“Friday Fiction” Series: Mr. Gualchmai, Chapter Three…
[Note from Steve: In the collection Sleuthing, British-Style, I introduce DI Clarke and DS Blake in three short stories as a homage to British-style mysteries. While this story didn’t make it to novel status (as the British coppers might have wanted, and I suggested might eventually happen one day), or the self-imposed editorial deadline for that collection (as a test case for Draft2Digital), you might find the short story equally entertaining. Chapters One and Two can be found on previous Friday posts.]
Mr. Gualchmai
Copyright 2021, Steven M. Moore
Chapter Three
Lee Hayley had served a jail term of six years. He was released a little over a year ago.
“Good work,” Clarke said at the next briefing session. “We need to find this Mr. Hayley. Keep pursuing that, Logan and James. I need a volunteer to accompany me. We have an appointment with a bank appraiser.” She looked at her watch. “Tomorrow morning first thing. We need a break. The rest of you should continue viewing security videos from the area around Charles Morton’s building and knocking on doors. It would help if either cameras or people spotted our arsonist. Again, tomorrow morning, first thing. We’ll hit everything fresh.”
Blake returned to his desk and texted Sally. How about some Chinese take-away?
Sounds good, she texted back. She sent an address. Pick me up in half an hour. XOXO.
Sally Gualchmai and Blake had become an item with some hesitation. He’d been a Londoner new to the Riversford area. She was Welsh but called the northlands home. She shared Patricia Clarke’s distrust of men, although Blake’s detective skills couldn’t yet determine why. The SOCO was still mostly a mystery to him, but their relationship was heating up. It was already beyond any Blake had ever had with another woman. And she even understood his love of music!
At that moment, Caine walked by and said, “Hot date? I saw you texting.”
“Szechuan,” Blake said.
“The girl or the food?” Blake frowned. “Sorry. Just me being a detective. I just wanted to say I enjoyed working with you today.”
Caine was new to Clarke’s group. Blake remembered that not long how hard it had been when he joined Riversford CID.
“Thanks. But you did most of the interview. And don’t worry. You’ll get into it soon enough.”
***
“Logan!”
Sally had gone ahead to open Blake’s flat while he unloaded what he figured was her overnight case and the take-away Chinese contained in several bags of cartons filled with assorted oriental delights. He saw a man approaching her. He put everything down, ran forward, and put himself between the threat and his girlfriend.
Sally’s attacker reached for Blake. The detective took him down and hauled out his cuffs. Sally whipped out her mobile. Light flooded the face of the thug.
“Pops? What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, pet. Your gossiping neighbor said you had a young man you were shagging.”
Blake chuckled and helped the fellow to his feet while hoping the violent takedown wouldn’t make him the evil boyfriend. “Mrs. Wright spreads stories sir, and at least half of what she says isn’t true.” Blake didn’t mention she probably didn’t hear the other half. The woman was nearly deaf and always had her telly on so loud he could hardly hear his music. Fortunately his keyboard had an earphone jack.
Sally hugged her father. “But why are you here in Riversford?”
“Nuts and bolts. A local company claims they shipped them to me, but I never got them.”
“He runs a hardware store,” Sally explained to Blake. “Pops, this is DS Logan Blake, my colleague and friend.”
“Owen Gualchmai, and pleased to make your acquaintance.” The two men shook hands. “I might be a bit sore after that was Kung Fu trick you pulled there, young man. Just like in the films.”
“Let’s go inside, sir. We have plenty of Chinese for everyone.” That was true. There were always leftover Chinese, although there might not be so much now with three diners.
Owen thought a moment. “Don’t believe I’ve ever had that. Holiday food?”
“No Pops,” Sally said. “More food for cops who don’t have any time to cook.”
They were soon enjoying the oriental repast with a nice hoppy ale. Sally and her father caught up a bit, and Blake felt a bit like the criminals he interrogated as the man probed his background.
During a lull in the conversation, Owen stabbed a slice of beef and spear of broccoli and savored it. He eyed his daughter who was facing him across the table. She and her boyfriend used the chopsticks that came with the take-away. He used fork and knife, probably wondering why the Chinese, with their thousands of years of civilization had never invented civilized table utensils.
“So you two are an item?”
Logan was pretending not to hear, but he was waiting for a response. The blush rose from below Sally’s neck to her face as she considered it, which might be more important to Logan than her father. What the hell? He wasn’t her first boyfriend!
“Yeah, it’s serious, Pops. As serious as it can be between two working cops, I guess.”
“Your mother will be pleased. She still wants grandchildren, you know. Boys. We had to stop with you, luv. She wanted the pair, you know.” He speared a piece of shrimp and chewed contentedly.
The blush disappeared. “Mum’s always trying to control my life. She hates my career.”
Owen gestured towards Blake. “Not as dangerous as what he does, I ‘spect.”
Blake thought of almost dying in the Thames, his head held underwater by a burly thug. Sally’s father had a point. SOCOs had the safer job—still dangerous, though.
***
Comments are always welcome.
Sleuthing, British-Style. Readers of this blog know that I’ve spent a lot of time reading during the COVID pandemic. In particular, I binge-read British-style mysteries, including entire series. A list can be found in this little collection of three stories introducing DI Patricia Clarke and DS Logan Blake, also British-style mysteries. I enjoyed writing them. You might also enjoy reading them. Available wherever quality ebooks are sold (but not on Smashwords).
In libris libertas!
