Maxwell's Retirement by M. J. Trow Page B

which is right up your street. I’ve got this file here,’ he picked it up and let it fall, ‘of reports and complaints from concerned parents about mobile phone abuse. Apparently, someone is sending rather nasty texts to a whole lot of girls in Leighford.’
    Jacquie’s mouth fell open with surprise and it took her a moment to recover her composure. ‘Guv, that’s amazing,’ she finally said.
    ‘Why?’ He felt a Maxwell problem raising its ugly head and his stomach plummeted. Why did his favourite sergeant have to be married to his least favourite meddler? In fact, even that wasn’t fair. At all other times – at their wedding, at the occasional staff party – he found Maxwell perfectly good company. In fact, at the occasional staff party, he and Maxwell were often to be found glorying in their shared wall-flowerdom. Maxwell’s idea that pubs should have two seedygazebos out back, one for smokers and one for people who hated staff do’s, struck an echoing chord with Henry Hall.
    ‘Well,’ she hesitated. ‘Oh dear, Henry. This is so difficult. It means betraying a confidence.’
    ‘What, a confidence from Max?’
    ‘No, no. Well, I suppose in a way. One of his students came round last evening. She was totally desperate. She has been getting unpleasant texts and she doesn’t know who from. From whom, perhaps I should say.’ She gave a little chuckle. She wasn’t just married to Maxwell. She was turning into him.
    Henry Hall knew what she meant. He was pretty sure that Maxwell had inserted a clause into the wedding vows pertaining to the use of correct grammar at all times.
    ‘She didn’t swear me to secrecy about her texts. In fact, she seemed quite relieved to get it off her chest. But she did tell me about a friend of hers who is getting even worse stuff and
that’s
what she asked me to keep secret.’
    ‘That’s not too bad,’ he conceded. ‘We can perhaps work on the first girl. Did you see the texts?’
    ‘Only the one that came while she was at our house.’
    ‘Just one? In how long?’
    ‘Ooh, let me think. She arrived around about four-thirty, I suppose. She left about eightish.’
    ‘That seems a long time just to tell you about nasty texts.’ Henry Hall was pedantic by nature and also nurture. He left no pernickety bit of gravel in a story unturned, even when the teller was one of his staff.
    ‘Well, yes, I suppose it does. But she was very upset and we wanted to calm her down. She started a computer game with Nolan and then we had Chinese. I took her home and got back just as
Panorama
was starting, so I suppose she was with us until about quarter past eight, something like that.’
    ‘So, in nearly four hours, she only got one text?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Was her phone still switched on? She wasn’t trying to hide things from you?’
    ‘I don’t think so, guv. Why would she want to? She had come to us about it, after all. And I must admit, the text wasn’t all that horrible. It was a bit seedy, you might say. Real heavy breather stuff. Except one thing; he said that he knew what she was doing. That he was watching her. Obviously, that bit was worrying, although thinking it over there was no way in which he could actually do that. But it
has
worried her, naturally. The fact that someone can send you texts from a number you don’t know is creepy enough.’
    ‘Did you copy it down?’
    ‘Better. I forwarded it to myself.’ She fished inher bag and pulled out her phone, pressed a few keys and passed it over.
    ‘Nice phone,’ Hall remarked. ‘Fancy.’
    Jacquie shrugged. ‘It came with the tariff. To be honest, I’d be happy with something simpler.’
    Hall raised one eyebrow. ‘Max?’
    ‘He’d be happier with a pigeon, or failing that, two baked-bean cans and a nice long string. But he’s managing.’ She hoped that was true, because she was going to test him later.
    Hall finally found the right angle to view the screen, turning it first so the light didn’t reflect off