“Anyway, it all seems to have started with the death of Battersby’s daughter, Henrietta and continued all the way through to the point were the Journals run out.”
The original case, that revolved around The Ravens Gate was growing colder by the day and he had heard nothing from Arch Deacon, for weeks. In fact, it was since Commander Sykes, had moved him and Westie to a liaison role with the guys in C.I.D. This present powerless position he found himself in, was becoming intolerable. Try as he might, Alex could not control his mind, which was becoming obsessed with the lack of progress in this case. “Sitting here, feeling sorry for yourself, isn’t going to get anything moving. So, instead of just wasting your time thinking about it and driving yourself crazy, get off your fat arse and do something more constructive.” Alex, thought about it and resolved to give Arch a call, after he had dealt with the Masterson Mill’s fall from grace.
As if by magic, he had no sooner finished his viewing of the evidence regarding Daniel Masterson’s petition, than his phone started to give off it’s deep, “perrp, perrp,” sound and vibrate in his pocket. It was DS. Deacon calling him. “Hello Sir, long time, no see. I thought that I would give you a bell, to see how things are going at your end.” Surprisingly, hearing Deacon’s familiar voice, made Alex feel strangely happy and a touch weird at the same time. “Hello, are you there,” the voice on his phone enquired. “Yes, yes, I was just thinking about you a few moments ago and the phone rang. Spooky, or what?”
Arch, felt the pristine conditions, provided for ‘the departments brightest’ to shine, were overshadowed by it’s sterile atmosphere. He weighed up his next words carefully. “Spooky maybe, but over here, it’s more like deathly, if you ask me Sir. So, I thought I’d give you a call and see if there’s anything happening with the canal murder case?” Alex had hardly thought about it for weeks. “I’m still waiting for that Turnbull character, to deliver, on his promise.” “What was that then Sir, if you don’t mind me asking?” enquired Arch. Alex Findlay immediately knew, that as usual his D.S, had struck the nail on it’s head. “Mr. Turnbull, says, that he can provide me with a potted history of the goings on, along the canal bank, stretching back to ‘the beginning of it’s history.‘ I thought it may give us some other avenues or ideas to go on.” Arch was clearly impressed but obviously doubtful. “Do you believe him,” he instantly responded. “Well, I have no choice,” replied Alex. “Until we get something else to go on, we’re a little bit hamstrung.” Arch’s disappointment was palpable and he cursed the librarian, for his apparent tardiness. “I think you may need to give him a swift kick in the pants and see what shakes loose. What do you think, Sir?” Alex agreed, “I’ll phone Alan Turnbull and ask him, what’s happening with his search, as soon as we’ve finished with this conversation. Then, I’ll get back to you, if that’s O.K?” Arch, had no problem with that and made his feelings clear on the matter. “Don’t let him get away with another excuse. Keep him on the ball, Sir. He can piss around, as much as he likes, when he hands over the report.”