Chapter 7: Eight Naked Boys in a Row

‘When did you last see your husband?’ Reg asked. ‘He went out about an hour before the police arrived to search the house,’ she said. ‘I’ve not seen nor heard from him since. Frankly I don’t want to.’ ‘Do you mind me asking, what things did the PoC unit take?’ Reg enquired.

‘The house, his car and money he had in a bank account that I knew nothing about,’ she told him. ‘Detective Inspector Johnson let me keep the money in our current account.’ ‘Well, I’m glad to hear you’re sorted,’ Reg said, ‘I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough time.’ ‘If he ever turns up again,’ she said, ‘I’ll have a few things to say to him, rough time won’t be in it!’

‘Did your husband go out in his car?’ Reg asked. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘So where did that turn up?’ he enquired. ‘Oh, they found it at the station,’ she answered, ‘He’s probably in hiding somewhere miles away, I hope he’s sleeping on the streets.’ ‘Do you know which railway station it was?’ Reg asked.

‘I think your chap said the main one, but I can’t be sure now,’ came her answer just as the removal man tapped on the window. ‘We’re ready to move now,’ he told her. She gave him the keys to the new address. ‘You go on,’ she told him, ‘I’ll lock up here and follow you.’

As he went, she told Reg, ‘We had some happy times here, I’ll have a last wander round before I go.’ ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Reg told her. ‘Thank you so much for speaking to me, I hope you’ll be happy in your new home and in time you’ll be able to just remember the happy times.’ ‘Thank you,’ she told him, ‘You’re very kind.’

As she went back into the house, Reg returned home and updated his records. The more he discovered, the more confused he was getting. What was becoming clear however, was that whatever was going on, DI Brian Johnson seemed to be at the heart of it.

The following day Reg had an appointment at eleven with DI Johnson to bring him up to date on his progress with seizing the dealer’s assets. As he arrived at the police station around ten thirty, he met Celia coming out. She was a WPC who had been on the same initial training course as him. They had hit it off well, had even been out a few times, then Reg was posted to Manchester, and Celia had disappeared from view being posted somewhere over the far side of the county.

They stopped to chat. She was in uniform, so he refrained from giving her a hug. Neither of them had long to chat so Celia said, ‘I’m stationed here now.’ ‘I am too,’ Reg told her, ‘How about going out for a meal to catch up, are you free tonight?’ Arrangements made and numbers exchanged they went on their way.

Detective Inspector Johnson was delighted with Reg’s progress, especially as he reported that apart from waiting for a few house sales, everything else would be sorted by the end of the week. ‘Well done,’ he told him, ‘You’ve done well.’ Telling him to carry on and return to normal duties next Monday if everything went as he was anticipating, Brian sent him on his way.

That afternoon he visited Mrs Tarrs to tie up some loose ends, then rang and booked a table at one of his favourite restaurants for that evening. It was decidedly a first-class restaurant, but Reg thought meeting up with Celia again warranted a posh place.

At seven o’clock that evening, Reg collected her from her flat. They arrived at the restaurant and had a drink in the bar before being shown to their table. The restaurant had proper dining tables with pure white tablecloth’s, silver cutlery and cloth napkins.

When the waiter arrived and asked if they would like to order any wine, Reg asked, ‘Is it ok if I leave my car in the carpark overnight?’ ‘Certainly Sir,’ the waiter told him, ‘Just tell reception your registration number on the way out.’ ‘In that case we’ll have a bottle of German Mosel with the starter and a bottle of French Bordeaux with the mains,’ Reg told him.

They gave their food order then they sipped some Mosel and waited for their starter. ‘How do you come to be here?’ Reg asked. ‘I got posted to the far side of the county after training,’ Celia told him, ‘It was ok, but I missed this area. So last year I requested a transfer. I must have put it in at just the right time because within a month I got it. I arrived just over three weeks ago.’ ‘That’s great,’ Reg told her, ‘Strange we haven’t bumped into each other before.’

Just then the waiter brought their starter. Reg had ordered pate’ which was served with very thinly sliced Melba toast and curled pats of butter. Celia had ordered a traditional prawn cocktail, a bed of lettuce in the bottom of a large glass, filled with prawns and covered in a homemade Marie rose sauce, served with buttered slices of fresh brown bread.

The waiter topped up their glasses and left them to it.

There was silence for a while, then in between mouthfuls, Celia told him, ‘In my previous posting I’d spent the whole time doing the usual hum drum things. The first day I was here I was sent on holiday as a nursemaid for two weeks followed by a trip to Rome. So, this week has been my first real week on duty.’ ‘That sounds interesting,’ Reg told her. ‘I’ve been working out of the station all week, so that explains why we haven’t met.’

By now they had finished their starters and the white wine. The waiter returned, cleared their plates away then returned with fresh glasses for the red wine. After Reg had tasted a small sample and approved, he filled Celia’s glass, then Reg’s. As he finished doing that, their main course arrived. Both had ordered steak Dianne which is a piece of fillet steak beaten out very thin, then cooked and flambéed at the table.

They both watched the waiter fascinated, it’s not just a meal being cooked, it’s a skilled performance. Finally, it was served onto their plates complete with its cream and brandy sauce. Vegetables and potatoes were added then they were alone again to enjoy. Another long silence as they tucked in. Then once they were a good way through, conversation restarted.

‘I’m agog,’ Reg told her, ‘What happened?’ ‘Well,’ Celia began, ‘The first day I’d only been on duty an hour when I had to take some papers down to the desk sergeant. Whilst I was there, he got a phone call. ‘I’ve only got one available,’ he said, ‘This is her first day.’ I pricked my ears up at that. I don’t know what the caller said then, but when he hung up, he said go upstairs and see Detective Inspector Johnson of the drugs squad, he’s got a job for you.’

Reg was really curious now, but he refrained from interrupting. Another silence for eating then Celia continued. ‘I went up and found DI Johnson who asked if I had any commitments for the next week. When I said no, he told me, good, I want you to go to Centre Parcs in Nottingham Forest and keep a discrete eye on eight Italian children.’

‘He told me they were on the way by minibus with a priest and a driver who both had records. They suspected them of drug running and there was a possibility of child abuse. The kids apparently were ten to early teens and from impoverished homes.’

‘The kids safety takes priority, DI Johnson told me, So, if you feel you need to act, don’t do anything yourself, contact me right away and I’ll send the two officers trailing the minibus to help you. However, I’m hoping we’ll nab them for drug running before that becomes necessary.’

‘What did you do?’ Reg asked. ‘I went straight home, packed a suitcase and drove down there right away,’ she told him. ‘I arrived, checked in, went to my chalet, unpacked and then wandered up to the reception and parking area. I hadn’t been there long when a minibus arrived with a priest in the passenger seat. I kept an eye on them, the kids seemed happy enough round the men, so I watched them go to their chalet, then moved away.’

‘I kept an eye on them for a few days, they went swimming in the dome as everyone does. The kids seemed excited and happy, the priest did a bit of swimming, but most of the time he just sat at the pool side reading. The kids showed no sign that they were avoiding him, so I was happy that nothing untoward was happening to them.’