Page 39 of A Box of Wishes
Reports.
Case file updates.
Incident forms.
Communications logs.
Rothcote was a small town with a crime rate to match, but the stream of paperwork was never-ending. National bulletins and local alerts. A spate of motorbike thefts. Burglary with property damage. Another meth lab in Buckingham discovered during a routine water quality inspection.
Ben had to read and acknowledge each one and add necessary actions to his list. It took him until Friday before his desk was clear, and it didn’t stay that way for long.
“Ben?” Tarbert held up a folder. “More complaints about your favourite coffeehouse.”
“Crimestoppers?”
“Yep. This time they’re asking how Ryan can put on free food for a day if he’s not raking it back in by supplying drugs.”
Ben’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “That’s spiteful.”
“And anonymous, of course.”
“I’ve not seen any evidence of drug dealing in all the time I’ve spent there.”
“Just because you’ve not seen it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”
“Sir?”
“Proving that Ryan is innocent isn’t the same as trying to find the truth.” Tarbert pulled up a chair and sat.
“Sir. I’ve done nothing to compromise the investigation.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that. But Ben, it’s not all about work. You deserve a home life, too. And if that life includes Ryan—”
“You want me to hand off the investigation to someone else? You think I can’t be objective?” Out of sight under his desk, Ben curled his fingers into fists. Did Tarbert truly think he was untrustworthy? That he’d compromise an investigation? When he’d—
“Ben, focus.” Tarbert’s voice cut through his growing disquiet. “No, I don’t think you’d throw an investigation. Neither do I think Ryan is a drug dealer. I’ve known the O’Shaughnessys for years, and none of their businesses cause trouble. But I want to know who’s making the complaints and why they’re spying on Ryan.” He took another sheet of paper from the folder. “The cafe owner parks his bike in the alley beside the coffeehouse. People leave messages for him there,” he read out.
“Really now. They saw someone leave a message on a parked bike, but they failed to spot the break-in?”
“Interesting, isn’t it?” Tarbert shoved the paper back into the folder and handed it across the desk. “Did you advise Ryan to install CCTV?”
“Yes. I’ve also convinced the other store owners in the courtyard to upgrade their security. They’re a mini cooperative. Ryan’s coffeehouse draws foot traffic into the courtyard that they all benefit from, so a couple of years ago they agreed to coordinate their marketing, pool networking resources, that kind of thing. They were all ready to help when I went to talk to them.”
“Because it’s in all their interests.”
“Yes. And everyone brings skills to the whole. Andrew Hall, the owner of the tackle shop, was a procurement specialist before he set up on his own. He buys supplies in bulk for them all, and everyone shares the savings.” The support the business owners showed each other had impressed Ben. And after spending Christmas Day at the coffeehouse and observing who talked to whom, he knew Ryan’s parents and uncle also purchased through the group. “Could be that Ryan’s just a scapegoat,” he said, leafing through his notes. “Or convenient.”
“You think someone is targeting the cooperative?”
“It’s more likely than someone having it in for Ryan. Widens the field of enquiry.”
“It does that. Where are you going with this?”
Ben opened his action list. “I’m running checks on all the businesses involved in the cooperative. Nothing so far. After the break-in, I only spoke to the businesses in the courtyard, so now I’m going to interview all of them. I’m also going to review the CCTV footage in the courtyard. See if I can spot who’s watching Ryan’s place. And the bank in the market square has a CCTV camera pointing at the entrance to the courtyard. I’ve just sent a request for their recording.”
Tarbert nodded his approval. “Good. This sounds like a plan. What bothers me is that it keeps coming back to drugs. I suppose you’ve checked the coffeehouse for stray recipes?”
“I did Ryan’s filing, sir. Purchase orders, receipts, customer orders, random scribbles… I’ve seen the lot. And found nothing that shouldn’t be there. I’ve even rifled through the books Ryan keeps on the shelf beside the fireplace.”
