Czech Mate (2 page)

Nora was also adept at making bridal and evening gowns of the most intricate design – a sideline she enjoyed immensely. The house was frequently decked with satin, lace and tiny handcrafted rosebuds. The girls revelled in it. Tom would have welcomed some torn shorts, rugby shirts and studded boots around the place to offset the female predominance.

Being the only male in a house with four women sometimes drove him to his private alcove where he kept his collection of model steam engines. At present, they would still be in their boxes: Nora refused to handle them. He would have to find the best place in this new house to display them; a bolt-hole for when giggles and gushing over weird-looking youths or stick-thin models became too much for him.

Fat chance of sorting out his engines yet! Not when the last truck in their convoy had failed to arrive. It was a damnable problem at a time like this. Apart from the driver's possible fate, the loss of expensive technical equipment could seriously hinder their ongoing cases. Christmas festivities were certain to breed trouble – they always had in the past – and with workmen still completing the construction of detention cells and interview rooms there would be little hope of spending much time at home until the new year.

Welcome warmth greeted him on entering a house he had so far only inhabited during a snatched weekend fourteen days ago. A lump formed in his throat on seeing the difference Nora had wrought in that time. She was one in a million.

‘Hi, stranger,' she greeted, coming from the sitting-room. ‘Good thing I got rid of lover boy ten minutes ago.' Pulling gently from his fierce embrace, she smiled up at him. ‘I think I'll give him the push. You're far better at the rough stuff.'

He kissed her again. ‘God, I've missed you. I just told Max three years are long enough to grieve, but I know I'd never stop if I ever lost you.'

‘They were only together two years, Tom, and Susan really had got herself a lover,' she pointed out. Linking her arm through his she led him towards the kitchen. ‘When you grow maudlin it's because you're hungry. Eat first, shower later. There's stew with dumplings and a plum tart.'

‘Gee, the woman cooks as well as turning basic rented houses into homes,' he joked in an effort to lighten up as he washed his hands at the sink, then flopped on a chair before the table. ‘It's amazingly quiet. Where's the brood?'

‘At a fancy-dress party.'

‘Already? They've only been here four weeks.'

Nora ladled stew on two plates and added vegetables. ‘Our girls have had to be able to adjust quickly, you know that. The party's for all the younger kids on the base. The teens get a disco next Saturday.' She sat opposite him and poured wine. ‘I made very basic outfits for them. Maggie's gone as a shepherdess, Gina as a ghost and Beth wanted to be a Roman centurion.'

Tom grinned, already relaxing. ‘Are there any sheets left on the beds?'

Before she could reply, his mobile rang. He reached for it hoping there was news that Treeves had turned up in a reasonable state.

‘Dad, come at once!' The voice of their eldest daughter held a touch of hysteria. ‘Kevin McRitchie's been found in the toilet with his head covered in blood. They've sent for an ambulance, but we need
you
. He's been murdered!'

When Tom and Nora arrived at the Recreation Centre there was mini chaos. Parents were driving in from parties, restaurants, street markets or their own fireside to comfort their children. They were being checked by a brawny military policeman by the double doors, where an ambulance was drawn up. Several Redcaps were searching the immediate surrounding area with flashlights.

Leaving Nora to find their girls, Tom mounted the stairs leading to the toilets. The narrow space between cubicles and urinals was crowded. Two paramedics and the Duty Medical Officer squatted beside a small figure on the tiled floor. Behind them an RMP sergeant stood observing the scene. In the corridor were two men Tom knew: Padre Robinson and Sergeant-Major Fellowes. They were talking quietly to a stocky, black-haired man and a woman in tears. Presumably, the McRitchie parents.

The hovering odours of disinfectant, urine and stale vomit added further unpleasantness to the bizarre sight of a lad dressed as a knight in black armour sprawling beneath the urinals, with a bloodied head. Tom crossed to the police sergeant whom he knew well.

‘My eldest called me on her mobile. Said a boy had been killed. Is he dead, George?'

‘No, sir, but he has serious head wounds. The lads who found him were shocked by all the blood and ran down to Sar'nt-Major Fellowes – he's one of the party organizers – crying out that Kevin had been murdered. Mr Fellowes came up here, sussed out the truth and called an ambulance, then us. I have men out looking for anyone secretly watching the activity here. Soon as they stabilize the victim he'll be taken to the
Krankenhaus
. Then we can isolate this whole area.'

‘You said serious head wounds?'

George Maddox pointed to a small club beside the injured boy. Tom recognized it as the kind usually hanging beside fire alarms with which to smash the glass in an emergency. ‘He was coshed with that. It came from this corridor.'

‘Taken by an adult rather than another child?'

‘Too soon to be certain, sir. Easy enough for a thuggish kid to fell a small boy like the victim, even one in this age group.'

Tom nodded. Viciousness was manifesting in younger and younger children with appalling frequency. ‘Any other activities on here tonight?'

‘No. That means the bar was closed, which rules out some aggressive, rat-arsed assailant who came up here for a piss. We searched the entire building when we arrived. No one lurking or hiding. We're having to let the kids go home, but we'll take statements from the organizers and helpers tonight. They're waiting in the main hall.'

At that point the paramedics prepared to leave with their stretcher. There was general movement to clear a way for them. It was then that Tom recognized Charles Clarkson, the doctor SIB had crossed swords with on a case back in April. He gave Tom a frowning nod in response to his greeting.

‘You're mighty quick off the mark, Mr Black.'

Stiffening at the underlying suggestion that he was some kind of ambulance-chaser, Tom said, ‘My three girls are here for the party. The eldest called asking us to collect them. They're upset.'

‘Understandable. My boys found Kevin and raised the alarm.' He managed a semi-apologetic smile. ‘It looked worse than it is. They all see so much violence on TV, kids see drama everywhere. Goodnight.' He clattered down the stairs leaving the two police officers with raised eyebrows. Clarkson's brusque manner was well known, but he was a first rate doctor.

Sergeant Maddox said, ‘I guess we'll be handing this one on to you, sir.'

Tom gave a sour smile. ‘A gift to welcome us to our new headquarters.'

Weary and aching after his heavy day he went down to the hall where the party had been held. The floor was strewn with paper plates and cups, coloured streamers, paper hats, squashed biscuits and sponge cake, overturned chairs and burst balloons. Here and there lay a forgotten fairy wand, a space gun, a wooden sword, a paste tiara and one pair of tiny pink ballet shoes.

‘
Dad!
' A shepherdess, a ghost and a Roman centurion ran to him, followed by Nora.

‘There's nothing to worry about,' he told them comfortingly. ‘Kevin has gone to hospital. He's going to be OK.'

Eight-year-old Beth, the most clingy of the trio, buried her face in his waist. ‘The Clarkson boys said he was all bloody and
dead
.'

Tom put his arm around her. ‘Major Clarkson has just told me Kevin was merely unconscious. He's a doctor, his boys aren't.' Glancing at Maggie, who looked very pale, he said, ‘You were right to call me. Well done, sweetheart.'

‘Are you going to find out who did it and why?' asked Gina, the practical one.

‘Right now I'm going to leave Sergeant Maddox and his men to do the essential work, while I go home and wolf down the lovely dinner I left uneaten on the kitchen table. Come on!'

Nora shepherded the girls to the kitchen for warm drinks while Tom telephoned Max to give him a run-down of the situation. By that time Maggie, Gina and Beth were happy to go to bed. Thinking longingly of his meal and a quiet time with Nora before they went to bed together for the first time in two weeks, Tom kissed his daughters and gave each a reassuring hug.

Beth looked up at him tearfully. ‘I wish I'd never gone to that horrid party.'

‘I know, pet, but it's all over now.'

‘They were about to start the parade to decide who should win the prizes for the best costumes when those stupid Clarkson boys rushed in and told awful lies. Now I'll never know if I won, will I?'

Tom glanced across at Nora. The resilience of youth!

Max slept badly, then woke initially unable to work out where he was. The clock radio beside the bed showed 06:45. It was still dark outside the window. He sat up and disentangled his legs from the duvet he had grappled with during the night. There had been a double bed in his room at Frau Hahn's rambling house, so the duvet had rarely ended on the floor. Last night he had once even landed there himself. Single beds were not designed for large, restless men like him.

He made a mug of tea when he really wanted coffee, but the tea bags were in sight. The coffee could be anywhere. Sitting in a chair beside the standard table-cum-desk, Max sipped moodily from the mug, regretting the loss of his delightful quarters in a country setting. Living in-mess he found it difficult really to relax, be his own person. He seemed still to be on duty there.

His thoughts moved to professional problems. A stolen truck laden with valuable equipment had to be traced, but the search for the driver had greater priority. He padded to the window to push back the regulation pattern curtains. Snow had banked up during the night and it was still falling. He hoped Treeves was surviving it.

Letting the curtain fall, Max made more tea and drank it while gazing without seeing at the boxes and holdalls surrounding him. His concentration had moved to what Tom Black had reported to him last night. A serious attack on a boy at a Christmas party. Cases concerning minors were invariably tricky. Parents could be defensive, aggressive, outraged during questioning; the kids' testimony was often unreliable due to fear, bravado, insolence or pure drama.

They would all have to be approached today. Being Sunday it would mean tackling them at home. Easier if they were at school. Teachers acted as appropriate and
impartial
adults during questioning. The investigation was likely to run over into tomorrow, however. With Christmas so near and snow on the ground, families could be out shopping or tobogganing today.

The digital figures on his clock now showed 07:30. Would breakfast be available yet on a Sunday? Max's stomach was telling him fuel in the form of hot food was urgently needed, so he showered and dressed warmly for a demanding day. He hoped to God engineers would turn out to get the heating system going in the semi-organized new headquarters.

They had not when Max arrived to find most of his team ready for a briefing, in spite of the lie-in offered last night. Word of the assault on Kevin McRitchie had circulated.

‘One of the advantages or disadvantages of living cheek by jowl with our prospective clients,' said Phil Piercey dryly. ‘Depends how you view it.'

Max grinned. ‘I've a pretty good idea how you view it, Sergeant, and thank you all for sacrificing your extra time in bed. I apologize for the temperature in here. I'll chase up the guys meant to be installing the heating and threaten them with a night in the cells, unless! However, most of you will be out taking statements on the McRitchie case. Those few remaining here to coordinate info on our stolen truck and the fate of its driver will have the sole use of two space heaters I've ordered to be delivered pronto.

‘I've been advised that an air search will be mounted as soon as the weather permits, but the Met boys are shaking their heads and muttering so I'm not hopeful. I think we must accept that our equipment is by now irretrievable, so the focus is on tracing Lance-Corporal Treeves. Teams will shortly set out to once more cover the route taken yesterday but, without air reconnaissance, the chances of finding a hidden vehicle, much less its driver, are pretty slim. All that can be done will be done, in conjunction with the
Polizei
, who might have more resources now Saturday night excesses are over.'

Connie Bush, looking as fresh and alert as if she had not toiled so hard yesterday, raised a point. ‘We can't completely rule out the possibility that Treeves did a runner with our equipment.'

Tom Black answered in agreement, adding, ‘The Dutch police are looking out for him, and we'll bring in Interpol if necessary. Let's turn to this assault on the boy at the party.'

After outlining what he had seen and heard last night, Tom went on to state that he had questioned his own daughters. They had not noticed anything suspicious prior to the attack. No serious aggro between any of the children – particularly the boys – except that Kevin had a bit of a slanging match with his young sisters who were refusing to speak to each other or form partners in the games and competitions.

‘Seems the girls squabbled over their costumes before they left for the party and Kevin was annoyed by their behaviour. He also resented having to be there to keep an eye on them because he exceeded the upper age limit by one week. He thought he should instead have been allowed to attend the teens' disco this Saturday.'

‘It's a difficult age,' said Heather Johnson, who had two young brothers.

‘I spoke to Sergeant Maddox an hour ago. He promised to send through to us the statements they took last night from the helpers and organizers. He had a very brief word with the parents and was told by Corporal McRitchie that young Kevin is starting to find his feet, answer back, flout the rules. A rebel in the making?