ought to be. From now on we crack them before they happen. It’s called Intelligence Led Policing, ILP for short.’
‘Right. Thanks for clarifying that.’
‘Any time. It’s what I’m here for.’ There was a long silence, broken only by a cough from Dave, but nobody came out with an apt comment. ‘Maggie!’ I snapped.
‘Yes, boss.’
‘Any luck with the flowers?’
‘Nothing special. We collected all the tags at the crematorium – it’s what happens, so the bereaved can send out little thank you notelets to all concerned – and made a list. The only thing noticeable was that there was another wreath of lilies at the church from Peter and Selina but one at the crematorium simply from someone called S. ‘With all my love, S,’ is what it said.’
‘So he was knocking off the boss’s wife?’
‘Looks like it. Why else would she send a personal wreath to the crematorium, over and above the one she and her husband sent to thechurch? Want me to check with my sister-in-law at the florists?’
‘No,’ I said, interrupting her. ‘We’ve pushed this as far as we need. Keep it all handy because I’ve a feeling that we’ll be hearing about Mr Wallenberg again, one day. That’s it, boys and girls. If there’s nothing else I suggest you all dash off home to the bosoms of your families.’
I stayed behind, writing it up in my diary and tidying a few other things. It’s amazing how much you can get through when there are no interruptions. At 6.30 I rang Rosie. She was in.
‘Hello, Charlie,’ she said. ‘This is a pleasant surprise.’
‘Which?’ I replied. ‘Pleasant or a surprise?’
‘Both, of course. How are you?’
‘Fine, just fine. Nothing too heavy at work so it’s all going hunky dory. How about you? Last time we spoke you thought a couple of girls in the new class might give you some grief.’
‘Hmm, yes. Something happens to them at about thirteen. They’ve had their navels pierced and walk around with bare midriffs. It’s not a pretty sight, but the head has taken them out of class and told their parents to send them to school more suitably dressed. Are you still at work?’
‘Just about to leave and I’m starving. Do you fancy a tea-time special at the Bamboo Curtain?’ Ihave to be circumspect when I invite Rosie out. Make it sound casual, like we’re just buddies and I’m going to the restaurant anyway because I need to eat. That way, I’m in with a chance. Any hint of romance, however, or any suggestion that it might be a date, and the portcullis comes down.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Charlie, but I’ve eaten already.’ Damn. I must have sounded too eager. ‘And I’ve just started stripping wallpaper from the hallway. Keeping busy, as per doctors orders.’
‘Did he mean it so literally? Reading a book could count as keeping busy, couldn’t it?’
‘Hmm…perhaps, but I think there should be an element of physical effort.’
‘OK, so read a book while popping chocolates into your mouth.’
‘And then I’ll get a big bum. Tell you what: I’ll have done in there in about an hour, and it’s thirsty work. A quick drink would be most welcome, if that’s OK with you.’
Oh! I thought. Perhaps I hadn’t pitched it too badly, after all. I went home for a shower and to change my clothes and refresh the aftershave. We drove up on to the tops to a road-house with fake beams, a children’s room and fizzy beer. Not the first choice for a connoisseur of real ale, but one I knew would be reasonably quiet on a Friday night.
Rosie was wearing her customary red sweater, but with black trousers, leather jacket and boots.As she slid into the passenger seat I wanted to tell her how terrific she looked, wanted to throw my arms around her slim shoulders, wanted to give her a welcoming kiss, but I didn’t. I said: ‘Hi. Did you finish the wallpapering?’
‘Wallpapering’s tomorrow,’ she replied. ‘Tonight it was stripping the old stuff. You look smart. Thanks for
‘Right. Thanks for clarifying that.’
‘Any time. It’s what I’m here for.’ There was a long silence, broken only by a cough from Dave, but nobody came out with an apt comment. ‘Maggie!’ I snapped.
‘Yes, boss.’
‘Any luck with the flowers?’
‘Nothing special. We collected all the tags at the crematorium – it’s what happens, so the bereaved can send out little thank you notelets to all concerned – and made a list. The only thing noticeable was that there was another wreath of lilies at the church from Peter and Selina but one at the crematorium simply from someone called S. ‘With all my love, S,’ is what it said.’
‘So he was knocking off the boss’s wife?’
‘Looks like it. Why else would she send a personal wreath to the crematorium, over and above the one she and her husband sent to thechurch? Want me to check with my sister-in-law at the florists?’
‘No,’ I said, interrupting her. ‘We’ve pushed this as far as we need. Keep it all handy because I’ve a feeling that we’ll be hearing about Mr Wallenberg again, one day. That’s it, boys and girls. If there’s nothing else I suggest you all dash off home to the bosoms of your families.’
I stayed behind, writing it up in my diary and tidying a few other things. It’s amazing how much you can get through when there are no interruptions. At 6.30 I rang Rosie. She was in.
‘Hello, Charlie,’ she said. ‘This is a pleasant surprise.’
‘Which?’ I replied. ‘Pleasant or a surprise?’
‘Both, of course. How are you?’
‘Fine, just fine. Nothing too heavy at work so it’s all going hunky dory. How about you? Last time we spoke you thought a couple of girls in the new class might give you some grief.’
‘Hmm, yes. Something happens to them at about thirteen. They’ve had their navels pierced and walk around with bare midriffs. It’s not a pretty sight, but the head has taken them out of class and told their parents to send them to school more suitably dressed. Are you still at work?’
‘Just about to leave and I’m starving. Do you fancy a tea-time special at the Bamboo Curtain?’ Ihave to be circumspect when I invite Rosie out. Make it sound casual, like we’re just buddies and I’m going to the restaurant anyway because I need to eat. That way, I’m in with a chance. Any hint of romance, however, or any suggestion that it might be a date, and the portcullis comes down.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Charlie, but I’ve eaten already.’ Damn. I must have sounded too eager. ‘And I’ve just started stripping wallpaper from the hallway. Keeping busy, as per doctors orders.’
‘Did he mean it so literally? Reading a book could count as keeping busy, couldn’t it?’
‘Hmm…perhaps, but I think there should be an element of physical effort.’
‘OK, so read a book while popping chocolates into your mouth.’
‘And then I’ll get a big bum. Tell you what: I’ll have done in there in about an hour, and it’s thirsty work. A quick drink would be most welcome, if that’s OK with you.’
Oh! I thought. Perhaps I hadn’t pitched it too badly, after all. I went home for a shower and to change my clothes and refresh the aftershave. We drove up on to the tops to a road-house with fake beams, a children’s room and fizzy beer. Not the first choice for a connoisseur of real ale, but one I knew would be reasonably quiet on a Friday night.
Rosie was wearing her customary red sweater, but with black trousers, leather jacket and boots.As she slid into the passenger seat I wanted to tell her how terrific she looked, wanted to throw my arms around her slim shoulders, wanted to give her a welcoming kiss, but I didn’t. I said: ‘Hi. Did you finish the wallpapering?’
‘Wallpapering’s tomorrow,’ she replied. ‘Tonight it was stripping the old stuff. You look smart. Thanks for
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