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“I quite understand your distress, madam. Let me just take a few details from you, and a brief statement, then we’ll invite Molly to begin her investigations.”
Constable Moriarty was young, but she had a very calming manner, and Serena found herself reassured that her complaint was being taken seriously. She filled in the form, giving her name, contact details and the location of the incident: her home address.
“The statement - do I write it myself, or do you do that bit?”
“You can write it yourself if you prefer, or I can ask you a few questions and take it down for you to sign - it’s up to you, really. Let me just ask you to go through it again to help you get everything sorted in your mind. Can you tell me when it first started?”
“A few weeks ago, I suppose - actually, it must have been early May, because I remember being annoyed at being woken up the night before I had to give an important presentation at work. That was the third, so the first incident must have been the evening of the second. Someone kept throwing something at the bedroom window - just pebbles, I think - there’s gravel on the driveway. I couldn’t see anyone, but I heard someone running away when I yelled out of the window.”
“I see. And it escalated after that, you said?”
“That’s right. Footsteps on the gravel path late at night, the doorbell ringing but no-one there when I answered it, that sort of thing. And then the phone calls started.”
“And did they say anything on the phone?”
“No - just heavy breathing. Silly, really, to let myself be worried by someone breathing! But there was definitely someone there - not just one of those marketing calls that don’t get connected properly. After while I kept a note of when they happened - there didn’t seem to be any particular pattern as far as I could tell, but here’s the list.” She handed over a sheet of paper with the dates and times meticulously recorded, and a phone number written across the top of the page.
“Hello, what’s this? Is this the number the calls came from?” The young woman sounded surprised.
“Oh, yes - I only just thought of checking my phone for incoming calls - my nephew showed me how to find it from the menu. I thought you might be able to identify the caller from it?”
Constable Moriarty looked over her shoulder into the back office. “I’m sure this will give us a good lead, yes. Well done, Ms Campbell. And apart from the phone calls - this last incident must have been very worrying. Can you tell me about that again, please, if it’s not too distressing?”
“Oh, it’s not really distressing - I’m made of stronger stuff than that. Well. I was at home late after a long shift at the hospital, so it would have been about eleven o’clock I suppose. I was just pouring myself a glass of wine, when I heard footsteps on the gravel again, and then singing, which was new. He sounded very, very drunk. The only thing I could make out was my name. I suppose he must know who I am to be able to make the phone calls, but it was still a bit of a shock to hear my name like that.”
The young woman was sympathetic. “I can imagine. What happened next? Did you go to the door, challenge him in any way?”
“I was all ready to - I had my phone in one hand, ready to take a snap of him, and the little fire extinguisher from the kitchen in the other so I could give him a good blast if I needed to, but before I got to the door, this was pushed through the letter box.”
She gestured at the plastic bag on the table, a look of distaste on her expressive face.
“They weren’t in a bag when he put them through, alas. I’ve bagged them up more for hygiene than anything else: I don’t think you’ll have any trouble getting DNA from them.”
Constable Moriarty grimaced. “No, I think that’s a given. All too much to go on, isn’t there? I didn't know men still wore y-fronts these days - and why do they always go grey?” She peered gingerly into the bag and shuddered. “Well, grey where they’re not… Does he not use loo roll? You were right to come to us, Ms Campbell: your unwelcome visitor seems to be a very unsavoury character indeed.” She shook her head, then picked up her radio. “Zena, do you want to bring Molly through? Let’s see what she makes of this.”
She turned back to Serena. “Molly’s our star sniffer dog. She never forgets a scent - the first thing she’ll do is tell us if it’s one she already knows.”
Molly was a beautiful black cocker spaniel with a glossy coat and a white flash on her chest like a sheriff’s star. She stood patiently while Serena fussed over her, then Constable Moriarty presented the bag to her, holding it slightly open. The dog started back, and made a gagging sound, casting an anxious gaze at her handler, Constable Zena Janeway.
“That bad, eh, girl? Go on, you can do it - get it over with, that’s the way,” Janeway encouraged her. Molly reluctantly put her muzzle back to the bag, then gave a quick, sharp bark of recognition. She stood at the alert, her tail wagging in excitement at the prospect of a hunt. Janeway looked at Serena, smiling. “She knows this one, all right - must be a repeat offender. We’ve got samples back in the lab that should help us narrow it down a bit - at least eliminate some possibilities - and with any luck we’ll have a sample of this one. We’ll get him, don’t you worry!” She looked down at Molly, who was beginning to strain at the leash, anxious to go. “All right, Molly, let’s go and see who we’ve got here, shall we?” She opened the door through to the back office, but before she had a chance to do anything else, Molly had slipped her leash and was though the door like a black streak.
“What’s got into her?” Moriarty asked.
“Search me - she’s never done that before,” Janeway replied with a worried look. “She’s normally so well behaved.” She strode though after the dog, and Constable Moriarty followed her curiously, forgetting for the moment about Serena sitting there. Serena craned her head round the door, seeing where the sniffer dog was headed, and narrowed her eyes as she saw Molly stop at an officer’s desk, her paws up on his knees, barking in self congratulation at a job well done. As the officer leaned back from the onslaught of barking and dog breath, she smiled in grim satisfaction. She should have known.
She stood, picking up the plastic bag, and stalked though to the squad room. She may not have been in her own environment, but the team recognised a superior officer when they saw one, and respectfully made way for her, until she stood in front of the officer’s desk. Holding the offending item through the plastic, she pulled the bag inside out to expose the frayed, hole-riddled pair of y-fronts, stained in the most unappealing places.
“Sergeant Medcalf?” Her voice rang out clearly, and staff in adjoining offices came through to see what the disturbance was. “I believe these are yours.” She waved the y-fronts at arm’s length, ensuring that everyone had a good view before she dropped them squarely on his desk.
“Serena! What the -” He suddenly lowered his voice, practically hissing at her. “What’s the big idea, coming in to my place of work, waving my underwear around in front of my colleagues! Have you got any idea how humiliating this is?”
“Funnily enough, Robbie, yes, I have got an idea of that. Still, at least when you did the same thing to me, mine were clean. Get yourself some Daz, for goodness’ sake! Better still, get some new undies - and wet wipes to keep by the loo wouldn’t be a bad idea, either. You can download an advice leaflet on toilet hygiene from the NHS website if you’re not sure of the best way to keep clean down there?” She offered helpfully. “And don’t put the bloody things through my letterbox again!”
Stuck between rage and humiliation, Robbie had gone as red as a rooster’s coxcomb, and Serena began to worry for his blood pressure. But before he could do or say anything else, a furious looking woman, whom Serena recognised as having given the occasional press conference on television, summoned him through to her office, shutting the door firmly behind her and drawing the blinds. There was a brief silence, then a tirade of such ferocity that Serena almost took a step back.
But Constables Janeway and Moriarty were not only smiling, but actually high giving one another.
“Got him at last!” Moriarty crowed. “He’s such a creep - doesn’t surprise me at all that he’s been making a nuisance of himself outside the station as well as in it.” She turned to Serena. “I’m sorry, Ms Campbell, that was totally unprofessional of us - you must be very distressed by all this.”
Serena shook her head, a wicked smile on her face. “Distressed? No. Amused - absolutely! Robbie’s an ex of mine - a nuisance from start to finish, to tell the truth. He once waved a pair of my control underwear around on my ward in front of all my team, just to show he’d slept with me - I'm delighted to be able to return the favour!”
Moriarty glanced over to the office, where they could hear Robbie trying - and failing - to get a word in edgeways.
“Chief Inspector Figaro’s been trying to stamp out misogynistic behaviour on the team since she arrived a couple of years ago, and she’s had Sergeant Medcalf in her sights all that time - just never been able to prove anything before. Got him good and proper this time, though!”
“Thanks to Molly,” said Janeway proudly, fussing the dog and showering her with affection.
“Such a good dog,” Serena crooned, reaching down to pet her. And Molly reached up a paw in response, high-fiving Serena with what looked suspiciously like a wink.