Chapter 12 next day wednesday
It's been a busy day for Detective Inspector Jack Burns.It was a day of two gains, two disappointments and a host of unanswered questions.But this is also common in the process of solving crimes.Criminal police rarely come across cases that are as easy to catch as a gift from Santa Claus.
He owes his first success to Mr. Patel.The grocer turned up at the reception room of the police station at eleven o'clock sharp, eager as ever to help.
"I want you to see some pictures," Burns said after they sat down in front of what appeared to be a television screen.When he was young, the photos of the criminal records were sandwiched between a large book or several albums of plastic film.Burns still prefers the old-fashioned method, because witnesses can flip back and forth until they make a choice.But this process has now been electronicized, and the faces of the criminals appear on the screen.
First to emerge are a hundred photographs of some of the most notorious people in north-east London that police have identified.Not that it was limited to the hundred, there were actually many more, but Burns started with the familiar ones from "Dover Prison".Mr. Vij Patel is the coveted sidekick of the detectives.
As the twenty-eighth face flashed on the screen, he said, "This."
It was a face that they gazed at that was cruel, with a certain amount of stupidity and an equal amount of evil.Stocky, with a shaved head and earrings.
"Are you sure? Never seen him before? Like, never been in your shop before?"
"No, never seen it before. But he's the one who got the punch on the nose."
The caption shows the person as Mark Price, with his ID number underneath.When the seventy-seventh face flashed, Mr. Patel made a second identification.The man had a long sallow face and straight hair hanging behind his ears, and his name was Harry Cornish.Patel did not hesitate to identify either of these faces, and he did not examine the others for more than a second or two.Burns turned off the machine.The Criminal Records Office will have a full set of files on those two men.
"When I've tracked down and caught these two men, I'll invite you to join the identification procession," Burns said.The store owner nodded.He would love to.After his departure, Luke Skinner commented: "Wow, man, that's a rare find."
While waiting for the Criminal Records computer to pull up Price and Cornish's full file, Jack Burns poked his head into the Criminal Detectives' guard room.The man he was looking for was bent over a desk filling out forms.
"Charlie, can I have a word with you?"
Charlie Coulter was older than Burns, but still a detective sergeant, and he had been at "Dover Prison" for fifteen years.He knew the local gangsters like the back of their hands.
"Those two?" he snorted. "Perfect brute, Jack. Not local, moved in about three years ago. Committing low IQ petty crimes. Robbery, petty theft, fighting Brawls, football hooliganism, plus some bodily harm. Both have been in prison before. What's up?"
"Serious bodily injury this time," Burns said. "Kicked an elderly man into a coma yesterday. Got their address?"
"None," Coulter said. "The last thing I heard, they shared a looted house off the highway."
"Isn't it in Qinglin Garden?"
"Probably not. It's not usually their place. They must have passed by by chance."
"Is there a gang behind them?"
"No. They all work alone. They just hang out together."
"Is it gay?"
"No record of it. Probably not. Cornish once committed an indecent assault on a girl. But then let him get away. The girl changed her mind. Probably bullied by Price."
"Are you on drugs?"
"Don't know about that. More like drunks. Bar fights are their thing."
At this point, Kurt's phone rang, and Burns walked away.The information from the Criminal Archives Office was sent over, and the addresses of the two people were recorded on it.Burns went to see his superior, Superintendent Alan Parfit, and asked him to approve his request.At two o'clock in the afternoon, the magistrate issued a search warrant for the listed property.Two licensed officers took their sidearms from the gun room, and Burns, Skinner, and six other officers—one of whom carried a door hammer—formed a A search team of ten.
The raid was scheduled for three o'clock in the afternoon.The house was old and dilapidated, and once a real estate agent got the development rights of the land, it would definitely be demolished.During the transition period, doors and windows were battened and water, electricity and gas had been cut off.
The door with chipped paint failed to open after a nudge, so the officer knocked the lock off with a hammer and the group ran up the stairs.The two gangsters each lived in dirty, shabby rooms upstairs.Neither was home.Two armed police officers holstered their pistols.The search began.
The search team is looking for anything suspicious.Wallets and their original contents, clothing, boots...they're welcome.If it was a gaudy, tacky squatting dwelling when they arrived, it was hardly a cozy home when they left.But they only got one loot.It was a dirty T-shirt with a bloodstained front, bunched up behind an old couch.It was packed in a plastic bag and marked.All other laundry was treated similarly.If forensics officers can find fabric fibers that must have fallen from the victim's clothing, it will prove that the two criminals were indeed at the scene and had physical contact with the crippled man.
While investigators searched the house for physical evidence, Burns and Skinner took to the street.Most of the neighbors had seen the two gangsters, and no one had a good word to say about them, mainly because they often came home drunk and noisy in the middle of the night, and besides, no one knew what they would be doing at noon in August. place.
Back at the police station, Jack Burns started calling.He called for a full search for the two missing persons.He made a brief phone call to Dr. Carl Bateman, an emergency surgeon at the Royal London Hospital, and then made separate calls to the emergency rooms of three other hospitals.A junior physician at St Anne's Road Hospital had good news for him.
"Understood." Burns shouted when he put down the phone.A good detective has the instincts of a hunter, and the good feeling that the evidence is slowly being pieced together creates an adrenaline rush.He turned to Sheriff Skinner.
"Go to St. Anne's Road. Get a detailed note from Dr. Melrose in the emergency department and have her sign it. Bring a picture of Mark Price for identification. Take the emergency medical records from the whole of yesterday afternoon. Copy it. And bring all of this back."
"What happened?" Skinner asked, noticing the tone of Burns' voice.
"A man with a broken nose matching Price's description, went there yesterday. Dr. Melrose found his nose broken in two places. By the time we found him, that nose had been re-corrected and taped. thick bandages. And Melrose will make a solid identification."
"When did this happen?"
"Guess what. Exactly five o'clock, yesterday afternoon."
"Three hours after the Paradise Road attack. We're getting close to the end of the case."
"Yes, lad, it ought to be. Go over there."
After Skinner left, Burns got a call from the sheriff on the police search advisory team.The news is disappointing.Before sundown the day before, they had crawled over every inch of the crime scene on hand and foot, making a thorough inspection of it.They've crawled into every nook and cranny, inspected every alley and alley, collected every filthy sod and slippery gutter.They have moved and emptied the only five communal trash cans they could find.
They found used condoms, dirty syringes and greasy food wrappers, the typical household waste of a place like this.But they found no blood, and no wallet.
Cornish must have stuffed the stolen wallet into his pocket, waiting to check its contents when he had a moment.He would take the cash and spend it, and throw the other items somewhere, but not in the Qinglinyuan complex.And he lives half a mile away.It's a big place, with too many dumpsters, too many alleys, too many scrap bins.The wallet could be anywhere, but it was also possible - with luck - still in his pocket.He and Price weren't the stuff to attend.
As for Price, he covered his bleeding nose with a T-shirt to keep the blood from landing on the sidewalk until he left the complex.In any case, a good eyewitness, and evidence of a nose wound being treated at St Anne's Road Hospital three hours after the attack, was enough for a day's worth of detective work.
His next call was from Dr. Bateman.The news was also a bit of a disappointment, but not catastrophic yet.His last call was encouraging.It was Sergeant Coulter, who knew the area better than anyone else.Coulter told him on the phone that Cornish and Price were playing pool in Dalston.
Luke Skinner had just stepped into the vestibule as Burns descended the stairs.He obtained a full statement, along with copies of identification and medical records, from Dr Melrose at St Anne's Road Hospital, where Price registered under his real name.Burns asked Skinner to lock the exhibits and drove off with him.
When the police arrived, the two gangsters were still playing pool.Burns kept his stories short and businesslike.He has back up with a police van and six uniformed officers who now guard all the doors and windows.The other pool players just watched with schadenfreude.
Price stared hard at Burns with his piggy eyes, the bridge of his nose covered in a large cast.
"Mark Price, you were allegedly involved in the aggravated bodily injury of an unidentified adult man in Edmonton yesterday at approximately 2:20 pm. I am arresting you. You may remain silent, but if Your refusal to answer the questions on which you will be presented in court will be very harmful to your defense. Everything you say will be used as evidence in court."
Price looked at Cornish, who was regarded as the mastermind, in a panic.Cornish shook his head slightly.
"Go away, damn it," Price said.He was turned around, handcuffed and escorted out.After a while, Cornish followed.Both were taken into a police van and sat with six officers on the small convoy back to "Dover Prison".
Formalities, formalities are always required.On the return trip, Burns asked the military medical officer to come to the police station immediately.He did not want to be subject to complaints in the future accusing the police of manhandling the suspect's nose.And he needs a blood sample to compare with the blood on the T-shirt.If the victim's blood was on the T-shirt, that would be strong evidence.
While he was waiting for the blood sample from the comatose patient, he asked Dr. Bateman about his right fist, got a disappointing answer, and fell into deep thought.
It's going to be a long night.The arrest was at 7:15 p.m., which gave him twenty-four hours.After that, either his superiors could give him another twelve hours, or the magistrate granted him an additional twenty-four hours.
As an arresting officer, he had to write another report, sign it, and include the names of co-signers.He needs the testimony of the medical police officer that both men are fit to stand questioning.He also needs all of their clothing and pocket contents, as well as samples of their blood.
Luke Skinner had been watching the behavior of the two men like a hawk, making sure that nothing had been thrown out of their pockets since they were led from the pool room and put into the police car.But no one has stopped Cornish from making a request to police that he wants a lawyer now.Before that, he hadn't said a word.In fact, he did not tell the police this request, but told his accomplices.Price heard the words clearly.
It took an hour to check in.Dusk began to fall.The medical officer left, leaving behind testimony that both men were fit to stand trial, and about the condition of Price's nose while in custody.
The two gangsters were imprisoned separately, and both wore paper jumpsuits.Both had tea, followed by a canteen-cooked English breakfast.According to the rules, everything is according to the rules.
Burns turned his gaze to Price.
"I want to get a brief overview of the case," Price said. "I won't say anything."
Same goes for Cornish.He just smiled and insisted that the lawyer come.
The lawyer on duty was Mr. Lou Slade.His dinner was delayed, but he insisted on seeing his client before bedtime.He arrived in Dover Street just before nine o'clock, met the two parties, and spent half an hour with them both in the interview-room.
When he came out he said to Burns: "You can interrogate them in my presence if you like, Detective Inspector. But I have to say, my client will not confess. They deny it." allegations. They said they were not there when the incident occurred.”
He is an experienced attorney who has handled similar cases.He's heard the client and doesn't believe a word of it, but it's his job.
"If you will," Burns said, "but the case is clear and well-documented. If they admit it, I might believe that the victim fell on the pavement and broke his head. According to their Prior record...maybe two years in 'Vail'." Pentonville Prison was known locally as "Vail."
Privately, Burns knew that the injured man had been kicked in multiple places, and Slade realized he knew too.
"Damn it, Mr. Burns. I don't believe their nonsense either. They want to deny it. I want all the evidence you've got, according to the rules."
"Will get it to you in time, Mr. Slade. I need an alibi in time, too. You know the rules as well as I do."
"How long can you keep them in custody?" Slade asked.
"By 7:15 tomorrow night. It's not enough to get an extra twelve hours from my superiors. I'm sure I'll have to apply for an extension from the Magistrate tomorrow. The final hearing for the evening is around 5pm."
"I won't object," said Slade.He knows no time should be wasted.These are two gangsters who have beaten people half to death.The magistrate will undoubtedly agree to the extended detention. "As for the interrogation, I think you insist on it, but in my opinion they will not reveal anything."
"I'm afraid so."
"In that case, we'd better go home now. How about nine o'clock tomorrow morning?"
After this agreement, Slade went home.Price and Cornish spent the night in the detention facility.Burns had one last call to make.He connected the Royal London Hospital to the nurse on duty in the intensive care unit.The wounded man might, just might, have come to himself.
Dr. Paul Willis also worked late that night.He operated on a young motorcyclist who appeared to be trying to break the land speed record as he sprinted down Mount Akiway.The neurosurgeon had done his best, but he knew in his heart that the motorcyclist had only fifty percent hope.After the nurse on duty put down the receiver, he answered Burns' call.
The twenty-four hours of anesthesia had passed.Now that the effects of the medicine had worn off, he hoped to see signs of recovery.Before returning home, he checked on the crippled man again.
no change.Monitors showed a regular heartbeat, but blood pressure was still too high, a sign of brain damage.According to the Grignard index, the injured are still fluctuating from three to fifteen, and are in a deep coma.
"Observation for another thirty-six hours," he told the nurse on duty. "I had hoped to be out of danger by the weekend. I will come again on Saturday morning. If there is any sign of recovery, I will not come. When the situation improves, you will stay." The message let me know that it’s okay to stay here, or stay at my house. If there is no change by 9:00 am on Saturday, I will need to re-scan and take pictures. Please make an appointment for me.”
So passed the next day.After eating and drinking, Price and Cornish snored like thunder in the holding cell of "Dover Street Gaol".The victim was lying on his back in a ward under dim blue lights, with three surveillance devices attached to his body, his thoughts drifting to distant places.
Mr Willis puts aside his patient for a moment and starts watching a spaghetti western starring Clint Eastwood in his elegant home in St John's Wood.Sergeant Luke Skinner was in time for an appointment with a pretty student from the drama department at Hampstead School, whom they had met in the theater bar a month earlier, when they had both gone to a Bedouin Finn concert.It was a sentiment (listening to Beethoven, not dating a girl) that he would never have mentioned in the mess hall of the "Dover Prison".
Inspector Jack Burns returned to his Camden Town home with some baked beans on toast for dinner.The home is empty and he hopes wife Jenny and sons will return from holidays in his hometown of Salcorby, Devon.He had counted on getting there in time to spend the holiday with them.August, he thought, nasty August.
Notes:
Notes: