with him because he had his orders to follow, his own agenda and his own most important end game to play out.
“They’re pretty terrible and I want the doc to do his business before anyone else sees them. Your bosses say I can show you the happy snapshots when we have them. They also say that what you have to tell me is urgent. So we’ll do it down the nick. Okay?”
“As our American allies say, ’aw my aching back.’” Curry didn’t even smile and this was a long way from dumb insolence. Suzie could feel Tommy’s fury from where she sat in the back of the Wolesley. Indeed, she feared for his spleen. “Ask you a question, Tommy. What’s so terrible about the bodies?”
Tommy took half a minute to make up his mind. “Because they’re a mess, Curry.”
“You know who they are? Identified them?”
“Oh yes. The doc knew both of them. Colonel Tim Weaving, Glider Pilot Regiment and Mrs Bascombe, wife of Bunny Bascombe VC.”
“And what kind of mess are they in?”
“Some sod’s really roughed them up: some sadistic bugger. Or, and this sounds daft, it looks like someone put ’em to the question.”
“Really?” Curry said, as though this fact was the last possible thing in the world to interest him.
Back at Wantage Police Station Shirley Cox had the new office up, running and almost organized, with the exception of the extra telephones that, she assured Tommy, would be installed by noon tomorrow. In his current mood a grunt was high praise.
“You mind if I check up with the Station Master, Chief?” she asked.
“Just see what he’s got in the way of digs for us? Doss house? Bed and Breakfast, or palatial hotel suite?”
“Yes. Right. Do your worst Shirley, and if it’s a palatial suite it’s mine.”
As Shirley made her way out, Suzie thought to herself that she had been right when she first saw her in 1940. Shirley was very like Hedy Lamarr: the hair, a quick glimpse of her face and certainly her figure brought to mind that film star who caused such a stir in Hollywood when it was revealed she had – long ago (1932) – done a nude scene in a Czech film titled Ecstasy. Old Shirl could have done a lot of nude scenes and got applause all round from the boys in the Reserve Squad. Some standing ovations an’ all.
Suzie looked back towards Tommy who was staring at Curry Shepherd. “So, you’re a funny, young Shepherd. Major Curry Shepherd of the oddities. They told me I should ask you for the details.”
Curry looked hard at Tommy Livermore. He nodded and, in spite of what he had already been told, asked if someone could definitely confirm one of the bodies in Portway House was Colonel Tim Weaving of the Glider Pilot Regiment. Tommy said yes, the local doctor had confirmed it, and the woman’s ID as well.
“Then I’ll have to use your telephone.” He spoke to the operator about making a trunk call to London, and a minute later had someone on the line. “Firefly for Dormouse,” he said, briskly and Suzie thought, ‘Gosh, they really do use that gobbledegook with code words, just like in the moving pictures. Gobbledegook was a word she’d learned from one of the American officers when they were in East Anglia: meant to sound like turkeys gobbling all over the place and meant language made into nonsense by elaborate words and technical terms.
“Yes,” Curry confirmed to someone at the other end of the telephone. “Of course, sir … Yes, absolutely. Detective Chief Superintendent Livermore … sir, yes I was … Restricted … Totally, sir … Definitely Weaving … Yes, very good. I think they should be exceptionally careful regarding promotions to that spot, sir. Yes, I’ll put him in the picture. That’ll be okay, no worry.” And more along those line. “I’ll see to it, sir … Right…” and he closed the line, hung up the handset and smiled, first at Suzie, then Tommy. “It would seem that, because you’re working the murder of Lieutenant Colonel Weaving I can
“They’re pretty terrible and I want the doc to do his business before anyone else sees them. Your bosses say I can show you the happy snapshots when we have them. They also say that what you have to tell me is urgent. So we’ll do it down the nick. Okay?”
“As our American allies say, ’aw my aching back.’” Curry didn’t even smile and this was a long way from dumb insolence. Suzie could feel Tommy’s fury from where she sat in the back of the Wolesley. Indeed, she feared for his spleen. “Ask you a question, Tommy. What’s so terrible about the bodies?”
Tommy took half a minute to make up his mind. “Because they’re a mess, Curry.”
“You know who they are? Identified them?”
“Oh yes. The doc knew both of them. Colonel Tim Weaving, Glider Pilot Regiment and Mrs Bascombe, wife of Bunny Bascombe VC.”
“And what kind of mess are they in?”
“Some sod’s really roughed them up: some sadistic bugger. Or, and this sounds daft, it looks like someone put ’em to the question.”
“Really?” Curry said, as though this fact was the last possible thing in the world to interest him.
Back at Wantage Police Station Shirley Cox had the new office up, running and almost organized, with the exception of the extra telephones that, she assured Tommy, would be installed by noon tomorrow. In his current mood a grunt was high praise.
“You mind if I check up with the Station Master, Chief?” she asked.
“Just see what he’s got in the way of digs for us? Doss house? Bed and Breakfast, or palatial hotel suite?”
“Yes. Right. Do your worst Shirley, and if it’s a palatial suite it’s mine.”
As Shirley made her way out, Suzie thought to herself that she had been right when she first saw her in 1940. Shirley was very like Hedy Lamarr: the hair, a quick glimpse of her face and certainly her figure brought to mind that film star who caused such a stir in Hollywood when it was revealed she had – long ago (1932) – done a nude scene in a Czech film titled Ecstasy. Old Shirl could have done a lot of nude scenes and got applause all round from the boys in the Reserve Squad. Some standing ovations an’ all.
Suzie looked back towards Tommy who was staring at Curry Shepherd. “So, you’re a funny, young Shepherd. Major Curry Shepherd of the oddities. They told me I should ask you for the details.”
Curry looked hard at Tommy Livermore. He nodded and, in spite of what he had already been told, asked if someone could definitely confirm one of the bodies in Portway House was Colonel Tim Weaving of the Glider Pilot Regiment. Tommy said yes, the local doctor had confirmed it, and the woman’s ID as well.
“Then I’ll have to use your telephone.” He spoke to the operator about making a trunk call to London, and a minute later had someone on the line. “Firefly for Dormouse,” he said, briskly and Suzie thought, ‘Gosh, they really do use that gobbledegook with code words, just like in the moving pictures. Gobbledegook was a word she’d learned from one of the American officers when they were in East Anglia: meant to sound like turkeys gobbling all over the place and meant language made into nonsense by elaborate words and technical terms.
“Yes,” Curry confirmed to someone at the other end of the telephone. “Of course, sir … Yes, absolutely. Detective Chief Superintendent Livermore … sir, yes I was … Restricted … Totally, sir … Definitely Weaving … Yes, very good. I think they should be exceptionally careful regarding promotions to that spot, sir. Yes, I’ll put him in the picture. That’ll be okay, no worry.” And more along those line. “I’ll see to it, sir … Right…” and he closed the line, hung up the handset and smiled, first at Suzie, then Tommy. “It would seem that, because you’re working the murder of Lieutenant Colonel Weaving I can
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