Gamble and the Pub Quiz

By C. J. Warren

George Gamble is a very experienced detective who has been involved in murders for most of his police career. He now has chosen the quiet life as a detective in the beautiful countryside surrounding the many villages of Brockton.

If he thought he would be enjoying the quiet life of a rural detective then he was wrong. Death and murder have followed him from the city to the countryside. And he is now investigating the brutal murders of five prostitutes along with the attempted murder of a fellow officer.

George Gamble treats every murder as a jigsaw puzzle and when he has all the parts of the jigsaw and the last piece falls into place then to him he has solved the murder and the killer is in custody. Let us follow him on his journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: May 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524633189

Book preview

Prologue

This is the second book in a series involving the work of Detective Inspector George Gamble and his trusty team. He has been the detective inspector for only six short months in the Northern Constabulary. He is now called upon to deal with a spate of burglaries at public houses and restaurants in the many villages of Brockton which are causing the residents to question what the police are doing about them. But murder is never too far away because they don’t call George Gamble, Doctor Death for nothing.

Chapter One

I was sitting in my office in Brockton under Edge looking out at the lovely fields on a very cold and sunny February morning when my sergeant walked in and disturbed me, ‘What is it?’ I asked sharply.

Taff replied, ‘There’s been another one of those burglaries, this time at the Swan in Brockton Magna. Do you want me to go and take a look?’

I said, ‘I will come with you, how many have we had now?’

‘Seven.’

‘That’s seven too many, it must be the same people doing them.’

Taff replied, ‘Probably, a team from outside the villages.’

I said, ‘Possibly, let’s go and take a look anyway.’

Brockton Magna was a lovely village about three miles south of where I was working from. I had been there once before when I was investigating the murder of the private investigator JJ Broome a few months earlier.

This time there was no murder but a burglary at a public house. We had now suffered seven such burglaries and the modus operandi used was the same in every case. Our burglars would break a window to set the alarm off and then they would wait for the police to attend. With the landlord’s assistance the building was searched by the police and of course at this stage no entry had been made to the building.

The police would then clear from the scene leaving the pub insecure or the landlord unable to reset the alarm because of the broken window. The burglars would be hiding nearby and when the police were well away and the lights in the pub now out they would return and gain entry to the building, either by using the broken window or as in most cases by forcing the fire door open but not before they cut the telephone wires as well.

Bingo, they were in and once inside they would force open the one-armed bandits and the cigarette machines and steal the cash. They would also steal as many cigarettes as they could, plus spirits. Within minutes they would be gone with the pub manager either fast asleep or too frightened to come downstairs

The burglars’ total haul would normally amount to about £10,000 which included the cash out of the machines. They would take the cash out of the tills, the cigarettes and the spirits, taking as much as they could carry. They would normally put their ill-gotten goods either into black bin bags or it had been known that they brought they own dustbins with them. No doubt stolen from the nearby houses.

Me and Taff arrived at the Swan to be met by the manager. A rather tall thin gentleman known simply as Sid and he went on to relate a story to us. He had closed the pub around 11:30pm and with his wife had retired to bed after first setting the alarm. At about 4:00am the alarm went off and it immediately woke both Sid and his wife. He looked out of the bedroom window that overlooked the car park and could see nothing.

He then went downstairs, checking the lounge where he found a broken window about one and a half feet square. The glass in the window had been smashed with a house brick which was now lying on the carpet inside the pub. As the alarm is monitored by a security company all he could do was wait for the company and police to arrive.

With both the security company and the police in attendance, a search of the whole of the pub was made but from the outside it just looked like a case of criminal damage. Both then left the scene with the manager placing a piece of hardboard up against the broken window: there was nothing that could be done until the morning. He then went back to bed.

It was then that our burglars struck: they must have waited for the police to go and then return to the pub; they would have had to have a vehicle nearby. They then cut the telephone wires, removed the hardboard and one of them climbed through and opened the fire door for his mate or mates and once more they were in. There was no fear of the alarm going off as it could not be reset owing to the broken window. With the telephone wires cut they could help themselves.

It really was as simple as that and the Swan at Brockton Magna was the seventh such burglary. I was put in charge of this investigation by Mile Away Micky after the first five burglaries and up until now I had got nowhere with the other breaks. There were no forensics and no witnesses and at this time no information was coming in.

Sid later went on to tell me that over £2,000 in £1 coins had been stolen along with 500 packets of cigarettes and 60 bottles of wine and spirits of various types – total haul in excess of £8,000. Yet another good night out for our burglars.

‘Taff,’ I said, ‘have you any informants who are into this type of crime?’

He replied, ‘I used to have one some time ago: he used to get rid of the cigarettes in Brockton on the Hill – do you want me to sound him out?’

‘Yes please, do that first and I will see you back at the station later, I am going to get a lift back to Central first with Chris from Scenes of Crime.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘I want to have a chat with the officers in the intelligence unit: they might have something.’

Taff replied, ‘Okay, boss, see you later.’

I left Taff to go and try and find one of his old informants. I don’t particularly like informants but they can be useful at times. I needed to find out where this team was selling the cigarettes and spirits and who in town was buying stuff from them and what were they doing with all the coins.

Chris began the examination of the pub and just like the other breaks the modus operandi used was the same. Break a window, set the alarm off then wait for the police to arrive to check the premises and then leave. Return sometime later cut, the telephone wires and get into the pub. Ransack the machines and steal the cash contents, steal the cigarettes and spirits then either load it into black bin bags or possibly dustbins then fuck right off – job well done.

I was standing outside the pub when an excited Chris came out and shouted in my direction, ‘Mr Gamble, George we may have something, this pub has CCTV in the lounge.’

I hurriedly walked towards the lounge and then to the landlord’s office where I found Sid sitting facing a small TV set. Apparently the Swan had a form of CCTV that was old but at least it worked. The three of us sat down to watch the morning’s burglary, if nothing else it would give us an idea of how long the burglars were in the pub and fingers crossed I might get a description.

I know that the alarm was activated at 3:48am and the security company and police were there within eight to ten minutes. The film was poor quality and grainy but it did show us, the police, entering the lounge area and conducting a quick search. They also went up to the broken window but they then left, leaving Sid to secure the windows as best he could. As the window was insecure he could not reset the alarm so after the police and security officer left Sid locked up and went upstairs.

As far as giving us any descriptions of the burglars the film was not good enough. It showed only two figures in dark clothing with full face masks on going from machine to machine forcing them open and stealing the cash from them. We could see the same figures then walk behind the bar area and help themselves to wines and spirits.

The CCTV was useless. I couldn’t even tell whether the burglars were black or white, male or female. I thanked Sid and asked Chris for a lift back to Central. Back there I went to the intelligence unit and asked the staff in there if not counting our seven burglaries did they know of others – cross forces etc. They kindly informed me that it would appear that only the Brockton villages were suffering from these kinds of burglaries. So did the burglars live nearby? Time would tell.

I would let Taff and Tracy deal with the burglaries: they could speak with their informants and see what the ‘word is on the street’ as all good TV cop shows tell us. Me, I had other things to do: as a DI I had to attend various meetings with senior management which I hated. The trouble with senior management is that they talk a good job but in most cases they have never done a good job. But I never made it to today’s meeting as my day once more was going to be interrupted by a telephone call.

Chapter Two

I t must have been about ten to twelve when my mobile rang: it was the control room. ‘Are you available to visit a suspicious death?’

‘Yes, who and where?’

This is the work I love – dead bodies.

‘It’s the licensee of the Spotted Cow in Brockton Whitney about ten miles north from your station.’

I said, ‘Briefly then, sergeant, what are the circumstances?’

‘The uniform attended an alarm and when they got there, they noticed the fire door was open. They have searched the place and found the licensee apparently dead at the foot of the cellar stairs.’

‘Has the place been broken into?’

‘Yes.’

‘I am on my way – is the uniform inspector going?’

‘Yes, he is on his way.’

‘Many thanks: show me on the command and control log please.’

‘It’s done.’

Well for the time being I was on my own: the rest of the team had gone looking for informants – now driving to the pub had me thinking. Was the Spotted Cow our pub break team or was it a one-off? The times were certainly different as the seven breaks had occurred in the early hours of the morning and now this one was in the middle of the day.

Also the licensee being found dead – what’s that all about? I got there in pretty good time; the Scenes of Crime Officer, my old mate Chris, was already there and the scene was taped off.

I was greeted by the uniform inspector who led me into the pub, then behind the bar in the lounge area and to a wooden door that was open and to the top of a flight of concrete steps. Looking down I could see the body of a middle-aged man quite well built lying on the floor, face-down. Like the job said, it looked like he had fallen down the stairs, but all that was about to change with the arrival of the police surgeon.

The police surgeon was a grumpy old bastard called Doctor Jolly, of all names. I had not met him before but I was assured by the duty inspector that he was a miserable little shit. His job was to confirm that the licensee was dead and look for any obvious marks on the body that may have contributed to his death.

I was told that the licensee was known as ‘Fat Boy’ by the locals owing to his size and by looking at him on the floor I couldn’t argue with that – he was a very big man probably 20 stone or so. Considering the pub was in a lovely village, it was tatty almost dirty-looking and very neglected.

My first thought was the timing of the burglary was all wrong: all our previous breaks had been in the early hours of the morning and this one was in the middle of the day, but the MO was the similar: strange. First things first, my police surgeon was beckoning me to join him in the cellar.

‘Inspector Gamble,’ he said.

‘Yes, Doctor Jolly.’

‘Look at his head to the right.’

I could see one distinct red mark with blood around it, it looked like a round mark about the size of a clothes button. I turned to Doctor Jolly and enquired, ‘Is that’ (pointing to the mark) ‘what I think it is, a possible gunshot wound?’

He replied, ‘That’s what I think, it certainly looks like it.’

I said, ‘Where’s all the blood?’

‘Probably in his lungs, a post-mortem will tell us, but I think you might have a murder, inspector.’

For fuck’s sake just what I wanted. I have seven pub breaks and now a pub break with a dead body, possibly a murder. Well, I have some telephone calls to make. I need my team here now. ‘Doc, I am just going outside to make some telephone calls, can you carry on with your examination please?’

‘Yes, will do.’

I walked up the stone stairs and out onto the car park and saw Chris with some uniform officers. ‘Chris,’ I shouted. ‘Can I have a word?’

‘Sure, boss, what is it?’

‘It might be a murder, the police surgeon has found what he thinks is an entry hole in the back of his head that might have been caused by a handgun. I am now going to call out a Home Office pathologist, so can you hang about to do a full forensic on the scene?’

‘Yes, no problem.’

Before I had time to take the phone out of my pocket, I was approached by an elderly male who said to me, ‘Are you in charge?’

‘Yes, at the moment. I am Detective Inspector George Gamble, what can I do for you?’

He replied, ‘It’s more of what I can do for you.’

I said, ‘Go on, then.’

Thinking to myself this will no doubt be the village nosy parker but if he has some information then I will gladly listen.

‘Has the pub been broken into?’

I said, ‘Yes, didn’t you hear the alarm go off?’

He said, ‘It’s always going off, he’s always pissed and setting it off.’

I said, ‘Do you know him?’

‘No, I wouldn’t be seen dead in the place it’s a shithole and full of criminals.’

I said, ‘What in this beautiful village: you have criminals?’

‘No, they come from all over, normally Birmingham and sometimes even Nottingham.’

I said, ‘Why do they come here?’

‘Because of him, Fat Boy, that’s why they come.’

I said, ‘Is the beer that good?’

‘No, it’s not the beer, he is into anything that makes money.’

I said, ‘Like what, may I ask?’

‘Receiving stolen property.’

‘Like what?’

‘Anything but normally fags and spirits.’

I am thinking to myself: is that where all our stolen property from the pub breaks has ended up? In the pub of Fat Boy.

I said, ‘Can I ask your name please?’

‘Just call me Mike.’

‘Mike.’

‘Yes.’

‘No other name?’

‘No, Mike will do.’

‘Can I speak with you later as I have some phone calls to make?’

‘Yes, I live next to the church at the end of Main Street.’

With that the old man walked off but he left me thinking that perhaps Fat Boy is our receiver of stolen goods, but first I needed to make them calls. Firstly to the control room to arrange a pathologist, and then secondly to call Taff and Tracy from their informant searching. I was thinking to myself that I couldn’t remember the last time I dealt with the murder of a licensee.

I was joined in the car park by Doctor Jolly who I thought wasn’t that much of a miserable bastard as people had said and he told me that in his opinion our licensee Fat Boy had been executed. Strong words, I know, but he was adamant that he had been shot once in the back of the head and that he had his back to the killer just like an execution, oh and he was most definitely dead and had been for about two hours or so the doctor thought.

Fuck me, I thought, an execution in a pub, what happens next? I thanked the doctor and asked him to forward his statement to me in due course. As for me, I was waiting for the pathologist as I couldn’t do anything until he or she had looked at the scene.

It was then that the control room informed me that Mile Away Micky, the superintendent, was on his way to the pub and that the pathologist, Doctor Brook, was on also on her way and would be an hour or so.

The superintendent arrived and judging by the way he was dressed, head to foot in golfing clothes, I guessed his visit to the scene was going to be short and sweet. Yes, I was right, a quick ten-minute chat and he said those famous words, ‘I’ll leave it with you’ and off he drove to the golf club. I suppose in reality I didn’t want him around as senior officers tend to get in the way most of the time. I just needed Taff and Tracy, so we could get on with the job in hand.

Just then, Taff with Tracy on-board drove onto the car park and screeched to a halt in his BMW and then both in harmony they jumped out of the car, just like you see on the television. Taff shouted, ‘What we got, boss?’

I said, ‘Taff, for God’s sake, slow down. We have one dead licensee with a bullet in his head who looks as if he has been executed.’

Taff said, ‘Executed.’

I said, ‘Yes, executed: he has been shot in the back of his head.’

‘Fucking hell, what do we know about him?’

I said, ‘Not a lot at the moment. I have got someone from the brewery coming here to give us some background.’

Taff said, ‘Has anything been stolen?’

‘Again Taff, I don’t know at present, but let’s deal with the body first, I am waiting for Doctor Brook, the patholgist to arrive.’

Taff said, ‘I don’t think this will be connected to the pub breaks, do you?’

I said, ‘Too early to say, the locals did say that Fat Boy was a receiver of stolen property – so he could have been our man who was having the stolen cigarettes and spirits from the burglaries.’

‘That’s true, I suppose. What do you want me to do now?’

I said, ‘I’d like you and Tracy to start supervising the house-to-house enquiries. I have Bunny coming from Central with some forms and for the time being we will use the village hall. I have cleared it with Mrs Walker who looks after the place.’

‘Okay, boss.’

I then said, ‘Once Bunny has been he will return to Central and get the incident room opened and arrange for some staff and I will hold a briefing there in the morning. Also for the next few days we will base ourselves in the village hall.’

‘Sound, I will speak with you later.’

I said, ‘Taff, can you find out if there is another pub in the village’.

‘Will do.’

Taff left with Tracy to walk to the village hall to await the arrival of Bunny and his forms. Just then, Doctor Brook arrived and I said to her, ‘Morning, Doctor Brook, nice to see you again.’

She replied, ‘You too – what do we have?’

I said, ‘We have one dead licensee at the bottom of the cellar stairs, looking at the body he appears to have been shot in the back of the head whilst at the top of the stairs and after being shot he has fallen from top to bottom. We have not moved or searched the body, yet all we have done is the local police surgeon has attended and confirmed that he is dead probably as a result of being shot.’

She said, ‘Okay, lead the way, inspector.’

I showed Dr Brook to the top of the cellar stairs and told her that the police had responded to the automatic alarm being activated, they arrived to find the pub insecure. The officers made a search of the pub and discovered the licensee lying apparently dead at the floor of the cellar stairs.

Dr Brook asked, ‘Has he been positively identified?’

I said, ‘Not yet – apparently he lived alone at the pub and he was known locally as Fat Boy owing to his size.’

‘Okay.’

I said, ‘If it is alright with you, I will get Chris the Scenes of Crime Officer to come down with you because I do need the body searching.’

‘Yes, no problem.’

By this time I had been joined by Chris, I had worked with him on a previous murder enquiry and had found him very professional and thorough. I trusted him and was pleased to be working with him again.

Chris and Dr Brook made their way down the cellar stairs, I remained at the top. After about 45 minutes Dr Brook completed her examination and made her way back up the stairs. That left Chris and a colleague of his searching the body. I then turned to Dr Brook and said, ‘Well, what’s your first thoughts?’

She replied, ‘He has definitely been shot in the back of the head and it looks like the exit wound is under his left eye. There is blood under the body and no doubt there will be further blood in his body.’

I said, ‘So at this stage it looks like he has been shot once and the bullet has left his body.’

She said, ‘Yes, so the bullet is likely to be in that cellar somewhere.’

I shouted down the stairs, ‘Did you hear that, Chris?’

He replied, ‘Yes, I will need to get some more lighting down here.’

I said, ‘Can I leave that with you?’

He said, ‘Yes, I will finish searching the body first.’

I said, ‘Dr Brook, do you think he was shot whilst at the top of the cellar stairs?’

‘Yes, I do, he has bruising on his face and his hands and no doubt when I do the post-mortem I will find other bruising on the body.’

‘Any thoughts of where the killer was standing at the time of the shooting?’

She said, ‘Yes, I do actually, the killer in my opinion was standing directly behind and to the right of him. Also of interest, the killer was shorter than the victim.’

I said, ‘How did you reach that?’

She said, ‘The exit wound is higher that the entry wound, meaning the gun was fired upwards by the killer.’

I said, ‘That’s excellent: when Chris and his team have finished I will get the body removed to the mortuary. Can we pencil in a time tomorrow for the post-mortem?’

‘How about 10:00am?’

I said, ‘Yes, that’s fine, I will see you then.’

Chapter Three

W ith that, the ever-helpful Doctor Brook left the pub. I told Chris that I was going over to the village hall to speak with Bunny, DS Bunn, and if he (Chris) needed anything to give me a shout.

He then said, ‘Just before you go, boss, look at this.’

He then showed me several large bundles of cash that he had found in the licensee’s trouser pockets. ‘Fuck me, Chris, how much is there?’

He said, ‘Looks like about thirty grand.’

I said, ‘Bag it up, Chris, I will get it counted later: looks like robbery was not the reason he was shot.’

He said, ‘There is also a driving licence here.’

I said, ‘What name is on it?’

‘Francis William Owen, with a date of birth 28/12/1961, making him 51 and the address on the licence is here at the pub.’

I thanked Chris and made my way over to the village hall where Bunny, Taff and Tracy were waiting.

Taff enquired, ‘Any news, boss?’

I said, ‘Well, he is most definitely dead, having been shot, and he had in the region of thirty grand on him.’

Taff said, ‘Well, robbery doesn’t appear to be the motive, then: have you identified him yet?’

I said, ‘Not formally, but he had a driving licence on him with the name Francis William Owen but for now don’t repeat his name when speaking with people: let them tell you, not the other way around. Oh, and he had a nickname of Fat Boy so some people might refer to him by that.’

Taff said, ‘Okay.’

I said, ‘Did you find out if there was another pub?’

Taff replied, ‘Yes there is right at the far end of the village, spookily called the Village Inn.’

I said, ‘Taff, can you go and have a chat with the licensee there and see if he knows anything about Mr Fat Boy Owen and his reputation?’

‘Okay.’

I said, ‘Tracy, there is an old man who lives next to the church at the end of Main Street, name of Mike. He approached me this morning and told me that Fat Boy was into everything. Can you go and have a chat with him and see if you can get anything else out of him?’

She replied, ‘Yes, no problem.’

‘He might respond more to a pretty face.’

She replied, ‘Thanks, boss.’

I said, ‘Bunny that leaves me and y ou. I am going to tell you what happened as far as I know this morning. I want you to tell me if I have missed anything.’

Bunny replied, ‘Yes, fire away, sorry about the pun.’

I said, ‘Right. 11:50am the alarm goes off at the pub, 11:56am the police arrive and enter the pub through an open fire door. They complete a full search of the pub and living quarters and then at about 12:20pm they open the cellar door at the back of the bar and find our dead man, the rest you know.’

Bunny asked, ‘The fire door was the only insecure door in the pub?’

I said, ‘Yes.’

He said, ‘So one can assume the gunman left by that door?’

I said, ‘Yes.’

He said, ‘That probably means that the gunman was invited in.’

I said, ‘That’s what it looks like.’

He said, ‘The thing is, did the gunman know Fat Boy or had he come to the pub with the intention of killing him?’

I said, ‘Good question – what do you think?’

He said, ‘I think they knew one another, if you say that Fat Boy makes money out of anything it could just be two villains falling out.’

I said, ‘Over the proceeds of their crime.’

He said, ‘That would be my interpretation.’

I said, ‘So it might not be related to the other breaks?’

He said, ‘I don’t think you can dismiss that. Fat Boy might be the handler of the cigarettes and spirits and that’s what they fell out over.’

I said, ‘Rather than a robbery that’s gone wrong.’

He said, ‘Yes.’

I said, ‘Thanks, Bunny, now we have the use of the village hall for a couple of days so we can run the house-to-house from here.’

‘Okay, boss, I will get some uniform down here.’

I said, ‘Thanks, I will get Taff to look after the house-to-house team as I want you to run the incident room at Central.’

He said,