At long last, Sir Anstruther began to get down to brass tacks. 'Well, I suppose I'd better get this off my chest, Trotter. Have you ever met Lord Chesterfield MC, Duke of Hertford — and, incidentally, Grandmaster of my society? Or if you haven't met him, have you any knowledge of the man?'

'No, sir,' Bim began, even more confused now. 'I have, of course, heard of him, and although I know nothing of his
position in any secret society, I understand him to be a senior figure in the Roman Catholic Church and a distant relation of the Royal Family.'

For a moment, the CC appeared to bridle as he replied, shirtily, 'I don't much like this "secret society" description of yours, Trotter. We are much more open these days, and you should realise that there's not much that's secret about us any more. We are mainly concerned with good works and the social side, these days, you see....'

Bim reacted without thinking and immediately regretted it after he had interrupted the great man. 'What about the fancy handshake, sir?'

For a moment the CC spluttered, then, at length, realising that he needed this cheeky inspector's cooperation, he calmed down and answered, 'Yes, well, let's not get bogged down with splitting hairs over details like this, which is in any case completely irrelevant to what I'm about to discuss with you. It is sufficient that you know about whom I am talking. Did you read any details of a case last month, where one of the Duke's employees was found dead and apparently murdered in woodland on his estate?'

Bim suddenly had a feeling that something was wrong here, though he could not for the life of him think what it could be. However, he replied that he did not recall reading anything about the case or, indeed, seeing any round robin or briefing concerning it in the Chelmsford station. If it had indeed been a case of suspected murder in an adjacent county, that was in itself rather surprising, to say the least.

'No, well, I'm not surprised,' the CC continued hurriedly, evidently wishing to gloss over this aspect of the business. The Hertfordshire Constabulary were persuaded to keep the matter under wraps, as far as was compatible with their enquiry.' (In other words, thought Bim, the duke was able to pull the right strings, for whatever inexplicable reason.) 'There was nothing in the national press, just this small article in the local weekly newspaper, which, by the way, is called The Hertfordshire Review.' Opening his briefcase, he handed Bim a Photostat of the cutting, dated Thursday, 8th November 1979, which the chief inspector took and perused.

*BODY FOUND IN*



*WOODLAND*



Last Sunday afternoon the body of Richard Agnew was found in woodland on the Duke of Hertford's estate at Little Missing. It was the under-keeper, Mr Henry Jestice, who first discovered it and alerted the police.



Our reporter has been given to understand that foul play is suspected, although neither members of the Duke's staff nor the police were prepared to make any kind of statement or give further details concerning the way in which the unfortunate Mr Agnew met his untimely death.



The dead man, a bachelor, aged, we understand, about sixty, was the Duke's agent, responsible for the business side of running the extensive estate. Our correspondent has been unable to ascertain whether any motive has been ascribed for his murder, if that is indeed what it was. Neighbours assert that the deceased was a very pleasant individual who would go out of his way to do anyone a kindness.



It is understood that the death is believed to have occurred some time the previous day. At the time, the Duke was at his Scottish estate, organising and taking part in a shoot.

Bim finished reading the brief account and then looked up, remarking, 'Of course, everyone has been "a jolly good fellow", once he's dead — what acquaintance dare say otherwise?'

'That's all the reporting there's been,' the CC continued, ignoring the inspector's last remark. 'The case was never followed up any further by the press, or if it was, nothing more was published — the Duke has considerable influence — a great deal of influence, you see. Now, Trotter, you should understand that I'm not in a position to give
you any inside information about the nitty-gritty of this case, because, unfortunately, the Duke evidently thought there was no need for me to know, and Hertford's Chief Constable was strangely reticent when I put out a feeler in his direction.' (And still the feeling was nagging away in the back of Bim's head that something was wrong.) 'The fact is, Inspector, until three days ago, like you, I'd never heard of this alleged murder. However, Chesterfield has done me certain favours in the past, and when he approached me for help I wasn't really in a position to say no — could hardly refuse, you see. What I am going to impart to you now is everything he has told me, which, as you will see, was practically nothing.

'It was in the late afternoon on Sunday, the third of November that the under-keeper found the body, when his Labrador bitch insisted on staying put, howling, deep in the undergrowth well inside the Duke's woods. I wasn't told the results of any post-mortem they must have had, or how long the man had been dead, by the way; nor if any clues were found at the scene where the body was found. As the Chesterfields were not in residence, Jestice hurried home and phoned the Hertfordshire Constabulary, before putting a call through to the Duke at his estate in Scotland. What the Herts police or anyone else have since done about it, I haven't been told.

'Lord Chesterfield and his wife left for home on the first train, which was early the following morning, after hurriedly packing, the Duke having tied up all the loose ends on the Scottish estate. That would be on Monday the fourth of November, of course, and on arriving back in Little Missing at about five o'clock in the late afternoon he immediately contacted the Hertfordshire CID HQ to try to find out how far they had got with their enquiry. What transpired with them I don't know, either, but I'd guess there'd be very few staff still on duty at that time of day.

'We now move forward in time, to last Friday, when I had a luncheon appointment with Lord and Lady Chesterfield, at His Grace's request, at their Little Missing country seat, which appeared to me, surprisingly, in need of renovation. It was not until we reached the brandy and his wife had left us that he let me know what he wanted from me and just what was on his mind. He explained that the Hertfordshire CID had been working on this murder of his agent, which had taken place on his premises, for well over a month now, and they seemed to be making no headway at all, and from what he could see of it, they were putting very little effort into finding out who did the killing. He's apparently been seeing Detective Chief Inspector Butler, who is in charge of the case, on an almost daily basis, and according to the Duke, that officer seems to have lost all interest in the affair — which sounds extraordinary to me.

'Well, Trotter, you must be wondering now how this can possibly concern yourself, and if you'll be patient for a little longer, I'm about to come to that. Chesterfield at last informed me that he had never forgotten the way you ferreted out those terrorists who had intended to cause an explosion at the opening of the Cathcart Sports Centre — Duke of Edinburgh and all — a few years back. He would like the case to be taken out of Hertford's hands and wants you to be sequestered from your work here until you have found Agnew's murderer.' Seeing Bim about to interrupt, he held up his hand
peremptorily, and then continued. 'I can guess pretty well exactly how you are going to protest. Well, as I have already told you, the Duke is not without influence and he has already seen the Home Secretary, who has authorised you to take over the case, if you are prepared to engage in the task willingly and provided your superiors can spare you. As you know, I've already put Jolley in the picture, and if you are indeed willing, he is agreeable to your sequestration.'

Bim suddenly realised, that, probably because of the stress he was under, Sir Anstruther had almost completely forgotten to put on his customary foppish façade. Now he came to think of it, it began right back from the time when he nervously began to explain the purpose of his visit; the lisp, indeed, had quite disappeared. Of course, that was what
had been nagging away in the back of his mind for the last ten minutes or so. However, this was completely irrelevant to his worry: how was he going to answer the fellow?

The kudos likely to accrue from working for such an elevated member of the peerage was likely to be immense — if he succeeded, that is. However, the difficulties would be even greater. Would he get any cooperation at all from the Hertford CID, for instance? Would they pass on what they had already learned, or remain hostile, awkward and uncooperative? He wouldn't blame them, not for a minute: he could well imagine how he would feel himself under similar circumstances. Now he came to think of it, he knew Detective Chief Inspector Butler; he was nicknamed Bootle, and if he remembered correctly he, Bim, had worked on a case with him a few years back — a decent type, he recalled — wouldn't want to do the dirty on him.

He looked up, and saw the CC eyeing him quizzically. He badly needed to discuss this with his ex-policewoman wife, Harry, who, he had to admit, often saw further ahead than he in matters like this.

'Would it be possible for me to sleep on this important decision you are asking me to make, sir? As you can appreciate, your request has rather knocked me for six.'

'I fear not, old chap — it was last Friday I was approached, and I suppose I should have contacted you straight away, but I regret to say I stalled, and only told your super about it over the phone. The fact of the matter is, I have to report back to the Duke on your decision, today,' Sir Anstruther concluded.

'Then I'll have to ask you to wait here for a few minutes, sir, while I just slip out to the other office in order to go into the overall position. I promise to let you know my decision within a quarter of an hour at the most,' Bim told him, and left the office to make his way upstairs to Jolley's room.

'Do you think I could use your phone to ring Harry, sir?'

Jolley knew Bim's wife well; in fact, he remembered her from when she was on the force before Bim had even met the efficient young policewoman, and he was well aware of her sound judgement. 'Yes, of course — I'll make hay while the sun shines and pop down to the canteen for a cup of coffee,' he replied diplomatically, and without a moment's hesitation. I'll leave word at the desk for them to put no calls through on my second phone until you're through.' And with that, he left him with a clear run. It was now eleven o'clock and Bim only hoped his wife would be at home.

He let the phone ring for about thirty seconds, and with no reply, was about to replace the receiver with some annoyance, when, with a click the ringing tone ceased, to be replaced by some heavy breathing. He soon learned that he was not the only one to be annoyed.

'Hello, is that you, love?' Bim called.

'Gasp... oh it's only you. It had better be good, I was upstairs on the loo and had to tear down the stairs to try and get to the phone before it stopped ringing.'

'I don't know whether you'll think it's good, love, but I think you'll agree its important,' Bim replied. 'As you've probably guessed, it's about my interview with the CC, who, incidentally, is still in my office, impatiently awaiting my answer. You see, for a change, I'm only being asked to take on this job, and I'm having difficulty in making up my mind whether to refuse or accept. So I want to know what you think, love — as my old dad used to say, "Two heads are better than one, even if they're only sheeps' heads!" And this is what it's all about....'

Harry heard her man out in silence, as he repeated, and nearly as he could, verbatim, what Sir Anstruther had told him. He'd hardly got the last word out, when she snapped, 'Of course you'll have to take it over! You haven't any choice — what chance have you got of advancing your career any more if you embarrass them down there now by telling your boss you won't cooperate? Surely you can see it's better to upset a few coppers in the Hertford nick, who you are unlikely ever to have to work with again, than to ruin your own chances of promotion. And if you do pull it off, you might even get that medal on a silver tray you were joking about and have it handed to you by her majesty! No time to argue, got to run upstairs again — I hadn't finished — so long....'

Bim made his way down to the canteen, sought out his super, Jolley, and told him of their decision, adding, 'But bearing in mind the evident difficulties we're likely to encounter, I want to insist on having a letter of authorisation, signed by you and countersigned by Sir Anstruther, making my authority in the case indisputable. If you agree, would you be kind enough to draw up something with our typist right away, bearing in mind the fact that his nibs is breathing fire and brimstone in my office, on edge to get away.' Jolley agreed at once. Bim added, 'And since I can't take the Hertford mob's full cooperation for granted, I'll need to take someone with me from here. Can you spare me Abe Johnson, sir?'

'No problem there, Bim,' Jolley replied, and then made his way to the secretary's office to arrange for the paperwork he had promised.

Back in his own office, our inspector found the CC looking worried, gnawing his knuckles and clearly impatiently awaiting Bim's return. He didn't say, 'About time, too!' but he clearly meant that, as he said, 'I hope you have come to the right decision at last, Inspector.'

Bim replied, with a wry grin, 'I hope I have, too, sir. 'But I feel sure you mean an affirmative decision, and I have done that as well. What's more, my super says I can try and clear my desk today and start work on the case tomorrow. Also, we have agreed that because of the irregularity of me taking over the case of another area authority, I must have a letter of authorisation, signed by both our super and your good self. Super Jolley is seeing to that at this moment — shouldn't take more than a quarter of an hour or so. In the meantime, Sir, can I take you down to the canteen for a well-earned cuppa, after your long ride here on horseback? Oh, and there's one other point to clarify, sir,' Bim hurried to add,
as the other drew in his breath to speak. 'You mentioned the Cathcart case we managed to clear up a few years back. I would like to bring to your attention the fact that I had Detective Constable Abe Johnson helping me on that occasion. The fact is, I would have been unlikely to have succeeded without him, even though he was shot and put out of action before we got the villains all safely under lock and key. He is now a sergeant, by the way, and as I shall clearly need help on this investigation, I have obtained the super's authority for him to be seconded to me for the duration of the case, assuming you approve, of course. I hope that is all in order as far as you are concerned, sir?'

'Well, I really don't know about that, Trotter, you seem to be very demanding. Now, why can't you just liase with the Hertford people, who are already au fait with everything to do with this unfortunate death?'

'That just won't do, sir, and, from what you've already told me, they aren't au fait with the identity of the killer, after a month spent in trying to discover it,' Bim replied promptly, surprising himself with his firmness. 'How can I expect full cooperation from people who will surely be deprecating my interfering presence and regarding me as the last one they would like to see solving a case they have demonstrably failed to unravel themselves? No, if I am to take on this task, sir, I am determined to make a completely fresh approach and start again from scratch right at the scene of the crime. Like yourself, I want to make a success of this inquiry. If you leave the details to Johnson and me, I think that sooner or later you'll be able to satisfy your friend the Duke by our having cleared up the identity of the murderer.'

For a moment, Sir Anstruther Dealer MBE looked as if he were about to indicate he still had some reservations, but after a few moments of hesitation, he sighed and, relapsing into his old mannerisms, he conceded. 'Well, Twotter, you are asking a lot, so I shall expect a lot fwom you. Keep me posted as to your pwogwess, and I'll accept your offer of a cup of char, so please lead the way.'

They were back in the inspector's office twenty minutes or so later, when Jolley brought in the letter of authorisation that he had already signed, himself and then left to carry on with his own work. The CC perused the typescript and then reluctantly also signed, at the same time muttering something inaudible under his breath.

As Bim folded the document and put it safely away in his wallet, he told the CC, 'I'm perfectly sure, sir, that it will take us at least a couple of weeks to complete our initial survey of the problems that are sure to arise, what with taking statements and completing an accurate diary of events. You see, sir, the trail will be stone-cold by now and it will take a
lot of ferreting to persuade those involved to recall exactly what happened over a month before. And if the Duke's going to stick around breathing down our necks most of the time, as he seems to have been doing with poor old Bootle, that will slow things down even more. It will consequently be a case of slowly, slowly, catchee monkey, sir, so it would be unwise for you to expect instant, or even speedy results.'

Bim got up from his chair, and held out his hand. 'You can rely on us, sir, so there's no need for you to worry about the
case any more.'

Taken aback by the effrontery of this comparatively junior officer's dismissal of himself, he was nevertheless unable to think of an effective way of taking him down a peg or two. So he, in turn, arose, took the proffered hand, and growled, 'I certainly hope you are wight in your confidence,' as he turned to leave the office and to find out who had been given the unusual task, for the force, of provendering his horse.

Once the Chief Constable was out of the way, Bim ran up the stairs to liase with Jolley over the allocation of his duties and those of Sgt Johnson while they were away. He concluded by saying, 'It was my wife that bullied me into taking the case over, sir, because I was inclined to turn it down rather than upset the Herts lot. Now, I shall need to warn Sgt Johnson to come in and clear his desk ready for an early start tomorrow — I hope I can get hold of him. As it happens, he has today off, in lieu of working overtime last week. So if you're agreeable, I'll give him a ring now. Luckily the Duke's residence isn't more than about thirty miles from here, so we won't need to claim for digs and subsistence, except for a few lunches, perhaps. And by the way, the CC didn't like me wanting Sgt Johnson to assist me on the case — do you think it's because of the expense?'

'If it is, it's the first time I've ever known him bothering about the financial aspect, Bim. He always leaves that worry to us. No, from what I can make out, I think he must be afraid the whole thing's part of an elaborate effort at a cover-up, and that he has no alternative but to go along with it and make out he's expecting to find a murderer that the Duke wants left unidentified. In other words, the idea is for you to bang your head up against a few brick walls and then to give up trying, as the Hertford lot seem to have done. But knowing you as I do, he'll probably find they're going to catch a cold!'

After a moment's hesitation, as he turned the situation over in his mind, Bim commented, 'It seems like a funny old set-up, sir, with the press being kept in the dark, no-one apparently wanting to talk about what happened, and now even the Hertfordshire police seeming to be dragging their feet — that is, according to the Duke, whom I haven't met yet, as you know; and all this in spite of 'his Dukeship' claiming to want me on the case to clear it up. By the way, sir, what do you suppose is the correct form of address for me to use when addressing this elevated personage?'

'I'm afraid I don't know for sure, Bim, though I expect it's "your Grace". But if it were me having to do business with him, there'd certainly be no bowing and scraping. By seeming to kow-tow before the Duke, it might well put you on the
wrong foot when you're seeking information from him that he may not wish to part with. No, I should simply address him as "sir", and if he doesn't like that I can hardly imagine him saying so.'

'There's one other thing, sir,' the inspector added. If the roads are like they were this morning when we leave tomorrow,
will it be okay for me to take the unmarked Land Rover? I don't think I dare take my own car under those circumstances.'

'Yes, as far as I know, it's not being used by anyone else at the moment, though I don't know whether you've looked outside during the last hour or so, because it's thawing and the forecast is for a mild night, so you are unlikely to need it. And it might be as well for Johnson to take his car as well, if the ice has cleared, as you're likely to be following separate lines of inquiry at times and the Hertford lot may not wish to lend you one of their vehicles.'

With a word of thanks, Bim returned to his office. He was lucky to catch Abe at home, when he made it his first task to phone him. He had to strain his ears to hear his whispered reply to the news of their forthcoming joint adventure.

'Hooray! Just the excuse I needed — the little woman's just informed me that I'm to accompany her on a day's shopping expedition — be there soon — must ring off now, she's coming!'

The next item on the agenda was for him to ring the editor of The Hertfordshire Review, whose office was in Bishops' Stortford, to whom he was eventually put through after a certain amount of arguing.

'Sir, Detective Chief Inspector Trotter from the Chelmsford division on the line. Would it be convenient for me to meet you tomorrow morning at, say, nine o'clock, to discuss a matter that is too delicate for me to broach over an open telephone line?'

'Is it really urgent, Chief? Because, although I can put him off, I'm scheduled to meet my chief reporter at that time for half an hour or so.' Bim assured him that it was, so it was agreed he would be available then.

Next, Bim called the Hertford nick, but was told that Det Chief Insp Butler worked from the Bishops' Stortford office these days — which was fortunate, as the newspaper's head office was also situated there. A call to the Bishops' Stortford nick caught Bootle Butler in his office and he greeted Bim like a long-lost friend.

'Of course I remember you, old chap! Who could forget a big-headed old bugger like you, anyway? How are the wife and kids?' Bim told him that all was well with his family and, after trading a few words of family news and commenting on
the current political situation apropos strikes, shortages, power cuts and police remuneration, he asked if himself and Sgt Abe Johnson could visit him on the morrow at about ten o'clock, to share a cup of Hertfordshire coffee.

'Are you sure that's all you want to share with us, Bim?' he wanted to know.

'No, of course it's not,' was the reply, 'but the matter's delicate, and it wouldn't be wise to discuss the real
reason for our visit over the public telephone system.'

'Well, why not get yourselves out of bed at a reasonable time of day for a change, and drop in here at nine o'clock before I start to open my day's mail?'

'I'm afraid we have an appointment with a newspaper editor not a thousand miles away from your office at nine, so if it's okay with you we'll stick to ten, old chap.' As Bootle replaced the receiver, he was wondering what the hell Bim could be doing with the editor of their local rag, let alone what he wanted from himself.

Abe turned up at the Chelmsford nick at two o'clock and Bim put him in the picture with what little knowledge he had so far. Not having the responsibility to carry for the success or failure of the undertaking, the sergeant was clearly delighted at the prospect of the forthcoming change of scenery and a chance of adventure. He was a big, powerfully-muscled athlete of a copper, who, until a year or two back, had both boxed for the force and played lock for their rugger team; now, at over forty, he was still in the prime of life.

'You know, boss,' Abe said when they'd finished discussing the case, 'now I come to think about it, I know the Station Sergeant at Little Missing. I ought to, because he beat me on points, giving me a black eye in the process, in the inter-force boxing tournament the year I decided to retire. In fact, that defeat was the last straw that precipitated my retirement from the team. He's a really good type — came over to see me a few days after the fight to make sure I'd received no lasting damage. I've taken my wife over to see him and his family once or twice, too, and they've visited us a couple of times. So it may be handy to have a point of contact locally. And if it proves necessary through lack of cooperation from Bootle, I could even visit him privately, to keep the thing unofficial.'

'Yes, Abe, that certainly sounds like a stroke of luck,' Bim told him. 'We'll keep that information up our sleeves for a start and see if they're going to play ball with us at Stortford. And by the way, bring your own car tomorrow if the weather's okay. You might as well grab the opportunity to claim a bit of mileage as well as me.'

When he left for home that evening, having cleared his desk to his satisfaction, it was indeed thawing and the buses were ploughing their way through slush and sloshing much of the stuff over the pedestrians.

An Exalted Commission Archive

Len (Snowie) Baynes

05.04.07 Front Page

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