Episode 10 - Vase and Van

Thursday

By the time Cedric Medoc arrived with the two high officials from Police Headquarters, Marie Medoc was in what she later described as ‘a state’, though at the time she thought she was in control.

She had told Albert that the police was on its way and he should stay in his room or risk arrest. He was not to run away because they could shoot at sight anyone who tried to escape the law. That was her tactic for keep Albert at home.

She could not think for the life of her what Albert could have done to incite such attention. He was, after all, her son, and her son was a nice boy – a bit wayward, but at 18 what else could you expect. She did not ask him what he had done wrong and Albert did not say a word, but continue to struggle with his bass guitar, which was plugged in and loud.

***

Cedric Medoc was anxious to know if Albert had committed an offence. Surely it was all a misunderstanding. The archaeologist must have given Albert the treasure so that it was in safe keeping. He did not know how near the truth he was, if you viewed it in retrospect.

***

“Tell us the whole story, Albert,” said Gary a few minutes later, after the formalities had been completed. Albert’s parents were of course present, and Greg took notes and had surreptitiously switched on his cell phone recorder. It was going to be worth listening to, he was sure, as he thought of Nigel, who for once was not present at one of Gary’s questionings.

Since Albert appeared not to know where to start, Gary encouraged him to tell them all about his job at the priory.

Cedric Medoc was dismissive.

Marie Medoc applauded.

“I knew he had it in him,” she said.

“Had what in him, Marie? Don’t talk such bunkum,” said Cedric.

“He can work hard when he wants to,” she explained.

“Ask him to dig the vegetable patch and you will get a different answer,” sneered Mr Medoc.

“Just like his father,” Mrs Medoc retorted.

Gary interrupted before the family row could heat up.

“So when did you remove the treasure, Albert?”

“When no one was looking,” said Albert.

“So how did you smuggle it out?”

In my band T-shirt,” Albert explained. “Mr Sloane didn’t see because he’d gone to ‘ave it off with Joyce.”

“Who’s Joyce?” Marie Madoc wanted to know, anxious that the girl was not a cast-off of Albert’s. She did not want to become a grandmother just yet and hoped Albert was not taking turns with Mr Sloane.

“A bird from the Comprehensive,” said Albert.

“Do you realize that you should receive a reward for removing the item,” said Gary. “You were not stealing but rescuing it.”

Everybody except Greg looked astonished.

“I’ll explain, shall I?” said Gary.

“Can I have it back, Sir?”

“Sorry. That’s not possible, Al.”

“Booaa,” wailed Albert.

“The problem is that the van that was to take the ornaments to headquarters, has disappeared and you ornament is the only evidence we have that the treasure existed.”

“Good boy!” said Medoc, and that was probably the first time his father had actually praised  the young man.

“We’ll have to keep the treasure safely at headquarters, Albert. If we find the others, I’ll invite you to come and look at them.”

“Geroff!” said Albert. “Me at the police station? Booaa! My mates would laugh at me.”

“Not if you told them you were going to join us, Albert.”

“Me a cop?”

“Why not? We have a jazz band you could play with.”

“I play rock.”

“That as well,” Gary improvised.

“Alright! You’re on,” said Albert. Booaa. Me a Corporal!”

Gary had made a friend for life.

“That archaeology stuff is very boring most of the time,” said Albert. “Robbers is better, Booaa!”

***

“You’ll have to do some learning, Albert,” said Greg, who had watched Albert’s metamorphosis with some amusement. It wasn’t important that Albert Medoc joined the police, but he had gained immeasurably in self-worth and would not be subject to his father’s wrath ever again. Greg mused on just how sly Gary could be.

***

The two ‘cops’ left the Medoc house in a flurry of farewells issued by a grateful Mrs Medoc, Albert having taken to his guitar and Cedric having hurried off to his bank without rewarding Marie with a hand-clasp, let alone a kiss. The deafening strumming of the bass guitar turned on full volume soon shook the air and Gary commented that if a bass guitar could sound happy, then that one did.

***

“Are you serious about Albert joining us?” said Greg.

“As serious as he was to see us as allies. Cedric Medoc is vain and pompous and his wife only puts up with him because she, like so many women stuck with obnoxious partners, has nowhere else to go.”

“I recorded the interview, Gary.”

“Brilliant. Nigel will be enthralled!”

“I was quite impressed, too,” said Greg. “Albert was expecting a whipping and instead he was praised and I think you meant what you said.”

“I did. You can’t joke with youngsters like Albert. They take themselves far too seriously.”

“I’ll remember that. I take myself far too seriously, too,” said Greg.

“We all do that,” said Gary. “It’s part of survival.”

***

Nigel was already back at HQ after his reconnaissance trip to the driving school. There wasn’t much to tell. He had met Ian Bailey, a nauseating type with pomaded hair and too many teeth. He had been very friendly in a leering sort of way as long as he thought Nigel wanted to learn to drive in 23 lessons if he passed his test, and became noticeably less friendly when Nigel improvised (thankful that he would not be obliged to sit next to this person in a car) that he really only needed one lesson in a left-hand drive car to get used to the mechanics.

“I don’t do those lessons,” Bailey said. “I leave that to my assistant.”

Nige was relieved. The girl at the reception desk giggled. Wasn’t that Josie?

“When do you want the lesson?” Josie asked.

“Can I ring you when I know more about my schedule?” Nigel said, having decided that he would take that lesson for the sake of cannibalism (the image of Bailey gnawing at human bones was almost more than Nigel could take).

So Nigel had made little progress that you could call investigative. He must at least find out the other guy’s name. There could be more than one assistant. If he took that lesson, it should be with the guy calling himself Dan Scot.

Breaking into Nigel’s thoughts, Bailey said “Dan Scot will do it. He’s an experienced continental driver and it’s his car.”

“He sounds Scottish,” said Nigel.

“Irish father, actually,” said Bailey. “It takes all sorts”.

Nigel thought it did.

“As long as he speaks English,” he said. “I’ll have to go now.”

“Shall I take your name and phone number, Mister?” said Josie, getting close enough to rub herself against Bailey’s back, a gesture he seemed to enjoy.

Bailey placed a hand on Josie’s posterior and grunted “Josie, go and get ready,” which made her wriggle some more before she walked  provocatively into a back room.

Bailey was now anxious to be rid of Nigel. He started to usher him to the door.

“I’ll call you then,” said Nigel. “Have a nice day!

“We will, won’t we, Scrumptious,” Josie called over her shoulder.

“I’ll see you out,” said Bailey, who then more or less pushed Nigel out, locked the door and adjusted the open/shut notice to ’back soon’.

Nigel did not think he would mention the ‘playmates’ to Greg unless asked to.

***

“A nasty piece of work, in other words,” Gary said when he had heard the story.

“Greg is well rid of that girl.”

“So you didn’t see Mr Scot, I assume.”

“No, but he has a left-hand drive car and an Irish father.”

“He might be using a false name, of course,” said Gary.

“I can’t think why, Gary, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he goes to that gym in Paddy’s farm. Colin said they were so well-informed that at least one of them must have been there. I doubt if Bailey has time for that sort of sport, so it’s Scot we have to follow up.”

***

“Dan Scot?” said Chris, entering Gary’s office in time to hear those words.

“He’s a hopeless driving instructor,” Chris continued.

“How do you know that?”

“He lets his clients crash their cars,” said Chris.

“Why would he do that?” said Nigel.

“His brand of humour. Apparently he reckons that his jittery clients driving their own cars should know just how dangerous the roads are and what better than a crash?”

“That’s ridiculous. We should pull him in,” said Gary.

“Where’s the evidence?” said Chris.

“Insurance companies, for a start.”

“Come off it, Gary! He’s probably got a garage on hand and gets a cut when the crash drivers go to get repairs,” said Nigel.

“All the more reason to pull him in.”

“Leave it to Gisela. It’s her pad, Gary,” said Nigel. “She needs to get a better understanding of corruption since she indulges in it herself.”

How?” said Chris.

“By using the security van as a furniture transporter,” said Nigel.

Chris laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks.

“Enough comedy, Nigel. We’d better get down to business,” he eventually said.

“I knew there had to be a reason for your visit,” said Gary.

“A few minutes ago Gisela phoned me to say someone had spotted a white van,” said Chris.

“Why didn’t she phone me?”

“You had told her that you were going out and your cell phone was off.”

“That woman – she’s two doors away and that was too far to walk, presumably,” said Gary. “But I was out some of the time, and so was Nigel.”

“So I came up here because I needed to be sure that you were still out before I did else off my own bat, and you weren’t.”

“So what have you done?”

“I asked Gisela to send a patrol car there.”

“Where is there?”

That garage on the Oxford road.”

“That’s diagonally opposite that villa with a history of corruption,” said Nigel.

“So it is,” said Chris. “We can check the report in the forensics van, but we should get a move on.”

“You’re right. Nigel will stay here to deal with anything that comes up, won’t you, Nigel?”

“I’ll be glad to. Put your phone on and get moving, though I would be wondering if it really is that missing van,” said Nigel. “After all, you only know that a white van is parked somewhere. You don’t know if it is THE van.”

“That’s why we’re going there,” said Chris.

“You’ll be busy if you want to chase after all the white vans parked in the county.”

“Sarcasm will get you nowhere, Nigel,” said Chris, somewhat embarrassed that he was reflecting Gisela’s urgency despite his own doubts. “But why would a white van be parked in a cul-de-sac halfway up a hill leading into the woods if it wasn’t up to no good?”

“Hanky-panky,” said Nigel.

***

“He could be right,” Gary said as he and Chris chased down the 4 flights of stairs to the basement. “This could be a waste of time.”

“Don’t get at me now, Gary. I’ve started the ball rolling.”

“That’s OK. Chris. No argument there. You had to react.”

While Chris and Ned got ready to leave, Gary phoned Gisela to tell her what they were about to do.

“Did you send a traffic team, Gisela?”

“Not yet. Should I have?”

“Didn’t Chris ask you to?”

“Yes.”

“Then do that now. It’s urgent, Gisela.”

“I thought….”

“Never mind thinking; just get that patrol team out.”

Gary was at pains not to shout at Gisela. He found himself growling out her name in a rather nasty way, and she noticed.

“It’s not my fault. You weren’t in your office,” she yapped.

“Never mind that now.”

“You should tell me how long you are going to be out.”

“I did not know myself, Gisela. “

“Oh.”

***

Ned parked the forensic van at the filling station.

The white van had been spotted on a path you could see from there and was reported because there was never any traffic on that road that was really only a path and the garage guy thought the police might be interested.

How did you know about the missing van?” Gary inquired.

“Haven’t you read the appeal in the Freepost rag?” the garage assistant said.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen that paper,” said Gary.

“It’s only the second issue and I got it because they deposited a pile of them on my newspaper stand.”

So someone is getting in before Browne’s Monday edition. He would be furious that’s he’s agreed to wait with the appeal in case the van turned up by the weekend.

***

The patrol car arrived and parked on the road leading to the woods, blocking a getaway route since there was no way through the woods that would be wide enough for anything except a bicycle.

Ned, Gary and Chris walked to the white van, explaining the situation to the patrol team that had recognized the forensics van and parked behind it.

The white van was adorned with the name of the owner, so it really was a Gates’s van, but there may have been more than one, of course. The van was locked and there was no sign of anyone. Ned sprinted back to the forensic van to fetch a bunch of skeleton car keys and other tools for opening the locked van in case none of the keys fitted.

Gary and Chris looked on as a young couple appeared out of the woods each carrying a blanket. The man ran to the van shouting “What the hell are you doing?” before stopping short at the sight of the two uniformed patrol cops.

“Who are you?” said the man. “I don’t expect a ticket for parking in a cul-de-sac that leads nowhere.”

The young woman started to cry.

“I knew we shouldn’t have,” she sniffed.

“Shouldn’t have what?” said Gary.

“Mind your own business,” said the woman.

“Can’t you see they’re the police, Corrie. Just shut up, will you?”

“Quite right, Mister…er?” said Gary.

“Shaw. Gig Shaw at your service.”

“Well, Mr Shaw, just show us what’s in the van and we’ll probably be able to move on,” said Gary, who did not think that this couple had anything to do with the ornaments. “We are looking for ecclesiastical treasures.”

“Ecc what?”

“Church ornaments, Mr Shaw.”

“We ain’t got anything to do with that,” said Shaw.

 “With what, Mr Shaw?”

"We only came for a ride,” said Corrie.

In the meantime Ned had opened the back of the van.

“Can you please open van, Mr Shaw. Are you the owner?”

“I’ll open it, but I’m not the owner and I’ve no idea what’s in the back.”

“If you are the owner, you must know,” said Chris.

“I said I don’t own the van.”

“Who owns the van, then?” Gary asked.

“Corrie’s brother-in-law. We borrowed it from his drive.”

“Do you always do that?”

“Usually.”

The van was empty.

“Where’s the stuff?” Ned asked.

“What stuff?”

“The church ornaments,” said Gary.

“I ain’t seen no ornaments,” Gig Shaw insisted.

“Come off it, Mr Shaw.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did you bury them in the woods?”

“Bury what?”

“What did you do in the woods for close on two hours?” Chris asked.

“Do you really want to know?”

“If you were not burying church ornaments, what were you doing?” said Gary.

“Having sex, Captain.”

***

“Where does your brother-in-law live?” Gary asked, turning to Corrie. “What’s your surname?”

“Gates,” said the woman.

Was it all just a coincidence?

“OK. Enough questions,” said Gary. “I’ll drive your van, Mr Shaw, and you can direct me to the Gates’s house, Miss Gates.”

“Mr Shaw will follow in the forensic van and we’ll take a look at Mr Gates’s garage.”

Turning to the patrol crew Gary instructed them to follow the little procession. There might be work for them.

“All this fuss for a bit of sex,” said Corrie.

“You call that a bit?” said Gig over his shoulder, and climbed into the forensics van.

“But it was a good idea with the van, wasn’t it?” said Corrie to Gary..

“It was a very good idea, Miss Gates,” said Gary.

“Bill always leaves the key in the ignition,” she said. “My sister tells him not to, but he forgets when it’s empty.”