“Will do sir”, she replied. He had already told her once, he was getting old she thought, starting to lose it possibly, she dare not say anything.
Jack looked up and said, “You don’t need to call me Sir”, but then added, “Mr Richards will suffice”.
This caused her to smile, bloody old CID officer’s straight-laced, miserable buggers, no sense of humour and seemingly they never change from generation to generation”.
It was certainly a morning for phone calls for when she arrived back in the office having taken the cups away he was making yet another call,
“Hello may I please speak with Mr Christian Woodcock, if you would tell him it is Jack Richards”.
“Just a moment please” came the reply.
“Hello Jack not long to go before the conference how are you progressing?”
“I am progressing well, with the help of Inspector Scott-Ling of course, progress is the reason I am calling you Christian”.
“How can I help Jack?” Replied Woodcock.
“I need to get the bodies of the dead officers exhumed and a second post mortem done. I have provisionally requested Professor Idris Webster to carry them out.
“My, Jack you have reached the top of the tree, Professor Webster no less, a very good choice”.
“I will need an exhumation order”, said Jack “can you get the go ahead from the powers to be for me to visit the Royal Courts of Justice and seek such an order from a High Court Judge?"
“Again Jack, a good decision, better to get it from a red coat judge than an order from the Home Secretary, he may get windy if you find nothing and the families cause a fuss.”
“Can you arrange everything, Christian?”
“Yes leave it with me Jack, I will call you back”.
Woodcock then asked, “Forensics, have you considered them”.
“Yes”, replied Jack, “I have asked Professor Simon Bolister from the Home Office Lab., at Gooch Street, in Birmingham to assist me, he has also agreed”.
“Again Jack a top choice. Leave this all with me I will get back to you”.
The call ended, he replaced the handset and sat back in his chair.
There was a knock on the door; it was Sergeant Reg Large,
“This despatch has just arrived for you Mr Richards”
“Ah, thank you sergeant”, he took the package and looked up to find Strutter Large was waiting with baited breath for the package to be opened, he was to be disappointed for Jack simply inserted it into his brief case.
After a moment of disappointment, Large turned and left.
“Inspector”, called Jack.
“Yes, here am I” she replied.
“Is May around, a drink wouldn’t go amiss”.
“I have thought ahead, here is one already,” she said with a sparkle in her eyes.
“Ah just the job”, he said, “Now sit down and I will update you”. He had only just finished telling her all that had occurred including the arrival and origins of the mystery despatch so eagerly wished to be viewed by Strutter, when the telephone rang.
“Hello Jack Richards here.
“Ah, Jack its Christian Woodcock, I spoke with my boss, he in turn spoke with the Home Secretary and he confirmed the plan”.
“In addition there will be no need for you to visit London there is a High Court Judge sitting at Shrewsbury in Shropshire”.
“He is staying at the judge’s lodgings in a street called, Belmont with his wife.”
“He has agreed to see you there this evening in chambers. It will save the glare of the public at the crown. It is Judge Stevens, which I almost forgot to tell you.”
“Thank you” replied Jack he had appeared before this judge many times, with that, the call ended.
“Well Inspector some additional information, we have to travel to Shrewsbury this evening an appointment with Lord Justice Stevens. Hopefully we will get the exhumation orders and from then on it will be night work and a busy time too.”
“Right”, replied Doris, “but why night work?”
“Exhumations are normally done at night more discreet you see.”
“I would like you to make enquiries to find a suitable person with a mini digger and a large amount of discretion to carry out the work. We will require a tent of course.”
“Might suggest you contact that fellow who does our garden, Bill or Ben something or other he runs a firm called Garden Rescue. I would suggest he seems to fit the bill, not wishing to be smart, thinking of the famous flower pot men”.
“Leave it with me, I know of the fellow, I will contact him and come back to you” she replied reassuringly.
She rose from her seat and was gone leaving him alone to contemplate once again.
“Once the post mortems are done I may know more,” he thought to himself.
At 3pm later that day, they were heading south along the A41 trunk road travelling the 40 miles to the Shropshire market town of Shrewsbury, it being their second visit it was much easier to find.
The satellite navigation easily found the town and the street known as Belmont.
What was not easy to find was somewhere to park their car, it took some time to locate a car park.
Once found it was left to Doris to pay the exorbitant car parking fee which she thought accounted for the reason the town appeared quiet compared to Chester.
They eventually arrived once again in Belmont Street but on this occasion on foot.
It was an area similar to Chester in its features, cobbled narrow streets and ancient buildings. Arriving at the house it was easy to find, as there was a Shropshire county badge upon the house wall.
A knock on the front door was answered by a man who might have been in distance times past. He was dressed in a black suit with a ruffled frontage shirt, clearly a butler.
Doris recalled how she had once seen a film of a Charles Dickens story, A Christmas Carol that had been made in the town and the streets they had just walked through were obviously accurately portrayed in the film.
“May I please help you officer and sir?” asked the man.
“Yes you may”, replied Doris, I am Inspector Scott-Ling with Mr Jack Richards I believe we are expected by his Lordship.”
“I will enquire, please wait. Replied the man who closed the door.
Moments later it opened, the same man but on this occasion bearing a smile, “please come in,” he said. His Lordship will see you".
They went inside it was a typical Georgian town house high ceilings, a large hall with a formidable oak staircase.
There were large rooms to the left and right of the front door, easily visible, as the doors into the rooms were open.
Large portraits adorned the walls inside and up the stairway, mostly ancient judges and other county gentlemen some of whose names were familiar to Jack.
“Follow me if you please,” said the man who had not announced his identity.
He led them into a large room further along the hall and on knocking the door a voice called, “Yes Jeffries, please come in”.
The man who had greeted them was it seemed, a Jeffries and on opening the door he intimated for them to enter, which they did.
On arrival inside the room, which was very tastefully furnished, there were large portraits of previous residents, judges, some whom Jack recognised as of great distinction.
There was a man seated at a large desk, a lady, seated by his side.
The man was dressed in a morning suit, aged at least sixty years of age he was clean-shaven, had a ruddy complexion and appeared to be on the plump side.
Just what one would imagine a High Court Judge to look like?
Jack recognised him from the Old Bailey, though like him, the man had changed somewhat in his appearance.
The lady was younger, aged about forty, very slim, with a gaunt face her sallow complexion gave one all the hallmarks of a secretary devoted to her work. A glance at her hands revealed no rings, “yes she was a definite Miss” thought Jack.