Page 2 of Worse Than Murder

Gill turns Alison around to face the incident board. There, in all its Technicolour glory, is a huge glossy print of Alison frog-marching a naked man down the High Street, one hand squeezing his arm, the other covering his private parts with her beanie hat.

Alison’s embarrassment shoots through the roof. She puts her head down and struggles to hide her laughter.

‘No prizes for guessing what the station’s Christmas card will look like this year,’ Gill says.

‘I’m so making a calendar of this,’ PC Guthrie says.

‘We should have it put on a T-shirt,’ someone else calls out.

‘Good idea. You can put a photo on anything these days– socks, duvet covers, scarves, anything.’

Alison turns around and faces the room. She finds her composure from somewhere.

‘I know you all expect me to be embarrassed,’ she says. ‘But I’m not,’ she lies. ‘I was simply doing my duty, and I’d do the same again should the occasion arise. And, fingers crossed, it will arise again at the weekend as we’re having drinks together on Saturday.’

Everyone in the room cheers as Alison makes her way to her desk. The best way to get over an embarrassing situation is to own it.

‘Are you really going out with him on Saturday,’ PC Lydia Marsh asks her quietly.

‘Of course, I’m not, Lydia, bloody hell.’ Alison rolls her eyes.

‘I wouldn’t blame you. He’s got a good body on him.’

‘Why would I want to go out with a drunk who streaks through the whole town? I mean, where’s the surprise now?’ She winks.

‘Okay, everyone, that’s enough,’ Gill says, bringing the room back to order. ‘Can we return to some normality and get some work done now, please?’

High Chapel Police Station is not a busy one. It isn’t the centre of a thriving metropolis. They’re not struggling under the weight of a lawless community, though drug crime seems to be on the increase. Any major incidents are coordinated with several patches around the county, the largest being the central hub at Kendal. High Chapel is merely a focal point for the local community, particularly in the summer months during the tourist season.

‘Now, the Met Office has issued a yellow weather warning for Saturday afternoon going into the early hours of Sunday morning. There’s a storm coming, and they’ve aptly named her Storm Gill. As you know, storms are relentless, unpredictable bitches who can often be violent and deadly. You can understand why they’ve named this one Gill,’ Gill says with a mock-severe expression. ‘However, this one seems to be unseasonably strong, so we need to be prepared. All leave is cancelled from Friday onwards. The local farming community is out in force delivering sandbags to shops, restaurants, and hotels. We shall be helping wherever possible. What I want you all to be doing between now and when the storm hits is to get out there and reassure our local residents and the tourists visiting the area. Guthrie and Marsh, I want you two to pop along to the school and say everything right to stop the kids from worrying, and make sure everything is prepared for it to be used as an evacuation centre should it come to that. Dixon, James and Stokes, I want you walking the streets, popping into the local shops and seeing if they need anything. Daniels and Pemberton, I want you two to have a drive out to the farms and make sure everyone is on standby should the village flood. Before you go out, I need a word with you both. Hop to it, everyone.’

Everyone files out of the room while Daniels and Pemberton remain in their seats, waiting until the room clears.

It’s another stifling hot day, and the fans are whirring away. Everyone has their fingers crossed the storm will take the edge off the temperatures.

‘We’ve had a call from Nature’s Diner,’ Gill says. ‘There’s been another attempted break-in. You have to pass there to get to Peak Farm.’

‘Another one? What is that, the third?’ Sergeant Claire Daniels asks.

‘The fourth, actually. Each time, they’ve never been able to gain access to the restaurant, but they’ve caused damage trying. This time, it would seem, a window was broken around the back. Now, I don’t need to remind you who the owners of Nature’s Diner are, or who their son is.’

‘No,’ Claire says.

Alison shakes her head. ‘I’ve met Carl a few times. He’s a lovely lad. Quiet.’

‘He’s bound to be.’

‘It’s not going to be related, though, is it?’ Claire asks. ‘I mean, it was years ago.’

‘The people who kidnapped Carl were never caught,’ Gill says. ‘The couple who bought him are now in prison, but we don’t know if they ever met the kidnappers or how much of them Carl saw. It is possible they could be coming back to try and silence the boy, or to frighten the family. Now, I’ve spoken to Philip and Sally Meagan, and they’ve increased their security. The whole place is covered with CCTV cameras and a panic button has been installed that goes straight to Kendal should anything happen. I want you two to reassure the Meagans we’re doing everything we can to keep them safe. Take a forensic kit out with you and dust for prints, if you think it’s required. If you suspect anything, give me a call, and I’ll get someone senior from Kendal out there.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Claire says.

Alison and Claire stand up and begin putting on their jackets, ready to leave.

‘Joking aside, Alison, I’m very proud of your actions on Tuesday night,’ Gill says.

‘Thank you, ma’am.’