Overend - Chapter 11

Overend – A Year In Crime

Chapter Eleven

Sunday April 7th 2002

The next morning found Bill Overend in the middle of a windy school field in Abbeyvale.
It was damp underfoot and even in the relatively short grass of a sportsfield it didn’t take long to soak your feet. With no shelter from the wind the cold very soon chilled your bones.
It was from bitter experience of cold wet playing fields that he had Wellington boots a warm coat and a full length raincoat in the boot of the car.
He chose the wellies and the warm coat.
Bill looked around he had been here before many times.
Bill had done his fair share of standing on damp windy fields over the years watching his kids playing football in the Junior leagues from under eight’s to the present day.
In fact Harry was playing that day in Childean with his team and Bill would have been watching him had he not been called out.
He had done it for over ten years and enjoyed it very much in the main although when the weather is at its most fowl he has been known to sit out the match in the car.
There were other elements other than the weather, which he was unhappy with and that was over zealous parents and “win at all cost” coaches.
As he trudged across the field through the wet grass he recalled an incident, which happened only a few months previously.
It was a friendly game between two under eight sides, not the game he had gone to watch he just happened to pass that pitch on the way to the pitch Harry was playing on.
The team, were standing, arranged in a semi circle facing the coach all wearing their crisp clean kit and looking up at the coach expectantly.
“I don’t care if it is only a friendly.” The coach said to them. “I want to win.”
“If any of you don’t want to win you can go home now.”
That kind of attitude saddened him there was plenty of time in life for being serious being eight years old was about having fun and getting dirty if you won that was a bonus.
Danny’s current girlfriend, Sarah Lovett, used to play on the same team as Danny’s when they were both eight.
At the beginning of the second season she missed a couple of training sessions when they were about nine and the rumor amongst the parents was that she had been seen wearing dresses during the school holidays and it was feared she had turned into a proper girl.
But no she was still football mad.
She was still football mad but now she was a proper girl or as Harry describes her she is “A fit bird.”
He looked around again all the pitches are empty the goal packed away and the last remaining stragglers were making their way out of sight.
Bill tried to remember how long it was since he’d stood on this particular field four years ago he thought.
Anyway what brings him here on his day off and his sons playing miles away.
The answer to that question lay about fifty yards ahead of him where a small group were ferreting about in the bushes.
What had happened during the pre match warm up was that a number of balls go into the bushes behind the goal.
One of the boys is dispatched into the bushes to retrieve the balls and finds something that shouldn’t be there.
The boy calls over the coach who takes a look.
As luck would have it the coach, Martin Miller, was a local man who apart from driving a bus for a living was a Police special in his spare time.
When he saw what the boy had found he phoned CID in Abbottsford.

When he reached the bushes he was approached by a uniformed officer.
A very young PC who looked like a twelve year old who hadn’t started shaving yet.
Or maybe he was just feeling old today.
He had had one of those “who’s the old git in the bathroom mirror and what’s he doing in my bathroom experiences” that morning.
The young PC put up a hand to stop him.
Bill was just about to produce his warrant card when a black face appeared through the bushes.
“It’s all right constable that’s DCI Overend.” Said DC Frank Chute.
“Sorry sir.” Said the young PC.
“Don’t be sorry son.” The DCI answered and made his way to the gap in the bushes where Frank Chute had appeared and then disappeared.
The gap in the bushes led to a well trodden path which he followed down a slight incline until he emerged the other side of the bushes on to a patch of scrubland.
Frank was on the path waiting for him.
“Its over there Guv.” Frank said pointing.
Heavy duty narrow plastic sheets had been laid down through the long grass for about twenty yards at the end of which he found a group of officers buzzing like insects around a large black motor cycle.
“Well what have we here?” Bill asked to no one in particular.
“Reported stolen in Northchapel on the day before Big Cyril’s was done.” Said Chute.
“Do we know if it’s the one?” This time Bill directed his question to Frank Chute.
“Not for definite but it seems likely.” Frank answered.
“We also have the Pizza bag and a crash helmet.”
“Excellent.” Bill said. “Do we know how long its been here?”
“No Guv it was well hidden if the lad hadn’t been looking for the football it could have remained here unnoticed for months.”
Bill slowly turned 360 degrees surveying their surroundings.
“I see what you mean.” Said Bill.
“Forensics’ will get everything from the scene and we should have the results in a couple of days.”
“Careless.” Bill said.
“Sorry Sir?” Frank said slightly puzzled.
“Its all very careless.” Bill explained. “Considering how well planned and executed the robbery was this is very careless.”
“Why didn’t they burn it? Or dump it in Trottwood water?”
“I see what you mean sir.” Responded Frank. “Maybe they intended to burn it but were disturbed.”
“That’s a possibility.”
They walked back down the plastic trail and back on to the path.
“Where does the path lead?” Asked the DCI.
“It comes out at the back of a garage block Guv.”
“Don’t tell me on the Farnbourne estate.”
“Yes Guv.”
“Come on then lets take a look.” Bill suggested.
They followed the well warn rough path for about a hundred yards through a mixture of knee high grass, brambles and nettles.
Then the path led into a dingy copse strewn with every kind of rubbish imaginable. This lasted a further thirty yards and then the path led into an alley way between two garage blocks.
They followed the alley way and emerged into a world not to dissimilar from a scene in Beirut.
Half the garages had no doors and were filled to overflowing with rubbish.
The occasional garage actually had a car in it.
In addition to rubbish lying everywhere there were bricks and broken paviers scattered in all directions like the aftermath of a riot.
As they walked between the garages towards what they hoped was civilization they could see several dumped cars that were obviously the targets of the bricks and paving.
In every available corner there were disused fridge’s, sofa’s and endless piles of car tires.
“Why didn’t they just dump the bike here?” Bill asked.
“We would never have found it in here.”
Frank Chute shook his head.
They continued walking until they left the garages behind them and stood at the curb side of a residential road on the edge of the Farnbourne estate.
It was not a pretty sight an array of 1960’s tower blocks with boarded up windows and doors and graffiti everywhere.
Bill half expected a large ball of tumble weed to bowl down the deserted road.
There was an occasional sign of life in the windows that still had glass.
He surveyed the miracle of mid twentieth century town planning which had become a twenty first century nightmare.
Without really trying Bill counted a dozen abandoned cars in this road alone.
“Look at these slums.” Said Frank. “It’s an absolute disgrace.”
“Why do they build slums like this?”
“They don’t build slums.” Bill answered. “It’s the dross that live in them who turn them into slums.”
Frank looked at him doubtfully.
“When these were first built there was a three year waiting list to get in here.” Bill said pointing at the offending articles. “Now there’s a waiting list to get out.”
“My Aunt Harriet lived in that one.” Bill pointed again.
The two men stood in silent reflection.
“At least we know that “Pizza man” either lives or use to live somewhere in there.” Frank broke the silence.
“I agree.” Bill said. “There’s no way you could find that path by accident.”
After a brief pause Bill spoke again.
“Come on lets go.” And they headed back the way they came.