Hardcastle's Soldiers Read Online Free PDF Page B

a guardroom inevitably led to a court of enquiry, and even the possibility of a court martial for whoever was in charge of him at the time.
    â€˜These officers are from the civil police and they’re here to ask you some questions in connection with a serious crime, Stacey,’ said McIntyre. ‘You will answer them truthfully. D’you understand?’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’ Stacey was shaking visibly. He seemed to have no idea why he had been placed in close arrest, and certainly appeared to know nothing about this serious crime to which the military police officer was referring.
    â€˜Where were you yesterday morning, lad?’ asked Hardcastle.
    â€˜Here, sir.’ Stacey stared at Hardcastle as though the DDI had asked a fatuous question.
    â€˜No, you weren’t,’ put in McIntyre. ‘You weren’t arrested until last evening.’
    â€˜No, sir, I meant I was here in Aldershot, at Buller Barracks. We was doing weapon training all morning.’
    â€˜Is that so?’ Hardcastle produced the cap bearing Stacey’s name and number. ‘Is this yours?’ he asked, handing the cap to the prisoner.
    Stacey looked inside the cap, and then glanced up, a mystified expression on his face. ‘Yes, it’s mine, sir, but how did you get hold of it?’ he asked as he returned the cap.
    â€˜It was picked up by a North Staffordshire Regiment officer at Victoria Station at about quarter past ten yesterday morning. He claims to have been pursuing a soldier who we believe had just murdered the cashier in a military money-exchange booth,’ said Hardcastle. ‘What have you to say about that?’
    â€˜I lost it, sir.’ Stacey really had no idea what this aggressive policeman was talking about.
    â€˜You lost it? And you expect me to believe that?’
    â€˜It’s the God’s honest truth, sir. I never had nothing to do with no murder. I was here all day. Well, at Buller Barracks, like.’
    â€˜Did you report the loss of your cap, Stacey?’ asked McIntyre, who was leaning against the jamb of the cell doorway, his arms folded.
    â€˜No, sir.’
    â€˜Why not?’
    â€˜I’d’ve had to pay for a new one, sir.’ To Stacey that seemed a logical answer.
    â€˜So how did you expect to appear on working parade this morning without a cap, eh? If you hadn’t been put in close arrest last night, that is.’
    â€˜I’d’ve managed to borrow one, sir. One of the lads is off sick, and I thought—’
    â€˜And you thought you’d steal someone else’s before you had to pay for another, I suppose, laddie.’ McIntyre turned to Hardcastle. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector, I shouldn’t have interrupted.’
    â€˜That’s all right, Captain McIntyre, but I need to have a word with you outside.’
    When the three policemen were in the cell passage, with the door of Stacey’s cell firmly closed, Hardcastle asked, ‘D’you think there’s any truth in this story, Captain?’
    â€˜It’s easily checked, Inspector. If Stacey was attending weapon training yesterday morning, then the sergeant-instructor will be able to confirm it. It’s a pity Colonel Frobisher didn’t tell me why you wanted to see Stacey. It might have saved you a journey if what the lad says turns out to be true.’
    â€˜How soon can we check his story?’ asked Hardcastle.
    â€˜In the time it takes us to get from here to Buller Barracks, Inspector, and find the sergeant weapon training instructor.’
    The sprawling blocks of Buller Barracks in Queen’s Avenue lay a mile away from Salamanca Barracks. It was said that, following the Crimean War, Florence Nightingale had condemned them, along with all the other barracks in Aldershot, as unfit for soldiers to live in, but the advent of the Great War had put paid to plans for what would have been an ambitious rebuilding programme.
    Sergeant Finch, a