Flandra: The Mercedes Drew Mysteries, #3

By Barnaby Wilde

Mysterious goings on in the allotments, a lorry hijack and arson at the golf club. Three more complete stories about Mercedes Drew, her 1969 Triumph Bonneville T120 motorcycle and Detective Inspector Desmond Flowers, in Volume Three of the Mercedes Drew Mysteries.
Who is stealing Derek Trott's carrots? Where are the counterfeit coins in Gordon's coffee machine coming from? Who hijacked a lorry full of TV's? What is Flandra? Answers to all these questions and more in 'Flandra, volume three of the Mercedes Drew Mysteries.'

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barnaby Wilde
• Release date: Apr 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301458097

Barnaby Wilde

Barnaby Wilde is the pen name of Tim Fisher. Tim was born in 1947 in Hertfordshire, United Kingdom, but grew up and was educated in the West Country. He graduated with a Physics degree in 1969 and worked in manufacturing and quality control for a multinational photographic company for 30 years before taking an early retirement to pursue other interests. He has two grown up children and currently lives happily in Devon.

Book preview

Flandra

(Contains Parts 7 to 9 of the Mercedes Drew Mysteries)

By

Barnaby Wilde

Copyright 2013 by Barnaby Wilde

Barnaby Wilde asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Published by Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover picture: based on an original photo by Awesomoman

Other published works by the author.

A Question of Alignment – a Tom Fletcher novel

I Keep Thinking It's Tuesday – a Tom Fletcher novel

Animalia – a collection of quirky verse with an animal theme

Life… -- a collection of verse on a vaguely 'life' related theme

The Blind Philospher and the God of Small Things -- more verse, with a philosophical theme and bad puns.

Not at all Rhinocerus – a collection of verse with almost no mention of rhinoceros

A Little Bit Elephant – a collection of very quirky verse which is only slightly elephant.

Tunnel Vision – a collection of longer verses featuring flying saucers, dining tables, whales and shoes, with puns and jokes as usual.

The Well Boiled Icycle -- 35 New 'quirky' poems featuring Clockwork Wellingtons, Goldfish, Jugglers and Gingerbread Men, but not necessarily in that order.

Barnaby's Shorts (volumes 1, 2 and 3) – ten coffee break length short stories in each to suit all tastes.

Flowers for Mercedes – Parts one to three of the Mercedes Drew Mysteries.

Free Running – Parts four to six of the Mercedes Drew Mysteries.

Visit www.barnaby-wilde.co.uk for the author's blog and more information about the world of Barnaby Wilde.

Table of Contents

Part Seven Flowers Gets Lucky

Part Eight Operation Nightjar

Part Nine Flandra

(For Parts One to Three, see Flowers for Mercedes, the first volume of Mercedes Drew Mysteries.

For Parts Four to Six, see Free Running, the second volume of the Mercedes Drew Mysteries).

Other works by Barnaby Wilde

PART SEVEN

Flowers Gets Lucky

Jesus, Gord. It's bloody freezing outside.

Mercedes stomped across the floor at 'Flash, motorcycle couriers', and banged her bike helmet down on the counter. She shook her long blonde hair free and began to remove her gloves.

Good morning, Drew, said Gordon. I take it you're not wearing your thermals under those tight fitting leathers?

… No, he continued, holding up one hand. There's no need to answer that question. I can see for myself that you aren't. He cast an appraising eye down and then back up her black, one piece motorcycle outfit. It's a nice look, he continued, but it doesn't leave a lot to the imagination, especially when it's this cold.

She put her leather gauntlets down by the helmet and gave him a one fingered salute. Where's that little brother of mine? she asked. I hope he's not skiving again.

Actually, he's not, Drew. Believe it or not, just at this moment he's expanding our business.

What do you mean, expanding?

Ah, Drew. For once, you are going to have to wait. I wouldn't want to steal his thunder. He'll tell you himself, soon enough, when he gets back.

You are an irritating sod, Gordon. There was a time when you used to confide in me, but ever since you met my little brother you seem to have swapped allegiance. Sometimes I regret ever introducing you two. Anyway, I'm frozen. I need a coffee. I take it you've got a brew on?

Gordon smiled. I'm delighted to be able to tell you that we can now offer a range of hot beverages, with, not only coffee, caffeinated and decaffeinated, but also tea, hot chocolate, or a choice of chicken or vegetable soup.

Mercedes looked askance at him. Are you taking the piss?

Certainly not. He pointed over to a shiny new drinks machine at the side of the reception area. Voila.

She turned and looked to where he was pointing. Where did that come from?

New in today, he said. You are one of the first to test our new facility.

She walked across to the new machine. A quid! she said loudly. You mean we have to pay a quid now for coffee? It used to be free.

Ah, yes, but your brother pointed out how much that little benefit was costing us each year.

Bentley? she exploded. I might have know that little toad would be behind something like this.

Look at it this way, Drew. Think of it as offering improved choice. An enhanced service for both employees and customers, available around the clock for a very modest charge.

It's not a modest charge, it's a bloody rip off. It's more like a pay cut than an employee benefit. Christ, Gordon, that's ten quid a week if I have one drink in the morning and one in the afternoon. I'll murder Bentley for putting you up to this. You used to be quite a decent bloke once, for a bloke, that is.

Well, it's not compulsory, Drew. You could always bring a flask, or there's that van on the Industrial Estate. I believe he does good coffee, though I do seem to remember he charges more than a quid for it.

You complacent git, Gordon. You'll regret this you know. Pissing off your staff is not a good move. She fished in the pocket of her leathers and, with some difficulty, extracted a one pound coin and pushed it into the coin slot on the vending machine. It disappeared inside but didn't register on the display.

It's bust, she said, thumping the side of the machine with her fist.

Don't do that, yelled Gordon, leaping out from behind his counter. You'll break it. It's a precision machine, not a bloody punch bag.

It's already bust, she repeated. It's taken my money and not given me a drink. She thumped the machine again and a jet of hot water suddenly streamed down from the spout where a cup should have been. The two of them watched the steaming liquid disappear down through the perforated grille below.

I demand a refund, said Mercedes. I could have been scalded there. Are you sure this thing's safe?

F*** you, Drew. You've bust my new machine. It was only put in this morning.

There's a label on the side, she read. It's got a number to call in case of faults. You could get them to take it away at the same time.

He walked back to the counter, muttering. Bloody women. No idea how to treat precision equipment.

Here, he said, picking up a sheet of paper from the counter and thrusting it in Drew's direction. It's your next job. Pick up from Slater's in the High Street. You'd better get going. The clock's already running.

She picked up her helmet and turned to go. Slater's, solicitors, was one of their best customers and it didn't pay to keep them waiting. She presumed it would be papers to be delivered to the courthouse. I shall expect my quid back, she yelled over her shoulder as she walked out to her parked bike.

As she swept out of the yard on her 1969 Triumph Bonneville T120 motorcycle, she narrowly missed colliding with a white van swinging in from the road. She didn't notice that the driver was her younger brother, Bentley.

In his office at the Wembury Road Police Station, Detective Inspector Flowers rocked back in his chair with a fresh cup of coffee, as he discoursed to his young partner opposite on some of the finer points of last night's international rugby.

Detective Constable Christine Taylor feigned interest as Flowers carefully described the difference between a ruck and a scrum. She was almost relieved when Detective Chief Inspector Webb appeared in the doorway.

Ah, Desmond, said the D.C.I. as he strode into the office. I see you're not busy. Good. Good.

Flowers tipped his chair forward with a bang and slopped coffee onto his desk and himself. When the boss called him Desmond, it usually spelled trouble.

Good morning, Sir, he said, dabbing at his leg with a handkerchief. We were just grabbing a quick coffee. We are quite busy, actually. But the words were falling on deaf ears.

Desmond, continued D.C.I. Webb. It's a bit of a delicate matter.

Flowers felt a momentary wave of despair wash over him. It wouldn't be anything to do with the Superintendent, would it, Sir?

D.C.I. Webb looked surprised. How did you know? he asked. He hasn't spoken to you already, has he?

No, Sir. It was just a hunch.

Something of a clue when you called me Desmond, he thought to himself. What seems to be the problem? he asked.

D.C.I. Webb pulled his spectacles down his nose and peered over the top of them. Disappearing vegetables, he said, mysteriously.

Unseen by the D.C.I., Chris was having a problem maintaining a straight face as she watched and listened to the conversation between her superiors.

Vegetables? asked a puzzled looking Flowers.

Yes. Carrots, cabbages, that sort of thing.

I know what vegetables are, Sir, but why is the Super worrying about them?

They're disappearing, Desmond, that's why.

Chris began coughing into her hand as she attempted to stifle a giggle. Flowers opened his mouth to speak, but D.C.I. Webb continued before he had framed his next question.

It's the allotments. Someone's stealing vegetables from the allotments.

I didn't know the Super had an allotment.

He hasn't, Desmond. Not as far as I know, anyway. It's his brother in law who has the allotment. Down by the canal.

I should have known, thought Flowers gloomily. If it wasn't the Superintendent's wife, it could only be some other close relative.

Is this really a matter for us, Sir? asked Flowers. Vegetable pilfering? Shouldn't uniformed be following up on something like that? Or the gardening police, or the Royal Horticultural Society or something?

Have you quite finished, Desmond? I have assured the Superintendent that we will investigate fully and as I can see that you have now finished your coffee break, perhaps you'll give it some attention.

Flowers could see his young partner opposite, trying desperately to stifle her laughter into a wholly inadequate paper tissue.

Of course, Sir. We shall give the matter the full attention it deserves.

D.C.I. Webb considered Flowers' reply for a moment and opened his mouth as if to respond, thought better of it, turned and left. He reappeared in the doorway a moment later.

Discretion, Desmond. You do understand the need to be discreet.

Flowers nodded at his boss. Of course, Sir. I shall be the very soul of discretion, he said with a straight face.

Good. Good, muttered D.C.I. Webb, as he disappeared down the corridor for a second time.

Chris looked as though she was about to explode with laughter. Don't you dare, said Flowers, glowering in her direction. I think this might well become your case, anyway, Miss Taylor, if you aren't careful.

'Flash' Gordon and Bentley Drew were examining a white van outside the hut which served as the premises for 'Flash, motorcycle couriers'.

It's got a few miles on the clock, explained Bentley, but, otherwise, it's in pretty good nick.

Gordon peered round the cab area. It's been treated well, by the look of it.

Yeh. There's an odd little scratch on the side, but nothing much, and I got the price down a bit. I reckon it'll be ideal.

Gordon nodded in agreement. How long before we can get the logo on the side?

Ah. I've had an idea about that, Gord. What do you think about 'Flash in the van'?

What, as a slogan you mean?

Yeh. I thought you could keep 'Flash, motorcycle couriers' as the main business name, but on the van we could put 'Flash in the van' in big letters and underneath it, in smaller letters, put 'part of Flash courier services', or something like that.

Bentley looked at Gordon for approval and Gordon nodded gently at the suggestion. Yeh, he said. Yeh. I like it.

That's lucky, said Bentley. I've got the sign guy making it up now. It'll be on the van by tonight if you O.K. it.

Cheeky sod. Just remember whose business this is Bentley.

Yes, boss. Good idea, though, wasn't it?

Gordon had to agree.

Was that my sister I saw sweeping out as I drove in?

Yeh. She's only gone and bust the new coffee machine, you know.

You're joking?

I'm not. I had to stop her kicking seven bells out of it after she'd jammed the coin mechanism.

Have you called the engineer?

Yeh. He'll be back after lunch.

Bloody women.

Gordon had to agree.

So, boss, when are we going to investigate the great cabbage patch heist?

Flowers glowered at his partner across the office. Why don't you set up a chat with the Super's brother in law? His name's Derek, by the way. I met him at one of the Super's garden parties a couple of years ago. Derek Trott, I believe. Seemed a decent enough guy. I'm sure the Super's secretary will be able to get the number for you.

He began rifling through the backlog of reports on his desk while Chris made a few phone calls.

Boss, she called across to Flowers a few minutes later. His wife says he's down on the allotment now. He'll be there all day, apparently. She says we should go and visit him there.

Doesn't he have a mobile phone?

Apparently not, boss. He goes down there to get off the world.

Actually, thought Flowers, if I was married to the Super's sister in law, I'd probably do the same. He glanced at his watch. We could go there after lunch, he said. "I think an hour out of the office might do us