“In fact,” continued Hector, “I can only find sixteen successful convictions in the twenty years you have been heading the Nursery Crime Division. One every fifteen months. Friedland Chymes convicts that many
It was an unfair comparison, and Jack clenched his jaw. Friedland had been busy.
“The NCD, Mr. Sleaze, is a unique area of policing where an understanding of the problems of the characters involved often allows me to stop things before they get out of — ”
“Inspector Spratt, are you competent to run Mr. Dumpty’s murder investigation or are you really trying to work beyond your capabilities?”
“There is no doubt,” said Jack slowly, “that this case falls strictly within the NCD’s jurisdiction.”
“Do you think Chymes might have been able to secure a conviction of the three pigs?”
He would, of course. Juries considered it an honor to work with Chymes. But Jack had paused in his answer, and it gave him away.
“I take that as a
“I am completely in control of the investigation,” replied Jack hurriedly, answering for answering’s sake and wanting to be out of that room as soon as possible. But they weren’t done. They had been well primed. The newspaper headlines were already written, Chymes had made sure of it — and it would sell papers. Lots of them. Jack glanced over to where Briggs was staring at him from the side door. Beyond him Jack could see Friedland Chymes wearing a look of ill-disguised delight. The last detective who had tried to usurp Chymes’s dominance of Reading Central and refused to relinquish a case had been a bright spark named Drood. He had been transferred to the unrelenting tedium of the Missing Persons Bureau.
“DI Spratt,” resumed Hector, “I understand you have killed several giants in the past, and I would like to ask what you have against people of large stature?”
Jack resisted the temptation to tell Mr. Sleaze to poke his accusations up his nose, took a deep breath and said instead, “I was exonerated of all blame, Mr. Sleaze. The report is a matter of public record. Besides, only one of them was
“Yes,” said Sleaze. “Wouldn’t it be more appropriate for you to invite a senior officer to assist with the investigation? Someone with talent and an impeccable clear-up rate? Someone like DCI Chymes, for instance?”
It went on in this vein for another twenty minutes until, hot and sweaty and almost shaking, Jack managed to escape.
Briggs and Friedland were talking to each other in the corner of the anteroom but broke off as soon as he entered.
“If you want to relinquish control of the Humpty investigation right now,” said Chymes in a very businesslike manner, “I’m sure a way can be found to stop the undeniably harmful headlines from being published tomorrow morning.”
“For the good of Reading Central, I would have thought you might do that anyway,” retorted Jack.
“Oh, no,” said Chymes airily. “My control over the press is
Briggs bit his lip.
“Sir?” said Chymes again. “I think you should order — ”
“I heard what you said. If there is no headway by Saturday night, you can have it.”
“But I want it
“It’s mine, and I want it!”
Briggs rankled visibly. Jack had often seen Briggs start to get pissed off at
“I gave my word, Friedland.”
“Even so — ”
“Even so
“Of course, sir,” said Chymes, surprised and taken aback by Briggs’s actually daring to stand up to him. “Did I read somewhere that you play the trombone? An Urdu-speaking, trombone-playing superintendent strikes me as
“Friedland?” interrupted Briggs.
“Sir?”
“Get out of my sight.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me.”
Chymes went scarlet, turned tail and strode angrily from the room, his minions at his heels.
“Thank you, sir,” said Jack as soon as they had left.
“What the hell,” said Briggs, deflated. “I
And he was gone, leaving Mary and Jack in the empty anteroom. Next door they could hear the journalist from the
“Things are going to get hot, Mary. Sure you don’t want that transfer?”
“Not for anything, sir. You, I and the NCD are disbanded together.”
He smiled as they walked towards the elevators.
“I appreciate it. You can drop me at home and take the Allegro. Pick me up at eight-thirty tomorrow morning, and we’ll go and meet Giorgio Porgia.”
“The Allegro? For the
“Yes. Look after it — and no drag racing.”
31. Home, Sweet Home
POSTMAN MUZZLED IN AMUSING JURY-RIG MIX-UP
There were laughs all around at the Reading Central Criminal Court this morning, where a comical jury- bribing mix-up brought a moment of levity to otherwise somber proceedings. Sources close to the judge tell us that through an administrative error, sharpened-chisel-wielding mobster Giorgio Porgia had been paying off the wrong jury in his celebrated trial for demanding home improvements with menaces. “What a mix-up!” grinned Mr. Justice Trousers after adjournment. “It’s hilarious moments like this that make the courts such a fun place to work!” The “bought” jury in a nearby court, who were trying a dangerous dog, found the pooch in question not guilty and decided, in an unprecedented move, that the postman had bitten the dog. The postman was muzzled for a month and ordered to pay ?10,000 in damages.
As Chymes had predicted, Jack’s suitability to carry on the Humpty investigation was the top story on the radio as Mary drove him home. Friedland had done his work well. Questions of Jack’s “competence” and “reliability” were foremost in the report, and they even had a short interview with Chymes himself, who graciously said that he had “every confidence in DI Spratt” but would be more than happy to “offer my own assistance if requested.” There was a reporter on his doorstep wanting Jack to confirm for
Madeleine rushed up to give him a hug and said, “I heard all that crap on the radio, sweets. Chymes, was it?”
“In one,” he replied. “The bastard is using every trick in the book to poach the investigation. I didn’t think
