Free Murders Without Motive by Harry Nankin

Smith” shouted Striker “where the hell were you and this lot, Wason, here asleep and no bugger around?”
    Crampton came to his senses was breathing and thus the colour returned to his face.  The immediate emergency was over.
    Striker furious but relieved, called, “Don’t just stand there Smith, you idiot call the police surgeon out”.
    “What was your bloody game, Mister Crampton?” he asked now crouching down at the side of the prisoner.
     “What the hell were you trying to do?”
    Finally Crampton spoke, “I can’t stand it in here, I haven’t done anything”.
    “Well” said Striker, now calm, “his arse no longer going half a crown sixpence” quoting the old phrase, slang for in and out with shock.
    “You have nothing to worry about then have you Mr Crampton. When your brief gets here he will advise you. Until then sip the cup of bloody water good old Constable Wason is about to go and get for you aren’t you Wason?”
    “Yes sergeant Striker” he replied and literally ran off to comply with the request, no order.
    Things now calmed down. Striker put two officers from the early turn onto prisoner watch, both seated outside the cell, the door of which was left open.
    All now awaiting upon the arrival of the police surgeon. Sergeant Eric Smith was still in shock from his own crime of leaving his post. Confirming he had despatched a car to collect the doctor to save time.
     “And his own arse” thought Striker.
    The emergency over, the medic having been and gone. Crampton was certified fit to remain in custody.
     Sergeant Eric Smith and Constable Wason late leaving off duty, all including Striker were in the charge office.
    Striker reached for the custody sheet and recorded the incident in full.
    On looking up he saw Smith and Wason looking on with grim faces.
    “Was there any need for that?” asked Smith.
    “You damn right there is a need for it.” Said Striker adding
    “I will tell you how it is; I have seen it all before”
    “A Prisoner on suicide watch.”
    No other means to kill himself so he stuffs toilet paper into his gob and up his snot box to cut of all oxygen. Then he spins in a circle to disorient himself, he suffocates and dies”.
    “You bugger off upstairs, leaving this dozy dumb, ass alone to fall asleep.”
    “You know full well who Crampton is, the contacts he has from the Palace down”.
    “The rest of the bloody family murdered and he dies in here due to negligence by us”.
     “For Christ’s sake, the biggest set of murders ever been committed here of the most influential people, the whole bloody world and their dogs looking on and the last or one of the last of the family dies here whilst locked up. You bet your damn life there is a need to record it all".
    “Well I suppose we are both in deep shit” replied Smith.
    “Well Smith as you know I, good old Striker, have just been up before the lady at the big house. Can you imagine I want to go again and lose my stripes, job and pension because of your bloody laziness and ineptitude”?
    Smith and Wason said nothing further but turned away.
    In the civilised world of the United Kingdom, the whole fabric of society operates between the hours of nine o’clock in the morning until five o’clock in the afternoon Monday to Friday.
    So it was when Inspector Blewitt arriving for duty, walked into the custody room at Chester Police Station.
     Checking the prisoners in custody through the hatches then turning the corner seeing the two uniformed officers sitting outside Crampons` cell, he guessed there had been developments.
    He walked down, looked inside the cell and was relieved to see Crampton sitting reading a newspaper.
    At his side was an empty paper plate and polystyrene cup. “At least he is safe and well and has had his breakfast that is something” he thought
    He looked at the two officers on guard duty but said nothing, just turned and walked back into the charge room.
    Reading the custody sheet. Crampton