Having suspicions was one thing, but finding evidence was another entirely . . .
BY VAL BONSALL
ROSE GARNER’S colleagues were unsure about her decision.
She’d decided to move miles away to a small northern town, despite her popularity at the regional headquarters.
Rose was a detective inspector and everyone there saw her as a savvy, city-streets sort of cop.
She occasionally wondered if they were right. Although she was settling in gradually, there was much she missed.
She had a smile on her face as she entered the sandstone building – her new workplace.
Compared to the huge chrome-and-glass office she’d left behind, this place was of a different era.
It had wood-panelled walls and low ceilings.
Behind one of the desks sat Jonathan, a young detective sergeant.
“Is there a problem?” she asked, noticing his frown.
“I’m back from attending a high-value burglary,” he began. “Have you ever had a case where you think someone’s involved but it looks as though they couldn’t possibly be?”
“Run it past me,” the inspector prompted.
Rose prided herself on being there for her staff.
Jonathan followed her into her office.
The victim of the case, Jocelyn Fox, was a local antiques dealer. She was known as Mrs Fox, although she was divorced.
Rather than her expensive and exclusive shop, the theft had taken place in her home, in an outbuilding behind her grand house.
She’d been storing some new stock there for a few days, until she made room for it in the shop.
The fact that the items were stolen while in storage was too coincidental.
Rose suspected an insurance scam, but Jonathan had already discarded that option.
According to Mrs Fox, the building was never used. Her intention was to have it demolished.
“Who are you suspecting?” the female officer asked.
“Her nephew, Michael, but I don’t see how it could be. There’s CCTV footage that . . .” Jonathan stopped as the door opened.
Detective Constable Karen Byton popped her head round the door to remind Rose about an imminent online meeting.
Jonathan also needed to head to court as a witness.
After Rose agreed to review his notes about the theft case, he left.
She hastily tidied her hair trying to look presentable.
The products she used promised the sleek look she aspired to, but she’d had no success.
After the meeting, Rose picked up Jonathan’s notes.
If you tell someone you’ll do something, you do it. That was her personal code.
Based on the notes, Mrs Fox’s theft had taken place just that morning between ten and eleven.
At that time the lady was hosting a coffee morning for the trustees of a charity she was involved in.
They were all together in her conservatory for that hour, exc
