The Abbottsford Police Chronicles – # 2 by Paul Curtis (find a book to read .TXT) 📖

turned to Frank and asked.
“Where’s the fuse box?”
“Under the stairs, Why?”
“We need to disable the security lights at the back”
Boris said with his head inside the cupboard.
Then he and Frank wrapped the corpse in the plastic sheet which they then carried out to Franks garage, fortunately it was possible to access the garage from the garden reducing the risk of being seen and with the lights disabled and a convenient fog they managed to get to the garage unnoticed.
Once in the garage they put the body in the boot then paused for a breath Boris then checked the shelves and found a container of metholated spirit and another of turpentine and put them in the boot next to the body.
“What now” Frank asked still breathing heavily.
“Drive to the old Northchapel print works on Oakham Road I’ll follow on in my car, ok?”
“Ok”
It was a foggy night which was something of a blessing and a curse, a blessing as it was good cover if you were up to no good but a curse when you’re nearly eighty years old and your eyesight’s not to clever.
So Frank drove carefully over to Northchapel constantly checking his rear view mirror to make sure the Sgt was behind him.

Boris was nervously following Franks beat up old Mondeo through the fog cursing the slow progress and praying that Franks funeral pace driving would not attract any unwanted attention, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he finally saw the Mondeo indicating to turn into the old print works.

Frank drove on round to the back of the buildings to a spot that couldn’t be seen from the main road Boris pulled up some fifty yards from the other car and once out went straight to the boot and after a cursory glance at his surrounding dragged the body from the boot and with some difficulty and little help from Frank manhandled Blake’s body into the drivers seat.
He threw the old plastic sheet onto the back seat then started to splash the contents of the two containers of flammables all over the cars interior, remembering just in time to leave a small amount in one container.
He then rummaged in the car boot and found an old umbrella he then soaked the end of it with the remaining turpentine.
“Go and get in my car” He said to Frank
Finally he lit the end of the umbrella with Franks lighter and tossed it through the open car window, and then almost as an after thought he fished in his pocket and retrieved the bullet and tossed it into the flames.

Once the car was well ablaze they drove off, they made better time on the return journey with Boris driving.
“Fancy a pint?” Boris asked
“No not really” Frank said rather surprised at the suggestion.
“Well you need to have a reason not to be at home so we’ll go and have a beer”
The pub he chose was the Coach and Horses on the outskirts of Abbottsford and it was not chosen at random.
The first reason he picked this particular pub was that its car park was adjacent to the river and was a handy disposal point for the gun and secondly it was known to be the favourite watering hole for more than one of Blake’s associates so in the unlikely event that the gun was discovered the finger of suspicion could reasonably be pointed in their direction.
Once they arrived at the pub he parked the car as near to the river as possible.
Boris opened the glove compartment and removed the gun that he had wrapped in a tea towel and placed it on his lap.
Then he very carefully wiped it down thoroughly including the two remaining bullets and the spent cartridge case.
“Ok Frank lets get that beer”
They both got out of the car and Boris lead frank towards the river.
“I suppose you used to fish this river when you were a lad” Boris said for the benefit of any unseen ears.
Frank wondered what the hell he was talking about then Boris gave him a knowing look.
“Yes, yes” Frank replied finally cottoning on.
“Yes many times, I’ve caught many a fish in this river.”
At that moment Boris tossed the gun into the dark water.
Then they turned towards the pub.

They stayed in the pub for an hour or so and barely exchanged a word but once they were back in the car Boris went over what they would have to do next.

On arriving back at Franks house they had to make sure there was no evidence of the shooting, but in order to account for the broken front door they had to make it look like a burglary had taken place so draws were pulled out a table knocked over, that sort of thing, and they had to do it quickly because it was supposed to have already happened.
Once Boris was satisfied it looked like a burgled house he phoned the station and reported that Frank Owens house had been burgled and his car stolen.
Then he had to go outside and break the lock on the garage doors to make it look like that had been broken into as well.
It was just as Boris sat down on the armchair to make a call to the police that he noticed the bullet hole in the wall again.
He stood up scratching his head wondering how to cover it.
“We could move that cabinet” He suggested pointing at a tall unit at the other end of the room.
“Or the hat stand from the hall”
He shook his head and muttered to himself.
“What about a standard lamp, do you have a standard lamp?”
He was panicking now.
“Why don’t we just move that picture so it covers the hole”
Frank suggested.

The story Boris gave the police was that due to a nagging suspicion that Mr Owen was withholding information about the murder of Mrs Sage he had decided to visit Mr. Owen.
He had thought that if he invited him out for a drink in the hope that in convivial surrounding over a pint he might relax and let something slip, which unfortunately he did not, so he gave him a lift home.
Staff at the pub were questioned and confirmed that the Sgt and Mr Owen were indeed at the pub that night and though there were conflicting statements as to what time they arrived these were ignored as it was a busy pub.
On returning to 14 Orchard Lane they found the hose had been burgled and Mr Owens car stolen.
It was at this point that Mr Owen admitted have withheld information about the Sage murder and went on to say he believed he had been targeted because he had been seen in Sgt Katarskis company as certain acts of vandalism and spite had been perpetrated on him in the past to ensure he kept his mouth shut.
This story was later borne out by the fact that Blake’s corpse had been found in Mr Owens burnt out stolen car.
In the following weeks police took the view that Blake had either had a falling out with one of his own associates or a rival miscreant who had then killed him.
All the evidence pointed to Blake having burgled the house his fingerprints had been found on the external and internal doors of the property and having located the car keys he had stolen the car which he then drove to a remote location where he later met his end by a single gunshot the bullet having been found at the scene confirmed this hypothesis.

Boris only saw Frank on a handful of occasions after that night the last of which was at the hospice a few days before he died Frank was very near to the end and had little strength left but he manage to grasp Boris’s hand firmly and mouth the words “thank you”.

Sgt Katarski never regretted his actions in not arresting Frank for Blake’s murder it was not done solely with the intention of getting him off the hook but rather more by allowing him a dignified end to his life while at the same time dispensing some natural justice for Mrs Sage.
The bi-product of his actions was to give the CID the excuse to raid the property of every known associate of Blake’s with the thinly veiled motive of finding his killer.
They could never find sufficient evidence to prove them guilty of his murder but it did turn up enough evidence of wrong doing to lock them up for something else.
While Boris felt his conscience was clear in relation to helping Frank, the many pats on the back he received regarding the numerous indirectly related arrests did make him feel a little uncomfortable.
But he did smile to himself at the irony of the situation of Blake’s murder being in the same pile of unsolved cases as that of his victim Brenda Sage.
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Publication Date: 07-27-2010

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