Tim was about to sit down at his desk to map out a new plan for catching the farm machinery thieves when he caught sight of Ricky MacFadyen coming up the stairs. Ricky’s hair was dishevelled and his tie askew and, as he came closer, Tim could see that one of his eyes was almost closed, the skin surrounding it disfigured by a purplish-red swelling. There was dried blood above his right eyebrow. He was clutching a parcel wrapped in white paper.
‘Christ, Ricky, what have you been up to? Are you all right?’
Ricky managed a pale grin. It turned into a grimace.
‘I am all right – I think so, anyway. To answer your first question, I was breaking up a fight in Red Lion Street and got caught in the crossfire. My own fault, probably.’
‘What sort of a fight?’
‘How many sorts are there? It was quite vicious. I wasn’t there at the start of it, but some thug picked a quarrel with a character called Jack Fovargue. Apparently Fovargue’s quite well-known for the work that he does with kids – conservation or responsible farming, something like that. Have you heard of him?’
‘Vaguely, but only because I remember the name. I wouldn’t have been able to tell you what he did. What’s happened to him? And the thug?’
‘Fovargue’s been taken to A & E, even though he didn’t want to go, by the paramedics who answered my call. The thug got away – I had to stay with Fovargue and no one else seemed inclined to chase after him.’
‘You got a good look at him, though – you’d recognise him again?’
‘Yes, and so would at least half a dozen other people who were there, though only two of them have volunteered to give statements. Not that there’s any point: Fovargue is pretty adamant that he doesn’t want to press charges. His attitude to the whole thing struck me as odd – it was as if he was embarrassed by it, and anxious to put it behind him immediately. He could just have been suffering from shock, I suppose. The thug looked a bit like a gypsy, except that he was very well-dressed.’
‘Whether or not we press charges may not be Fovargue’s decision. The thug assaulted a police officer as well as Fovargue. That isn’t something we’ll be allowed to ignore. And, incidentally, I’ve known quite a few well-dressed gypsies. Or travellers, I think we’re supposed to call them now.’
‘I hadn’t thought of it as an assault on me as a policeman, really – he couldn’t have known from my appearance.’
‘Did you tell him you were a police officer? The thug, I mean?’
‘Yes. He didn’t seem inclined to believe me. He said if I was a police officer, he was the ‘fucking Dalai Lama’, or something like that.’
‘Ha! Anyway, he shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it. You’d better go and see Fovargue. He may have changed his mind about pressing charges. If he hasn’t, we need to find out why he doesn’t want to. The likeliest explanation is that he knows the bloke who attacked him and has a reason for not taking it further. Whatever he thinks, if he knows who it was, we want a name.’ Tim scrutinised Ricky’s damaged face more closely. ‘I take it you’ve been to A & E yourself? They haven’t done a very good job of cleaning you up, have they?’
‘I... er ... no. I decided to come straight back here. I didn’t want to get in the ambulance with Fovargue or have to wait around in A & E, for that matter.’
‘I can understand that, but you need to get yourself checked out. See if they’ll give you an emergency appointment at the doctor’s. Pull rank as a copper if necessary.’
‘I hate doing that.’
‘So do I, but sometimes it’s the quickest way to get things done. Besides, you’ve been assaulted while on duty, so you deserve some kind of preferential treatment. Protecting our citizens, and all that.’ Tim scrutinised Ricky’s face. ‘You’re looking a bit pale under all that damage. Have you had anything to eat lately?’
‘I’d only just bought these fish and chips! I was just on my way back from Sheddy’s when the ruckus started.’ Ricky felt the limp parcel that he was holding and dropped it on to Tim’s desk. ‘They’ll be stone cold now!’
Tim stifled a laugh at Ricky’s woebegone expression. He seemed much more concerned about the loss of his lunch than the mess that had been made of his face.
‘Well, don’t leave them on my desk. Kindly dispose of them somewhere they won’t smell. Then I’ll treat you to whatever they’ve got left in the canteen. It won’t be up to much, but we should at least be able to get a few calories down you. Then you can take yourself off to the quack.’
‘What about interviewing Fovargue?’
‘It’ll do tomorrow. It’s unlikely that he’s planning on going anywhere, isn’t it? Better if he gets himself sorted out first. If he’s as reluctant to talk as you say he is, we don’t want him to wriggle out of it by accusing us of harassing him while he doesn’t feel well.’
‘I don’t think he’s that type. From what the woman who keeps the craft shop in Red Lion Street told me, he’s an absolute pillar of the community, and well-liked, too.’
‘Excellent. He’ll see sense then, won’t he, when you point out that it’s an offence to strike a police officer? You can keep it pretty low key, but make sure you take someone with you.’
Ricky sighed. Something in Tim’s tone told him that his boss had a hunch the interview wouldn’t be plain sailing. Ricky suspected Tim was right and also realised his usual boundless optimism in the face of a challenge was rapidly deserting him. He’d probably feel better about it after he’d given his energy levels a boost. Purposefully, he picked up the packet of fish and chips and strode through to the kitchen to dump them in the bin. Then he headed for the canteen, Tim following in his wake.