Free Golden Mile to Murder by Sally Spencer Page B

been spendin’ quite a lot of his free time on the Golden Mile, don’t you?’
    The four local men exchanged uneasy, questioning glances, then Hanson said, ‘No, sir. We didn’t know that.’
    â€˜Well, you bloody well should have!’ Woodend told him. ‘So now we’re left with a big question, an’ it’s this: if all Mr Davies’ investigations were concerned with residential crime, what was he doin’ visitin’ the Golden Mile so often?’
    â€˜Maybe he went there to relax?’ DC Brock suggested.
    â€˜Not a chance,’ Woodend said. ‘When people want to relax, they go lookin’ for a change. Now if he’d been spendin’ his free time in the Lake District or the Forest of Bowland, I could understand it. But the Golden Mile? Never.’
    â€˜With respect, sir, I don’t think you can simply dismiss the theory that he—’ Hanson began.
    â€˜When did you last pay a visit to the Golden Mile on anythin’ other than business?’ Woodend interrupted.
    â€˜That’s different, sir,’ Hanson said. ‘I’ve got my prize racing pigeons to consider.’
    â€˜An’ didn’t Mr Davies have any hobbies?’
    â€˜I believe he flew model aeroplanes, sir,’ Constable Stone volunteered. ‘He was county champion one year.’
    â€˜Well, there you are then,’ Woodend said triumphantly. ‘Obviously, his visits to the Golden Mile had somethin’ to do with police business. Does any of you have any idea what that police business might be?’ The four local bobbies shook their heads. ‘Then we’d better find out, hadn’t we?’ Woodend continued. ‘I want you lot coverin’ every inch of the Mile. I want to know how often he was there, who he talked to, and what he talked to them about. Sergeant Hanson will co-ordinate.’
    Sitting at the far end of the table, Paniatowski felt her hackles rising.
She
was his sergeant. She should have been doing the co-ordinating. But then, of course, Sergeant Hanson was a man, and she was only a
woman
. It was to be expected that, whatever impression Woodend had attempted to create of being egalitarian earlier, he would eventually show his true colours and put Hanson in charge.
    â€˜There’s one more thing,’ Woodend continued. ‘I’ll be coverin’ the same ground you are.’ He caught the frown on Hanson’s face. ‘Anythin’ wrong with that, Sergeant?’
    Hanson shrugged uncomfortably. ‘I suppose not, sir. It’s just that most of the senior officers I’ve worked with tend to leave the job on the streets to their men and concentrate on the bigger picture.’
    â€˜Or to put it another way, you don’t like the idea of me checkin’ up on you?’ Woodend said.
    â€˜There’s that as well, sir,’ Hanson admitted.
    Woodend nodded understandingly. ‘I can see how it might worry you,’ he conceded. ‘But you’ve got the wrong end of the stick again. I always trust the men who are workin’ for me – at least until they give me a reason not to – so you won’t have me breathin’ down your necks. But I’ll still be doing what I do best – which is buildin’ up the big picture by lookin’ at the small details myself.’ He checked his watch. ‘It’s just about tea time. You lads grab somethin’ to eat, then hit the streets. I’ll expect your preliminary reports first thing in the mornin’.’
    The four Blackpool men and Paniatowski rose to their feet. ‘Not you, Monika,’ Woodend told his new sergeant. ‘I’ve got somethin’ else in mind to keep you busy.’
    I’m sure you have, Paniatowski thought bitterly. Tea has to be made, doesn’t it? Reports have to be typed, don’t they? I should have anticipated this.
    Woodend waited until the rest of the team had left