Chapter Eight – Let the Action Begin

Alf quickly straightened in his chair and hastened to hide the newspaper he'd been skimming as the door to the police station opened. He let out a relieved breath as PC Mike Bradley walked through with his biker helmet under his arm.

"Are they still in there?" Mike asked curiously with a nod toward the interrogation room.

"Yeah," Phil said as he appeared in the corridor, coming from the kitchenette. "Shiner arrived an hour ago."

Mike made a face as he walked over to his desk and sat down. "So, any progress then?" he wondered aloud.

"Don't know, but the other guy revealed a thing or two," Phil replied with a look of satisfaction.

"Apparently they aren't so smart after all," Alf quipped as he once again unfolded the newspaper. "Those antiques thieves," he added.

"Unfortunately they made us look like real fools," Mike countered.

"There will be no more antiques stolen," Phil said as he walked over from where he had been standing, behind Alf, to his desk and sat down.

"Don't say that," Alf returned. "That Jones character is still on the loose. Who knows what he's planning?"

Mike nodded. "Then there's that shady man, Charles Chadwick," he added.

Phil groaned inwardly. "What is wrong with you two? We've caught most of the antiques gang," he complained.

Mike opened his mouth to answer as Sgt. Rowan and DI Shiner walked out of the interrogation room. Alf lazily got out of his chair and nodded to Nick. "I'll take him back to his friend," he offered.

"Anything?" Mike asked curiously.

"Quite possibly," Shiner replied slightly positive before continuing. "We were right to believe there's a connection with this toy manufacturer, Chadwick."

"Apparently this guy got a little itchy when his name came up," Nick added.

"So those two really are our thieves?" Mike asked.

"No question about it," Shiner replied. "But there are still some lose ends that we need to tie up."

"The lorry garage?" Phil said, voicing the question on everyone's lips.

DI Shiner nodded. "What you and Constable Ventress found was no doubt goods from a nightly raid. According to our friend in the interrogation room that's where they store most of the statues before taking them to Whitby for shipping abroad," he explained.

"But we found only smaller items," Phil reminded him.

"And he said they stored the larger statues. I can't say why you walked in on a batch of small things," the DI replied.

"You mentioned Chadwick?" Mike spoke up.

Shiner nodded. "The name of his company was on the crates and boxes in the lorry garage," he said.

"I've called for a warrant to search the premises," Nick said. "We'll head over there first thing in the morning. I'll organize things from here to get everything set to go."

Shiner turned to look over his shoulder, at Nick, who was currently standing behind him, opposite Alf's desk. "I need to call in with the department," he said.

"Take the phone in my office," Nick offered and watched the high-ranking CID officer walked away before turning to PC Bradley.

"Mike, can I have a word with you in private?" he asked kindly with a nod toward the interrogation room.

"Sure, Sarge," the constable said and got out of his chair.

Nick walked after him and closed the door behind them.

"I know you only wanted to help out at the pub last night but up here everyone knows you're a copper and it's not appreciated among everyone to have you serve beer," Nick admonished as he sat down in the same chair he had vacated approximately thirty minutes earlier.

"There's no harm done," Mike replied, failing to see the relevance as he took a seat opposite his superior officer.

"I'm afraid there is," Nick countered. "This isn't London where you can walk around and do things without exposing what you do."

"But Sarge," he protested.

"This is Aidensfield we're talking about, it's a small community," Nick said seriously. "They look up to us in order to assure order and structure. If you're going to be more involved there you must have their respect."

Mike nodded and looked down at the table.

An amused look crossed Nick's face and his upper lip curled slightly upward as he remembered all the trouble he had at the beginning. "They love to gossip, especially at the pub. And sometimes they manage to spread the most ridiculous rumors you can ever imagine."

Mike couldn't help but smile, smitten by his superior officer. "I take it you have some experience," he said.

"Some good, some bad," Nick let on cryptically.

OOOOOO

Gina Ward got into her coat and walked out of the house. It felt like she could need some fresh air after last night. Her emotions were in conflict as she kept comparing Mike Bradley to Phil Bellamy in her mind. The former had been a blessing behind the bar and they'd talked all night, had a lot of fun.

She looked left and then right before crossing the street, heading straight for Bernie Scripps at the garage as he stood just outside polishing up the pump.

The old burial entrepreneur and garage mechanic looked up at the sound of clicking heels and smiled kindly as he spotted the barmaid coming up to him.

"Hello, Gina," he greeted.

"Hi, Bernie," she said cheerfully. "Cleaning the pumps?" she asked.

He nodded. "With all the foul weather recently and the fair amount of cars passing I thought they needed a bit of tidying. Besides, Lord Ashfordly's foxhunt is closing in," he reasoned.

Gina nodded and looked over his shoulder and into the garage through the half-opened door. "How's David doing?"

The minute she'd finished asking something smashed inside the garage. Bernie wearily looked down at his shoes and reached up with his hand to rub his face, briefly closing his eyes.

"Well," he began as he turned to look at her once again. "All things considered he hasn't put me out of commission yet. However, I think it's best if he helps out with the burial services, maybe filling up gas, when it comes to mechanics I just don't see it happening," Bernie offered kindly with a twinkle in his eyes.

Gina laughed. "He means well," she let on.

"Yes, I know," Bernie said in exasperation. "I just imagined I might actually get some help out of it. And now that Claude has managed to drag him into that goat business of his, David isn't here as much as I thought he would be."

"Goat business?" Gina asked curiously.

"Haven't you heard?" Bernie asked confused. "I thought it was on everybody's lips. He is to deliver cheese to the grocery store and then some. Apparently it's a hot potato among the rich now, to eat goat cheese."

"Yeah, leave it to Claude to come up with the idea," Gina replied with a smirk.

"Was there anything I could do for you?" Bernie asked slightly amused.

"I was thinking my car needed a bit of service," she said.

"Bring it over later in the afternoon and I'll have a look at it," he offered.

OOOOOO

Sr. Maggie Bolton carefully pulled up in front of the main entrance to Ashfordly General Hospital, got out of the car and headed straight for the ward where they kept heart patients. Only minutes later she walked up to a bed where an old little lady lay, fast asleep.

Maggie gently reached out to take the woman's hands into hers and gave her a smile as she blinked her eyes open. "Good morning Mrs. Wilkinson," she said softly.

The curly haired, seventyish woman, smiled back, albeit weaker. "Sister Bolton," she said jovially. "It's so good of you to come, I feared I would be all alone."

"I'll visit for as long as you'll have me," Maggie assured her and squeezed her hand.

Mrs. Wilkinson opened her mouth to say something when Doctor Bolton strode over. She turned to him and nodded. "Good morning doctor," she greeted politely.

"Good morning…" he said before glancing down in his papers, "…Mrs. Wilkinson," he finished and gave Maggie a disapproving look before turning back to the patient again. "I will be back with you shortly."

Maggie frowned but said nothing.

"I need to have a private word with Sr. Bolton," he said and nodded toward his wife.

"Of course, doctor," Maggie replied, the tone in her voice guarded as she plastered a polite smile on her face.

"Take your time," Mrs. Wilkinson piped up. "I won't be going anywhere."

Neil waited just outside the doors to the ward as Maggie walked out to join him, unable to hide her annoyance at being interrupted.

"What are you doing here Maggie?" he asked softly but there was an undertone in his voice that sounded accusing.

"I'm visiting one of my regular patients," she said with a frown, not seeing where he was going.

"May I remind you that she is now under care at the hospital and that you needn't to attend," he said rather arrogantly.

"She has got no one, Neil," Maggie protested. "Everyone is entitled to some company."

"It's not for you, it's not your call Maggie, let the social service take care of it," he suggested.

"What have you turned into, Neil? I thought you were human, that you felt some compassion toward people," she said angrily, accusingly. "You turn up here all of a sudden, claiming it was my fault you left in the first place and then you expect me to throw myself into your arms when you come back four years later as if nothing's happened?" she questioned, unable to keep her voice down any longer. "And now you're meddling with how I chose to take care of my patients?" she said disbelievingly. "What's next, Neil? Are you going to accuse me of negligence for not being with her when she'd had her heart attack? Maybe I could have planned my route better and been there when it happened."

Neil raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Calm down Maggie," he said. "Let's be reasonable."

"I wish you hadn't come back Neil. I really wish you'd stayed wherever you went to," she said gloomily, with sadness in her voice as she turned to leave.

"Maggie I…" the young doctor began but it was of no use, she'd already walked through the door, heading down the corridor.

OOOOOO

To be continued

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