Chapter Twenty Four – Here To Compete
"David?" Greengrass shouted, running around the area like some misplaced child. "I don't believe it," he muttered in annoyance, under his breath, catching up with the garage owner and undertaker.
"Bernie, have you by any chance seen David somewhere?" Claude asked.
"Not recently no," he said thoughtfully as he finished securing the last strip of wire holding the food and beer tent.
Claude sighed and shaded his eyes from the early morning sun and curiously followed the line with his eyes. "I thought we raised that tent two days ago?" he stated.
"We did, you just didn't strap it properly. I would hate to have it fall down on top of all the guests and, especially, that relief sergeant," Bernie reasoned.
Claude huffed. "What is he playing at anyway? One Blaketon is enough," he muttered before starting to walk away.
"What did you want with David anyway?" Bernie hollered after him.
"I wanted his help to shift all the goats to Alsop's place," he replied.
"Wait a minute Claude," the undertaker protested. "Didn't you agree to be the judge for the sack race?"
"That's hours away," he countered as he let his eyes roam the area for the missing helper. "What do you expect me to do, twiddle my thumbs?"
Bernie took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he tilted his head upwards and closed his eyes. "Give me strength," he whispered.
OOOOOO
PC Phil Bellamy unenthusiastically did the hand signal for stop as a sporty black Alfa Romeo came gliding up the driveway to the Estate. The polite smile was after several hours of this ridiculous duty etched on his face.
"Sir, are you here for the market?" the red headed police officer asked kindly as the driver rolled down the window.
"Of course I'm here for the market?" the man returned, annoyed at being stopped. "Why else would I be here?"
Phil made a face. "I really wouldn't know, sir," he answered in a neutral voice. "So, if you would kindly park next to the green Rover over there," he added and pointed in a northeast direction further down the large park like area that the lordship had spared as a parking space.
"That is ridiculous," the man protested. "It's on the other side of the market area. Would take several minutes just to make it there."
"There's nothing I could do about that, sir. I'm not in charge of the organization for this event," he let on and the ghost of a smile still present on his face became genuine.
The driver let out an exasperated sigh and muttered something inaudible as he began to roll up the window.
"Have a nice day now and please don't forget to pay for the parking, just see the man in blue over there," he instructed and by now the smile had turned in to a satisfied grin.
He shook his head lightly as he turned back to focus on the driveway as a familiar motorbike came driving up to him. Being in a splendid mood at the moment, he mock saluted his colleague and then indicated for him to stop.
"Constable Bradley, I'm sorry but no fakers or frauds are allowed entry," he teased.
"Aha, very funny," Mike returned sarcastically as he killed the engine and got off the vehicle. "How's it coming?"
"Nicely," Phil returned. "It's just that this wasn't what I dreamt about when I applied the academy."
"No?" Mike asked with faked surprise. "Could have fooled me."
OOOOOO
Sergeant Lancewood straightened in the chair as he was sitting in Rowan's office back at Ashfordly police station. He folded the newspaper and threw it on the desk in frustration, staring at the headline on the front page.
"Antique gang behind bars – Items still missing."
Everything that had been confiscated during the CID raid back in Whitby had been taken to the respective owner and the smaller items at Hillsdale Farm and the lorry garage in Ashfordly had been returned as well. Lancewood rubbed his forehead feeling the beginning of a light throbbing. He didn't understand it. 'How come several items was still missing?' he mused.
He let his musings subdue as there was a rapid knock on the door. "Come in," he commanded.
"Thought you could do with a cup of tea," Alf reasoned in a friendly manner as he made his way over to the desk.
"Thanks PC Ventress," he replied curtly. "Anything happening down at the Estate?"
The old copper shook his head. "Nothing Phil and Mike can't handle, of that I'm sure," Alf returned as he curiously cast a glance at the newspaper.
Lancewood followed his gaze, pursing his lips in a thin line of displeasure. "Any local knowledge that may shed some light over the mystery?" he asked gloomily.
"Not at the moment, I'm afraid, Sarge," Alf returned and clasped his hand behind his back. "So; when Sergeant Rowan returns would you head back to…?"
"Division headquarters in Whitby," he replied, his mood darkening.
OOOOOO
"Everything all right?" Oscar Blaketon asked in his normal sharp voice as he walked up to the counter in the beer tent.
Gina smiled as he approached her. "It's fairly quiet at this hour but I'm doing fine. There's no stopping to some. I'm having no problem getting my expenses paid for after this," she let on cheerfully.
Oscar nodded. "What about the Aidensfield Arms?" he asked.
Gina shrugged. "Gladys' Auntie Nelly is doing a wonderful job manning it but there hasn't been much activity. Everyone seem to be up here," she replied.
Blaketon took a quick look around and noted that the regulars whom, he sometimes suspected, had been glued to the chairs next to the counter at the pub, was assembled in the tent. "So it seems," he concurred.
"I better go and check up on Greengrass, I don't trust him to man the tents and ground service around here," he said and headed for the opening, meeting Jo Rowan with Katie in hand on the way.
"Jo," Gina exclaimed happily as the teacher made her way toward her. "I'm so glad to see you. How are you doing?"
"I'm fine," she said softly. "And Nick too, thank heavens."
"No, children in here," one of the regulars spoke up.
Gina glared at him. "She won't be long, if it doesn't suit you perhaps you could take a stroll in the park for a while," she returned.
"We can head outside," Jo said, not wanting to get her friend any trouble.
"Absolutely not," the barmaid protested. "Walking is good for them."
"How's it going? Did we order enough?" Jo asked curiously.
Gina nodded. "I'm glad you managed to persuade me to order more than I initially planned," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Now, how's Nick doing?"
"You have no idea how nice it is to finally talk to someone who actually answers," Jo said happily. "I never thought I would hear his voice again. Gina, it was awful."
"But it's over now," she reasoned kindly. "I told you he would fight."
"Yeah, you did," Jo agreed.
"You've got to have some faith in me," Gina reasoned with a chuckle.
"That brings us back to our previous discussion," Jo said cunningly. "Have you spoken to Phil yet?"
"About what?" the barmaid asked innocently, appearing disinterested.
"Come on, he's sweet on you and you're sweet on him," Jo returned.
OOOOOO
"David, where have you been?" Bernie said in relief as the young man came half-walking, half-jogging toward the market area with Alfred in a tight leach.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Scripps, but Alfred got away and I couldn't find him," he explained sheepishly.
"Well, you're here now. Claude has been looking for you for ages," he explained.
David glanced around and then frowned. "Where is Mr. Greengrass?" he asked curiously.
"I don't know," Bernie returned in exasperation. "I have enough to do around here as it is without looking out for you two. Someone must man the service around here."
OOOOOO
"Sergeant Lancewood, Ashfordly Police Station," he spoke into the mouthpiece, ending the shrill of the telephone.
"Leonard," a commanding voice said by way of greeting.
"Good day, sir," he answered politely, stiffening as he recognized the Inspector in charge of HQ in Whitby.
"I'm sitting here at my desk and could you imagine my surprise when I saw the front page of the Ashfordly Gazette?" he asked sternly.
Lancewood's eyes were involuntarily drawn to the newspaper, still present on his desk, as the superior officer continued.
"It doesn't look so good I'm afraid, that you haven't yet managed to retrieve the stolen goods, considering that the constables in Ashfordly managed to nail the entire Antique gang with some help from CID," he finished.
Lancewood swallowed, his mouth dry. "I can assure you it won't be long now. We are currently following up some leads," he said, trying to sound convincing.
"From what I've heard your priority at the moment is that big hunt back at the large Ashfordly Estate," the Inspector countered. "You need to be able to do more than one thing at a time, Lancewood, if you really want to have the position as the regular sergeant down in Ashfordly."
"I understand that the evaluation is still running," the relief sergeant asked.
"Yes, but not for very long; Chief Constable Waters has no reason for relieving Sergeant Rowan of his command. In fact he was recommended by former Sergeant Blaketon and he has done a good job so far. I wouldn't be surprised if he gets the position," Inspector Henderson said.
"I will do my best, sir," Lancewood merely answered.
"That better be good," Henderson returned.
Lancewood sighed as he put down the telephone and leaned backward in his chair.
Out in the duty room PC Alf Ventress carefully put down the telephone on his desk, intrigued by the conversation he'd just been listening in to.
OOOOOO
To be continued
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