Published: 30 Jan 2017

The official correspondence resting amongst the disorder on Sergeant Barnes desk had lain there for a number of days. He could pretend it wasn’t received but that would only delay inevitability. It must be opened. Lifting the beige envelope he prepared to slit the flap as the telephone rang causing him to flinch.

“Sergeant Barnes.” He barked into the receiver, dropping the envelope back onto the desk.

“It’s Bill Fraser Sid, there’s a meeting at my place tonight.” The Newsagent’s voice sounded urgent.

“Is there problems with our little scheme?” The policeman asked.

“Not as such, I’ll tell you tonight.”

“Alright what time?” Barnes asked.

“Around eight,”

“I’ll be there.” The policeman re-cradled the hand piece, his thoughts returning to the letter. Retrieving the envelope he slowly slit the flap.

“Bugger!” the policeman grunted, upon reading its contents. “I could bloody well do without that kind of news.”

It appeared they weren’t replacing Constable Cummins, who had been reposted some months earlier. The town’s police presence would be reduced to a two man station, which meant his position as Sergeant was somewhat in danger of becoming redundant. “Oh well,” Barnes sighed, folding the correspondence back into its envelope before dropping it back to the disorder on his desk. He wasn’t too perturbed as the working of the department was slow. It could be months, even years before the final decision was reached and even longer before anything would be concluded. Besides he could always take a demotion and stay in town. The reduction in pay wouldn’t be a worry as he would top it up by other means. His thoughts returned to that night’s meeting and how much his association with the four would earn. Fraser had said a considerable amount but an actual figure had never been discussed. Maybe he should hold them to an amount, maybe even demand a retainer.

Sid Barnes was last to arrive at the Fraser house, finding the smell of pizza dominating the room and the scotch bottle ebbing towards empty. Another was called for as Fraser offered Barnes a seat.

“What seems to be the problem?” the policeman asked, opening the new bottle of scotch without invitation.

“We’re about to call on you to earn your share.” Fraser declared.

“And what would that be Bill?”

Fraser turned to Henry Wallace the Estate Agent and Mayor, “How many houses has Four Kings acquired?”

“Eight at last count.” Wallace replied proudly.

“We have arranged finance for around twelve, at a push thirteen,” Fraser added, “but it appears we are having trouble convincing some owners to lower their prices.”

“We also have another problem.” Lennard Kenny interjected.

“Which would be?” Barnes inquired, pouring an even larger glass of scotch.

“Ice?” Fraser offered acerbically, thinking Barnes was becoming a necessary mill-stone.

“No thanks, so what’s this other problem?” Barnes repeated.

“The mining company’s permit, we can’t delay it much longer as they are threatening to bypass us and lobby the State Government, the Pollies need the royalties and will more than likely issue the permit without even contacting us.”

“What do you want from me?” Barnes asked helping himself to a third slice of pizza, thinking it always tasted better when someone else had paid for it. Jones glanced towards Fraser who gave him a nod, “We thought your mate Hutton and his lot could be coxed into a little noise pollution, maybe some petty theft here and there, funny how that changes one’s mind.” Jones suggested.

“What about that son of yours, Brett?” Barnes asked.

“Brett’s too soft a few stones on the roof is about his limit, he would buckle if approached.”

“So it’s to be Hutton then.” Barnes agreed, knowing the lad’s bent was towards petty theft.

“But nothing too rough, we don’t want the big boys from the city out here.” Len Kenny interjected.

With tactics decided and the meeting turning into a pizza, scotch festival. Fraser had one more point to table. “What about the Brody property?” he asked of Henry Wallace.

“I’ve been in contact with the Brody woman on a number of occasions but she won’t budge on the price.”

“Then try a little harder, I want that house.” Fraser became angered at his friend’s failure to acquire the property.

“Let it go Bill we can get the little bugger some other way.” Jones interjected, turning to Barnes, “Surely you can find something on him.”

“I’m working on it.” Barnes answered with a grin.

The week of the meeting saw a number of heavy vehicles passing through town on their way towards the Two Mile, carrying what appeared to be mining equipment. At first no one took much notice. The town happened to be at the junction of two major highways, one north south the other east west, so it wasn’t unusual to encounter heavy road conveyance. It wasn’t until Clem Wilson came into town for his Friday afternoon visit to the Railway Hotel, the suspicions developed further.

The abandoned mine was adjacent to the Wilson property and he had noticed increased activity around the derelict buildings. Usually there would only be the occasional visit from those interested in picking over the tailings but this was more. Men in suits arrived, milling over maps; taking notes, measuring pointing at this and that while becoming deep in discussion. Some days later portable living quarters arrived and were placed in a neat order, all that was needed to be considered a village would be picket fences, gardens and of course occupation.

Wilson had approached one of the men asking about their intentions, receiving a rebuff. “You realise this is private land?” His question answered with a question without satisfaction, bringing the farmer to the conclusion, the mine was to be reopened.

Wilson’s Grandfather had had controversy over the original mine, it almost ruined him and destroyed the use of much of his land for some years, with its continuous dusting and poisoning of his water supply. His father had been more fortunate with the mine’s closure. Now was it his turn. The man wasn’t happy declaring his displeasure freely at the hotel bar, even if others may benefit from the reopening.

Barnes had been doing his rounds of the town and called into the Railway Hotel for a quick free drink at the same time as Wilson was presenting his displeasure. Immediately he left, calling in on Bill Fraser, who was busy with his magazine orders.

“I’ll be with you in a minute Sid.” Fraser called from the telephone.

“You better make it sooner.” The policeman barked.

Fraser completed his order and approached Barnes. His mood somewhat buoyant as he had earlier received news from Henry Wallace, they had secured one more house purchase. Soon they would have a monopoly on the town’s rentable properties.

“What seems to be the problem?” Fraser asked with a jaunty smile.

“The news about the mine is out.” Barnes growled.

“What makes you say that?” There was now concern in Fraser’s tone.

“I was just in the Railway bar and Wilson is spreading the news like fucking fertiliser. He spotted men working at the mine.”

“Umm you better do your job and get Hutton mobilised before it spreads further.”

“How far off are we from our quota?”

“Close Sid a couple more should do the trick, anyway how are you with Hutton?”

“He’s dumb enough to do what we ask of him but keeping his mouth shut could be a problem.” Sid declared.

“Nothing too rough,” Fraser concluded.

Although Luke was given permission to remain at his Aunt’s house until it was relet, his objective was to move in with Esca. Usually his character would prevail; he would march up to his friend, declaring his intentions with a smile and damn the outcome. This time he was somewhat cautious, hinting without saying, in fear of a negative outcome. Esca immediately realised Luke’s direction and played him along.

“You like my cooking?” Luke declared leaning upon one elbow, while looking down of the sleepy face of his friend. Esca stirred and rolled away from the conversation. “Don’t you?” Luke continued, bringing Esca reluctantly to greet the morning.

“You’re a good cook Luke.” Esca admitted with a yawn, once again rolling away from his morning annoyance.

“And you like my company?”

“Where is all this heading Luke, let me sleep” Esca reached across, placing the flat of his hand over Luke’s mouth attempting to quiete his friend. He was unsuccessful. Luke pulled Esca’s hand away and continued.

“I was thinking.”

“Alright I’m awake now, what were you thinking.”

“It was just a thought.” Luke declared, falling back to the bed without divulging further.

“Come on you’re got my interest; out with it.”

Luke returned to his elbow and played with Esca’s hair, “You need a hair cut.”

“Hair cut, what about you and those dreadlocks.”

“Do you want me to cut them off?”

“Don’t you dare, I like your hair, it suits you but that’s not what you want to say.”

“I was thinking, now that my exams are over I could move in with you.” At last it was said, now Luke waited for the rejection.

“I thought that was where you were heading.” Esca answered softly.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Esca stop playing games, can I move in with you?” Luke was becoming frustrated with his friends teasing.

“Yes, today if you like but I warn you George will probably be back in a week or so.”

“By the way you don’t need a hair cut.” Luke declared feeling most satisfied with Esca’s answer.

That afternoon Luke collected his few belongings and was hurrying back to the Brody house, when he encountered Miles Hutton coming out of the yard, four down from the Brody property. It was the house of a retired couple, Ernest and Connie Morris.

The Morris’ had designs to relocate somewhere close to water and had placed their house on the market with the Wallace Agency. Not being certain of their intentions they were hanging out for the best possible offer, although Wallace advised they would be lucky to obtain anything close to their reserve, while advising them he had a client interested and they should take the lower offer.

Still hopeful the Morris’ decided to hold out, at least until the following year and with Christmas fast approaching it would be difficult to finalize a sale during the holiday season.

“Hey Campbell what ya up ta?” Hutton called Luke as he passed. He turned.

“Miles Hutton,” Luke declared, pausing until Hutton caught up with him, “what were you up to in the Morris’ yard?” Luke asked, thinking Hutton appeared to be acting somewhat suspiciously. Then again that wouldn’t be difficult for him as he was always up to no good.

“Nothing; just delivering something,”

“The Morris’ are away all week.”

“That would be why no one answered the door. I left it in the bread box.” Hutton lied, successfully relieving Luke’s suspicion.

“I hear you’re leaving to live with your parents down the coast?” Hutton said.

“Who told you that?”

“Just a rumour going around, that’s all.”

“Sorry to disappoint your source but no, I’m staying here.” Luke commenced to continue on his way but Hutton hadn’t finished, believing the longer he remained talking the more likely Luke would forget seeing him leaving the Morris’ property.

“You look as if you’re shifting house.” Hutton offered.

“I am, my aunt has gone into a home and I’m moving in with Esca Brody for a while.”

“Him! They say he murdered his father.”

“What a lot of shit, you should be more careful spreading stories like that.” Luke’s blood rose with the suggestion and if his arms had not been full, he would have struck Hutton.

“Just what people say,” Hutton protested, his tone taking diversion from his accusation.

After his altercation with Luke, Miles Hutton took himself to the police station, where he found Barnes alone, as his Constable was on his meal break. Entering the Station by the front door he caught the sergeant attention while in the front office concentrating on paper work. Barnes lifted his head towards the lad.

“Hutton I told you not to visit me here.” Barnes growled, his eyes everywhere assuring they were alone. They were.

“Don’t fret I saw Payne leave for his lunch.”

“Nevertheless!”

“I’ve done it.” Hutton declared, preventing Barnes for continuing his torrid.

“Good what did you do with the stuff?” Barnes asked in a low voice. He needed to know the location as at a later date he would pick over the hoard for anything interesting. “I hope you haven’t pocketed anything for yourself.”

“There wasn’t anything of value, a few rings maybe. I buried them in the scrub behind the yard.” Hutton seemed most pleased with himself. “I also left them a surprise.” He added with a cruel chuckle.

Although Barnes thought better of it, he asked.

“I crapped in their bed; that should make up their minds.”

“You’re a disgusting little creature.” Barnes growled.

“You want them to decide in a hurry.”

“I hope you realise these little jobs you do for me, don’t give you the right to freelance. If I hear you going it on your own, I’ll have your balls.” Barnes barked at the lad.

“Sure thing Sarge, when’s the next job?”

As Hutton spoke Constable Payne arrived back carrying his lunch.

“In future meet me behind the pub like I suggested.” Barnes whispered. “Alright son, I’ll look into that, now be on your way.” He added loudly as Payne passed.

Payne watched Hutton strut through the station’s door like a prize bantam rooster. ‘I wonder, what would a lout like Hutton be doing visiting a police station?’ the Constable thought and was about to ask Barnes but changed his mind.

Sitting at a small desk out of sight of the counter behind where Barnes was working, Payne scrutinised his Sergeant’s body language. There was now a measure of smugness about his manner, as if he had recently received pleasing news. Also a touch of anger but anger was one emotion that permanently lingered within the man. It seemed as if he had been displeased by Hutton’s visit and as he returned Barnes did appeared somewhat eager for the lad’s departure. The Constable shrugged his thoughts away, understanding Sid Barnes was beyond him and not worth the effort.

That week there had been a number of robberies across the town, all by Hutton. Who was, so to evade suspicion, directed to also rob houses not on the Wallace Agency books, and others not for sale, all chosen from a list supplied by Barnes.

By the end of the second week Four Kings had reached their quota and Hutton was instructed to end his escapade. Unfortunately he had grown to like his work a little too much and continued, this time keeping the stolen items.

As the reports came into Barnes he realised he had to do something about his partner in crime. Once again he warned the lad away from freelancing but Hutton felt invincible and continued, causing Barnes to, at least in appearance, take action.

Firstly the Sergeant personally assumed control of the investigation, ‘showing face’ he declared and most rare from him, while being sure to ask all the wrong questions of all the wrong people, diverting any possible suspicion away from Hutton.

Eventually Barnes needed to threaten the lad with a thumping to bring his spree of crime to an end. Hutton being made from coward’s clay almost obeyed. Unfortunately this didn’t alleviate the general displeasure in the community, nor did it dissuade Hutton from further sorties into private property only less often, so further investigation was handed over to his Constable, believing Payne would not be smart enough to discover the perpetrator, although possessing enough standing in the Community to be trusted and capable of frighten Hutton into relinquishing his new found career in petty crime.

Warren Payne saw in the spate of robberies his chance to better his career, taking his investigations most serious, while performing house calls in his own time. If his superior believed it to be gangs from out of town, most probably the city, as there had been talk of such going from town to town, or just local bored kids, his constable wasn’t as convinced, believing there appeared to be a pattern in the town’s wave of petty crime. So from his list of robberies he commenced with its first, which happened to be the Morris property.

Sunday afternoon found Payne knocking on the Morris’ door. Connie Morris opened the door with surprise, not expecting to hear further on the robbery. Unfortunately she could not supply any more information than she had previously given to his Sergeant.

Payne thanked the lady and promised he would let her know if anything else came to light. After the Morris house Payne decided to door knock the entire street. Someone may have been home on the day and possible saw something. Once again the Constable checked his list. He sighed out of frustration, eleven robberies within a little more than two weeks and all over town and no apparent pattern. It would take him well beyond Christmas to collate the information gleaned even then it may come to nothing.

The fourth door found the Constable at the Brody house. He knocked and was greeted by Esca, with Luke listening as short distance away along the passage. Payne introduced himself, once again asking the same set of questions he had asked along the street. Esca hadn’t seen anything suspicious and was about to close the door when Luke called out.

“Hang on what day was that?” he asked bounding towards the door. Payne checked his dates and told him.

“That was the day I moved in.” Luke offered, turning to Esca, “Remember I told you about seeing Hutton coming out of the Morris’ yard.” Esca was confused allowing Luke to take over the conversation.

“I was bringing my stuff across from my aunt’s house and I ran into Miles Hutton coming out of the Morris’ yard, he said he was delivering something and I told him the Morris’ weren’t home. He then said he left it in the bread box.” Luke felt most pleased with himself. Any day he could get Hutton into trouble it would be a good day.

“Are you sure of the date?” Payne queried checking his list.

“Positive.”

“Would you make a statement about it if necessary?”

“Sure.”

After leaving the Brody house Payne called back on Mrs. Morris asking if she expected a delivery on the day of the break in, or if she found anything in the bread box. Connie explained the bread box had not been used since the baker performed town deliveries, being surpassed by sliced supermarket bread. Together they checked the box. Except for a collection of spiders and one extremely large cockroach it was empty.

“What is it all about Mr. Payne?” Connie asked somewhat perplexed.

“Just a lead I’m following, I’ll let you know if it comes to anything.” Payne answered closing his note book. He wished the old lady good afternoon and went on his way.

“Hutton – he was the young fellow who came into the station.” Payne thought aloud, while once again checking his information, discovering the thief had defecated in the Morris’ bed. He read on. There were two other incidents of defecation during robbery. Not in beds, one on the kitchen floor, the other in the hall. It was beginning to look like a pattern was developing after all. If there had been defecation in the Morris house and two others, it was fair enough to think that if Hutton had robbed the Morris’ it was plausible to assume him responsible for at least two more, if not the lot.

“Being seen coming out of the yard on the day isn’t proof,” The Constable sighed it all appeared to be a waste of his time but he had tenacity and would continue.

“He wasn’t carrying anything.” Payne spoke rhetorically as he drove back to the station. “And there wasn’t anything in the bread box. A lie, why?”

“Fingerprints, there were prints.” How could he obtain a sample of Hutton’s prints without actually charging him?

During Payne’s following shift he decided to share some of his thoughts with his Sergeant. Firstly asking what Hutton wanted the day he had visited the station.

“Something about losing his bicycle, I told him I’d look into it but it’s almost impossible to locate a bicycle, besides I saw him riding the next day so presumed he had found it.” Barnes lied.

“I have my suspicions about him; I reckon he’s our house breaker.” Payne divulged.

“Why do you say that?”

“I’ve been doing a little investigating in my own time. Luke Campbell saw Hutton coming out of the Morris’ yard on the day of the robbery.”

“That’s not enough evidence on its own.” Barnes interjected.

“True but there is other things, I would like to check his finger prints against what were found at the robberies.”

‘Gloves; I told the silly bugger to wear gloves.’ Barnes thought as panic came over him. He had only allowed Payne to handle the investigations believing him not smart enough to find answers. When Payne had concluded his initial investigation and placed it on his desk, Barnes had not read the report, he filed it without a thought that maybe Hutton had not worn gloves, considering he had himself supplied a number of latex gloves stolen from the Lunch Box Cafe while ordering his lunch.

‘Were there prints? I should have read the bloody report.’ Barnes silently scolded himself.

That afternoon once his Constable had gone on road patrol, Barnes retrieved the report from its file, discovering prints weren’t lifted from Morris’ robbery but had been from the next two. “Bugger,” Barnes complained loudly thinking he could destroy the evidence but how could he do so without suspicion falling onto him but before he did anything rash, he would need to speak to Hutton about the gloves.

Slowly Constable Payne gathered information and with each passing day everything was pointing towards Hutton, until at last he believed he had enough to charge the lad, or at the very lease question him. Unfortunately Hutton received wind of what was going on and panicked.

Waiting for Payne to leave the station on his break, Hutton telephoned Barnes.

“Shit Sid that bloody Constable of yours is onto me.” Hutton barked into the receiver. Barnes froze. What could he do?

“Settle down Miles, he hasn’t enough evidence, you will just have to keep your nerve and your mouth shut.” Barnes warned. “You did wear the gloves I gave you?”

“I forgot them.” Hutton stuttered.

“You stupid little bugger!” Barnes snarled into the receiver.

“I’ll have to leave town, do you have any money?” Hutton was almost in tears.

“Just hold tight, I tell you nothing will come of it.” Barnes promised.

“It better not or I’ll bring you and your mates down with me.” Hutton shouted into the receiver and hung up the telephone. The following day Barnes received a second call from the panic stricken lad, issuing the same threat. Inwardly Barnes growled on conclusion of their heated conversation. “Something will have to be done about that brat.”

Payne had been on street patrol and returning he found Barnes searching through the files and on top of the cabinet he had open the file on the damage at the sports ground, resting beside the file and precariously close to the edge of the cabinet was a full mug of steaming coffee.

“Is there a problem Sarge?” The Constable asked observing which file Barnes was reading.

“No I only wanted to check on a couple of things.” Barnes answered, feeling relief Payne had arrived as he had been standing in the same position since hearing the patrol car park beside the station. He had made coffee, found a non related file, designed his excuse and opened the filing drawer to display the file on the robberies. Now he could execute his intend.

Payne came within a step of the filing cabinet to hang up the car keys when Barnes turned sharply knocking his coffee into the filing cabinet and through the robbery file.

“Shit!” Barnes exclaimed loudly, followed by a bungled attempt in preventing further spillage. Too late the hot coffee had gone through the robbery file and files either side, pooling at the bottom of the drawer before slowly dripping onto the floor. “I’ll get some towels.” Barnes declared, leaving Payne to save the files. It was part of his plan to have Payne discover what files were ruined and it worked. On his return with a copious amount of paper towelling he found Payne attempting to save as many pages of the file as possible. Barnes handed the Constable a share of the paper and commenced to mop up the spillage on the floor. “Any damage?” Barnes asked once he had cleaned the floor spillage.

“It’s the file on the robberies.” Payne complained placing its pages on his work desk and mopping away the coffee.

“Can you save it?”

“Most of it and what has been soaked is readable.”

“That’s a relief.” Barnes answered attempting to sound convincing.

“Not that much of a relief, the finger print pages took most of the coffee; you still can make most of them out but would never make evidence.”

Barnes gave a smile of satisfaction. He had disposed of one problem, now only Hutton remained.

Satisfied Barnes left for his afternoon visit to the pub.

With most of the coffee removed from the file pages and spread across his desk drying, Payne commenced to place order into the cabinet, his thoughts on the spillage and that his Sergeant was not one to drink coffee before his visit to the hotel and of all the files to be damaged, it had to be the one he needed the most. A coincidence, or by design and if so why?

Gary would appreciate your thoughts on his story. Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net

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