shouted at him to leave Ruby alone.
‘I think it’s time we broke it up, Fred,’ said Wood, smothering a laugh, and he and DC Wilmot ran across the road. ‘We’re police officers,’ he shouted, as he and his partner drew closer to the warring crowd. ‘Now then, now then, what’s going on?’ he demanded.
‘All right, ladies, leave him be. It’s the law. They’ll take care of him,’ shouted Ruby, who knew what was to happen next. ‘This man assaulted me, officer,’ she said as the policemen drew within earshot. ‘He grabbed hold of me tits.’
‘I did nothing of the sort,’ protested Naylor loudly. ‘It was the other way round. That common little tart attacked me.’
It was a statement that brought forth a further battery of insults directed at Naylor.
‘Common little tarts, are we?’ shouted one girl. ‘But you couldn’t wait to have it up with one of us, could you?’
‘I’m a police officer,’ Wood repeated, seizing hold of Naylor’s arm. ‘I’m arresting you for making an affray.’
Naylor’s face became suffused with rage. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ll have you know that I happen to be a personal friend of Sir Edward Henry.’
‘I’ll make sure he knows you’ve been arrested,’ said Wood mildly. As an officer stationed in the centre of the capital, he had frequently encountered such veiled threats. ‘He’s very keen to maintain public order is the Commissioner. I’ll probably get a pat on the back.’
‘It was that woman who started it,’ shouted Naylor as he looked around for Ruby Hoskins, but following Hardcastle’s instructions she had fled.
‘Pick up that gentleman’s cane,’ said Wood to a constable, and signalled to the police van that he had arranged to have waiting. Wilmot bundled the still protesting Naylor into it, and Wood arrested Sarah Cotton telling her that she had been a part of the affray.
But neither she nor Naylor was to know that Hardcastle had carefully orchestrated the entire operation.
‘Sir Royston Naylor is in the charge room, sir,’ said DS Wood, ‘and Sarah Cotton is being looked after in the matron’s office.’
‘Did Naylor give any trouble, Wood?’
‘No, sir, apart from screeching like a banshee,’ said Wood, with a grin, ‘and claiming that the Commissioner is a personal friend of his.’
‘Aren’t they all?’ said Hardcastle phlegmatically, and calling for Marriott, he descended to the charge room.
Naylor leaped to his feet the moment the DDI entered. ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ he demanded. ‘And I want to know your name.’
‘I’m Divisional Detective Inspector Hardcastle, head of the CID for this division. And this is Detective Sergeant Marriott.’ Hardcastle indicated his assistant with a casual wave of one hand while dismissing the attendant constable with the other.
‘Well, Inspector, it might interest you to know that I happen to be a personal friend of—’
‘If you’re going to say Sir Edward Henry, I’ve just been on the phone to him and he said he’d never heard of you.’ Hardcastle had done no such thing of course, but took a chance on the Commissioner not knowing Sir Royston Naylor. Although accustomed to Hardcastle’s frequent outrageous statements, Marriott was, nonetheless, flabbergasted at the enormity of his DDI’s latest fabrication.
‘That still doesn’t explain why I was hauled down here in a police van like a common criminal.’ The exposure of his lie about knowing the Commissioner did nothing to deflect Naylor’s rage at having been arrested.
‘My officers tell me that you were engaged in an unseemly brawl with several prostitutes in Wilton Road, Sir Royston,’ said Hardcastle mildly. ‘And that makes you a common criminal in my book.’
‘I was trying to defend myself. I was set upon by those damned women for no reason at all.’
‘Be that as it may, Sir Royston, I understand that one young woman complained that you’d
‘I think it’s time we broke it up, Fred,’ said Wood, smothering a laugh, and he and DC Wilmot ran across the road. ‘We’re police officers,’ he shouted, as he and his partner drew closer to the warring crowd. ‘Now then, now then, what’s going on?’ he demanded.
‘All right, ladies, leave him be. It’s the law. They’ll take care of him,’ shouted Ruby, who knew what was to happen next. ‘This man assaulted me, officer,’ she said as the policemen drew within earshot. ‘He grabbed hold of me tits.’
‘I did nothing of the sort,’ protested Naylor loudly. ‘It was the other way round. That common little tart attacked me.’
It was a statement that brought forth a further battery of insults directed at Naylor.
‘Common little tarts, are we?’ shouted one girl. ‘But you couldn’t wait to have it up with one of us, could you?’
‘I’m a police officer,’ Wood repeated, seizing hold of Naylor’s arm. ‘I’m arresting you for making an affray.’
Naylor’s face became suffused with rage. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ll have you know that I happen to be a personal friend of Sir Edward Henry.’
‘I’ll make sure he knows you’ve been arrested,’ said Wood mildly. As an officer stationed in the centre of the capital, he had frequently encountered such veiled threats. ‘He’s very keen to maintain public order is the Commissioner. I’ll probably get a pat on the back.’
‘It was that woman who started it,’ shouted Naylor as he looked around for Ruby Hoskins, but following Hardcastle’s instructions she had fled.
‘Pick up that gentleman’s cane,’ said Wood to a constable, and signalled to the police van that he had arranged to have waiting. Wilmot bundled the still protesting Naylor into it, and Wood arrested Sarah Cotton telling her that she had been a part of the affray.
But neither she nor Naylor was to know that Hardcastle had carefully orchestrated the entire operation.
‘Sir Royston Naylor is in the charge room, sir,’ said DS Wood, ‘and Sarah Cotton is being looked after in the matron’s office.’
‘Did Naylor give any trouble, Wood?’
‘No, sir, apart from screeching like a banshee,’ said Wood, with a grin, ‘and claiming that the Commissioner is a personal friend of his.’
‘Aren’t they all?’ said Hardcastle phlegmatically, and calling for Marriott, he descended to the charge room.
Naylor leaped to his feet the moment the DDI entered. ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ he demanded. ‘And I want to know your name.’
‘I’m Divisional Detective Inspector Hardcastle, head of the CID for this division. And this is Detective Sergeant Marriott.’ Hardcastle indicated his assistant with a casual wave of one hand while dismissing the attendant constable with the other.
‘Well, Inspector, it might interest you to know that I happen to be a personal friend of—’
‘If you’re going to say Sir Edward Henry, I’ve just been on the phone to him and he said he’d never heard of you.’ Hardcastle had done no such thing of course, but took a chance on the Commissioner not knowing Sir Royston Naylor. Although accustomed to Hardcastle’s frequent outrageous statements, Marriott was, nonetheless, flabbergasted at the enormity of his DDI’s latest fabrication.
‘That still doesn’t explain why I was hauled down here in a police van like a common criminal.’ The exposure of his lie about knowing the Commissioner did nothing to deflect Naylor’s rage at having been arrested.
‘My officers tell me that you were engaged in an unseemly brawl with several prostitutes in Wilton Road, Sir Royston,’ said Hardcastle mildly. ‘And that makes you a common criminal in my book.’
‘I was trying to defend myself. I was set upon by those damned women for no reason at all.’
‘Be that as it may, Sir Royston, I understand that one young woman complained that you’d
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