Phil Bellamy pulled the small police panda car onto the forecourt of the garage in Aidensfield. Bernie came out to him from the small office. "Full tank is it Phil?" he asked.
"Aye, thanks Bernie."
"I've got summat you might like by the way," Bernie said. "Here, David, fill this up for me would you?"
David Stockwell who had been valeting another car, obediently came over and took the hose off Bernie, filling up the Panda as requested. Phil nodded to him but his attention was firmly on Bernie.
"Found me something have you?" he asked.
"Aye. Well, I were at the auctions yesterday and I saw this and I thought it'd suit you. I've given it a going over and its sound enough. Here, come and have a look, its round the back."
Phil followed him eagerly and his eyes lit up when he saw the car Bernie had found with him in mind. He'd asked Bernie to look something out for him a few weeks ago but Bernie hadn't mentioned it since and he'd been getting impatient. But that was forgotten when he saw the sporty shiny Mini.
"Have a sit in," Bernie invited him and Phil didn't need much of an invitation.
"I really like it," he said. "How much Bernie?"
Bernie named a price which was more than Phil wanted to pay but he didn't care, he wanted it. "Can I come round after my shift, test drive it?" he asked.
"Take it out now if you like," Bernie said easily.
Phil was tempted but common sense won. "Best not. Blaketon'd have me guts for garters if he found out." He got out of the car reluctantly. "I'll come back about five if that's okay. Thanks Bernie. I appreciate this."
"That's fine, lad, thought you'd like it."
They began to walk back toward the Panda. David had filled it up and was now putting the fuel hose back on its holder and was stood near to the car but not actually touching it. Suddenly there was an audible crack. The windscreen shattered.
For a moment the three of them stood looking at each other.
"I – I weren't touching it Mr Scripps!" Agitated David whisked his cap off his head and stood twirling it round.
"I know lad," Bernie said half listening to him. Phil had in the meantime pulled open the driver's door and gave an exclamation. He picked something up off the driving seat.
"What is it?" Bernie asked.
"A bloody ball bearing. Someone's fired a ball bearing through the windscreen."
"Aye that'd make sense," Bernie said. "You can see here, on t'windscreen where its gone through, then all t'glass round it has just cracked."
"Catapult," David said.
The two others looked at him.
"Eh?" Phil said his mind too full of what he was going to say to his Sergeant. Somehow he knew this was going to be his fault. Even though it wasn't.
"Catapult Mr Bellamy. I reckon that someone fired a ball bearing at your car with a catapult. That's why we never saw no one."
"Must have been a bloody good shot," Bernie said. He looked at Phil. "Reckon he's right though."
Phil looked around wildly. "Could have fired it from anywhere." He sighed. "Bernie, I need to use your phone."
Phil stood miserably in Blaketon's office getting a thorough dressing down as he'd predicted.
"So Bellamy, enlighten me," his Sergeant said. "When this act of mindless vandalism was taking place whereabouts where you?"
Phil sighed but knew honesty was the only way. Blaketon would get to the truth eventually anyhow. "David Stockwell was filling up the car Sarge. I'd gone round the back of the garage with Bernie Scripps to look at a car he'd picked up for me. As I walked back we heard a crack as the windscreen was smashed. Sarge, it'd have happened even if I'd been stood with the car!"
"Aye, happen." Blaketon glared at him. "But I take a dim view of Constables going about personal business on police time – my time!"
"Sarge." Phil stared at him in panic. "You're not going to - well, make this official are you.?"
"Well I could, couldn't I Bellamy?" Blaketon glared at him. "Except I've got enough paperwork littering my desk at the moment without adding you to it! Get out of my sight. Oh and tell Rowan as he's our man out on the western frontier known as Aidensfield, I want our sharpshooter found and suitably dealt with. Understand?"
"Sarge, um, thanks, Sarge." Phil backed out the door feeling distinctly fed up.
Alf and Nick sitting in the duty room gave him sympathetic looks.
"Bad?" Nick asked.
"Yeah." Phil sat down at his desk. "Oh, he wants you to find the culprit Nick."
"What's he want me to do, confiscate every catapult in the village?" Nick hastily shut up as Blaketon appeared in the duty room but too late.
"I don't appreciate your manner, Constable Rowan!" Blaketon glared at the three of them. "May I point out that next time someone could be seriously hurt! I want the culprit caught and dealt with. And that means charges - starting with the no small matter of criminal damage to a police vehicle!"
"Yes Sarge." Nick got up. "I'll go over to Aidensfield and start making some enquiries."
Blaketon stalked back into his office. Nick gave Phil a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, picked up his greatcoat and headed off.
"Lucky bugger," said Phil, "he's out of Blaketon's line of fire any road."
"Take no notice." Alf said comfortingly. "Blaketon's taking it a bit personal – you know, an assault on a police vehicle is an assault on the Constabulary itself and all that business. He were never going to discipline you. Its just hot air."
"Hope Nick does find out who did it," Phil muttered darkly. "I'll wring their neck myself."
Nick decided to start with the local tearaways. He reckoned Jimmy Dugdale would be a good start. Jimmy really was a pain and had been as long as Nick had been in the village. It was mainly mischief but whilst relatively harmless mischief, interspersed with the odd bit of thieving from the village shop, Nick had always wondered if he'd progress to bigger, better things as he got older. He was fifteen now and lived with his mum in a small cottage in the village. Mr Dugdale was not around – hadn't been for years – and Jim's Mum tried to cope with her wayward son as well as working at the school doing cleaning and school dinners and the like . Ideally today Jimmy should be in school – whether he was or not was anyone's guess – but Nick thought he'd wait for the returning school bus from Ashfordly anyway. He sat patiently on the bike waiting as the bus pulled up in Aidensfield.
Jimmy did get off the bus, in school uniform with George Colman, who seemed to have buddied up with him. Nick noted that one with unease because George was generally a sensible lad and Nick didn't want him following Jimmy into trouble.
"I need a word Jimmy," Nick called over now and Jimmy sidled over. George waited by the bus stop fiddling with his bag.
"Whatever it is, Mr Rowan, weren't me," Jimmy mumbled.
"If you kept out of bother Jimmy you wouldn't have a permanently guilty conscience," Nick pointed out. "Right. Where've you been today Jimmy? Particularly about mid-day today."
"At school Mr Rowan. Been at school all day."
"I can check Jimmy."
"Well they'll say t'same. I were doing woodwork in Mr Crofton's class." The lad almost became a bit animated. "I like woodwork Mr Rowan."
Nick couldn't remember seeing the sulky Jimmy animated before. "What do you like about it?" he asked.
"Just making stuff and seeing things I've made and Mr Crofton, he says I'm good at it."
George had been listening to this last bit. "Its true Mr Rowan," he called over. "He's been in school all day. Mr Crofton's been helping him – he's making a chair for his Mum. But it's a surprise innit Jim?"
"Aye."
Nick looked at Jimmy wondering if this could be the same Jimmy Dugdale. "All right Jimmy. You get off home now. And Jimmy – you keep on with that woodwork – you could make something of yourself if you stick with it."
"I will Mr Rowan."
"And keep yourself out of bother. Then maybe next time you won't be the first one I think of when someone's making a pest of themselves."
Jimmy managed a bit of a grin at this. "I'll do me best Mr Rowan. And you won't tell me Mam about me chair will yer – it's a surprise, like."
"She won't hear a word from me," Nick promised. "I hope she likes it."
Nick watched him and George heading across the village green and shook his head barely able to believe the transformation. Then it dawned on him that was his number one suspect out of the frame. He thought for a moment then headed for the pub. It was just possible some gossip had fed its way across the bar which might give him a lead. At the end of the day smashing a car window was one thing but if a ball bearing was fired at someone they could be badly hurt. Nick knew he needed to get to the bottom of it.