“This way.” Price said, ignoring her. “Mind your head, people were a lot shorter when they built this place. Eighteen century….seventeenth….Some long time ago anyway. Who cares?” The house interior looked clean and cosy. Hazel found the country scenes on the wall a bit twee. She wasn’t an art expert but was willing to wager that they were rubbish. She guessed, correctly as it turned out, that they were photographic prints that had been through some kind of computer software to make them look like water colour paintings. Which it did. Sadly the actual images themselves were not all that good.
Hazel ducked through a small door into a room that an estate agent might describe as cosy with a rustic appeal. She thought it slightly cramped and uncomfortable.
Looking uncomfortable in a room that was never designed for electric lights and non-drip soft blue matt paint was Michelle Russo with Jibrail Rangan. He was a young, newly minted solicitor. Fresh out of university and learning on the job. Hazel had always found the young man capable and friendly. If he had any objections to his colleagues Anglicising his name to “Jimmy” he never mentioned them. They both looked very professional but out of place in dark business suits.
The third person there was a police inspector she didn’t know. The modern police uniform didn’t fit the décor either. He was tall, as police officers often are, and clean shaven. He was hatless and had short dark hair. Everyone seemed pleased to see Hazel. She doubted they were pleased to see Harry Sanford or even TDC Price.
“Good to see you found the place.” Michelle said. “Inspector Fenner, this is Detective Sergeant Vernon.”
“Can you take these things off me?” Sanford said. Holding up his handcuffed wrists.
“Stan Fenner.” The inspector held out a hand. Hazel found that surprisingly familiar for an inspector from a different city. “Good to meet you.”
“Hey.” Sanford said, “You can shake hands later, can’t you?”
Fenner glanced indifferently at Sanford, as he, briefly, shook Hazel’s hand. “So this is our man, is it?”
“Less of the it.” Sanford said, “I’m supposed to be helping you.” He rattled his cuffs at Fenner, “You want to help me out a bit?”
Fenner said, “I think it’s safe to let him free, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir.” Hazel said, but first she said, “Could we close the curtains first, please?”
“It’ll make this room seem even smaller.” Michelle said.
“I know, but anyone with a high powered rifle could pick him off with no trouble.” That was just the first of Hazel’s objections.
“Charming.” Sanford said. “Hey, Sergeant, the bracelets.” He turned them to Hazel, “These aren’t fashion accessories you know.”
Hazel dug out her keys as Jimmy Rangan, who was closest to the window, closed the curtains. For a moment they were in a darkened room and then Price flicked on the lights.
“That’s better.” Sanford rubbed his wrists and looked around, “So this is it? It’s going to be pretty crowded with you lot here.”
“We’ll be leaving.” Fenner said, “Mr Rangan here will be taking any information you have to tell us. Ms Russo will evaluate it later.”
“How about some food?” Sanford said, “What wonderful dishes have the state laid on for me?”
“Please don’t try to be amusing, Harry.” Hazel said, “I’m not in the mood today. It’ll be a step above prison food.” Hazel didn’t know, but she was willing to bet none of the people in the room right now, herself included, would be inclined to cook any kind of decent tasty or nutritious meal for Harry Sanford. Whatever he was served as food would come in a plastic tray and be ready when the microwave went ‘ding.’
He shook his head and picked out what he presumed to be the most comfortable seat in the room. “You’re asking a lot for your money.”
Hazel didn’t think they’d get their money’s worth. Whatever this operation was costing it wasn’t going to show any kind of information profit. “Well if it’s all right with you I better get back to Caneston. I’m sure there’s some real police work that needs doing.” She raised her voice slightly and looked at Sanford. He ignored her completely.
Inspector Fenner said, “Yes, I’d like a word with you about that, Sergeant Vernon.”
Hazel. Very suddenly, had a sinking feeling. She was starting to understand things and hoped, desperately, that she was wrong.
She wasn’t wrong.
“Temporary Detective Constable Price,” Fenner said, speaking the words Hazel had feared, “will be leaving with you.”
Price looked happy and hopeful, like a puppy in the animal shelter.
“I don’t think….”
“I know this is a Caneston operation, Sergeant.” Fenner said pleasantly. Hazel thought of it was Michelle’s operation, but kept that to herself. “But this is my patch here and I am supplying both the protection and housing for our friend here.”
“Cheap housing.” Harry Sanford said, his eyes closed. He sat back with a big smile of his face. “How come there’s no tv set here?”
“In return,” Fenner said, leaving Harry to work out for himself why a holiday cottage wouldn’t have a tv set, “I want one of my men to act as a liaison with you.”
They all looked at Price.
“Why?” Hazel couldn’t stop herself asking, “Sorry, Sir.”
“No, it’s a valid question.” Fenner said, “It’s a case of needing to be informed of what is happening. TDC Price is….” He faltered a bit when it came to establishing exactly what Price was, “…..in need of experience.” That sounded ominous. Fenner smiled at Hazel, “I’m sure he will benefit from your experience, Sergeant.”
Hazel’s inner confidence sank lower. She desperately sought a bright side to this stupid situation. She supposed it would be over soon enough. It wouldn’t take long for Jimmy, or more likely, Michelle, to conclude Harry Sanford had nothing of any practical use to give them. Then Price could go back to Dransfield, put on his uniform and do whatever it was the police did here. Set up speed traps and pick up drunks, she presumed.
She put a very obviously false smile on her face.
“I’m sure he will.” She said through gritted teeth.
Chapter Four
“Eddie, I want you to stay where you are.” Dean Hudson said into his smart phone. “Don’t send any of your men out until I call you and tell you it’s ok.” Hudson was parked up in his car, but, while on the phone, he was carefully looking up and down the street.
“Why would I do that?” Eddie’s slightly irritated voice came back at him, and not for the first time Hudson wondered if Tony was really the only stupid one in the family. Having looked the street over, it was near empty and wet with the recent rain, he sighed inwardly.
“The police, Eddie. They are interested in you now.”
“You deal with the police.” Eddie Symes said, dismissing the whole thing. “Why aren’t you here?”
“I’m not there, Eddie, because I’m trying to get you out of the….” He had wanted to use the word, mess, but settled, instead, for the more neutral word, “…situation, that your brother got you into.”
“Deal with it.” Eddie liked to give out orders like that. Hudson had quickly learned Eddie Symes wasn’t a very