John Browns Body 7

The Sunday evening the traffic on the main road back to the station was almost non existent.  I thought briefly of the families in their houses which we passed, sitting in the warmth and comfort of their homes perhaps watching the television or enjoying the companionship of friends and family, and realising that John’s family would have none of that comfort this evening.  By the time we had recovered his body from the moors his family, both in the local area and Yorkshire, would have been informed of his discovery.  From now on any dealings with his body and his family would have to be carried out inavery circumspect and respectful way.

As Dickie drove the Land Rover along the main road I looked out of the side window of the passenger door.  The sky was clearing and a deep black cover was forming over the town to replace the rusty reddish brown of the cloud cover which had been present all evening thus far.  Pin pricks of stars shone through the cloud cover, and occasionally a thin moon slipped in and out of the odd thin clouds scudding across the sky.  A breeze had picked up, which would mean the temperature would be dropping as the evening turned into night.  “Pity the poor sods who would be on night duty tonight”, I thought.  The Rover lurched to the left and then to the right as Dickie pulled off the main road and into the driveway which ran the length of the front of the Police station.  From the rear of the Rover came the sound of heavy objects being thrown from first one side then the other.  No doubt Alan and John were getting to know each other more intimately.  No matter, we had arrived.

As I turned to my right to call over my shoulder to Alan in the back Dickie opened his drivers door and hopped out, slamming the door shut behind him.  Before I had the opportunity to say anything Dickie was sprinting up the series of steps to the front door of the station.  The thought crossed my mind that Dickie was desperate for the bathroom.  “Alan” I called though, “I want you to stay here until I get back.  I’m just going to speak to Sergeant Harrison.  Won’t be more than two minutes, but you have to stay here with the body.  OK?”  An unhappy muffled noise came out of the back which I took to be Alan agreeing to do as I requested.  I opened the door and stepped down from the Rover closing the passenger door behind me.  As I had thought, the temperature was dropping, already it was below freezing and the grass on the lawns by the side of the steps to the front of the station were starting to turn white.

As I opened the front door to the station a warm draft of air hit me and it smelled stale after the clear cold air of the moors.  Going through the small entrance hall I opened the door into the Enquiry Office as it was known officially, or Front Office as it was called by all who worked in any Lancashire Police Station.  In front of me was a waist high solid wooden counter mounted on a series of cupboards in which was kept many of the forms on which the Police was able to function.  Across the counter and six feet away was the ‘goldfish bowl’, a small office made of glass panels which housed the radio and telephones used by the officer on duty to pass on messages and jobs to the ‘troops’ on the ground.  This evening it was an elderly Constable called George on duty.  As I stood by the counter his head raised briefly from the newspaper he was reading.  “Where’s Dickie Knight got to George” I asked.  He looked up again and grinned at me.  “You mean Greased Lightening? You’re too late, he’s off out the back by now” and his head inclined towards the back door of the station off to my left.  The rear of the station was where we all parked out cars whilst on duty.  Dickie would have been off and through there whilst I was still getting out of the Land Rover.  

I swiveled round and ran back to the front door and pulled it open.  As I went through into the entrance hall Dickie Knight was changing into second gear and booting his car along the driveway to the exit from the station area.  “You lazy skiving bastard!” I thought.  “One of these days you are going to get it”.  I went back into the Front Office and rested my elbows on the counter.  “George” I called out, “Any idea where Sergeant Harrison is hiding out at the moment?” George glanced at a plastic situation board fixed to the glass panel in front of him.  “He’s out on patrol at the moment, think he’s gone off to DHQ with the mail”.  This didn’t sound right.  Mail went to DHQ on Friday evening, and then not again until Monday evening.  A sneaking suspicion went through my mind that he was avoiding me, he didn’t want anything to do with a dead body found on the moors where the Detective Superintendent had been called out.  I grinned to myself.

“George, do me a favour will you?” I asked.  George looked up from the desk again.  “What?” he asked.  “Get on the radio and tell Der Fuhrer that my car is at Ogden Reservoir and needs to be collected and brought back here.  I am going to Birch Hill with the trainee Dickie Knight lumbered me with and will be tied up for about the next two hours.”  I paused.  “You can also tell him that I will be finishing when I get away from the mortuary, I haven’t had a break yet so will take time off in lieu.  If he kicks off tell him where I live, he can come and sort it out face to face.  The prat.”  

Sergeant Harrison was built from the same lousy mould as Dickie Knight, in that he would avoid work as diligently and with a frequency which would put any normal person to shame.  He was known in the job as a Uniform Carrier, since he did nothing other than port the uniform around for eight hours a day if he could possibly get away with it, doing the absolute minimum of work during that period.

George grinned and nodded his head in agreement.  “One other thing please George” I added.  “Give Birch Hill a call and ask a porter to meet us at the mortuary.  I don’t see Alan and I being able to get the coffin out of the Land Rover by ourselves.  Tell him I will meet him there and will have our key.”  George nodded his head and swung around in his chair then, pushing his feet hard on the floor, scooted over the floor to a wooden cupboard on the back wall of the office.  He stopped his rather fast progress across the smooth floor with one foot and opened the cupboard with one hand and reached in with the other.  The cupboard contained a wall of keys on hooks.  George searched for the one he wanted and, having found it, removed a large old iron key with a plastic label attached to it.  It was the key for the mortuary.  He swung round and tossed the key through the door of his goldfish bowl and over the counter to me.  I caught it and held it up triumphantly.  “Cheers George.  See you later”.  “Cheers David.  Take care” he replied and slowly scooted back to his newspaper and mug of instant coffee on the desk.

I turned and left the station walking out again into the cold night air.  It’s chill hit my face first and then a second later my lungs, it really was becoming even colder than it had been in the afternoon, if that was possible.

The Land Rover was in darkness and quiet.  I walked around the front of it so that Alan could see me and opened up the drivers door, hauling myself up into the drivers seat.  “Alan” I called back over my shoulder.  “You can come and sit in the warmth in the front now”.  I heard him open the back door and then his groans as he dropped down onto the floor.  A couple of seconds later the passenger door opened and he pulled himself up into the seats by my side.  I looked at him, he appeared to be in some discomfort.  “You alright?” I asked.  He winced as he tried to find a comfortable position in the seat by my side, stretching out his legs into the well in front of him.  “It was a bit cramped up in the back there with the coffin, and Iwas thrown around a bit.” He replied.  I grinned quietly to myself.  “Lets get the fire going in this thing and see if both of us can thaw out a bit.” I fired up the engine and turned the heater on to maximum.