Chapter Eight
T illy bent over and inspected the rear of the bike. “No,” she said, straightening up again. “No, I’m afraid you’ll have to get a red reflector. It is the law. Did you not do your bicycle proficiency test?”
The boy looked at her with wide eyes. At the beginning, he’d had an attitude. Well, most fourteen-year-olds had attitudes. Now he just looked scared.
“It’s alright,” said Tilly. “You’re not going to prison or anything. Here.” She took out her book and scrawled the information on the ticket. “Take this, pay it, and you’ll hear no more about it. Just make sure to put a reflector on that back seat post or wheel arch before I see you riding around town again.”
“Right, miss. Yes, miss,” said the boy. He snatched the ticket and hopped onto his bike before Tilly could stop him.
Tilly shook her head. She hoped the kid would learn a lesson.
She continued walking, keeping her eye out at all times for any sign of crime, but also any sign of Sophie. Every time that she thought about her, she got a warm feeling in her stomach and a smile appeared magically on her face.
Okay, so there was some gray area here. Tilly had stayed awake far later than she should have thinking about it. It wasn’t ideal for police officers to have a relationship in the area they patrolled. In fact, as a general rule, officers were posted away from areas that they’d grown up in, just to avoid having anyone’s loyalties tested.
But she hadn’t grown up here, and, more importantly, she wasn’t planning on staying here. This was a few months out of her life before she moved on to bigger and better things. If she happened to meet the love of her life whilst she was here, well, that was alright, wasn’t it?
Love of her life. Jesus. Not that she was overthinking things in any way whatsoever. She had the secret smile again. Alright, maybe she was blowing things slightly out of proportion. But she liked Sophie. Liked the look of her, liked her smile, liked the way she smiled, liked how she sounded. There was a lot to like.
Maybe, said the reasonable voice in her head, you’ll hate her once you actually talk to her as opposed to singing at her.
Fair point. But she wouldn’t know until she tried, would she?
She bit her lip. Friday wasn’t that far away. Maybe she should make the first move, ask her for a drink or something?
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, reminding her of the time. She turned on her heel and walked back toward the police station.
Yes, that’s what she’d do. She’d make the first move. Ask Sophie for a drink. That way, they could really tell what was what.
She was feeling quite good about herself when she walked into the station.
“Afternoon,” she said to Max, who was standing behind the wooden counter.
“Did you just write Jamie Lunsdon a ticket for not having a rear reflector on his bike?” Max asked.
Tilly nodded. “It scared him a bit, but I don’t think he’ll do it again.” She hesitated. “I did tell him he wasn’t going to prison, though.”
Max sighed. “Tea?”
“If there’s some going.”
“Right, then you’d better come around here and have a seat. I’ll get the tea then you and I need to have a chat,” Max said.
Tilly felt her stomach contract. “Have I done something wrong?”
Max sighed again. “No, no, you really haven’t. Maybe that’s sort of the problem. Have a seat. Let me get the tea in.”
He disappeared back to the small kitchen, and Tilly could hear him making the tea. She didn’t like the idea of needing a talking to, but then he said that she’d done nothing wrong, so whatever it was, it couldn’t be that bad.
As she was waiting, the station door opened. An elderly woman crept in.
“Can I help you?” Tilly asked.
“They’ve been in again,” said the woman, tearfully.
“Who?” asked Tilly.
“The burglars. They’ve been in again.” The woman sniffed and Tilly came around the counter.
“You’ve been burgled?”
“Yes,” said the woman. “It’s the third time today.”
Tilly’s senses prickled. She put an arm around the woman’s shoulders and escorted her to one of the plastic seats. “Well, that won’t do at all,” she said comfortingly. “But you’ve come to the right place. Can you tell me where you live?”
“Of course,” the old woman said. She fumbled for a purse and brought out her pension book. “Here, it says on there.”
“Right,” Tilly said, seeing that there was a phone number there. “You just sit here and I’ll get you a cup of tea and then I’ll look after all of this, alright?”
The woman nodded.
“Tea’s already served,” Max said, appearing with a cup of tea in his hand.
The woman took it gratefully.
Ten minutes later and the woman’s son had arrived to take her home and Tilly was handing back her pension book.
“I’m so sorry about all of this,” the son said.
“Don’t be,” said Tilly. “It’s what we’re here for. I’m just glad everything’s alright.” She closed the door behind the two of them and turned back to see Max staring at her thoughtfully. “You wanted to speak to me?”
“Come and sit down. We might actually get to drink our own tea this time.” He handed her a mug and settled into his chair. “What you just did there, it was kind,” he said. “It was good policing.”
“It was nothing,” said Tilly.
“No, it was something. Especially for Mrs. Dodds.”
Tilly said nothing to this.
Max rubbed his nose. “See, policing, in the end, it’s not about catching criminals and the likes. It’s not about beating the bad guy. It’s about people.”
“I understand that,” Tilly said. “The code of ethics specifies public service, specifically: ‘working in the public interest, fostering public trust and confidence, and taking pride in providing an excellent service to the public.’”
“Right,” Max said with yet another sigh. “It’s just that, well, you’ve only been here a little while, but I’m a bit concerned that perhaps quotas and regulations might be getting in the way of the whole people angle a little bit.”
“What do you mean?” Tilly asked.
“Like giving young Jamie a ticket for his bike. You could have given him a talking to and sent him off home. He didn’t need a ticket. Or ticketing Ad Park’s car. She was just unloading a box of books in front of her own building.”
“So you’re suggesting that I stretch the law to allow people to do things they shouldn’t be doing,” Tilly said sharply.
“No,” said Max. He sounded quite firm about this. “I’m suggesting that perhaps you think about the human angle of things.” He rubbed his nose again. “After you’ve been an officer for a while, you start to realize that the law is a flexible thing, whether you like it or not.”
“I don’t like it,” Tilly said.
“And yet part of being a good officer is knowing when to let things go, knowing when to turn a blind eye, knowing when you’d be doing more harm than good by sticking to the letter of the law.”
“I disagree,” said Tilly.
Max nodded. “Alright, that’s your prerogative. I just wanted to mention it.”
Tilly nodded, took a deep breath and remembered that she was speaking to a superior. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Max said. “Now, drink up. We’ve got places to be.”
“We do?”
He nodded. “Another stolen car, I’m afraid.”
“Another?”
Max put down his coffee cup. “There’s been a spate of them recently. This is the fifth one that I know of, though they’re not always being reported, I think. Mostly because they’re not luxury vehicles.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that the majority of them are just normal cars, five years old or more, nothing fancy. I’ve rung around the other stations in the area and there’s a handful of other cases that could well be connected. We just don’t have much to go on.”
“Stealing normal cars doesn’t seem that profitable,” Tilly said.
“You’d think. But they’re being stolen for parts, in all probability. There’s money in that, money in scrapping them even. And it’s easier to steal something old than something new. You keep a close eye on your new Porsche, but you don’t on your old Ford.”
“True,” Tilly said. “And there’s really nothing to go on?”
“Nope,” Max said. “The thefts are centered around Whitebridge, so I’m thinking that someone in the local area must know something. But so far, we’ve got zip. I keep hoping for a CCTV camera to catch something, or a fingerprint, anything really. It’s a real dead end, though.”
“Sounds frustrating.”
Max laughed. “You know, when I was a kid, I thought being a policeman would mean car chases and bringing gangsters bang to rights. As it turns out, it’s mostly paperwork and finding lost cats. Not that I mind.” He grinned at her. “I’ve got a family to look after now. I’m pretty happy that Whitebridge is so quiet.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say it was quiet,” Tilly said. She was busy thinking. Car theft? What did she know about car theft? If she was in charge of the investigation, where would she be looking? If she could make a case for herself, maybe Max would let her take charge of this car theft ring business.
“Come on then,” Max said. “Best be getting on with things. I’d like you to come up with me, have a fresh pair of eyes on the business. Maybe you’ll notice something that I’ve missed.”
Maybe she would, she thought, as she followed him out of the station. Max pulled a big set of keys out of his pocket and locked the front door before leading Tilly to the squad car and tossing the keys to her.
“You want me to drive?” she asked.
“Are you trained?”
“Yes,” she said. “But… well, most male officers don’t like a female constable driving them, sir. That’s all.”
“Tosh,” Max said. “Get in and drive. It’ll give me time to digest my tea. Now, tell me all about this choir. Who showed up?”
“Half the village,” Tilly said, starting the engine. “And maybe you should join yourself.”
“Oh no,” Max said. “I’ve got far too much going on with…” He trailed off, cleared his throat. “I’ve got far too much going on at home.”
Tilly felt an awkwardness there, so she didn’t pursue the subject. Besides, she was driving past the village hall and that reminded her of Sophie and then she was busy smiling her secret smile.