A short story in the making
First draft of a story written in a writing group session by Ray and his reflections on where it might go if he worked on it further.
Lost and Found
The desk sergeant looked at the station clock for the sixth time since 11pm, it read 3am, just four more hours to the end of shift, the last night duty of the month thank god, then 3 days off to do as he pleased, fishing maybe, a stroll down the pub, anything in fact that didn’t include his wife, probably spend some time with the other other woman. He was awoken from his sexual anticipations by the sound of the front office buzzer being sounded by someone he thought had nothing better to do on a rainy Sunday morning. He looked askance at the sorry figure on the other side of the counter, his heart sinking at the sight of the latest visitor, his copper’s intuition telling him this was aggravation with a capital A. White male, about fifty, unshaven, dishevelled appearance, complete with bloodstained shirt and trousers, topped off with the smell of booze. The nocturnal visitor enlightened sergeant Disinterested that he had done it, finally done it. Done what asked the sergeant lighting up his tenth cigarette of the night and exhaling the smoke down his nose which never failed to convey a sense of total boredom to anyone in the vicinity.’Killed the bitch, stone dead, cheating cow.’ Righty Ho replied sergeant A Little Interested. Who is this bitch, when did it happen, how did you kill her? My old lady innit, about one it was, I came back late from the boozer, crept into the bedroom, she was lying under the covers, smashed her head with a claw hammer didn’t I? Why did you do that? ‘She was having it off with someone else, been going on for six months now. Ever since she bought that bleeding 50 Shades of Grey, dirty cow.’ Okey dokey said sergeant Definitely Interested you’re nicked my son as he placed the suspect under arrest, summoned assistance and booked him in subsequently acquainting him with the inside of a police cell. CID and forensic were called in and despatched to the alleged murder scene for examination of the same. Several hours later the DI returned to the office smugly enlightening Sergeant the case was open and shut. Admission by the suspect, the murder scene and forensic tending to corroborate the same, this was a straightforward one. Hard to pin down the time of death the only thing, with two to three hours either way. We’ll be returning to the scene later this morning for a secondary search, funny what can be missed on the initial inspection. Sarge went off duty about 7am. He felt like a drive into the country and heading out of town he found a quiet wooded spot, parked up, smoked a couple of cigarettes then took a swig from his emergency Johnnie Walker kept in the glove compartment.. He opened the boot, took out a quantity of civilian clothes, which he soaked in the whisky remnants, and set fire to the same. He drove about thirty miles, eventually finding what he was looking for, a skip conveniently placed outside a house under renovation. He placed the claw hammer well hidden under the debris. Women, he considered were more trouble than they were worth.
He made his way to the marital home, showered, hung his uniform in the wardrobe reaching into the tunic pocket for his warrant card. The pocket was empty, now where did I leave my warrant card he wondered.
LOST AND FOUND. BY Ray Targett.
The possible final part of a projected short story regarding the working life of a rather unsavoury Metropolitan Police sergeant. It is a definitive history of his shady dealings in his time in the police, the various scrapes he gets into, his total disregard of supervising officers and standards of conduct. Will his latest misdemeanour take him beyond the pale? Will he talk his way out of it or will the overwhelming burden of evidence result him receiving his just desserts?
By the way Sue, please do not ask who was my inspiration for the character, it’s a closely guarded secret.
PS The ‘other other’ woman is not a typo error! Mind you Sue, a budding sleuth like your good self will pick up on that!
Maybe it would run to a whole novel Ray, with each chapter showing his decline from a decent fresh young copper to the point where he ‘believes’ he could get away with murder! Sue