Chapter Thirteen – Looking Into the Rear Mirror

Nick Rowan stood out on the moors, gazing for miles over the green-tinted hills in front of him. He looked to his right as a small hand inter-locked with his.

Kate Rowan looked up at him with a satisfied smile. She took a deep breath of the humid air in the late autumn.

"I'm so glad you talked me into moving back here, Nick," she said softly and squeezed his hand.

He returned her smile and sneaked an arm around her shoulder, dragging her closer. "Beats the busy streets of London," he returned cheekily.

"Yeah, it sure is different," she admitted. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You've come a long way since we first arrived almost three years ago," Nick said. "I remember when you fought with Alex Ferrenby about the Maskell family."

Kate leaned into him. "I miss him, Nick, I miss the old fox," she replied sadly as she gazed out over the hillocks. "I'm not sure how I'm going to handle this with the practice and everything."

"Don't you worry about that love, you'll think of something," he said reassuringly.

"Well, worst case scenario, I'll have to set up the practice at home," Kate let on, her voice slightly teasing.

"Do you want me fired?" he asked curiously. "If Blaketon drops by and finds the police house full of patients I'm toast," he complained lightly.

"Don't you worry, love, you'll think of something," she replied mischievously.

OOOOOO

Jo swallowed and reached up with her hand to wipe away a tear that had sprung from her eye. She raised her head, her eyes settling once again on the pale face that rested against the pillow in front of her. In a way he looked so peaceful as he lay there, perfectly still, his eyes closed and his left hand draped over his chest. He was in the same room as she yet he seemed so far away.

"Please Nick," she begged softly as she reached out to take his hand into hers, "please come back to me."

OOOOOO

PC Mike Bradley shifted in bed in annoyance as a sharp, piercing sound aggravated his dull headache. In annoyance he slammed his hand down the watch on the nightstand and cuddled beneath his sheets. Unfortunately the sound repeated itself and he grabbed the pillow, to put over his head, willing for the sound to go away. With a frustrated sigh, as he realized it didn't help, he threw the bedcovers aside and headed across his newly rented cottage to answer the ringing phone.

"Aidensfield Police," he answered, trying not to sound too groggy.

"PC Michael Bradley?" the voice at the other end asked.

"Speaking," he said succinctly.

"This is PC McCone calling from division in Whitby," he said by way of introduction. "I've got your number from a Mrs. Rowan, she said you'd know what to do with the information."

Mike wracked his brain to try and think of anything Nick might have requested in connection to the case but failed to come up with one. He reached for a pen and paper on the nearby table and nodded despite knowing no one saw him doing it. "Fire away, PC McCone," he said.

"A request was made concerning the finances made by a Mr. Charlie Chadwick. Several transactions have been made in that name, all accounted for and well presented to the law in terms of revision. It contains accountancies, numbers on stocks, several buys of crates and toys from the east and so on. There is one thing though; I took the liberty of checking up the person behind the transactions. Charlie Chadwick didn't exist until five years ago," the thorough police officer said.

All sleep vanished from Mike's face and his senses instantly began to clear as he saw the operation in a new light. "Well, thank you Constable McCone," he said appreciatively.

"I hope the information will be of use to you," the man said sincerely.

"In more ways than you know," Mike let on cryptically before ending the call.

He turned to look into the mirror behind him with a renewed spark in his eyes as everything seemed to fall into place. "Charlie Chadwick," he said aloud to himself. "Ted Jones…Denny Jones," he deduced.

His musings was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Turning toward it he was just in time to see Maggie Bolton step through with a smile on her face.

"Good morning, Mike," she greeted.

"Maggie," he said slightly surprised.

"I came to check up on you," Maggie explained as she walked up to him, placing her bag on the table. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Maggie," he replied, waving her worries away. "Seriously," he added, seeing the dubious look she was giving him.

"The last time I checked you hadn't a medical degree," the nurse said with a smirk, indicating for him to take a seat in the nearby armchair.

Distractedly Mike gingerly sat down. "Maggie?" he began. "If I wanted to know…or rather see the records of a deceased, to whom do I turn?"

The district nurse eyed him suspiciously and went to examine the lump on his head. "When did this death take place?" she asked.

"Around five years ago. The man was an intern and most likely died in prison while being treated for an overdose," Mike let on.

She nodded thoughtfully. "Police Medical File Archive, you should be able to trace it through the system," she explained as she moved over to have a look at his leg. "Call directly to headquarters down in Leeds."

"Thanks," the former London constable said relieved.

Maggie pursed her lips in annoyance as she finished examining him. "You should do nothing more than rest in bed today Mike. Your body needs time to recuperate."

"It's really important Maggie and I need to report to DI Shiner during the day," he countered.

"That's not a good idea," the district nurse replied in disagreement. "I promise you that given a few hours into the day you'll feel every cut and bruise on your body, especially your heavily bruised hip and, although you didn't receive a concussion, your head will be sore for a few days at least."

"It might be unwise to try and get over to the station by myself then…but that wouldn't stop me from taking a ride with you does it?" he asked cunningly.

"I would be neglecting my duties, letting an injured patient roam free," she teased.

"Come on Maggie," Mike said cheerfully albeit the pain shone right through as he got out of the armchair. "I might be able to nail the man causing our accident and, if I'm right, someone very close to him. If not for me, do it for Nick."

Maggie inhaled deeply, a sombre look crossing her face. "You better hurry then," she said. "The ride leaves in five and I don't think you'll impress the DI arriving in your skivvies," she said with a hint of amusement, causing a slight blush on the constables pale cheeks.

"Maybe not in my civvies either," he returned. "But I'll make a try."

OOOOOO

Claude Greengrass stepped out from the Aidensfield garage looking nothing but smug. He began to whistle slightly and clasped his hands together just as Lord Ashfordly came driving up to the facility.

"Good morning, my Lordship, you're up early today," Greengrass chirped.

Ashfordly nodded, his own mood much more sombre than the cunning old crook's.

"Look, I have a proposition for you," Claude began. "Maybe you're aware of my new blooming business?"

"A new flower concept?" Ashfordly asked dryly. "The last one didn't last more than a few days," he added, thinking back to the time when Greengrass had opened up a plant farm briefly and supplied the villagers with half-dead plants.

"Very funny, my lordship," he replied sheepishly, blushing slightly. "No, actually I'm producing goat cheese and milk of the finest quality. I thought you might be interested in buying some for the upcoming events up at the Hall."

The wealthy man snorted. "I really must decline your offer. I've asked Mrs. Ward to oversee the beer tent and to supply the competitors and spectators with other beverages that they might want. When it comes to the cheese; let's just say I want no surprises, no waiting on failed deliveries or anything else for that matter," he finished.

Claude blinked. "Well, I guess I'll just fix the tents then," he said.

"You do that, Greengrass," Ashfordly said with a curt nod.

OOOOOO

DI Shiner turned around as the outer door opened, revealing PC Bradley, dressed in his uniform looking ready for a new day at work.

"Constable Bradley," the DI acknowledged. "You're looking much better since the last time I saw you. However, the fact remains; should you be here today?"

"I've been cleared by the district nurse, sir," Mike replied as he walked up to stand opposite the CID officer. "May I have a word with you in the office?"

The DI nodded with a serious look on his face and motioned for Bradley to walk ahead of him before turning to follow.

Mike waited until the door was closed behind them and the DI was on his way over to sit down behind Sgt. Rowan's desk.

"This might seem like a long shot, but has it ever been considered that Ted Jones's brother, Denny Jones never died?" he tried casually.

Shiner looked up at him gravely. "Denny Jones was a criminal, a supplier of drugs. He got caught red handed during a handout and got locked up for life. The charge against him was quite serious considering the dope he'd handed out to the young people in the community killed at least two, injured a few others and caused a lot of trouble for the police," he said.

"I understand, sir that he died of an overdose while being imprisoned?" Mike asked curiously.

"You're correct Constable Bradley. The prison-employed coroner confirmed his death and took care of the body. It was never an issue of resuscitation, he was gone, there was nothing else to do than to send him directly to the morgue," Shiner explained.

"There was no autopsy?" Mike asked with a frown.

"No, he died in prison, in his cell, and the cause of death was pretty obvious. His body was released to the next of kin and taken to a burial site within the next week," the DI added stoically as he leaned forward in the chair to fix the constable with a stare. "So you see, his demise is not overstated."

"Still, sir, I feel we should check it out," Mike tried.

"The case is closed, Bradley," Shiner replied succinctly in a voice that left little room for argument.

"Yes, sir," he returned, barely able to contain his frustration with the case. "Anything new about Charlie Chadwick?"

"CID officers are on to it as we speak," the DI assured him.

There was an awkward silence before the senior CID officer spoke up again. "Thanks Constable Bradley. One more thing; unless you could provide me with a clean bill of health I suggest you hang up your uniform and rest. There are several CID officers in the area and I'm sure your colleagues can man the place for the time being," he reasoned.

"But I just said, sir," Mike protested but was interrupted.

"I heard you, Bradley, but you don't look very well. It was nasty accident you were involved in," he said closing the matter.

Mike nodded dully and turned around to exit the office.

Shiner stared at the closed door. He had known for quite some time that something wasn't right when it came to Charlie Chadwick but he had yet to look into the death of Denny Jones. 'Was it possible that PC Bradley was right?' he mused. Since the man had died in prison he had never suspected there would be something dodgy about it but maybe it was time to reconsider.

He reached for the phone and ordered the launching of a full CID investigation directed at the prison and the pathologist on duty at the time. He called for the documents concerning the death and everything else he could think of.

OOOOOO

To be continued

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