Death in Jimmy’s End - A Rugby whodunnit - Part three

From the author  Pedants  will probably notice at some time that  this humble author has lost track of the time and days and hours will pass in a confused manner.- I will try to remember where we are up to  - honestly – I will.

Some new characters  will enter the frame  in this week’s episode  and even more next week.  I have also started to drop some clues and  red ( and pink ) herrings about  for your  delectation. Although as yet I don’t know where it’s all  going to end up or even who the culprit is.  He or she may have entered the story already or perhaps  he / she has yet to appear.   I understand that in some august literary quarters  famous and not so famous people will pay the author to be included or mentioned in the latest oeuvre -  in my case if  you want to buy  your prime suspect for  this  tom foolery a pint  then  please feel free to do so. Bert Haddon did.But be very careful  - that who you think is the author may not be so.   - Some of the characters do resemble real people I know or have known   but  don’t jump to conclusions as some are amalgams of several   personalities  that have crossed my path over the years. It’s really time to have your input  in terms of plot lines  and   suspects.  The pace will quicken.

Chapter three   -  36 hours later 

Ivan Spinks  sat at his desk In his private office in an anonymous office building  in the town centre staring at a computer screen.. He preferred to work here – quietly – away from the constant hustle of his  entertainment and property empire    that had  made him into a multi- millionaire  and would one day if things went according to  plan  enable   him   to buy a seat on the board of his beloved  Midhampton Angels. 

Spinks was  now in his late fifties but remained  fit and trim . He put this down to hard work and  his  abstemious and ascetic life style.   He never drank alcohol had never smoked and  ate enough but carefully .  After all  why should he lose all that he had built up due to some random illness or self -induced incapacity.

Spinks owned three successful nightclubs in the town as well as two others in nearby  Wellingborough  . Added to this  was a  sizeable  estate of pubs   and  other properties .   They were all doing well except one   and that was the reason he wanted to check over some facts and figures away from  the clubs   and  the staff who worked for him. 

Club 69   as its provocative name suggested   - catered for what  Spinks was want to refer to as a more exotic clientele. .  He didn’t particularly like what it was but  appreciated only too well  that it had been ever since he acquired it three years ago been a very much more than just a steady little earner.    Its undoubted success  lay in the fact that it was  apart from some dingy bars in Leicester the only “ Out and Proud “  gay night club in the East Midlands. But now , according to the  figures in front of him  it appeared that just over six weeks ago  takings started to fall off   and then to really plummet  over the last two weekends.

 It was also the one club that Spinks didn’t visit regularly  preferring to keep his distance  from its  lurid ambience and   left the management to the  staff who  were themselves part of what they called ”  the scene  “  and presumably understood  its workings and its customers.

The figures he had looked at didn’t suggest that anyone was   on the fiddle   - just that takings had steadily and then rapidly declined.  All he could get out   Ronnie his manager  by way of explanation  was “ Its them religious nutters  - handing out their leaflets about   the punters going to hell  because their unnatural  habits  -  no one wants  come to a club with that lot outside  every other night.”

Spinks  looked at the spread sheets again  - sighed  and turned off his computer.   He picked up the phone  and dialled a number . He spoke when it answered   “ Ronnie  have you got the CCTV tapes  for the last two weeks handy -   I thought we might see if  we can  have look at this  God squad  lot – they are bound to be on some of the door cameras and the   car park  ones  aren’t they . “ 

Putting the phone down   Spinks   whose ever friendly and  affable public persona    disguised a very hard edged and  driven   personality , grimaced  and thought to himself   “  Now then we’ll see  - nobody not even if they do reckon they have got God on their side   messes about  with my business.” 

Later that day     Inspector Blunt  called the murder team together . His aim was to report  back on the visit by himself and Sergeant Malcolm   to the Angels rugby club   and what they had learned from interviews with the players and coaching staff.

“  Right you lot  -  pin your ears back and listen up “   People shuffled in their seats   and  Sargent Frank  did what he usually did at a Blunt briefing and sidled over to corner of the room and leaned on a filing cabinet

“   Well we didn’t learn a lot  “ said Blunt   “ Probably because the victim has only been here a short time   - about eight weeks in all   - and  they seemed to me to be a rather tight lot.  Lots of nice things to say  but not a lot of substance.   To sum it all up   they didn’t really know him very much yet  - he was a quiet lad who kept himself to himself .

When he arrived here  they  got one of the team – a local lad called  Duggan  or something   to show him around   but he says that  was   the most contact he had with Falattu   apart from  talking about rugby things on the training  pitch. “ 

“ Guv I mean Sir “     it was Clare Goodbody from the back of the room.  

Blunt swivelled his large head in the direction of the young Detective constable  “ You have something to add  Mss  Goodbody  ?  Though what  useful  stuff apart from gossip you have brought back from your chat with that old busy body Haddon is beyond me “ 

“ Well Sir   - I was just wondering if anyone had mentioned that he was religious and didn’t go out drinking or socialising with the other players ? “ 

Blunt  - stared hard at  Goodbody  and  the beginnings of a red flush touched his  well-padded cheeks.   “  If you was listening like you are supposed to do – instead of interrupting your superior officer  - you have heard me say that he kept himself to himself .  So  thank you very much  but I think we have covered that aspect of things. “  He paused before turning to face the team as a whole and smiled .

“ Now  then  the weekends coming up  and we are still none the wiser.   Take the time off that’s due to you but be prepared to be called in at short notice if anything turns up.  I of course will be manning the office here both Saturday and Sunday   - now off you go.”

As the team   meandered out of the squad room Clare found herself left alone with Blunt.  She thought about  trying to say something more about Falattu being religious  - but  as she thought  Blunt  stood back   and with a heavily  sarcastic grin and mock bow – ushered her from the room.

Sergeant  Malcolm gets a heads up.

By  mid Saturday Morning  Frank Malcolm was at peace with the world  - or rather he was at peace because he had left behind the world of Inspector Blunt  and was happily sat at the tiller of his  boat  “  The  Side entry “   . He had purchased the boat two years before . It was a basic cabin cruiser  30 feet long and  liveable in  which he planned to do when he retired in three years   if all went according to plan.   Malcolm was single or as he told a few of his closest friends  “ happily divorced “   and the boat was his  pride and joy.  

This morning he was moving it from the towns new marina    down the canal  and river to  a boat yard to have  its  annual   and somewhat overdue  hull inspection.   He had barely been underway for five minutes when   a distinctly odd sound    started to come from   beneath him  and  to the  stern of the boat.   It got worse and the engine despite straining   was not propelling the craft with the  efficiency that it should.    

Malcolm  switched off the engine and rising from his seat  leaned over the stern .  He could see   something  down where the screws were   - it looked like  a supermarket bag but bigger and black – a bin liner?  Whatever it was it had clogged the propeller  and would have to be removed.

Getting a boat hook he probed and fished about until with pull and good heave the obstruction  broke free and hung from the end of the boat hook .   It was as Malcolm suspected  a large black plastic bag  and it also looked remarkably like the sort of body bag  that was used by  ambulances ,paramedics and mortuary staff  to transport  dead bodies in .  Expect that this one was tied   across most of its length and whatever was in it seemed to be confined to one end.  

Malcolm swung it round on the boat hook and dropped it onto the deck.   Quite a lot of the plastic bag was torn where it had tangled with the propeller   but the  end that was full was secure and obviously quite heavy and whatever was in it was  basically round in shape..  

A  terrible thought came into Malcolm’s head   “ No it couldn’t be   no that’s too much of a coincidence “    But  as he took out his pocket knife and cut through the plastic  he saw  what he had so presciently feared .

He swore quietly to himself   several times  as he looked at what was clearly  the head  of Joe Falattu. 

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