A Criminal Act of Poverty

"Was it a punter?" She asked her. Christine shook her head, "But he knew who I was," She burst into tears once again, she spoke in a quiet voice, and her words were stumbling out of her mouth. "He was a big bloke, stunk of rum," Maggie Magill nodded her head.

She opened the door and called to her son, "Harold," and when he came to the door, his mother's eyes were red with rage, "Tomorrow do a pub crawl, a big bloke who likes his rum. Don't do anything until you find me. He'll have a fresh slash or two. Oh and take your brothers with you, but mark my words, you leave him be until I am there." She didn't know that her daughter's assailant wouldn't be found in any pub.

She returned to her daughter, "Where did all that blood come from, was it just from him?" She half knew that it must have been and knew that her daughter got at least one good swipe in before she got away.

Nodding her head she said to her mother, "I got him a few good times mum,"

Shelia poked her head into the room and told her mum, "Doc Wilson is here mum," When she saw her little sister, tears welled in her eyes.

Maggie grunted and told Shelia to stay with her sister. "Keep her company while I sort out old man Wilson," she continued.

Shelia sat on the edge of the bath looking down at the battered face of her young sister. Christine lifted her eyes and waited until the bathroom door was closed and then told her in a whisper. "It was old man Simpson and he is coming after you over that ten quid we got from him the other month," Her speech was firm, cold, the hysterical girl had suddenly disappeared. She grabbed Shelia's hand and put a finger to her lips. "Sssshhhh,"

Shelia, sat there stoned-faced, "This isn't the first time I've had the likes of him chasing after me. Freddie, Harry and the boys can sort him out,"

Doc Wilson was the local GP, he knew all of their secrets and he kept them. Most everyone owed him one thing or another. If you were down on your luck and needed looking after then he looked after you. You paid him when you could. He took care of all the young girls, making certain that they never carried any serious diseases. Nothing he learnt was ever written down, he had a sharp mind and a selective memory.

Maggie Magill greeted him with a hug and a peck on the cheek. "It's little Christine, she is in the bath at the moment. Some big bugger gave her a hiding tonight. She is in such a state," She told the old doctor. "She's lost some teeth and has a right shiner coming up. Her face is battered. I know I owe you a few quid and we will get it to you soon enough, but can you take a look at her and see what you think?"

"I'm here aren't I, and when have I ever turned you away Maggie?" He replied tersely.

Maggie got everyone out of the sitting room, as Christine came in, her hair wrapped in a towel and wearing a house coat. The doctor could see the bruising on her face. Seeing women battered and bruised from being knocked around wasn't a new thing in this neighbourhood, for too many of them it was just a way of life.

Christine sat down in a rundown armchair, her mother sat on the arm of the chair, her arm around her. The doctor took a deep breath and started by asking the obvious question. "Where does it hurt Chrissy?"

"Everywhere," She answered as she burst into tears.

The doctor looked up to her mother with 'that' question in his eyes. "Christine, did he, you know, hurt you in any other way, other than hitting you?" He asked. The sentence came out of his mouth slowly and quietly.

Her mother glared down at the doctor but she knew he had to ask. "I didn't see any tell-tale signs, Ronnie," She answered using the doctor's given name. "She still had her knickers on when she got home. There was no blood, down there," She told him.

"OK, let's have a look at you then," he told them.

Christine stood up and opened the house coat. There were some small grazes on her knees and large painful bruises on her shoulders. The doctor examined her in a kindly way, not putting her in any further embarrassing positions. He covered her up and looked inside her mouth, Her gums were torn but they weren't too bad. As he touched her face seeking out any broken bones or extra painful spots. She didn't flinch, she was closing down and the Doctor saw it. The soles of her feet were cut as if she had been walking on glass.

"Maggie, get her to gargle with warm salt water three times a day that will keep the cuts in her mouth free from infections." He told her. "Keep her feet up and just dab some antiseptic on the cuts. They will heal soon enough." He told them. "Just keep her off of her feet, and her knees for now," Giving Maggie a clear message to keep her off the streets.

He looked into her eyes using his torch, stopped, and then ran his hands over her scalp. Feeling several large lumps on the rear of her skull.

"She has a mild concussion I suspect, keep her with you tonight Maggie, no bright lights or loud noises. I'm going to give her a mild sedative and I'll pop in tomorrow afternoon to see how she is getting on."

"I'll get Harold to see you home Doc," She told him.

"No need," he replied.

Maggie looked at him and told him straight, "He will see you home, and that's the end of it, you hear me," When Maggie Magill got angry she put her foot down, and no one argued with her.

The doctor had a sad look in his eyes as he looked down at Christine and patted her hand, "You'll be all right Christine Magill, Just do as your mother tells you,"

A faint smile came to her lips as she responded, "I won't have a choice,"

Chapter 3. - The Police Investigate.

It was the following mid-afternoon when a knock came upon the front door. A rain shower had just passed over the neighbourhood and the wind was picking up again. The dog across the street was barking like mad at the four policemen standing in the front yard of Maggie Magill's. Two were in suits and two were in uniform. The two in uniform were big men, for the Magill boys were known to be rough street brawlers and they didn't hold back just because you were a walloper. Their steely eyes kept watch on the sides of the house as well as their backs.

Maggie had seen them stopping in front of her place, she knew them and they knew her. The senior officer approached the front door and knocked firmly. Maggie opened it immediately and looked him in the eye. And then said instinctively "You know he isn't here, he's got fourteen years and six months to go," and stood their arms folded staring into his eyes or it was more like glaring?

"We're not here about him, and you should be thankful Maggie," he said. Maggie looked at him her glare hardening.

"Well, the boys are out, down the pub I suspect. Try the Kings Arms or the Railwaymen, they're normally drinking down there these days. What have they done?" She asked not changing her stance or her demeanour.

"It's not any of your boys Maggie, not this time," He turned to the junior officer, Detective Sargent David Jones who handed him a red high heel shoe. He stood on her front doorstep, showing her the shoe. She neither looked at it nor even acknowledged it was there.

"Which one of your girls wears these Maggie?"

"None of my girls can afford shoes like that, too posh for the likes of us darling," She replied sarcastically.

"Is that how it's going to be is it Maggie? Are we going to be doing the 20-question shuffle to and fro on your doorstep, are we, for the whole neighbourhood to see and hear?" He continued. He, being Detective Chief Inspector (DCI) Richard Huntington, affectionately known as 'Hunter'. His reputation was that of never letting up on any offender. He would chase them down no matter how long or how far.

He then stepped closer to her, and in a quiet voice, barely a whisper, told her how it was going down. It always surprised Maggie how such a quiet-spoken man could sound so menacing. "We know your Christine was involved with old Edward Simpson last night, cut his throat, the poor bugger bled out. I'm not saying he didn't deserve it, but nonetheless, he is dead and your Christine's handbag and shoes were found nearby. So to avoid a scene here and now, why don't you get your Christine and accompany us down to the station for a chat and we will get all this sorted out."

Maggie turned white, thoughts rushing through her head. Dead, she killed him. Murder. She was stunned, momentarily.

DCI Huntington had known of the family Magill for some 20-odd years, first her husband, a drunken lout, always fighting, beating on his wife and then his nippers, and then stealing small time at first until he was a lookout at a bank robbery, he is now spending 18 years hard labour, in a labour prison. Her boys were standover men, helping somewhat dubious 'businessmen' collect wayward debts, while all of her girls were on the game. She herself, was a street-wise woman who knew who to talk to, to make things go away. She knew that the DCI was not an easy man to get to look the other way. She knew in her heart that she was going to have to do as the DCI said.

They had been talking for no more than ten minutes and already the street was full of women, some younger children, and the odd fella. The crowd had gathered around the two police cars, some of the boys were sitting on the front bonnets of the cars and scratches were being dug into the sides of the vehicles.

She looked over his shoulder at the crowd in the street, at the two burly uniformed officers and knew it could get very ugly very quickly. She whispered back to the DCI, "What say I bring Christine down to speak to your lot, later today, she is a bit unwell right now. Doc Wilson is due to see her later on," Nodding to the noisy mob slowly getting larger by the minute. "I have a reputation to uphold around here Mr. Huntington. If that lot thinks" Nodding her head to the mob in the street, "I'm curtailing to you, my life turns to shit, well shittier than normal,"

He turned and looked at the people in the street then turned back to Maggie, "See that you do Maggie, because if I have to come back, there will be more trouble than you and this lot can handle," He then put a smile on his face tipped his hat at Maggie Magill and turned back towards the police cars, telling the other officers to get back to the station.

Then in a loud booming voice, that belied his pacifist nature, he told the crowd in the street to move along, "Get on home you lot, nothing is happening here today," as he waved his arm about.

By this time the word had got out that a body had been found on the playing fields that morning. Whispers turned to gossip, which turned to stories which in turn got told as the fact that one of the Magills had done old man Simpson in.

With each telling the story got embellished until it was said that old man Simpson had his head cut off and he was found naked and battered. The stories only made the Magill boys, in particular, more notorious than they actually were.

Doc Wilson arrived at 4.15 and sat in the small kitchen as he was poured a black tea with a healthy dash of cheap whisky in it to keep the chill out of his bones, the day was fast losing its weak light. He sat there looking at Maggie and her at him.

"How did she sleep last night?" He asked, his own eyes drained and bloodshot, he hadn't slept a wink, but last night was no different from the many nights before that.

Maggie just shook her head, Tears were building up but she wasn't going to let them come, No, not hard old Maggie Magill.

"Has she said anything about what happened?" He continued. Maggie just sat there looking straight ahead, not saying a word.

"What are you going to do about it Maggie, you know Hunter is like a starving dog with a bone at times, and this is too big to let go," He had heard all the stories, and he knew that DCI Huntington had paid her a visit.

Old mother Magill just sat there, ran her hands through her hair, wiped her nose on the back of the sleeve of her cardigan and held back the sniffles.

"She was defending herself, Ronnie" She finally told him.

"I suspected half as much, to be honest. Was she working last night or was he too drunk to know what he was doing?"

"No she wasn't working, she was coming home from that Tomboys house around on Elmgrove road, and OH, he knew what he was doing all right," She was shaking her head as she spoke, "He was most likely following her and or lying in wait I imagine, the fucking coward, they had a run in a month or so back, he was getting his own back,"

"What are you going to do, Maggie?" he asked again, not expecting a reply.

But Maggie looked him straight in the eye before saying. "I don't know, it doesn't look good does it?" She stated. "We're going down to the station to have it out with old man Hunter. He is saying it is murder, my little Chrissy killing someone,"

The others of the family were hanging around when they heard their mum utter those words, they all put a hand over their mouths and sucked in air.

"Do you know any solicitors?" He asked "I think you should have someone with you, Maggie,"

Maggie gave him a surly look. "First we will see what they have to say,"

The doctor then finished his whisky tea and looked in on Christine. She was laying on her side in her mother's bed, her pillow damp with tears. She complained of a headache, and the cuts and then the bruises. A swelling had come up on the side of her head, he left eye was half closed and blackened. Her lips were still fat and split but had stopped bleeding.

The doctor gave her another sedative and told her to rest.

Maggie was talking to her two oldest sons when the doctor returned to the kitchen. Interrupting their conversation, he told them all. "I will go to the Police Station and sign a declaration to the effect that Christine is too unwell to be interviewed and that they should arrange to talk to her here. They will ask me questions Maggie and I will answer them but nothing they aren't entitled to. I'm not sure it will put them off for too long,"

Maggie nodded and said thank you. "I think that will be good Doc,"

He turned to walk away then hesitated, "Maggie, if she goes on the lam, she won't get far," he said with a lack of enthusiasm in his voice. "She is too weak and the coppers will give you a lot, a hell of a time,"

Maggie looked at him and the sadness in her eyes said that she had given it a passing thought. He offered his hand and then slowly shook hands with the boys, looking down at their firm grip of hardened men and headed off out the front door.

DCI Huntington was in a discussion with his Detective Sargent going over what they actually knew.

Sargent Jones was reading from an opened file, "That late on the evening of the 12th of May, or yesterday, Edward Albert Simpson was assaulted on the playing fields on Kesters Road. He had several slashes made by either a thin-bladed knife or razor. His hand had been slashed, more than likely a defensive wound. According to the medical report."

He stopped and took a breath before continuing, he turned a page over. "Two wounds were deep and severed both his jugular and carotid arteries. The medical officer stated that these were deliberate and made by someone who knew what they were doing. Edward Simpson bled to death quickly, in less than 30 seconds. He had two other superficial wounds to his face, and a piece of his nose was sliced off. Neither of these wounds was life-threatening. His thumb was almost severed and his hands were slashed, defensive wounds the medical person told him. His knuckles were bloodied and bruised.

The DCI Looked up at his Sargent, "I do wish these medical people would reframe from making statements like that, now we will have to share that with the courts,"

Jones resumed his report, in a point-by-point process.

"The fly on his trousers was partially undone."

"His braces holding his trousers up were off his shoulders."

"His wallet was in his back pocket which was still buttoned down. He had over twenty pounds still in his wallet."

"A lady's size 7 high heel shoes were found close by."

"A lady's handbag containing makeup, a hanky, a purse containing three pounds two and tuppence halfpenny plus an old library card in the name of Christine Margret Magill of 70 International Ave."

"Well Sargent, what is your take on all of this?" He asked the junior officer.

"Well Sir, one of two ways it could have happened. She was giving him some extramarital activities and he got carried away and somehow she ended up cutting his throat. Or maybe one of the brothers caught them at it and cut his throat from behind and then just left him there to die,"

"Interesting, if it was one of the brothers," The DCI said, "Then the girl would have been covered in blood from head to toe when we speak to her let's ask her discretely what she was wearing that night, and how she felt being covered in blood,"

Huntington stopped and thought for a little while before saying, "But somehow, I don't think it was the brothers. If it was one of the brothers there would have been a right all stoush and it would not have been on those playing fields but rather some out-of-the-way place. The Magill boys are silly, not dumb,"

The DCI looked at his pocket watch and took a deep breath, "We will give them until six before we pay them a visit," He stuffed his old Royal Meerschaum briar pipe with his preferred Scotch Cut Mixture blend, padded it down, took out his old Ronson lighter and fired it up. He sat back in his office chair putting his feet up on his desk. Looking through the thick blue smoke he eyed the junior officer.

"You know Sargent, somewhere in between what you think happened and what I thought happened lays the truth,"

He took several more drags on his pipe letting the rich aromatic smoke slide from his mouth. He continued, "Christine Magill is a slight girl, no more than 5'5" and weighing around 7 1/2 stone wringing wet, I am trying to get my head around how she could get the better of old Eddie Simpson, who would be, what 5' 11" and going on 15 stone, so how on gods earth can a small girl get to cut this blokes throat, severing his two main arteries. She is either mighty lucky or extremely unlucky,"

His phone rang on his desk, he took his feet off of the desk and answered the black, hand-held phone. The uniformed Sargent at the front desk told him a Doctor Wilson was there to speak with him about Christine Magill.

Putting the pipe in its stand on his desk he got up and walked briskly to the front counter. The DCI entered the reception area and offering his hand to the doctor he greeted him, "Doctor Wilson, good to see you again, Please come in," He opened the side door at the end of the counter and let him enter the station's inner sanctum.

Once in his office he introduced the young Detective Sargent and offered the doctor a spare seat. Sitting on the edge of his desk he asked the doctor to speak.

"I have just come from Maggie Magill's place, I am looking after young Christine. She is in no shape to be interrogated at the moment, with a mild concussion, some bruises and cuts and abrasions, can you leave it a day or so Dicky?"

The doctor used the DCI's informal given name, they went back a fair way, to their high school days together. The DCI smiled he hadn't heard that name used for some while, not since his wife passed some four years earlier.

"How bad is it Ronnie," The DCI returned the compliment by using the Doctor's schoolboy name.

"She was knocked about well and truly, around her head and face mainly, but she wasn't interfered with," He told them.

The young Sergeant asked a question, "Could one of her brothers have knocked her around for some reason?"

"Anything is possible Sergeant, but I saw their fists not more than an hour ago, and they haven't been in a dust-up for a fair while," Then turning to the DCI, "You might want to ask if old man Simpson had any marks on his knuckles?"