10. Reading a Book

Constable Hazel is shocked by what she is reading, and shares her thoughts with her superintendent

WORDS MEAN DEATH

10. Reading a book

“I think you should take a look at this sir?” Constable Overton called to Superintendent Peterson, who was sitting three desks away from rhe young woman was bent over a monitor and reading something intently.

“I was busy,” growled the Superintendent, who gave no impression of being anything of the sort unless mulling over a month out=of-date list of statistics was being busy.

“It’s the manuscript that the Reverend Wolf has been, er, making all the fuss about, sir The one written by the murdered man, and I think I can see why he didn’t like it.” replied Hazel pointedly. And as if to hammer her point home she added, “the one the DI has gone charging down south to apprehend before he kills someone else.”

“Oh. I see. Then I’d better take a look, though I did warn the DI that we don’t want to annoy the church. Annoying important people in the ministry can lead to consequences that I don’t like to think about. The Bishop has important contacts, you know...”

“I know that sir, but if one of them actually murders a writer because he’s written something he doesn’t like then don’t you think it’s our job to put him where he belongs, behind bars?” Hazel Overton was aware that what she said might be misinterpreted as insolence by the station’s most senior officer, but she was equally aware that this superintendent had an eye for pretty young women, and she considered herself to be in that category in his eyes. He’d tried once or twice to be overly familiar with her.

Superintendent Peterson left his chair and looked over her shoulder.

“What is it we’re looking at then, constable,” he asked, and she indicated the screen in front of her. He didn’t have to read it for long before he took a step backwards and muttered “good grief! Is that filth what you’re getting all excited about, constable? And aren’t you too young to be exposed to such… such… such filth!”

“I am twenty-seven, sir, and with two kids of my own,” she said, a trifle firmly, “and I’ve been obliged to read much worse in the course of my duties.”

“But, constable, do women allow priests or vicars or whatever he’s supposed to be do that kind of thing to them? I mean, read that piece there. Where does he think he’s putting his hand?”

“If they enjoy it as much as the man in the collar says he does,” grinned Hazel, “I mean, there are places where a man is allowed to touch a woman as long as she gives her permission, and the old lady in this story does more than give her permission, she demands it!”

“My mother wouldn’t countenance anyone, not even a holy man, going anywhere near her… you know what, and my mother’s of a like age to the woman on your screen!”

“The point I wanted to make, sir, is if the Reverend Wolf thinks this vicar in the novel, who calls himself the Reverend Fox, is based on him and if there’s truth in what the story suggests, then might he not want to make sure the whole story’s destroyed? I mean, some of what I’ve read must be criminal, and I’m only part way through the story.”

“I he might want to suppress it if he’s seen it. But how can he have cast an eye on what you’ve got on. your computer? I’ve been led to believe he didn/t have access to the Internet, and he can’t have seen it if that’s the case.”

“Ah, sir, but he did have access! The author, Dorien Hemsworth, didn’t have much protection on his own wifi connection, and the distance between his modem and the Reverend’s house is no great distance. He piggy-backed onoto it, sir, stealing, if you like, from Mr Hemsworth’s private connection.”

“But he’s a man of God, for Heaven’s sake! Not a common or garden thief and molester of elderly ladies! Men like him don’t behave like this!”

He brushed one hand against the screen in front of Hazel. “This is what low lives do, constable, creatures in the gutter with no morals whatsoever. Not priests of the church!”

“I would agree, sir, whole-heartedly, but the Reverend Wolf seems to identify himself with the fictitious creation of Mr Hemsworth. He seems to think the book is kind of biographic. And I understand that the DI has gone to apprehend him before he sorts out the author’s agent, who came up to discuss the actual publication of the work.”

“He can’t put this into bookshops! Why, old ladies of our own parish might inadvertently get their hands on a copy and, goodness me, my own mother might, and read it! Then there are younger people, children, who would certainly be damaged for life if they were to read this!”

“They might, sir.”

“No mature ladies I know of, constable, I can assure you of that, would read more than a word or two before burning the whole thing in their fires! And it might be best if you don’t look any closer to it! Instead, get in touch with DI Gamble and warn her to be careful how she approaches the man. He might be a perfectly decent human being and as shocked as we are that anyone can write this kind of filth. or there’s what I see as an outside chance that he’s some kind of pervert and this stuff reflectes what he really gets up to. And that could be dangerous. Meanwhile I’ll alert the police authority where the agent fellow resides and ask them to provide back-up should she need it.”

“I’ll let her know, then sir. I’d hate for anything unpleasant to happen to the DI.”

“Good. You see to that, constable, and I’ll return to the important document I was perusing after I’ve made the call. And I must thank you for making me aware of the nature of the, er, fiction,”

He returned to his seat and constable Hazel Overton reached for a telephone and dialled the number for her senior officer.

© Peter Rogerson 16.01.24