Writing for Fun
January 2015
Life Is . . . - Jeanette Rothwell
P.C. Harper sat nursing his pint of beer on one of the bar stools in The Red Lion. He looked very glum and going through his head was 'Life is such a complicated journey at times'. He was now off duty but was smarting from a really serious dressing down he had received from his Sergeant this morning.
The pub was also the local Bed and Breakfast hotel for the village of Inglethorpe. This was an olde worlde village with thatched cottages and a very attractive old church in the depths of the countryside, which served the small community living there, plus the surrounding farms and country houses which were scattered around it.
A series of burglaries had meant that Harper had been ordered to watch one of the big country homes which housed some very valuable artefacts. He had been told to hide the car under some trees within sight of the house. He settled himself down in the driver's seat ready for his all night vigil. Mrs Harper had made him up a very tasty picnic of sandwiches and a flask of hot cocoa. This was obviously a mistake, it should have been black coffee, because very soon after his enjoyable meal, he nodded off, although he didn't admit that to his Sergeant. However, some of the valuable pieces which had been in a cabinet situated in the main hall of the house had disappeared overnight with no sign of a break-in except some very faint footprints in the soil outside the entrance to the cellar.
As a punishment, his sergeant had put him on traffic control during the day, which he hated. He was an experienced policeman with retirement very much on the horizon. The number of cars and lorries wanting to roar through the village unnerved him and he would get very flustered doing this kind of work.
As he sat glumly at the bar, he lifted his head to observe the other visitors to the pub. There was Mrs. Hunt and her sister gossiping in the corner, a young couple sitting very close together and obviously in love (or lust), some lively lads playing darts, and a stranger at a table near the door whose face was hidden by a copy of The Times.
Suddenly the stranger answered his mobile phone, uttered a few words, got up quickly and disappeared through the door to the accommodation area of the pub. The Landlord behind the bar looked after him with a grimace and, turning back to Harper, he muttered, 'He's a queer one. He doesn't know how long he is staying, he keeps asking questions about the whereabouts of some of the big houses, and wants to know who owns them. I wonder what he is up to.'
Harper pricked up his ears at that and questioned the Landlord further. It seems that the stranger came from London, had very little luggage with him, except for some hiking boots and a big warm sheepskin coat and he drove a big old Bentley. Harper made a mental note to tell his Sergeant about this guy when he reported for duty the following morning.
His Sergeant listened to his report, but then sent him home to get what sleep he could because he was sending him on night duty again, but this time with one of the younger police constables to accompany him. Harper went home and told his wife to make sure she gave him some black coffee this time and less food so he could stay awake.
P.C. Jones met him at the police station later that evening and they made their way to the same country house where the other thefts had taken place. Apparently some other posh houses were also being watched by the other two constables from their station.
They allowed each other to have a bit of a nap and got through the night without incident. However, the homeowner, Sir Humphrey, came running out just before they were about to depart in the morning and reported that yet another valuable painting had gone from the top of the main staircase. Harper and Jones looked at each other in amazement and hurried to investigate. No footprints or any evidence of a break-in was to be found and they both dreaded having to report to their Sergeant, but both swore that they had been on the lookout all night.
The other constables had nothing to report. No thefts had occurred at their location.
Harper went home to catch up on some sleep and later that evening went to The Red Lion for his usual pint. The stranger was there again, this time chatting to some local lads. Harper listened to his conversation and sure enough, just as the Landlord had reported, the stranger was seeking information about the area, local homeowners and what churches or houses could be visited to view their art collections. Harper wondered why this chap was asking such blatantly obvious questions if he was indeed a burglar. He decided that his best bet was to get into conversation with the stranger and with this intention he made his way over to a nearby table, passing the stranger on the way. As he drew level with him, he knocked into a chair and spilled some of his precious pint. The stranger moved smartly out of the way and Harper was profuse in his apologies, offering to buy the stranger a drink to compensate for his clumsiness although nothing had gone over the stranger.
Harper ordered his quarry another drink and setting it down in front of him, he also sat at the same table introducing himself as John Harper. The stranger said he was Mike Carstairs, on holiday having been told that there were lots of artefacts to be viewed in the area. Paintings and China were his main interest as he worked in an antique shop in London.
This all sounded very plausible to Harper and if it hadn't been for the local thefts he would have believed Mr. Carstairs. However, at the back of his mind was the coincidence of the burglaries and Mike Carstairs' visit. Was it just coincidence or was there a connection? 'Life is such a complicated journey at times.'
The conversation turned to anecdotes about antique shops and from Harper some stories about local farmers. He realised that Mr Carstairs already seemed to know he was a Police Constable so Harper had to be careful about his stories and giving away any local knowledge.
Two days later, the owner of the house from which the thefts had occurred was caught trying to smuggle the so called stolen goods into his Range Rover. Sir Humphrey had been trying to swindle the insurance company because he was very much in debt.
Harper went back to the pub just as Mike Carstairs was settling his bill, overnight bag at his feet. He then claimed that he was really an insurance agent trying to get to the bottom of these thefts and had reported his suspicions about Sir Humphrey to the Sergeant. This had led to the arrest of the swindler.
Harper was very disappointed not to have been told of the deception and was inclined to sulk about it. His Sergeant was unsympathetic and ordered him back to traffic control.
Later that day, standing in the middle of the crossroads, arms outstretched, he stopped an ancient Bentley to wave on some pedestrians. The driver was Mike Carstairs and he appeared to be very impatient with the delay leaning out of the car window and urging the pedestrians to hurry. The pedestrians were a particularly elderly couple who crossed the road at their own slow pace. Harper bent towards the window of the car to say 'Hi,' and spotted a very large misshapen parcel in the rear seat.
'Hello,' he joked, 'Have you got a body in the back there?'
In a panic Mike tried to move the car forward but the elderly couple were still crossing in front of him and he would have knocked them down if he had driven forward, so he put the car into reverse, crashing into the front of the car behind and in trying to move forward again he stalled the engine. Harper had, in the meantime, reached into the open window of the car and deftly turned off the engine. Mike Carstairs appeared to collapse in a little heap and Harper ordered him out of the car. He summoned some help through his pager and the misshapen parcel was revealed to be a very valuable sculpture taken from the local cemetery.
Harper quite forgot his sulks regarding the local thefts and he was praised for his presence of mind in apprehending Mike Carstairs who was being sought by the Metropolitan Police as a well-known art thief. Claiming to be an insurance agent put everyone off the scent although he had spotted the deception by Sir Humphrey.
Harper vowed in future not to get too comfortable if he was on night duty again. The younger Constables smacked him on the back praising him for his success and when he was next in The Red Lion, he sat with a smug look on his face; the Landlord shook his hand and said his pint was on the house.
Life wasn't too bad after all!
