Read Online Rope Enough (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 1) by Oliver Tidy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Oliver Tidy
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have revealed to Avery the possibility that her attacker was eastern European and Avery would have put two and two together and made his usual five.
Romney doubted that the accuracy of Avery’s assumptions would have been uppermost in his mind. He knew Avery well enough, through experience and reputation, to be one who quickly resorted to physical violence when things weren’t going his way. The locals he was able to influence and command needed little reason, or excuse, to go and fight another battle in the interracial and intercultural turf war.
There existed in the town a clear and hostile undercurrent of resentment that a wide consensus of local opinion harboured for the immigrant population that had been foisted on them as a community, like a mini-invasion. In a town that had seen better days economically, for local residents who were struggling with the expense of life and lack of work, it was widely viewed as adding insult to injury as they had watched a steady stream of eastern European refugees trickle into their town assisted by aid packages that included free accommodation, free transport passes and food vouchers. Unlike the bureaucrats who made such decisions from their leafy shires – distant and unaffected by such policies – many of those who had to live with the reality of the situation on a daily basis found such arrangements difficult to stomach.
Despite the political incorrectness of the sentiment, Romney, with personal and professional experiences of the influx of displaced humanity, didn’t blame the locals for their views. Many of the ethnic population who had settled had sought only to create little enclaves of their former communities and on the whole showed a distinct lack of respect and gratitude towards the culture and the community that had to suffer them. Dover would have to brace itself for further violence, thought Romney, in the inevitable tit for tat.
As the duty sergeant had said: it was like the old days when Dover had been a proper garrison town supporting a much larger soldiering population than they currently did. Nights of inter-subculture violence had been a regular feature of a policeman’s life and local news reporting. Were those days returning, Romney wondered, only the combatants changed?
Wherever he was and whatever his circumstances, man, it seemed to Romney, would eventually resort to the tribal animal that he basically was, and once these tribes were established the violence would not be long in coming.
*
Romney returned to his department. Marsh was waiting for him with an expression on her face that made Romney forget what had already ruined his day.
‘What’s up, Sergeant? You look like someone pinched your new toy.’
‘They have, sir.’
‘Explain.’
‘Someone broke into my car last night and took my digital voice recorder.’
‘Sorry to hear that,’ said Romney, not particularly sounding it. ‘But you should know better than most not to leave valuables in your vehicle.’
‘It had Claire Stamp’s testimony on it, sir.’ The DI stared at her, disappointment settling on his stern features. ‘I hadn’t written it up,’ she added. ‘I was going to do it at home.’
Romney shook his head once and sighed heavily. ‘Make it top of your list to get another statement pretty bloody sharpish and file a bloody crime report.’ He turned his back on her, went into his office and shut the door.
Romney rang through to the forensic laboratory and asked to speak to one of the technicians involved with the rape case. The voice of the female SOCO that Romney recognised from the petrol station crime scene came to the phone.
‘Morning, this is DI Romney. Who am I talking to?’
‘Diane Hodge. How can I help you Inspector?’
‘I’m calling about the rape at the petrol station.’
‘Yes.’
‘That strip of plastic – the top off a condom packet – was it identified to a particular brand, yet?’
‘Give me a moment would you while I
Romney doubted that the accuracy of Avery’s assumptions would have been uppermost in his mind. He knew Avery well enough, through experience and reputation, to be one who quickly resorted to physical violence when things weren’t going his way. The locals he was able to influence and command needed little reason, or excuse, to go and fight another battle in the interracial and intercultural turf war.
There existed in the town a clear and hostile undercurrent of resentment that a wide consensus of local opinion harboured for the immigrant population that had been foisted on them as a community, like a mini-invasion. In a town that had seen better days economically, for local residents who were struggling with the expense of life and lack of work, it was widely viewed as adding insult to injury as they had watched a steady stream of eastern European refugees trickle into their town assisted by aid packages that included free accommodation, free transport passes and food vouchers. Unlike the bureaucrats who made such decisions from their leafy shires – distant and unaffected by such policies – many of those who had to live with the reality of the situation on a daily basis found such arrangements difficult to stomach.
Despite the political incorrectness of the sentiment, Romney, with personal and professional experiences of the influx of displaced humanity, didn’t blame the locals for their views. Many of the ethnic population who had settled had sought only to create little enclaves of their former communities and on the whole showed a distinct lack of respect and gratitude towards the culture and the community that had to suffer them. Dover would have to brace itself for further violence, thought Romney, in the inevitable tit for tat.
As the duty sergeant had said: it was like the old days when Dover had been a proper garrison town supporting a much larger soldiering population than they currently did. Nights of inter-subculture violence had been a regular feature of a policeman’s life and local news reporting. Were those days returning, Romney wondered, only the combatants changed?
Wherever he was and whatever his circumstances, man, it seemed to Romney, would eventually resort to the tribal animal that he basically was, and once these tribes were established the violence would not be long in coming.
*
Romney returned to his department. Marsh was waiting for him with an expression on her face that made Romney forget what had already ruined his day.
‘What’s up, Sergeant? You look like someone pinched your new toy.’
‘They have, sir.’
‘Explain.’
‘Someone broke into my car last night and took my digital voice recorder.’
‘Sorry to hear that,’ said Romney, not particularly sounding it. ‘But you should know better than most not to leave valuables in your vehicle.’
‘It had Claire Stamp’s testimony on it, sir.’ The DI stared at her, disappointment settling on his stern features. ‘I hadn’t written it up,’ she added. ‘I was going to do it at home.’
Romney shook his head once and sighed heavily. ‘Make it top of your list to get another statement pretty bloody sharpish and file a bloody crime report.’ He turned his back on her, went into his office and shut the door.
Romney rang through to the forensic laboratory and asked to speak to one of the technicians involved with the rape case. The voice of the female SOCO that Romney recognised from the petrol station crime scene came to the phone.
‘Morning, this is DI Romney. Who am I talking to?’
‘Diane Hodge. How can I help you Inspector?’
‘I’m calling about the rape at the petrol station.’
‘Yes.’
‘That strip of plastic – the top off a condom packet – was it identified to a particular brand, yet?’
‘Give me a moment would you while I
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