A Fool and His Money Read Online Free PDF Page B

note-taking and, he hoped, their handwriting.’
    As the desk sergeant looked at the clock above the bench in the outer office and saw it was half past eleven, a small boy burst through the main door of the police station and grabbed the sergeant’s tunic sleeve.
    â€˜Oy, young man, I’ll thank you to get yer ’ands off – I’ve just put this on clean this mornin’ – what d’you want anyway, tearing in ’ere like there’s bin a murder or something?’
    â€˜But there ’as, there ’as – ’onest there ’as, mister.’
    â€˜It’s “Sergeant” to you, you little blighter – an’ what d’you mean – there’s bin a murder?’
    The desk sergeant looked down at the boy who appeared to be about eleven or twelve years old, wearing a fisherman’s smock, thick drill trousers and a peaked cap. His feet were bare.
    â€˜â€™Ere … aren’t you one of them Barnicoat boys – you’re Billy Barnicoat’s lad.’
    â€˜Yeah – an’ there’s still bin a murder. Wot you goin’ to do about it, mister?’
    â€˜I’ll give you “Mister”. Sit down over there on that bench and behave yerself.’
    The boy sat down and the sergeant walked over and sat next to him with a notebook and pencil.
    â€˜So … who’s bin murdered I should like to know – and where?’
    â€˜There’s a dead man. I’ve seen ’im. There’s all blood comin’ from ’is ’ead – loads an’ loads of blood. I’ve seen ’im – ’e’s up ’Unter’s Path.’
    â€˜Well, ’ow do I know I can believe you?’
    â€˜â€™Cos I’m telling the truth – really I am.’
    The boy became less excited as the sergeant continued to doubt him and as the novelty of his apparent find wore off.
    â€˜So, can you show one of my constables where this body is? Could you take him there now?’
    â€˜Yes … course I can.’
    â€˜You’d better not be telling me fibs young man – do you know you could get into serious trouble telling fibs to a policeman?’
    The boy nodded.
    The sergeant went to fetch Coad and sent him off with the boy in search of his find.
    Boase stood up and stretched. He hated sitting at a desk shuffling paper. He’d rather be out talking to people, getting on with real police work. Still, this was all a part of his job. If he didn’t spend so much time thinking about his lovely Irene then he might get on a bit quicker. He pulled open the top drawer of his desk and drew out a brown paper bag. He opened it to reveal a thick ham sandwich and laid it on the desk in front of him. As he considered whether he wanted the whole sandwich or just a half at this point, the door opened and Penhaligon stood there with a cup of tea.
    â€˜You read my mind, Penhaligon, well done.’
    The constable placed the cup on the desk.
    â€˜Inspector Bartlett said he’ll be in shortly – ’e’s just finishing up ’is lecture.’
    â€˜His lecture?’
    â€˜Yes – ’e’s bin goin’ mad with everyone … says we don’t know ’ow to take notes.’
    â€˜Well, I can’t disagree with him on that one.’
    Penhaligon sighed and left the room. Within a couple of minutes, Bartlett returned.
    â€˜These young men, Boase, they think they know it all. Got an answer for everything. Well, I don’t think we’ll get so much trouble from now on – I’ve just told them straight. How’s all that coming along?’
    â€˜All done, sir – thank goodness. I detest paperwork, I really do.’
    As Boase picked up his sandwich, the door burst open and the desk sergeant came in, red in the face with Penhaligon standing behind him. He addressed Bartlett.
    â€˜I’m so sorry, sir, Coad has just been up to Hunter’s Path with that