Several cars were parked, rather haphazardly, in the drive, and the van pulled up behind them.
“I’ll turn it round while you’re inside.” The driver said, “I suppose we’ll all be going back together.”
“Except Harry here.” Said the sergeant.
Hazel wasn’t planning on going back in the van but said nothing. She, Sanford, and the other police officers climbed out. There were two Dransfield constables waiting. But Hazel said to the sergeant, “Make sure they show you their warrant cards.”
“Too bloody right. The sods will want to see ours.”
Hazel left them to the process of mutual identification while she went to look in the nearest outbuilding.
It was empty of course. She didn’t know exactly what it had been used for when this was an active farm. She sniffed. Probably some kind of animal.
It was dusty grey breeze blocks inside with what might have been some kind of plain wooden fencing. That suggested, strongly, some kind of animal enclosure. She was a city girl but she did know you don’t paint wooden fences that enclose animals. The concrete floor had nothing on it, though there were a number of weeds starting to grow through it.
She didn’t like the look of the rear entrance. It was a wooden stable type door and didn’t strike her as overly secure.
Ok, so it was an unsafe house as far as safe houses went. Hazel shrugged and went back to join her colleagues. They had established that everyone was exactly who they claimed to be.
For good measure Hazel showed her identification and she took Sanford inside. The other Caneston police remained outside.
That was another problem with this so-called safe house. Right now at least eight people, including herself, knew about this place and who was here. Overall there were at least a dozen people, perhaps fifteen. It was far too many.
Hazel’s misgivings about the operation were rising too rapidly for comfort.
She said, “Stay alert.” To the Sergeant, who nodded.
She was let in to the house, she could no longer call it a safe house, by a tallish, rather thin, scruffy looking man in his twenties. The scruffiness didn’t look contrived either. The double denim and a dark T shirt seemed to be his natural state. His trainers were cheap and he looked as if he’d not bothered to shave this morning.
He was about as tall as Hazel and gave her a grin behind a vaping machine.
“Who are you?” Hazel said. She’d never met the young man before and she didn’t fancy smiling at someone she didn’t know.
“Jerry Price.” He stuck out a hand, as if his name meant something.
Hazel looked at the hand. It told her he was as young as he looked, and that he’d decided not to wash this morning. He was, also, not a manual worker.
“You’re not a solicitor.” Hazel said, “They wouldn’t let you out dressed like that.” She continued to ignore the hand until he shrugged with remarkable indifference, and put it down. “I hope you’re not supposed to be a police officer.”
He continued to smile at her, “Temporary Detective Constable Jerry Price.” He said brightly, “Price with an I.”
Hazel really didn’t care and Harry Sanford shook his head. “You lot aren’t taking this seriously, are you?”
Hazel tended to agree, but told him to shut up. “Where is everyone?” She said.
“Here, I’ll take you through.”
“No, just point us to the right door.”
“This way.” Price said, ignoring her. “Mind your head, people were a lot shorter when they built this place. Eighteen century….seventeenth….Some long time ago anyway. Who cares?” The house interior looked clean and cosy. Hazel found the country scenes on the wall a bit twee. She wasn’t an art expert but was willing to wager that they were rubbish. She guessed, correctly as it turned out, that they were photographic prints that had been through some kind of computer software to make them look like water colour paintings. Which it did. Sadly the actual images themselves were not all that good.
Hazel ducked through a small door into a room that an estate agent might describe as cosy with a rustic appeal. She thought it slightly cramped and uncomfortable.
Looking uncomfortable in a room that was never designed for electric lights and non-drip soft blue matt paint was Michelle Russo with Jibrail Rangan. He was a young, newly minted solicitor. Fresh out of university and learning on the job. Hazel had always found the young man capable and friendly. If he had any objections to his colleagues Anglicising his name to “Jimmy” he never mentioned them. They both looked very professional but out of place in dark business suits.
The third person there was a police inspector she didn’t know. The modern police uniform didn’t fit the décor either. He was tall, as police officers often are, and clean shaven. He was hatless and had short dark hair. Everyone seemed pleased to see Hazel. She doubted they were pleased to see Harry Sanford or even TDC Price.
“Good to see you found the place.” Michelle said. “Inspector Fenner, this is Detective Sergeant Vernon.”
“Can you take these things off me?” Sanford said. Holding up his handcuffed wrists.
“Stan Fenner.” The inspector held out a hand. Hazel found that surprisingly familiar for an inspector from a different city. “Good to meet you.”
“Hey.” Sanford said, “You can shake hands later, can’t you?”
Fenner glanced indifferently at Sanford, as he, briefly, shook Hazel’s hand. “So this is our man, is it?”
“Less of the it.” Sanford said, “I’m supposed to be helping you.” He rattled his cuffs at Fenner, “You want to help me out a bit?”
Fenner said, “I think it’s safe to let him free, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir.” Hazel said, but first she said, “Could we close the curtains first, please?”
“It’ll make this room seem even smaller.” Michelle said.
“I know, but anyone with a high powered rifle could pick him off with no trouble.” That was just the first of Hazel’s objections.
“Charming.” Sanford said. “Hey, Sergeant, the bracelets.” He turned them to Hazel, “These aren’t fashion accessories you know.”
Hazel dug out her keys as Jimmy Rangan, who was closest to the window, closed the curtains. For a moment they were in a darkened room and then Price flicked on the lights.
“That’s better.” Sanford rubbed his wrists and looked around, “So this is it? It’s going to be pretty crowded with you lot here.”
“We’ll be leaving.” Fenner said, “Mr Rangan here will be taking any information you have to tell us. Ms Russo will evaluate it later.”
“How about
