“Ralph. Are you all right? There’s blood all over your shirt.” She tried to staunch the flow as a crowd gathered around.
“That bloke was chasing ‘im when he fell over the top.” There were murmurs from the crowd. Everyone seemed intent on having their say.
“Look ‘e’s cut ‘is ‘ead.”
“Someone get the police.”
“Is the bloke ‘e was chasin’ injured? ‘e don’t look good.”
“Nor would you if you fell all that bloomin’ way,” said an old man who was leaning over the fencing and peering down at Joe Minton’s broken body.
One or two onlookers gave a nervous laugh.
A police car pulled up. While one constable pushed his way through the crowd, the other reversed and drove off down the road towards Lynmouth Harbour where Joe Minton’s battered and twisted body lay.
“The bloke what wen’ over dropped ‘is rucksack; bloomin ‘eavey,” one of the bystanders raised the rucksack and groaned.
“Someone said there was a shot fired,” said the young constable as he looked at Ralph.
“The man who had the rucksack, constable he ---. The pain from his shoulder kicked in as the adrenaline that had kept him going began to subside. Ralph steadied himself against Katie. The last thing he remembered saying was: “The gold and silver are in the rucksack. More back at the ---.”
The police constable caught him as Ralph collapsed onto the pavement.
***
“You’re in the North Devon District Hospital, Professor Chalmers.” The young nurse put a chart back at the end of his bed. “You’ll be right as rain in a couple of days; just a nasty cut.”
“My shoulder?”
“Just a flesh wound, sir. You were lucky. The doctor said it went straight through. It needed a few stitches.” She gave him one of those professional smiles of reassurance.
It’s my blasted shoulder and it stings like hell, he wanted to say. He was sure that she could read his mind even though he only said “Thanks,” and gave a half smile.
“Lie still, sir. We don’t want it to start bleeding again. I’ll get your wife.”
She peered out into the corridor and beckoned to Katie that she could come in.
“Only 5 minutes, Mrs Chalmers. Your husband may have a bit of a concussion as well as the shoulder wound. We want to be sure.”
“Don’t forget to get the car,” said Ralph. It was the first thing that came to mind.
“I drove it here, Ralph. A man found the keys at the edge of the pavement. They brought you here in the ambulance. Just rest now so you can get better.”
He drifted off to sleep and dreamt of Megan filling bags with vegetables, Fred Bishop firing his shotgun at Bob Wyman, and Mary Richardson bowling in a cricket match as a fleet of quad bikes were roaring around the garden at the cottage in Clovelly.
______________________
Chapter 12
Detective Inspector Fletcher was satisfied. He had almost completed his report on Case 313 Sherracombe Ford. There had been a message the previous day from Professor Chalmers asking if it would be convenient to come in and speak with him. He had told the duty officer to arrange the appointment for 11 that morning. It was only ten o’clock now, and he had asked Sergeant Jones to help him tidy up a few loose ends in the case. He wanted Jones to sit in on the meeting so that he could demonstrate how to deal with a civilian who had some standing with the Senior Constabulary. His credo was that an officer must be both tactful and firm.
“So that’s just about it, Jones,” Inspector Fletcher said as the Sergeant made a few last minutes notes on the computer. “Quite a busy couple of months, but you can be proud of your team over at South Molton, they’ve done some first rate police work. I expect the Chief Superintendent will be down to show his appreciation.”
Inspector Fletcher had spent the morning making sure that the file was up to date and had even indulged in a few ‘spins’ in his chair. He was pleased at having resolved a complex case in record time.
“That Professor Chalmers was a great help,” Jones remarked. “He’s an action man, alright. Could have got himself killed a couple of times, Sir.”
The Inspector made no comment. He knew from what his friend Inspector Linham had told him, that at times Chalmers took matters into his own hands. He admired it, in some ways, but years of having to play it by the rule book had slowed him down. It might be time to have a chat with his wife as the early retirement option had been hinted at after his last medical. Some of his former colleagues had got jobs serving summonses for the courts, and there was always the possibility of setting up a private detective agency. “The thing is, Sergeant, it turned out all right this time, but someone like that’s in danger of interfering in police work. Now the excitement is over, we’ve still a lot of paperwork to tidy up; and there’s the trial, not to mention the coroner’s inquest for Joe Minton. Did the search team ever find that gun he used?”
“Not yet, Sir. We think he might have dropped it or thrown it over the cliff when he tried to jump onto that carriage. Or maybe some local picked it up and decided to keep it.”
“Clear it through your Superintendent first, and then release a statement to the local paper; say that there’s a one week amnesty for turning in unlicensed
