or whatever. In a good team you need a spread of talents and you deploy them appropriately. That had been my strength, and it worked. We had the best clear-up rate in the division.
    Dave Sparkington followed me to my office and sat in the spare chair, slumped forward, elbows on knees. I pinned the jobs priority chart on the board, tore Saturday and Sunday off my calendar and read the day’s homily out loud: ‘It is a curious subject of observation and enquiry, whether hatred and love be not the same thing at bottom’ .
    ‘Who said that?’ he asked, without looking up.
    ‘Erm, let me see… Nathaniel Hawthorne.’
    ‘Who’s he?’
    ‘He was a biologist, I think. They named a bush after him.’
    ‘Did they? I wish I’d gone to grammar school. We never learned useful stuff like that at the sec. mod.’
    ‘You’d have looked silly in the cap.’
    ‘I know. God, how we pitied you lot having to wear one of those.’
    ‘So what’s bothering you?’
    ‘Nothing. Did you go jogging over the weekend?’
    ‘No, we went running. We’re runners, not joggers. You were invited, you could have joined us.’
    ‘What, with you and Gazelle? No, you’ve left me behind, I’m afraid. So why was he sent to us?’
    ‘Who?’ As if I didn’t know.
    ‘Eddie the Lip.’
    ‘You mean DS Carmichael. Career development, I’m told.’
    ‘Uh! He needs career development like I need breast implants.’
    ‘What’s he done now?’
    ‘Oh, nothing. He was sounding off about unmarried mothers, that’s all. He has strong feelings on the subject.’
    ‘I don’t think Sophie comes into that category, Dave. They’ll get married, as soon as the studying’s over.’
    ‘It was all for my benefit, no doubt about it.’
    ‘Well, keep your hands off him.’
    ‘I’ll try, but listen – I’ve been thinking about Ellis and Newbold’s and I reckon someone was ripping them off. They made things out of brass, and brass is valuable. Alfred was probably in a position to augment his wages by siphoning off some of it to the friendly neighbourhood scrap dealer. On the other hand, Smallwood could have been cooking the books. Or, third alternative, they could have been in it together.’
    ‘So what do you suggest?’
    ‘I’m not sure. I wouldn’t mind talking to the local scrappies, looking at their books, but it’s been a long time. What did you think of Smallwood?’
    ‘Ah!’ I grinned at the memory. ‘He’s weird, that’s for sure, but I think we were probably unkind to him. If he has a paper-thin skull, wearing a helmet is a sensible precaution.’
    ‘ If he has one.’
    ‘Mmm. OK, you talk to the scrappies. I’m having a couple of hours on reports and paperwork. Maybe we can get out somewhere later.’
    Dave went off and I wondered about what he’d said. He was right about one thing: DS Carmichael had been foisted on me by HQ. Every month I’d report that I was short-handed, and every month nothing would happen, until last month when