The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1848 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

David let the Chief Inspector in and we decided to use the dining room for our meeting. Kit and DCI Fowles had already met, he was with me wasn’t he–duh.

“As you are probably aware, Lady Cameron sometimes employs a private investigator?” The DCI nodded and Kit continued, “He discovered your colleague has some real financial problems, including regular payments to a betting shop and also the loan shark, Cortez.”

“Really?” The detective looked shocked.

“Yes, here is a financial statement–he’s remortgaged his mother’s house and defaulted on the payments–it looks like he’s going lose it to repossession by a bank.”

The policeman read the financial report and shook his head, muttering, ‘Jesus Christ,’ several times. “It explains his strange behaviour recently, and something which I’m not telling you–right?” We nodded. “We did a supposed impromptu visit to Mr Cortez and nothing was out of order, we couldn’t even do him for dirty hand towels in his bathroom–it was cleaner than clean–and obvious to everyone that he knew we were coming.”

“What were you attempting to do him for?” I asked, probably out of order and so forth but it was intriguing.

“Money laundering, we used some marked cash and set up a drop with a punter who knew nothing about it, so he couldn’t have warned him. When we got there, there was no sign of it, the money was done with a dye that only shows under UV light but it marks the hands if touched and doesn’t easily wash off. He had nothing on his paws or in his place.”

“The money hasn’t shown up since?” posited Kit.

“Yeah, but no one knows how it got back into circulation.”

“So it looks like Marple could be in his pay or debt?” I asked.

“It sure looks like it, I’ll have to get him in for questioning–have to get another force to do it–damn nuisance and it costs.”

“I’m sorry, Chief Inspector, but it does look as if your man is a bent copper.”

“Yes it does, doesn’t it–the fool.” He looked weary and angry. “To think, he’s probably the one who’s stopped us picking up anything on Cortez.”

“How long have you been after him?” I asked.

“About three years ago there was a house fire which was never satisfactorily explained, the fire service assumed it was a faulty appliance as no accelerant was found but a woman and two little ones died. She owed Cortez rather a lot of money, her bloke had pissed off back to Ireland and he was waiting for benefits money to help her. While she waited, she went to Cortez and discovered the small print when she went to pay back the loan in full–she owed him another hundred quid. She refused to pay anything more than the money she owed and came to us. Two days later her house burnt down and she and her two kiddies died.”

“No accelerant was found?”

“No but there were suspicions of someone messing with the cooker, a chip pan was left on it and it appears that’s where it started and someone had also taken the smoke detector batteries out.”

“If it was set up like that, that is disgusting.” I almost wanted to heave, and I really did want to bring Cortez to justice, more than ever.

“Can you get him through Marple?” asked Kit, ever intelligent, I just wanted to scratch his eyes out, Cortez that is.

“They won’t let me investigate my own man, we’ll have to call in another force.”

“Pity,” I said, “because I think you’d really like to get Cortez, wouldn’t you?”

“Me,” Fowles looked me right in the eye, “I’d give up half my pension to nail that scum bag.”

“Perhaps we can help?” I looked him back in the eyes.

“How?”

“If I told you that, it might compromise your efforts.”

“Lady Cameron, please don’t do anything illegal–I know Beck’s good but one of these days he’s going to slip up and there’s plenty of cops would like to take him down. Don’t let him take you with him.”

“Did I mention anything illegal?” I played innocent.

“If you do anything illegal, I can’t help you either, Cathy, unless it’s to defend you.”

“Why does everyone think I’m up to anything shady?” I asked pouting as I did.

“We don’t, but the way you said it could compromise my efforts, so I assumed it was illegal–unless you’re using torture.”

“Eh?”

“Mind you if you were using torture on Cortez, I’d like to be there.” The DCI said and then blushed.

“Don’t they call it rendition, these days?” asked Kit.

“I think that’s only if the CIA do it, the rest of the time we call it torture, unless of course MI5 are involved then it’s simply interrogation by a third party.”

“Of course,” I agreed, “we ship ’em off to somewhere they don’t mind getting their hands dirty, don’t we?”

“It’s all part of being civilised,” suggested Kit, “sweeping things under carpets or sending them far away. Out of sight out of mind, plus of course no one to witness the eavesdropper in the shadows.”

“Who reports to a high ranking civil servant who reports to...ad nauseum until the minister makes a statement in the house where no mention of torture is made because by then no one he talks to knows the original source.”

“I’d better get back,” said Fowles, “I think it might be better if you keep out of this, Lady Cameron.”

“If I hear anything, I’ll be sure to let you know, Mr Fowles.”

“Thank you, but for once take a copper’s advice and stay well away from Cortez–he’s a very nasty customer.”

“Thank you for your advice and concern.” We shook hands and he left, Kit and I summarised where we were and he left shortly afterwards by which time I had to go and collect the girls. Half term next week, I’ll need to amuse the kids then so no time to play gumshoe, I’ve also got to finish a certain document and submit it to the university–burning the midnight oil tonight again by the look of it.

The rest of the evening was taken up by normal family processes–checking they all did their homework, eating dinner and so forth. I retired to my study while Simon saw the girls off to bed, and continued tidying up my dissertation. There was a knock on the door and Sammi stood there.

“I think this might be of interest, Mummy.” She handed me a sheet of paper with a conversation in emails between Marple and Cortez, Marple informing the other he’d been suspended and did Cortez know who the woman who helped rescue Edith Howse was? Cortez didn’t and it seems Marple suggested I was like Wonder Woman in designer jeans and cashmere sweater. Cortez seemed to miss the joke so Marple had to explain that anyone who crossed me seemed to wind up worse off for the experience.

Cortez’s reply was a trifle worrying, “Well, we’ll have to see about that then won’t we–does she have children?”

Probably not the best thing to say to a female tiger.