Chapter 16 A Point of View
Wragg sat in his new office which once Commander Brand had occupied. It was the quieter side of the building. If anything important was going on, there was no way of knowing unless someone came to tell him. Wragg didn’t like the new office. He couldn’t quite figure it out; it smelt of something. It could have been betrayal or treason, if such things had smells attached to them.
Commander Brand’s funeral had been cover up; full of praise of what a wonderful person he was and dedicated to his duty and how throughout his career had backed everyone to the hilt. It was all lies and Wragg didn’t like the picture that had been painted of Brand’s character. He was……Wragg stopped himself and muttered, ‘I mustn’t go there!’
The funeral wasn’t completely without humour, although it was frowned upon by Wragg – it was when everyone had left the grave, several police officers relieved themselves into the grave – they hadn’t noticed Wragg standing beside a tree. They looked flustered and the first police officer said, ‘Sorry sir. We were all caught short. It was such a long service.’
Wragg tried to frown with disgust, but a smile came first. He heard as they walked away, heads bowed, one of the officers saying, ‘Did you see that? He smiled.’
C.S. Wragg was gathering his thoughts. His life seemed to be a whirlwind of events and he knew that Commander Brand had been the cause of his friend Eric Carter’s terrible accident. Eric Carter and he had attended the same school and had been friends and they both joined the Police Force at the same time. Eric’s promotions were quickly attained with a degree or two. He was a professor twice over.
Because of circumstances Wragg wasn’t far behind his friend’s rank.
He looked at the pile of correspondence almost seven inches high and sighed. He believed that the last time he had visited Brand’s office the same pile had been there. Wragg wondered what duties Brand had indulged in and it wasn’t anything to do with the police force. Wragg reckoned it would take him the best part of the day to sift through the paperwork. As it happened the most part was filing and the ladies in the typing pool would tend to that duty. He therefore went for his daily walk with the blue folder clutched in his hand and went in search of that department. He found that by walking about a quarter of a mile and taking a lift journey he eventually found the typing pool. It was about a quarter to twelve. He introduced himself to head clerk and apologised about the volume of filing. The lady just smiled. ‘That’s okay Chief Superintendant; we all just wish you the best in your new job.’
He insisted that all the ladies called him by his Christian name. Wragg asked if he could use the phone and he rang Sergeant Dotrice and informed him he was going out of the building to have some lunch. Sergeant Dotrice informed him that there was a canteen in the building, but Wragg told the sergeant that he was meeting his wife and taking her to lunch. He hesitated on the phone and said, ‘I might be gone for a hour and a half. If you need me in a hurry my phone will be on.’
* * *
Luckily for Wragg he was able to spend a whole lunch time with his wife. They talked about the garden and how they intended to increase the size of their vegetable garden which meant getting rid of some the lawn which needed Wragg sitting astride a motor mower as it was a vast area. Wragg could never finish cutting the entire lawn in a day and sometimes it had to be done in parcel lots as invariably he would be called out to attend some nasty incident; it was the nature of the beast. He felt it would be better to hire someone to cut the lawn, but it was hard to find someone who could drive a petrol lawnmower without ploughing through the flower beds.
The last man Wragg hired who thought his small electric mower was up to the job took all day and asked for £12 an hour and eight hours to do the lawn was not on. He decided it was cheaper to do it himself and if he had a free weekend without emergency call-outs he was going to hopefully set to.
Kissing his wife goodbye he made his way back to the office. No-one had telephoned him that lunch time and no-one bothered him all afternoon as he worked on the other pile of paperwork he had found hidden in one of the drawers. He also found a bottle of whiskey and a disgusting looking half eaten sandwich which had purple and green growth on it. It was destined to be placed in two bags and got rid of sooner than later. The afternoon went slowly and he was itching to get home. Wragg’s time was not strictly 9 to 5 as it was classed as flexible and he could find himself at midnight to the very early hours in the morning at some ghastly incident with his jaundiced looking Pathologist trying not to be ill when attending to some poor victim.
It was going to be one of those evenings as when a quarter to three approached his telephone gave a shrill sounding noise. He snatched up the telephone and almost dropped it as if it was on fire. ‘Yes! C. S. Wragg speaking – hmm! Right! Okay I’ll meet you downstairs. I must phone my wife to tell her I shall be home late.’
* * *
Sergeant Dotrice told Wragg that the incident room had received a phone call from the undertakers who had found an unauthorized cremation had been executed by person or persons unknown and they certainly didn’t belong to the staff. They were seen driving away from the crematorium. Of course, the body hadn’t been prepared for cremation and therefore there was a terrible smell. The crematorium would have to close while they sorted things out as it was now a crime scene. Sergeant Dotrice said, ‘What about all the people waiting to say goodbye to their loved-ones?’
‘Let’s get there first and see what we can do.’
It didn’t take long to reach the Crematorium, although a lot of weaving in and out of the line of hearses waiting was a traumatic time for the police drivers.
Simon Crook the Pathologist was there and he was escorting a covered body to a waiting room which had been cleared of a family waiting for the service to start. The police were very quick to inspect the area where the body of a man was found and the victim had only been burnt in parts, but he was dead. Paramedics who were first on the scene could not save him.
He was identified as Thomas Burgess, one of the directors of “The Real Steal Company.”
Wragg gave instructions for the body to be moved via the ambulance back to Simon Crook’s domain where he would perform his autopsy.
Wragg gave instructions that funerals should carry on, but asked that the people who used the ovens wear special bags over their shoes. He pointed out that the forensic team would want to visit the site and they would be at the crematorium at five am to minimize the delicacy of the situation. Three policemen were placed on duty within the crematorium and they would take it in turns to walk round the site. Two slept and one awake on duty. They split up the time equally so no-one was dead on their feet the next morning. They would let the team of experts in the following morning to do their job hopefully before the working day started.
