Chapter Text
"I still consider my main office to be the street, Constable Aaronson." Chief Inspector Nicholas Angel of the Sandford and District Police Force swept his hand around to indicate the whole of the Sandford village square. "In fact, despite being in charge of the whole District now, I make the effort to spend at least two half-days walking the beat. It is by far the best way to ensure that I keep up to date with what's happening around the place."
Probationary Constable Aaron A. Aaronson, recently graduated from the Police Academy and lucky enough to be assigned back to his childhood home town of Sandford, glanced around the square. He hadn't been back in the last fifteen years, but little had changed since the Battle of Sandford. The Neighbourhood Watch Alliance cameras were long gone, and the spray paint scrubbed off the walls, but there were still bullet holes left in the various stonework buildings that surrounded the cobblestoned area.
One major change had been implemented though. The plaque on the front of the fountain no longer bore the names of the NWA who had been responsible for all the deaths. Instead, there was a list of the victims, with an apology from the village for allowing the killings to continue so long. Despite the urging of several residents of the village, the option for a large angel at the top of the fountain had been rejected. Most thought that it was just a bit too much, and would despoil the elegant structure. Nicholas was glad he had put the final veto in – the last thing he needed was to be compared to a fountain.
Away from the square, the Police Station had been completely rebuilt in a design both modern and aesthetically pleasing, with its angular glass and steel already softened by a pair of wisteria vines climbing over the front. It was much larger than the old building, as was necessary with the increase in responsibility. Sandford was now the headquarters of the Police Force for the towns of Sandford, Buford Abbey and Foxstream, and the several local villages around them. With increased responsibility had come increased ranks, and the lead position had been upgraded five years previously to Chief Inspector. It had surprised no-one when Nicholas Angel, Inspector for the previous decade, was granted the promotion after applying and beating numerous other applicants (including his own old Sergeant and Inspectors from London).
Now, he led an efficient, effective and incredibly well formulated force of thirty Police Officers of various ranks, and the time had come to train up another young Probationary Constable.
"I take it you heard of the body they discovered on Danderly Down?"
Aaron nodded. "In a ditch, covered in heather?"
"That's the one."
"Was it murder?"
"We don't know yet." Nicholas shrugged. "All we know is his name – Amaranth – and that he was one of the residents of the new Retirement Home up on the old Webley Farm. No-one had reported him missing, and you'll be part of the team heading out to his residence this afternoon to ask questions and check for any clues. Detective Inspector Thatcher had her team go over where the body was found, and there's little that gets past her. We're also waiting on the post-mortem, and there will need to be an inquest."
"What do you think, sir?"
Nicholas sighed. "It's not my job to jump to conclusions. It's mine to gather facts and work out the possibilities from those. For instance, observation is one of your key tools in your job. Tell me, Aaronson – of those three people approaching the newsagency, which do you think requires watching closely?"
Nicholas waited as he watched the expressions on Aaron's face flit from puzzled to curious to satisfied. "Would it be the young woman with the pram?"
"And what makes you say that, rather than, for instance, the schoolboy with the blue jacket or the old man with the overcoat?" He was right, but Nicholas wasn't going to let him know until he'd explained himself.
"Well, it's cool enough to need a coat some days, so I'm not worried about that gentleman. Besides, he's just picked up the local paper and put the correct money on the bench." Aaron pointed to where the stack of papers sat outside the shop. "You're not likely to be pinching anything if you're paying honestly."
"And the schoolboy?"
"Has his cash out ready too."
"So why the lady with the pram?"
"Because there's no baby in it." Aaron sounded satisfied. "The blanket's tucked in, but there's no bump for the baby. I think she's going to try and pinch a couple of small things in the newsagent to make sure she's got her technique right, then head down to Summeraisles and work her way around there. Probably after the high-price stuff – coffee, chocolates, razors."
This was good. Nicholas had accepted Aaron on the basis of his part in the historic battle, and was pleased that the young boy's fast reaction to Simon Skinner's attempt to use him as a hostage fifteen years before had not been a one-off. There was a smart brain and some good common sense in the young man. "Now, is it our duty to show our efficiency by making a publicly visible show of arresting that young woman?"
"No, sir."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"We show our efficiency by creating an absence of crime and disorder. I think if we went into the shop and quietly let the woman know that we're onto her, she might abandon her plans." Aaron looked to Nicholas, who nodded, pleased.
"Excellent idea, Constable. I'll have you performing the cautioning another time, but today, watch and learn. Have you your notebook ready?"
Nicholas was not disappointed. Aaron A. Aaronson tapped his pocket, then the pair entered the small shop. Separating at the centre display, they circled it from opposite directions until they reached the young woman simultaneously.
She looked up defiantly. "I have a right to be here!"
"You do, yes." Nicholas looked her up and down. Her clothes were worn and patched, her shoes run-down, and the pram was an old one that had been painted up to look like new. Reaching down into it, he ignored her protests of you'll wake the baby! and gently pulled the blanket back.
Underneath lay two tins of milk powder and a packet of disposable nappies.
The woman's face went white as the Chief Inspector pulled out his own notebook and pen. "You're Hester Lovell, yes?"
She didn't answer.
"And I'm guessing you didn't pay for these items from the supermarket?"
Her shoulders slumped as Nicholas nodded to the other police officer.
"We have an agreement with the Head of your family. Your group can camp at the end of Callahoun Park so long as you don't try and work the town. I'm guessing that you haven't let Wester know you were coming here?".
She still said nothing, and Nicholas gestured to the goods. "I should arrest you, and caution you not to say anything, but I have an idea. We're going to take these back to the supermarket, then you and I and my associate here will take a trip around to the Church Hall. You've picked the right day to be in town."
The woman looked puzzled, but acquiesced silently to being escorted to the supermarket checkout, where Nicholas put the items on the cashier's desk. Five minutes later they arrived at the back of St Vincent's, where Mrs Draper took one look at the woman's thin clothes and worn shoes, and had her sit down with a cup of tea while she packed a box with some essential children's supplies. "And don't you go pinching none, either, missy. Mister Angel here might be nice once, but he doesn't hold with bad behaviour in this town. Come see me – and bring the small ones. We'll have some clothes here for them too."
Nicholas led Aaron away as Mrs Draper's voice faded into a background buzz. "Hester won't be doing that again."
"How can you be sure?"
"We're paying a visit to her people." He led the way to the park at the back of the castle, where a small campsite had been set up. An old man with an amazing spiked walking stick came up to the Chief Inspector, and after a short conversation where Elder Wester agreed to keep Hester from pinching any more stuff, Nicholas headed back to the Police Station.
"Can you be sure Hester will behave herself?" Aaron sounded dubious.
"Their people were hit by the NWA as well. It's part of the town's reparations, but it's only with agreement on both sides," Nicholas said as they turned into the front entrance. "Elder Wester is our main contact with the Travellers, and they listen to him."
He would have said more, except that at that moment, Sergeant Bill Turner came rushing out of the security door. "There's been another body!"