Chapter Sixteen – Coping On My Own
Maggie raised her hand to knock for a second time when a car turned up at the driveway. She turned around to see Mike Bradley step out of the panda car and placed her hands on her hips, steaming with annoyance.
"Hi, Maggie," Mike said wearily as he walked up to her and waved at Phil as he drove away.
"I thought we agreed that you should take it easy and rest," Maggie said by way of greeting.
"I'm trying to find some clues to this mess, Maggie," the young police officer reasoned as he inserted the key in the lock and twisted the doorknob to the cottage.
"Maybe you could coordinate such efforts by using the phone?" Maggie challenged unhappily. "Mike, look," she reasoned, her tone of voice calmer. "You're a very lucky guy but you're not a hundred percent. Your body needs time to recuperate and it can't do that while you're running around chasing bad people."
"It's not so bad," he said with a shrug.
The district nurse huffed as she placed her bag on the table in his living room. "And how many tablets have you taken just to get through the day?" she asked sternly.
Mike sighed as he sat down in the comfy armchair and rubbed his temples, the headache that he had managed to get rid of the day before slowly creeping over him once again.
Maggie softened and knelt in front of him to carefully reach up and feel the bruise still present on his forehead. Her small hand gently palpated the tender area, resulting in a grimace from her patient and friend.
"The bruising is slowly fading and I can't feel any lump," she said and smiled softly at him. "At least not in the size of an egg."
Mike returned her smile.
"How's the hip?" She asked, slightly concerned as she'd seen a more pronounced limp outside.
"Too sore for my liking," he admitted.
"That's from not resting properly, from not staying off of it," Maggie returned seriously before breaking into a grin. "Serves you right though," she added.
"Thanks' for the sympathy," he replied dryly.
Maggie's upper lip twisted into a smirk. "You're welcome," she said.
The young police officer suddenly sobered and looked at her seriously. "I've been meaning to ask you; how's it looking for the Sarge?" Mike said.
Maggie sighed. "Not to good I'm afraid. He just won't wake up," she let on sombrely.
OOOOOO
DI Shiner walked in to the duty room and cast a quick glance at his wristwatch, he was early, the shift wouldn't start for another fifteen minutes. He took a deep breath and sat down behind Alf's desk, reaching for the telephone and dialled a number for the division in Whitby to make sure everything was set.
Ten minutes later the DI put down the phone and made his way over to the kitchenette to make himself a strong cup of tea. He glanced through the blindfolds of the window and saw the sunlight finding its way into the room. 'If anything else hits the fan, at least the weather is good,' he thought gloomily.
The door to the station suddenly opened, revealing PC's Ventress, Bellamy and Bradley in a tight trope, stepping into the duty room. All three of them stopped talking as they spotted the DI standing around the corner with a grim look on his face.
"You called, sir, and by the look on your face I'd say something serious have happened," Mike said.
Shiner nodded and glanced down the bottom of his cup before facing the constables, Bradley in particular.
"You were right, Constable Bradley," he let on, eliciting deep frowns from the three of them.
"I don't follow, sir?" Mike began curiously.
"Five years ago a certain Denny Jones supposedly died in prison after taking an overdose of cocaine. While in reality he was smuggled out by the on-call pathologist and a night guard. Five years ago a man called Charlie Chadwick walked out on the streets of London. An identity taken over from a man who crashed his little aircraft at sea outside Dover," the DI explained.
Mike walked over to his desk and sat down, clearly deep in thought. "How and why?" he asked.
"The on-call pathologist was a much respected member of the force but it later turned out he was also the boyfriend of Sarah Jones, Denny Jones' baby sister. Whether he did it for love or money I can't really say," Shiner let on.
"And the guard?" Phil asked, crossing his arms over his chest, still standing just inside the duty room.
"A man with gambling debts who greedily accepted a large bribe for his silence," the CID officer replied. "As for the why; I guess he wanted to be able to pay his debts and live a bit longer."
"So, what happens now?" Alf spoke up.
Shiner took a deep breath. "There have been suspicions before, Bradley," he said not really paying much attention to Alf's question. "However, until now there hasn't been anything that could circumstantiate a more thorough investigation of Denny Jones' death."
"Until now," Mike echoed in a subdued voice. "Anything more, sir that you want to enlighten us with?"
"At the moment I don't know much more than you do. CID has had the antiques gang and Charlie Chadwick under surveillance for a while, as you all know. Until yesterday we had nothing valid to go on when it came to the firm distributing toys from the east," Shiner explained.
"Phil and Mike shared a knowing, meaningful look.
"Reports from the regular police in Whitby came in late last night. Charlie Chadwick has been spotted near the docks. We have reasons to believe that the boat shipping their supplies is coming in tonight," Shiner finished explaining.
"A switch," Mike guessed quizzically.
The CID officer nodded sternly, his lips pursed into a thin line of dismay. "The antiques are being shipped away in the crates you saw at the lorry garage down at the derelict factory. The ship carries a large number of crates, supposedly stuffed with toys, for the company down in Pickering. However, we have strong reasons to believe that the dolls and other toys contains dope," he said.
"A neat little operation," Alf concluded.
"Indeed, PC Ventress," Shiner returned bitterly. "If we can manage to confiscate several crates of toys tonight and apprehend Mr. Chadwick we might have enough solid evidence to bring both him and his company down together with the antiques gang."
"There is someone else involved in these shady schemes," Mike said.
Shiner curiously raised an eyebrow. "Care to enlighten me PC Bradley?" he asked.
"Mary McMara," he let on confidently.
"She is the granddaughter of the man killed in a house fire back at Hillsdale Farm and now the owner of the same place," Alf filled in.
The DI folded his arms across his chest.
"It's where I found the crates, suspiciously alike those moved from the lorry garage, before the accident," Mike added.
"Good call, Bradley," he commended. "It seems we've all kept each other somewhat in the dark."
"Now, if you're feeling up to it PC Bradley I want you with me tonight at the docks of Whitby and PC Bellamy you're assigned as a look out at the farm. If Miss McMara is involved in all this I have a feeling something will happen there too," Shiner reasoned.
"I'm going to be there," Mike assured him. He was dressed in plain clothing as he was not yet really cleared for duty.
"Good, don't change into uniform," the DI replied.
OOOOOO
Nick turned around irritably, in a restless sleep, as the sound of the alarm pierced through the haze of his mind. He twisted in bed to shut the thing off and stopped mid-way in the action as he turned around and found Kate's side of the bed empty.
Bleary-eyed he silenced the clock and then lay back to rub his tired face. 'Right,' he thought sarcastically, 'Kate had early practice hours in Whitby today.'
She had been working with her new partner for a month and she was spending more and more time in Whitby; away from him. At first he didn't mind because she'd been so enthusiastic about her new partnership and the possibilities that came with it but the more evenings he spent alone the more he came to dislike it. Some of her patients back at the Aidensfield practice had started to wonder where their doctor had gone. She was no longer available to them every day.
Nick sighed as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and got up. He quickly shrugged out of his sleep wear and searched the top drawer for some clean underwear and then headed on to the closet, to fetch his uniform, before he padded into the bathroom.
"Nick," a soft voice called.
Confused he turned around where he stood, opposite bathroom mirror. To his surprise there was no one there. "Kate?" he wondered aloud.
OOOOOO
"Nick," Jo tried again as she gently reached over to take his hand into her own. She let out a shaky breath as she sat down next to him, like she had done so many times before this week, and swallowed.
"I went back to work today, in case you were wondering where I have been," she explained.
Jo chuckled nervously, sadly as she studied her pale husband. His hand felt cold today, colder than she remembered it to be. "I miss our conversations," she began hesitantly. "I don't know how long I can keep up with this monologue."
She averted her eyes from him and fixed them on a spot on the old worn hospital floor and then reached up with her hand to rub her aching forehead. Her head then suddenly shot up as she thought she heard something. Jo looked at Nick and felt hope surge through her body as she tightened her grip around his hand.
For a minute or two she just stared at her husband, mesmerized, waiting for him to shift or blink, or give her some kind of sign, to tell her he was on the mend but when four whole minutes had passed her shoulders slumped and she fought to hold back the tears. "Nick, please," she whispered, "Please come back to me."
OOOOOO
To be continued
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