Hardcastle's Frustration by Graham Ison

developments.’
    â€˜Are you able to tell me when the funeral is likely to be, sir?’
    â€˜That’s a matter for the coroner, but as soon as he’s released your brother’s body for burial, I’ll be sure to let you know. Perhaps you’d let my sergeant here have a note of your address.’
    Parker took Marriott’s proffered pocket book and scribbled the details. ‘Thank you, Inspector,’ he said, and crossed the room, but paused with his hand on the doorknob. ‘I presume that Mavis has been told about Ronald.’
    â€˜I spoke to her yesterday, Mr Parker.’
    â€˜She must be beside herself with grief,’ said Parker with a shake of his head. ‘The missus and me’ll call and see her this evening.’

FOUR
    M arriott escorted Harold Parker into the mortuary at Horseferry Road. The attendant showed them into the small room where Ronald Parker’s body, covered with a rough sheet, was lying on a table.
    With a skill borne of years of practice, the attendant flicked back the sheet sufficient to allow a view of the victim’s face. He moved away, allowing Harold Parker to approach.
    â€˜Is that your brother Ronald, Mr Parker?’ asked Marriott.
    Although he was in no doubt, Harold Parker spent several seconds gazing down at his dead brother before eventually turning away.
    â€˜Yes, that’s Ronald, Sergeant.’
    â€˜If you’d be so good as to come into the office, Mr Parker,’ said Marriott, ‘I’ll ask you to make a brief formal statement confirming that you have identified your brother.’
    â€˜Of course.’ Harold Parker shook his head and followed Marriott out of the room. ‘Why on earth did it have to happen?’ he said.
    Marriott reported to Hardcastle the moment he returned to the police station.
    â€˜Harold Parker identified the body as that of his brother straightaway, sir.’
    â€˜Of course he did, Marriott. There was no doubt.’
    â€˜D’you think he was involved, sir?’ asked Marriott.
    â€˜He could’ve had something to do with it, I suppose,’ said Hardcastle, slowly filling his pipe. ‘He admitted to taking his barge under Westminster Bridge yesterday.’
    â€˜But would he have told us that if he’d murdered his brother, sir? I’d’ve thought that he would’ve made up some story about being miles away if he was guilty. Anyway, according to him it would’ve been well after the time the body was found that he went under Westminster Bridge. He said he arrived at Chelsea Reach at three o’clock yesterday afternoon. And it’s likely that the body had been in the river for quite some time before it was recovered.’
    â€˜Quite possibly, Marriott, quite possibly. But Harold Parker might just be drawing us the long bow. Anyhow, we’ll check. Send Wilmot up there to ask a few questions.’
    â€˜Yes, sir,’ said Marriott, and made a mental note to speak to DC Wilmot the moment the DDI had finished.
    â€˜He didn’t seem too cut up about his brother’s death, neither, Marriott,’ commented Hardcastle. ‘Where was it he said he lived?’
    Marriott opened his pocket book. ‘Seven Jacob Street, sir. It’s off Mill Street in Bermondsey.’
    â€˜Yes, I know where Jacob Street is, Marriott. Handy for the Pool of London, that is.’ Hardcastle sat down behind his desk. ‘This business of Ronald Parker going to Holland because he was afraid to be called up . . .’
    â€˜D’you mean the tribunal might’ve passed him fit after all, sir?’
    â€˜Yes, that’s what I was thinking, even though Spilsbury ruled it out. But they’re so short of men these days that they’re likely to send anyone who’s capable of standing up straight for five minutes. Who deals with this business of medical tribunals?’
    â€˜The Ministry of National Service, sir,’ said Marriott