The year 1972

The first hint of light shone in the east as four police vehicles trailed an unmarked Rover saloon. Chief Inspector John Daniels knew the area well. In his youth, he had walked these tracks many times. Fields edged with dry stone walls sloped towards the road on either side. They passed large and small farms as they progressed. By the time they reached their destination, the route had become much narrower. Once out of their heated vehicles, the damp chill of the morning air made the officers move faster. Like ghosts, they surrounded the building. John gave his people five minutes to get into position. When ready, he removed a search warrant from his inside jacket pocket. On approaching the partly open front door, John stood behind Sergeant Miller, who pushed it open.

To their surprise, it swung wide open.

"Jesus Christ," said the Sergeant as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. As far as he could see, naked men and women covered the floor.

John chuckled. "Sergeant, can't you smell it. Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds." His eyes scanned the room. He turned to a constable, "Get those incense burners out of here. The rest of you open every door and window you can find, or we will all be flying high."

His team muttered their replies as he returned to the fresh air.

"You're a lot younger than me, Sergeant. Why do they do this?

"I've no idea, sir."

John agreed with his Sergeant. "These young men and women are the sons and daughters of respectable people. Makes me glad I don't have any kids. They must understand that all drugs are dangerous. They get hooked, and their next fix becomes what matters most. Get the photographer in here. I want evidence, not porn. Cover their bits, take the pictures and wake every one of them. As most of them will be on another planet, make sure none wander off."

He turned, "Let the dogs loose. They will find any drugs before this lot dump or swallow them."

John's face never showed what he was thinking. He smiled when the dogs barked, turning to their handlers. "They found something. Check it out."

They entered a rear room filled with more comatose bodies. The overpowering smell of cannabis again filled their lungs.

A giggle came from the farthest corner as a naked young girl pushed a young boy off her and attempted to stand.

John nodded to one of his female officers. "One for you. If you can find their clothes, get them dressed."

An hour elapsed before the party-goers assembled in the largest room.

Confident, John introduced himself and cautioned everyone. "We have discovered cannabis and packets of an unknown substance. My officers will take you to the police station. On arrival, my staff will charge you with possession of illegal drugs. When they have finished, a police doctor will take a blood sample."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" asked a tall and gaunt bald man. "This is private property. Don't you know who I am?"

John did not suffer fools at all. Over the years, he had worked his way from a beat constable to his present rank. His claim to fame was to have perfected the interrogation of suspects into an art form. He stared straight at the man in front of him. "I'm Chief Inspector of Police John Daniels, and I don't know or care who you are. I'm here to do my job."

With no trace of an accent, the man said. "I own the land, this house and most of what you can see for miles."

"Congratulations," said John. "My search warrant."

He grabbed the document from John's hand. "The Chief Constable will hear about this."

"Excuse me, sir, who are you? I need your name for my records."

"Philip Carstairs, my father is Sir William Carstairs."

"I know him. He's a great guy," said John. "Now, please assist my officers and get in line with the others."

"Look, you moron, I have no intention of going anywhere."

John chuckled. "Sir, I can have you dragged out of here faster than a ferret up a drainpipe. Sergeant, cuff this gentleman and guide him to the wagon. If he resists, you have my permission to use reasonable force."

Handcuffed and forced out of the building, Carstairs shouted, "I'll have your rank for this."

"You do not appear bothered, sir," said Inspector Peters.

"I looked into his eyes. Bloodshot eyes are a common symptom of intoxication from alcohol, cocaine, and marijuana. I doubt he will remember anything of importance. His father is the local member of parliament and will not be a happy bunny when he finds out his son's in a cell."

"There's more, guv. We checked out the barns. One is being used to grow marijuana."

"Our tip-off was correct. Before we leave, make sure a couple of officers remain behind. Can't have the evidence going walkies."

"Already organised, sir."

It was past sunrise when John said to his Sergeant, "Right, I'm off the station. I'll brief the duty officer before you arrive with the happy people."

***

John arrived back at Bellstead Police station at seven. Weary, he strolled through the entrance. "Sir," said the desk sergeant.

"Can't stop," said John, "Have a ton of paperwork to complete before the wagons arrive."

"Sir, there's been a fire at your sister's house."

John saw the misery in the Sergeant's face. "Are you sure you've got the right address?"

"Two Langdon Crescent, sir."

"Do you know how she is?"

"They couldn't save her, sir." The Sergeant watched the expression on John's face.

Confused by the Sergeant's words, anger, pain, and sadness enveloped him. "That can't be right. A bog-standard house fire and the brigade couldn't save her?"

"The intense heat prevented the firefighters from entering when they arrived. The caller did say the brigade had recovered a body. "From what the fire officer told me. If it's your sister, she'll be in the mortuary? Sorry but that's all I know."

"Thanks, Sergeant. When Inspector Peters arrives, tell him my news, and I'll be in touch. I'm going to the fire station."

"Will do, sir."

John sat in the vehicle for several minutes and lit a cigarette while dealing with his sister's death. As kids, they had been close, but she did her thing with her girlfriends and he with the lads as they grew older. He remembered his fights with those who bothered her at school. She had been dad's favourite, but then his mum treated them both the same. She had been the chief bridesmaid at his wedding to Elsie but hadn't married. She was attractive, and he once asked her why. She told him she never found the right man. Now she was gone. How could it have happened? She was so careful. Tears filled his eyes, but he wiped them away. He should have visited more than he had, gone out for a meal, but then life got in the way. 

He returned to being a Chief Inspector and concluded if you do not know the answer find someone who does.

Although breaking the rules, he drove with his siren and blue light flashing until he parked his Rover in the fire station car park. A middle-aged man still wearing his white helmet of a watch commander stopped him. 

The man rubbed his eyes. "Can I help you, sir?"

"I hope you can," said John. I was informed you attended a fire at two Langdon Crescent early this morning."

"And who might you be, sir?"

John removed his warrant card for the officer to read. "Chief Inspector Daniels. It was my sister's house."

"Andy Davis, watch commander. I'm sorry for your loss. Under the circumstances, we should talk in my office. "He pointed. "This way."

John followed, passing the crew, hosing down the fire engine.

Inside his small office, the man pointed to a chair. "What I'm about to tell you is based on experience. The evidence shows an accelerant entering through the letterbox was at the seat of the fire."

Controlling his rage, John physically shook from head to toe.

"The house was an inferno; your sister did not stand a chance. My rescue team found her in bed. I suspect smoke inhalation killed her."

Sickened, John placed his head in his hands but forced himself to contain his emotion.

"We will, of course, investigate the cause of the fire today."

John sighed. "Thank you for talking to me. I understand my sister is in the mortuary."

"That's right."

"Can I visit the house?"

"I wouldn't recommend going there. What the fire didn't destroy, water and smoke did. It's your decision, and I understand why. I suggest you go and say goodbye to your sister."

John stood and held out his hand. "Thanks for the advice."

He muttered to himself on returning to his car. "Whoever and wherever you are. Your dead meat on a butcher's hook."

***

A short drive took John to the mortuary. He produced his warrant card at reception and asked if he could see his sister.

The young woman wearing a white surgical smock checked his card. "The lady came in early this morning. I'll have to check with my colleague that she is presentable."

She returned after ten minutes. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. Please come with me."

As they entered the main autopsy area, John saw his sister's body on a stainless steel slab. A white sheet covered her body.

A middle-aged man raised his head. "We haven't started the autopsy, Chief Inspector. Take as long as you want."

"I need to talk to her," said John as he stood next to his sister. "Thank you for washing her face." He stroked her hair and kissed her on the forehead. "This, you didn't deserve, and I promise you those who did this will suffer. Lifting her hand, he held it to his chest. "Sleep well." Gently he crossed her arms and drew the sheet over her face.

He turned to the man. "Thank you." John had seen enough. He turned, returned to his car and drove. After parking outside his house, John went inside and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He drank from the bottle before heaving it at the kitchen wall. "If it's the last thing I ever do, Elsie, I'll make those bastards pay."

When his phone rang, his mood quietened as he listened to his snitch.