//[[index|Index to pages]]// ======Thornton Under Vale Mystery – Part 4====== //{{:cwc:fnbearpaw-little-bear-set_1-300x300-1.png?300x300}} // [[:cwc:thornton-under-vale-mystery-part-1-v2| //(Read from start)// ]] The sale of the Romanov Dining set at Christie’s Auction House in London to a personal friend of Vladamir Putin had raised the profile of the recent death of Robin Cock in Thornton Under Vale to international attention. The unexpected demise of Miss Fly, the only witness to the murder of Robin Cock, sent shock waves through the police hierarchy. The Chief Constable was previously only interested in the case because the late Mr Cock had very wealthy, and thus influential, friends in the highly competitive world of antique Chinese Porcelain trade. Now, the Chief wanted results and quickly, but he certainly didn’t want the investigation to delve too deeply. That’s why he had appointed the lacklustre DS Hawk to the case. DS Hawk was well known to go for the first lead he came across, and close the case quickly… even if it did mean that years later the case would be re-investigated and the ‘accused’ subsequently found innocent. Only if the ‘accused’ had money to chase a wrongful conviction did that happen, and it was always years later. The Chief Constable expected to be retired by then, so it didn’t matter. He didn’t want to rock the boat. However, the boat was rocking. DS Hawk was on his way to arrest Edwina Fly for the murder, but was delayed waiting for a Search Warrant. DS Hawk always found the evidence he needed to convict. For example, he had discovered her alibi was a pack of lies. Not only had Edwina Fly been a champion competition archer in her youth, but she also had a side hobby of blackmail. DS Hawk had suggested misadventure, as the old, batty, suspicious, busybody and religious zealot, would want to ‘tell the bees’ in the well known Witch tradition. He proposed that being old, she must have accidentally dropped the toxic canister, used to quieten the bees in her garden hives. The Chief Constable was perfectly happy with that Report, until the local press had, somehow, got hold of the pathologist’s report and spoken with the locals at The Linnet public house. A den of thieves, if ever there was. According the press, the rather young, and far too keen, Constable Web had discovered Edwina Fly, had been murdered. Constable Web had revealed, by accident, the discovery of the jammed door, and that Miss Fry wasn’t that frail. She had broken out of her kitchen after being locked in. The local headline, “Spider discovers Fly dead in Web of Deceit” had even hit the National Papers. Naturally, the National Papers linked the two bizarre deaths to Putin’s secret assassination history, to spice up the story, which rocked the boat even more. It was close to capsizing. The Chief wanted Constable Web off the case, and had summoned the lad to Head Office for dismissal, for talking to the Press without clearance. The execution was scheduled for the late afternoon, after the press deadline. The Chief needed a delay before the Press were told. However, as he gleefully told his ACC of his intention, he was not expecting to see his assistant arising from behind the heavy desk. The view over the top of the mountain of brown files of compensation claims from quashed convictions was not one of equal joy, but rather, a troubled look. “It’s up to you, but I think getting rid of Spider Web would appear to be part of a Police cover-up. It would be better if you got him to report directly to you, rather than DS Hawk. That way you can control what is released to the Press. You have plenty of justification of taking DS Hawk off the case.” The greying, desk bound, Assistant Chief Constable Adder waved his hand over the tall mountain of brown files. “These are all DS Hawk’s previous cases. I can’t delay progressing these for ever, Sir.” Chief Constable Sparrow groaned. His memory of being in the Witness stand, and having to attempt to justify DS Hawk’s shoddy detective work in Court, was still quite raw. The judge had looked over his half rimmed glasses and muttered, “Do you really expect this Court to accept the multiple errors in the evidence as, as you put it, as ‘a bit of a misunderstanding’?” Despite his dark blue uniform, bristling with polished brass buttons, gold braid, and colourful honours to denote his superior status, Sparrow felt like a small child being justifiable scolded by a distant aunt. It was a very uncomfortable feeling that he didn’t wish to repeat in a hurry. The problem was that DS Hawk also knew where the Chief Constable’s skeletons were hidden. If Hawk went down, then he feared he would be taken down as well. DS Hawk had a ruthless streak, the same one which made him invaluable in meeting monthly Government arrest targets. As usual, he turned to his able assistant, “We do need to keep DS Hawk on board. What do you suggest, Charles?” Using the personal name always gained loyalty, Chief Constable Sparrow felt. It was something he recalled from his many Management Motivation courses he was sent on. ACC Adder smiled, his green eyes glinting like a prepared viper, “There is the Russian angle that needs investigating. You need an experienced man on that. It’s high profile, political, and, if anything is discovered, you need to be able to justifiably dismiss the evidence. The Government wouldn’t want a situation to develop. I suggest DS Hawk would be perfect in that role, Sir.” The Chief Constable eyed the mountain of incriminating files. He smiled, “Call DS Hawk, and ask him to come to HQ. We are going to offer him a role he cannot refuse.” Confidently, he returned to his contemporary furnished, mirror glass fronted, corner office. So clean, so neat, so large. He poured himself a shot of 20 year old Whiskey. A holiday gift from Charles Adder’s European travels. In moments, the Chief Constable was snoring away, reclined on his chrome and black leather sofa. Meanwhile, ACC Adder made the calls as directed, and came into the corner office to make another call to Reverend Castle. He waited until he was certain he would not be overheard. As Reverend Castle’s distinctive British voice, like that of a 1950’s BBC Radio announcer, replied, Adder reverted to his native Russian. “Do you still have the Romanov Candlestick copies, Comrade? Good. Time to return them to our good friend Ivanna. I’ll make sure Web finds them.” The Reverend replied in clear Muscovite Russian, “Very good, Comrade Captain.” Meanwhile, in Thornton Under Vale, from the evergreen Rhododendrons that skirted the formal green lawn, over which the Anbull’s tudor farmhouse towered, a long, goose feather fletched arrow was poised to continue the death toll. The target came into view. Standing outside on the grey stone terrace, champagne glass in hand, stood Mrs Ivanna Cock, silver tweed suited, together with a silver fox-fur coat, yet distinctly pregnant, and much younger Miss Dove, barmaid of The Linnet pub. Both women were laughing in joint celebration. Crystal glasses chinked. There was a soft whoosh, as the arrow was released. //(Prompts Used: Her alibi was a pack of lies..; It’s up to you, but I think…; The execution was scheduled for…; The judge looked over his half rimmed glasses; the view over the top of the mountain…; The boat was rocking..:)// [[http://Part 5| //Now Read Part 5// ]] ---- Authored by: Mark Baker; Last updated: 2021-07-04T09:53:07(UTC)