Bury in Haste by Jean Rowden Page B

beginning to feel very sorry for himself.
    ‘What this village needs is a fish and chip shop,’ he said. For a second he considered cycling to Falbrough, but there had been rain in the air as he left home. Bad enough that he was expected to patrol Ferdy Quinn’s boundaries again; he didn’t want to be wet through before he even went on duty.
    For the next ten minutes Deepbriar regaled his patient listener with his opinion of irresponsible nitwits who went around opening gates and burning down barns, not to mention his superior officers who believed a single village bobby could be in ten places at once.
    ‘How about,’ Harry said, looking uncannily like the little boy Deepbriar had once clipped round the ear for playing knock down ginger, ‘I’ll come out tonight and give you a hand. We could cover twice as much ground. Got a new front lamp for my bike,’ he offered, as an added inducement, ‘a battery one. It shines all the way from our door down to the post office.’
    ‘You know I can’t let you do that, Harry,’ Deepbriar said. ‘It’s no job of yours.’
    ‘But if I was a gamekeeper you’d let me chase after poachers. And there’s nothing to stop a member of the public helping the police, if they just happen to be passing by when a crime’s being committed,’ Harry argued. ‘I could just choose to take myself for a cycle ride, with or without your say so. There’s no law against it.’
    Constable Deepbriar sighed. Harry Bartle had been heartbroken when he failed to grow to the required height to enter the police force; it was hard that the lack of half an inch of leg bone could exact such a punishment. He still had dreams of becoming a detective, which was why he devoured vast amounts of crime fiction.
    ‘I tell you what,’ Deepbriar said at last, having taken a long pull at his beer. He wasn’t given to breaking the rules, but after the week he’d had he was ready to try anything if it got the sergeant off his back. ‘I’ll be cycling along the Falbrough road when I leave here tonight, turning down by the wood and then over the bridge at Moody’s corner, through Will Minter’s and back past Quinn’s gate. Suppose you just took a fancy to have a word with me, you might feel like setting off so we’d meet, come round in the other direction as it were. And if you saw anything suspicious you’d tell me, wouldn’t you? No harm in that.’
    Harry’s face lit up as if somebody had turned on a hidden switch, his cheeks glowing pink. ‘Of course, Mr Deepbriar. I’ve been wanting a chance to try that new lamp on a dark night, reckon now’s as good a time as any.’
    ‘Long as you don’t mind the rain,’ Deepbriar said gloomily. ‘The way my luck’s going it’ll be blooming cats and dogs by midnight.’
    Emotions straggled across Harry’s open features as he hunted for something heartening to say. ‘You’ve not had time to read that Mitch O’Hara mystery yet then?’ he asked. ‘A real good one that is. I couldn’t put it down.’
    ‘No.’ Deepbriar refused to be cheered. ‘Got the new Dick Bland from the library too, be due back before I even start it at this rate. Never did like working nights. I’m snowed under with flipping paper work. And next week they want me to go and help out in Belston! The Inspector says he’ll send a patrol car to keep an eye on Quinn’s place. Fat lot of good that’ll do, couple of young lads still wet behind the ears who don’t know a shorthorn bull from a five bar gate.’
    ‘You must get some time off,’ Harry suggested hopefully. ‘What about the weekend?’
    ‘Be playing the organ at St Peter and St Paul’s on Sunday,’ Deepbriar said, looking increasingly downcast as he picked the last crumbs of bread from his plate. ‘And I suppose I’ll be expected to play at the service for Colin Pattridge, since funerals don’t suit Mrs Emerson’s artistic temperament. That’s if the Inspector will let me off duty. Just have to hope I can