Chapter 2

"Sir Malcom Sachs. Anybody heard of him?"

"Something to do with the Foreign Office isn't he?" suggested Sergeant Harriet Makepeace.

"Right," said Chief Superintendent Spikings, not taking his eyes from the whiteboard as he scrawled the name down. "Not a particularly big name but his current plight has been forwarded on to SI-10 all the same.

"And what plight might that be, Sir?" Makepeace asked.

Spikings flipped open the blue manila file on the table beside him, drawing off the top sheet of paper from the stack. "I'm getting to that Sergeant," he said testily.

He Blu-tac'd the photograph to the board.

"His son; Charlie Sachs, thirty-three, a sculptor and missing for the last nine days."

He wrote this name down too.

"So the angle we're going with is his place of work, Weathervane Art Studios in Battersea."

Spikings began handing out photocopied briefing notes.

"Charlie Sachs is a freelance artist. He has one of the six units for his sculpting studio. The others are occupied by Billy Higgins, a twenty-three year old metal artist. Gloria Freeman-Kelty, fifty-six and a patchwork quilter," he said with a certain amount of contempt as though this couldn't possibly be seen as a serious profession. "Paul Masters, thirty-seven year old painter and Jenna farmer, twenty-eight. She designs and produces jewellery. They all rub along together allegedly, in and out of each other's units, bouncing their arty idea off one another and borrowing cups of sugar." He tweaked at his moustache as he glanced down at his notes. "In fact, it was them set the ball rolling, reporting Mr Sachs as missing."

Chas Jarvis raised his hand tentatively. "That's only five units accounted for, Sir, you said there were six."

"Very true, Chas but no points, nobody likes a clever-dick."

He smiled to himself and again addressed his team.

"The sixth unit is empty. However, as of next Monday, it's due to be taken on by one Christopher Montgomery, also a sculptor. He's a friend of Charlie Sachs and it was he who contacted Sir Malcolm about his disappearance after one of the Weathervane lot got in touch with him."

Lieutenant Jim Dempsey who had been surprisingly quiet up until this point, kicked back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh, letting the hand holding the briefing notes fall to his side.

"C'mmon, Chief! This is a bunch of arty-schmarty hippy dropout potheads we're dealin' with here, right? The guy's gonna be holed up someplace droppin' acid for inspiration."

A few amused snorts and titters ran around the room.

"You know, Dempsey, for once I'm inclined to agree with you. However, plod has failed to find our man and rather than being the long haired layabout we might imagine, Mr Sachs has built himself a respected reputation within his field."

Dempsey still wasn't convinced. "And he does what – sculpts stuff?"

"Indeed he does."

A series of photographs was passed around.

"He works in plaster of paris to create, errrrm…" Spikings spoke sarcastically, "…his art."

"Is that a briefcase?" Dempsey asked with disbelief.

"Got a telephone 'ere," laughed Frank, handing the photograph on.

Dempsey grabbed it from him, smiling as he caught sight of the printing on the reverse. "Yep, certified freakin' fruitcake," he grinned. "Purr! How the hell he get 'Purr' outta that?"

"It's a personal tag, Dempsey," Makepeace informed him quietly. "It means something to the artist and when we find him, you'll be able to ask him, won't you"?

"You into this shit?" he wanted to know.

She shook her head. "Not particularly my thing but you shouldn't dismiss it out of hand."

"I ain't! I'm dismissin' it outta the door with my boot up its ass."

There was a rumble of laughter and Spikings called for everyone to settle down.

The briefing lasted another forty minutes during which time various scenarios were gone through and discussed.

"Anyway Dempsey," said Spikings, "I'm afraid you're going to have to actively embrace all of this for the next few days. Christopher Montgomery joins their little clan on Monday and you, my son, will be going undercover to mingle with the weird and wonderful artisans of London Town."

"Hey, I can feel my creative juices flowin' already."

Makepeace sat up expectantly. "And what about me, Sir?"

Surely she was better placed than Dempsey to enter into the art world, she knew one or two artists, knew that they could be temperamental and so therefore usually needed treating with kid gloves - something Dempsey wasn't comfortable wearing.

"You, Makepeace?" Spikings smiled broadly. "You are his muse." He dragged the last word out humourously.

"Sir?" She was more than a little worried.

"His wife. Odette Montgomery is also his model. She's all he sculpts so I'm told."

With relish, he handed out another sheaf of photographs. "I must say, I much prefer this to Sachs' stuff."

There were four photos in all, each depicting a different statue of the same nude female form, artistically posed.

The boys showed their appreciation as boys do, making Makepeace seethe with irritation.

"Did I ever mention how much I love my job?" Dempsey quipped.

Tasks were metered out to some of the other officers, mostly involving the tracking down of Charlie Sachs and Dempsey and Harry waited, knowing there would be a summons for them to Spiking's office shortly.

Sure enough, the nod came and they followed Spikings through to his inner sanctum.

The Chief sat down behind his desk and lit himself a cigarette.

"So, as I said in the briefing, Christopher Montgomery says Sachs has been selling an awful lot of his work lately. The people renting the other units all say the same thing; carriers turning up once or twice a week to pick up consignments. His paperwork all seems to have been disposed of though which in itself is fishy. We'll be finding out what carriers have been used of course and where these consignments are being sent."

"Are we looking at a possible drugs angle?" Harry asked.

"Could be. Sir Malcolm admits that his son isn't exactly an angel. Had to bail him out of a pretty heavy gambling debt last year."

Dempsey nodded. "So we're goin' in there as mister and missus and nobody at Weathervane Art Studios has ever met us before. You think somebody knows more than they're lettin' on?"

"That's what you're going to find out. You're there to ask questions find out about the buyers if you can, who else these people mix with, anything that might lead you to Sachs'."

"Yeah, we can do that, Boss," Dempsey confirmed, "only I got one small problem with my cover."

"And what's that?"

"Like, I know Harry's gonna be just great at lyin' around naked, but I ain't no artist."

Makepeace cast him a deprecatory glance although she herself was eager to know how they would get around that issue.

Spikings flicked ash into the large glass ashtray and took a drag before he answered.

"Mr Montgomery is happy to oblige us with that little problem. He and his wife will be going to the studios at night to put in a few hours for us. And during the day, no one will actually witness you 'at work' anyway given the fact that your wife is in a state of undress when she's modelling."

"Okay, that's cool," Dempsey conceded with a slight smirk in Makepeace's direction.

Makepeace tapped the pen she held against her lips as she considered their next few days. "So what exactly is our aim, Sir? I get the impression it's more than just Charlie Sachs' whereabouts you're expecting us to uncover."

Dempsey folded his arms, chuckling as he leaned against Harry. "You catch that little play on words there, Chief? Uncover!"

Makepeace rolled her eyes. "I fear this is going to be a somewhat testing operation," she said with deliberate pomposity.

"Hell, I'm lookin' forward to it. This Montgomery guy sounds like the kinda dude I can really connect with, ya know?" he grinned. "I too spend each and every day in appreciation of the female form."

Spikings seemed inordinately amused by Dempsey's comment. "I know you do, Dempsey. And you're going to learn to appreciate it in all its glorious forms."

He reached down to the bottom drawer of his desk and drew out a large glossy hardback book entitled, 'Classical Sculpture'. "Bit of essential reading for you, sunshine."

"Gee, thanks."

Makepeace had a look across. "Rodin. I love that piece," she smiled, looking at the image on the dust jacket."

"Yeah? Well how 'bout you read it for me and fill me in on the need-to-know."

"I don't think so," smirked Spikings. "Sergeant Makepeace is going to be busy with some required reading of her own."

After delving back into the drawer, he slid another book across the desk.

Harry's expression was a study in bemusement as she read the title aloud. "The Essential Guide to Pregnancy And Childbirth." She frowned. "I don't understand, Sir." She looked to Dempsey for help, wondering if it made any more sense to him.

Spikings' moustache twitched as he sat back. A thin plume of cigarette smoke drifted upwards from the hand that was resting on the arm of the chair.

"Odette Montgomery is eight and a half month pregnant," he beamed.

Hope that's given you food for thought ;-)

Don't forget to review - you know how much I love your feedback.