Richards Way
(of becoming herself)
by Jennifer Christine
Part 4

“Bet he’s left his phone off the charger in his car and he’s got a flat tyre somewhere on the way home.” I tried to cheer her up.

“He’d call; I know he’d call straight away. We’ve discussed this time and time again that if he had a delay, he’d call immediately — Oh Richard, something’s happened I know it has.” She started to panic — suddenly the phone rang again. Mum snatched it up so fast there was almost a whoosh from the air movement.

“Oh, he’s not,… no, he doesn’t go anywhere without calling me first, it’s totally unlike him. …. Yes, I’ll stay by the phone —“ She put the handset down, her face crumpling as she did. “The car is outside the bank in his parking space.” Her eyes had that ‘deer in headlights’ look. Shock — trauma.

She sucked in a huge breath, “Oh god, please don’t let him be hurt.” She covered her face and shuddered slightly as imagined scenarios took place in her head. Suddenly she looked up.

“In cases like this, the Bank is audited and our home will be checked for anything untoward. I know there’s no reason to fear anything, but there’s going to be some CID men here shortly if my guess is good.” Mum’s shoulders weren’t so much slumped as sagged — that sag of lost dignity — this is not an easy thing to undergo — suspicion that Dad had gambling debts or something that would make him abscond with the funds from his work.

“He’s going to be guilty until they find everything is OK.” Mum was really looking weird — like the fight was returning to her. She bared her teeth as she sucked air between them.

“They’re going to take the computers away — even yours, so if there’s information you need for anything, better offload it or whatever so you can access it from another computer.” The phone rang again. Mum took a deep breath and picked it up.

“Liz Coombes,… yes. No he’s not,… I’ve no idea. It was a normal day nothing odd at all.” The look on her face was resignation. Then bitterness. “There’s no reason to get annoyed, Ted may be hurt or dead for all I know, all you have to do is go into work and unlock the doors. Stop complaining.”She slammed the phone down.

“Bloody assistant manager. Thinks dad’s buggered off with the takings!” She was
fuming.

All this time I was hanging onto her, my mind was full of bad people hurting my dad, overseers and oppressors hurting mum and turning our lives upside down. I started to feel real fear. My eyes started to brim up and I found I was clinging to mum rather than being supportive. Mum put her arm round me — “it’s ok darling it’ll turn out fine, you’ll see.”

We both held on for awhile until we seemed to separate naturally, though we didn’t speak; we were both just in time suspension. All our problems were nothing compared to this. Dad was gone, where?

“We’d better eat something,” I suggested and mum nodded vacantly.

“Yes, you’re right, we need to get on.” Mum ladled some stew into the bowls it was still piping hot in the slow cooker so we waited a minute or two for it to cool. We both looked at the empty chair.
Neither of us was going to say anything — we just leaked from the eyes and felt miserable.

Eventually we ate.

The phone rang a short while later — we were both still sat at the table — immobile, with our thoughts turned inward. The noise made us both jump.

I was closest, so I answered, “Richard here, … yes, hang on a second.” I passed the phone to mum, mouthed ‘police’ to her. She nodded and took the handset. “Yes?... No…Right. Well I presume he comes down the main road to get home, but if he’d broken down, he’d have rung wouldn’t he? He’s not in his car is he? he wouldn’t have walked, he’d have taken a taxi. No.” She put the phone down, shaking her head at the nonsense from the other end.

“You’d think they’d think things through wouldn’t you? They were asking which way he came home. He would have taken a taxi and been home hours ago.” Before she’d had a chance the put the cordless phone back on the hub, it rang in her hands.

“Oh, you again,…of course you wouldn’t,… of course it is. No there’s nothing that I can think of, he hardly ever touches the computer here except for family email….. I suppose you can, but if everything’s ok at that end, why would you want to? Exactly — right,… I’ve no idea… Ok thank you, yes I will, goodnight.” Mum’s raised eyebrows showed that something had surprised her.

“Assistant manager again, the records have had a preliminary check on the computer and the person who closed the vault was him, so he knows that it will be ok — it’s on a time lock. Dad can’t open it on his own.” Mum’s lips quivered with pending misery.

“Don’t cry mum, whatever has happened, there’s no point in worrying about it until we have a clue as to what’s going on,” I tried to mollify her, but I really felt no better.

The doorbell rang and I jumped looking at mum who returned my stare.
I flicked on the monitor to the gate and a man was standing at the bell looking at the camera.
“Yes?” I asked.
The man held up a warrant card close enough that I could see it was one but not if it was a real one — though I had no reason to suspect it was a fake, nor had I ever seen a real one anyway for comparison.

“Detective Joshua Brown, CID.” I heard him say as he lowered his hand.
I buzzed the side gate and he walked through — I was at the door when he got there.

“Come in, detective,” I stood back to let him in.

“Come through,” I led the way into the kitchen where we were still sat. He followed.

“Good evening Mrs Coombes, sorry to be an interruption at this time of night, but we’re treating this as a serious case — Bank Managers are high end commodities,” He tried to be bright and upscale, but his very presence meant something was wrong.

“Sit down detective,” she indicated one of the stools around the breakfast bar where we were sat. “Would you like a coffee or tea?” Mum enquired as if practiced in the art of Detective grooming.

“Not tea thanks — I drink too much of it in the canteen — a decent coffee would go down a treat though. Two and a splash please” Indicating his preference.

I looked him over . Nothing to get excited about. Badly pressed trousers, pressed one side only. Shoes clean but not polished scuffed on the left heel ( poor driving technique). Shirt, clean and drip dry — This is one lazy man — living on his own. A man going through the motions with his job.

“Do you have any news or is this a social visit?” I asked a bit sarcastically — he looked at me like I had bit his leg.

“Oh yes, sorry, I shouldn’t dilly dally with news eh?” He plastered an insincere grin on his face.

“I’m here in case there’s any contact by whoever (sic) might have detained him, I can’t find any evidence of him reaching his car and the bank was locked up normally and secure, so whoever it was that approached him didn’t realise they couldn’t get back in once the alarms had been activated.” Joshua supplied with that twisted logic that police are famous for.

“Surely that means exactly the opposite. If someone had approached dad as he left the bank and didn’t know about the alarms not being turnable off, they’d have forced him back into the bank and triggered the alarms, thereby stuffing the operation and spending some time with you guys down the nick. Or at worst, ending up with a hostage situation in the empty bank with only one hostage.”

The detective looked at me like I had two heads and blinked a few times as the wheels of justice ground exceedingly slowly in his head.

“Yes, there is that, certainly.” He pulled out his notebook and scribbled something. “I’d like to look at your PC if you have one, there may be something on that that may be tied in to what’s going on.” He winced slightly knowing that the allusion now is to dad being a suspect in a crime that hasn’t yet been established

“Now, as you well know, the assistant manager has already checked the integrity of the bank’s accounts.” I supplied before mum could start crying again. “and your premise that dad is complicit in anything that is going on, is based on the fact you have no clue whatsoever as to why he’s not here in the bosom of his family enjoying his whisky and soda. I suggest, if you have nothing better to do, that you set up any listening devices you may or may not have with you, in case the perpetrators decide to put us out of our misery and tell us what the fuck is going on, because you, obviously, have no idea.” I smiled through gritted teeth at him.

He looked at me like I had three heads and put his briefcase on the table. He flipped open the flap and pulled out a ‘wire’. “Are you on wireless or landline for your phone?” He’d obviously started to get the idea.

“Wireless,” I said passing him the handset — he clicked it on and pressed the intercom remote button, which lit up the red light on the little box on the pickup he’d revealed.
“Right,” he smiled like it was a magic trick, “Anyone who calls will automatically be recorded on the little recorder here. This can be downloaded by the station as it is connected by weblink” The little red light was now green. “Right, it’s connected.”

“How long do the batteries last?” I asked.

He pulled out the charger unit, “Can I plug this in?” I nodded and pointed to the plug socket next to him. He connected both ends — “Now that’ll be set ‘til everything is settled.”

Mum hadn’t said much, and she looked weary, “Where do you start?” she asked quietly, “What do you do besides wait like we’re doing?”

“Until the initial contact is made, we don’t have much to go on. We can trace known persons who have a similar MO and we can ask around and check over CCTV footage of the bank environs. There is a fair bit we can get on with. The biggest thing we can do is have support here for you and to intercept the calls and negotiate.” He told us.

“First up we need to tell you what to do if the phone rings and it’s someone connected with the problem.” These guys must be instructed how to ameliorate the language to minimise shock.

“I’m just going to ring the station to tell them we’re all set up and then there’ll be a pc out to take over the situation. There’ll also be someone on the other end of this,” he indicated the phone tap thing. “With your permission, there’ll be a person here to intercept or negotiate calls until your husband is safe.” He suddenly started to sound competent.

“Thank you Detective,” Mum slumped onto the stool and placed her head on her arms on the bench top.

After a while another cop car appeared at the gate — a marked one this time. I let it in and it dispensed a female cop. I let her in, she carried a small valise, “Hello, I’m, Susan, the negotiator, Josh probably told you about how it works?” I shook my head.

“No, he was too busy doing conjuring tricks with his phone tap,” I was weary and I wanted to get mum to settle before I did so myself. “Do I really need to know, it’s getting late and my mum is frantic. Isn’t there something that can be done?”

“I can phone a doctor for something like a sedative?” She looked as much use as the other brain free dick I’d let in earlier.

“Do what you must. There’s a convertible sofa in the sun lounge if you want to make yourself comfy.” I pointed to the door at the other end of the kitchen. “I’m totaled, and so is mum, we’ve been on edge all evening and our adrenal glands are overworked.” Mum was sat there looking pale. It had only been four hours since Dad hadn’t arrived home.

“C’mon mum let’s get you off to bed, there’s nothing we can do until we get a phone call.” Mum nodded and I took her hand and led her to her room. She didn’t get undressed — just slipped her shoes off and lay on the bed — I slipped a blanket over her. “See if you can get some shut eye.” I gave her a hug and a kiss.

“I haven’t even told Sandy and Brad,” mum mumbled at me. I suddenly realised that we’d literally shut down — and isolated ourselves.

I picked up the phone by the bed. “No, don’t, someone may be trying to call.” Mum admonished.

I nodded and pulled my cell out of my pocket — hit the dial button for Sandy.

“Hi Sandy, Rich; sorry to phone so late.”

“What’s the prob?” she asked brightly.

“Dad’s gone missing, the police think he’s been kidnapped for ransom or something.” I tried to be as concise as possible. Silence reigned for a moment.

“Oh my God, why didn’t you phone earlier? I’ll be right over.” Click.

I didn’t even get a chance to tell her to wait. Well she’s a good sister to mum so at least mum’ll be emotionally supported by a sibling as well as a child.

She was there in record time, I met her at the door — she had the gate opener fitted to her car.
After I told her the whole story she asked about my own problems, I just shrugged and said “back seat for a while I guess.”

“You look worn out. You’ve been a brick sweetie, why don’t you get your head down and I’ll fill in the constable — Susan is it?”

I didn’t get to sleep so well but I did get some rest and when I went down the next morning, mum was sat there nursing a coffee — dark circles under her eyes. Susan was opposite — looking the worse for wear but reasonable — the phone hadn’t rung — Sandy was still in bed.

By lunch time the phone still hadn’t rung and the police had been and interviewed everyone including next door neighbours and work colleagues of Mum’s as well as Dad’s. Nothing, absolutely nothing.

“I can’t sit here, I’m going to have to drive round my houses and pop into work.”
Mum told the room in general and no one in particular.

Susan’s replacement, Mary, another negotiator looked up and said, “your houses?”

“Real Estate Agent. I just like to check on my local houses to make sure there’s no squatters and stuff.” She informed the PC.

“Oh, right.” She made a note in her log. “I’ll just phone it in, the super might want you to be on hand if there is some contact.” She clicked on her short wave mic and asked what she should do about Mum leaving the house. The answer came back over the speaker so everyone could hear, “It’s been 18 hours since Mr Coombes went missing, I think if they were going to contact they’d have done it already, we’re searching for witnesses and going through bank records to see if there’s anyone with a grudge. Tell Mrs Coombes that if she needs to get out, to be careful and keep her eyes open. Constable, I think you can return to the station. Out”

I looked at mum and she looked sick. The implications were headlined — Dad had been kidnapped and there’d been no ransom demand — that meant only one thing. Mum collapsed in a heap. I sat down as my head started to swim.

Sandy ran over to mum and moved mum to a more comfortable position — she was in a dead faint. The constable went back to the mic and said, “Sir, Mrs Coombes has collapsed, could you send an ambulance?” A short silence followed. “Oh, right. Will do, ambulance on its way.”

“That boss of yours has a wonderful manner — I think he could do with a smack in the head with a wet kipper. Might wake him up. What the hell did he say that over open channel for — he must’ve known he’d be heard?” I was incensed. “I’ve a good mind to sue his ass off for causing unnecessary distress.” The copper looked guilty and kept her mouth shut.
Sandy spoke to Mary, “My name is Alexandra Hurley, I am the family’s lawyer, and I’m making a note of what has been said, in case further action may be taken, is that understood? I suggest you let your boss know — what’s his full name and rank please?”

“Superintendant Rupert Crisp.” The constable looked abashed and very contrite.
She pulled out her phone and talked for a minute.

Rupert Crisp — well I wonder if he bought his superintendancy — sounds like a very jolly good chap to know, don’t cha know. I shook my head. If this wasn’t so serious, itwold be a farce.

The ambulance arrived and mum was whisked off to A & E with Sandy in the back as well.

The constable packed up and left and I decided to go ride around mum’s houses to check they were ok. I knew where most of them were as she had a list on the fridge. I just needed to check in her work diary to make sure I got them all.

It was in her car so I just flicked through it and added the two not on the list — the route wasn’t long, but it was long enough on a bike.

All was well until I got half way round the houses and found one had a car in the drive.
It was an oldish, unpolished small Ford and the house was not compatible, being a fairly substantial 4 bed 3 bath DLUG (double lock up garage) sort of affair with a brick garden wall and not old.
Sort of house you’d expect to see a Volvo or a Mercedes outside.

I phoned mum’s office and told them and continued on my way. I’d almost got home when my cell phone rang and Sandy’s name came up on the screen.
“Hi aunty, is mum Ok? Is there any other news, I’m out checking the houses for mum — there’s an old car outside 10 Park Road and I phoned it in to mum’s work.”

“Been busy huh?” Sandy smiled down the phone, I could tell. “Mums Ok, she’s been sedated, they think she should stay here for a while maybe overnight, I’m going to stay for a little bit then go home and make tea, do you want to pop over and join us — I’ll pick you up if you do.”

“That’d be great, I don’t want to spend the night in an empty house, with dad being missing. I’m getting very anxious.” Bringing it up in conversation made it bubble to the surface and I felt tears were imminent again.

“Be at home and I’ll pick you up later.” Sandy rang off.

When I got in, I hit the message button in case anyone else had rung. What I heard made me feel sick.

“Feeling anxious yet? Are you missing your husband?” A little pause followed by, “time is ticking.” Then a click. The machine said, “Message timed at 2, 0, 5.”

I immediately rang the police who confirmed they’d got it but weren’t committing themselves to any other statement.

They seemed reluctant to actually do ANYTHING at all. I was sure there was something I could do. I thoughtabout the recording — I wonder where it was — I didn’t hear much in the background. I put the recording into my PC and stretched it a bit to see if I could hear anything else. It was eerily quiet almost to the end and then I heard the sound of an ice cream van jingle — Greensleeves way in the background.

I had a think — I wonder how many ice cream vans play that tune? The one that sells round here does. Mr Whipple. I looked in the telephone directory for the number of the company and found there was a head office and a load of franchises.
How many franchises were in our town that played Greensleeves?
I rang the number.

“Hello, Mr Whipple’s fine Ice Creams is pleased to take your call, all our operators are busy at the moment, please hold the line, someone will be with you shortly.” I HATE those recordings.

I drummed my fingers for a moment and looked at my watch. 4 pm — too early to pack up.

Suddenly I was put through. “Hello Samantha here, how may I direct your call?”

“I’d like to speak to someone who’d know where an ice cream van playing Greensleeves was this afternoon at 5 past 2?”

“You trying to be a smarty pants?” Was the answer.

“No I’m trying to trace a recording from a kidnapper which has this playing in the background.” I felt an icy silence as the person blushed a bit then. “I’m just finding out which vans play Greensleeves.” Silence again “There’s only two, one in the north of town and one down near the river.” My eyes opened wide — that’s here in this area…

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you where they were at 2 o’clock though.” Samantha said.

“Can you give me the phone number of the one by the river?” I felt myself pleading.

“Yes hang on a minute, 42-555-096” I scribbled down the number and read it back, “Yes you got it.” I rang off.

I dialed, “Hello Graham here?”

“Hi Graham, I’m trying to find out where you were selling ice cream today at 2pm.” I asked nervously. “I wouldn’t bother you but I need to know cos I heard your van tune in the background of a recording I got.”

“What’s the recording of then? Some criminal asking for ransom?” He said jokingly.

“That’s exactly right, and I’ll let the police know how helpful you were when I get my father back.”

“Strewth, I was joking,” Graham sucked in breath is shock.

“Do you know where you were?

“Yeah, I just had my lunch down by the Park and played the tune as I went up Park Road.”

“Thank you so much.” I rang off.

I rang the police, “Can I speak to Superintendant Crisp please?”

“He’s very busy on a case at the moment, who can I say is calling.” Came the officious reply in strangled English.

“Mr Coombes junior — I think I know where my dad is.” I was barely able to get it out I was so giddy.

“Would you like to tell me, I’ll pass the information on.” Mr Plod replied.

“No I would not, put me through to Crisp please.” I started to wind up.

“He’s not to be disturbed,”

“He’ll be disturbed if he finds out you didn’t put this call through.” I was really frantic now.

“I’ll see if I can contact him,” the sound went muffled like he’d put the phone to his chest. 20 seconds went by. “No he’s not in his office. You can tell me the information.”

“You do realise this is being recorded don’t you? By your own station as it happens (I’d have to ask later if anyone had a laugh over the desk sergeant getting ripped a new one by a minor). I know you didn’t attempt to find Crisp, you’re just being bloody minded, now do as I ask or you’ll be in more shit than Crisp already is.” Silence.

“Ah, he’sjust walked into the station, putting you through” sound of a phone being transferred. I shook my head as a leasurely voice offered. “Hello Superintendant Crisp here.”

“It’s Richard Coombes here, I think I know where Dad is.” I almost squeaked it out.

“Oh and how would you know that sir?”
Oh God this has to be a joke.

“Why not just ask where and send a car? Then ask me how I know.” I replied.

“I hope you’re not wasting police time sir.” Was the stupid reply

“Please stop being a prick like your desk officer and listen, the recording that came in this afternoon had a Greensleeves tune on it?”

“Do you think we’re stupid sir? Of course we know — but there’s hundreds of ice cream vans out there.”

“Well as you may or may not know, my mother is a real Estate Agent, this afternoon after you so callously made it obvious that my father was not being ransomed she fainted, so I went round to check the houses she was about to check.” I continued.

“And how does this relate to the ice cream van?”

“One of the houses had a car outside — an empty house. A big, empty house, an expensive house with a cheap old clunker outside. Is this starting to sound like a lead yet?” I asked sarcastically.

“Not til you tie it in with the ice cream van, but yes it’s sounding interesting,” he sounded more animated.

“I rang the company who franchises the vans, there’s only two with Greensleeves tune in their van. I spoke to Graham the owner of one van and he was at the end of Park road, the SAME road that the house is on, at two pm. The time of the call.” I almost got it out in one breath.

“Right, seems you may have something there, we’ll follow it up. Thank you Richard.”
The superintendant sounded quite pleased.

“How soon will you know?” I asked, excited.

“Well, we’ll just ring the ice cream people and check out your story and the real estate agent, then we’ll get someone down there to have a look. Our officers are very busy you know” He offered mildly.

“How about getting a car over there straight away —it will take less resources than going over the information twice.” I put the phone down — I’d go myself, at least I’d be able to make sure they didn’t move and then we’d lose them.

I jumped back on my bike and was back outside the house in ten minutes. The car was still there.
Right — still the middle of the afternoon in real terms. I picked up a dropped newspaper from the road. It gave me an idea.
I rolled the newspaper up and walked up to the door as if I was going to post it. I quietly listened and then lifted the flap of the letterbox. (they’re on the house door in UK) and had a look through the slot.
The first thing I noticed was no carpet. I listened and could hear someone pacing nervously up and down one of the rooms inside. I backed off and went back to my bike out on the pavement.

I dialed up Sandy, “I think I found dad, he’s at the house that has the car outside on Park Road, the one I told you about. I phoned the police but I got that jackass Crisp again and he said he’d check it out — I’ve been here ten minutes and there’s no sign of the police — can you chivvy them up?” Sandy barely acknowledged me before she clicked off — I phoned for an ambulance and told them I’d come off my bike. I wanted dad to be safe as soon as I could. I told the ambulance I’d go up to the house to get help — so they’d park in the drive outside.

In the next two minutes all hell broke loose, I heard the siren of the ambulance, so I walked towards the door; there were several steps up there and I wanted to be on the doorstep when the ambos arrived. So I walked up the steps and knocked on the door. I stood back waiting for whomever it was to open the door. Another set of sirens was coming from the other direction. The door opened and a guy came running out and as I stepped forward he hit me square in the chest with his body and we both went flying down the steps. I landed on him but a sudden pain from my leg said all was not well — the guy was lying under me unconscious.
I couldn’t move — the pain was excruciating.

Screeching brakes and sirens stopped by me. Uniforms were everywhere.
“In the house, in the house,” I yelled — “get my dad”. I pushed the ambo away from me.
I could feel warm liquid trickling down my leg.

“You first,” he said, trying to ascertain what was stopping me moving.

“No, No! my dad, he’s in the house you have to help him.” Suddenly a voice rang out.

“Searg, we’ve found a man in ‘ere all trussed up but unconscious.” When the other ambo heard that, he ran into the house while the one who was looking after me found what was pinning me down. I’d landed on a bamboo tomato cane and it had gone through my leg.
He eased the cane out of the ground and rolled me over to reveal the other guy. The unconscious man under me was rather worse — he’d got a cane protruding from his shoulder and one from his other arm. His head had landed on a paving stone and blood was pooling under his head. He was still breathing.

Another ambulance arrived and as they got me onto a stretcher with the ‘arrow’ through my leg, Dad arrived in another stretcher next to me and my Aunt arrived on the other side. “Oh my God, what happened?” The shock was setting in and I was a bit out of it by then. As I slipped quietly into the blackness of shock and passed out, I could see my dad coming round in the stretcher next to me — his bonds had been cut and he looked a bit bruised and damaged but not serious.