Superintendant Jeremy Smyth was in a very good mood. From August onwards he looked forward to the second Tuesday in January with relish. It was his annual Crime Stats presentation and this year it looked like he was in the running to have some of the most impressive statistics in the country. Henry Bullington, an old school friend and rival was the Superintendant at Carlisle City Police and he was leading Smyth five to four. This year, Smyth would definitely equal the score. The conviction of Martin Willow the day before had just tipped the scores in Smyth’s favour. Smyth checked his paperwork again. He had come in two hours earlier than his usual ten o clock start to ensure that the presentation went smoothly. He made sure the projector was working properly and that all the files were stored on the computer in the correct order.
“Everything set sir?” Chalmers said.
“Oh yes Bob,” Smyth replied, “its going to be a good one; has everybody been informed?”
“Of course sir, Smith won’t be here but that can’t be helped.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s on leave sir.”
“Well that’s a damn shame,” Smyth said, “he is mainly responsible for me having such corking good statistics this year.”
“I’ll get someone to video tape it sir,” Chalmers said, “I’m sure Smith wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.”
“Why that’s a splendid idea Bob. Well, better get cracking. Round them all up will you. I’ve got a surprise for you all this year; a bit of a reward for all your efforts but you’ll have to wait and see what that is.”
“If I were a criminal,” Thompson said, “I’d wait for the second Tuesday in January and I’d rob as many houses and banks as I could. Do you know why? Because there are no bloody coppers on the streets; they’re all forced to watch the Super brag about his vital statistics.”
“Vital statistics sir?” Whitton laughed.
“Whatever he brags about,” Thompson said, “bloody college boy thinks he’s a Policeman. Well he’s not a Policeman’s arse if you ask me.”
“You’re in a good mood today sir,” Whitton said.
“The wife’s kicked me out and I’m stuck looking after a bloody dog; things are just bloody great. I suppose we’d better get this over with. That lucky bastard Smith has got away with it again and do me a favour Whitton, when the Super asks if there are any questions at the end, do not under any circumstances ask any ok? One year we were stuck in there for three hours because some bright spark wanted to know how the stats are calculated.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Smyth began, “it’s that time of year again when we look back at the results of our hard work from the past year.”
Smyth could not help but notice that the turnout was down from last year.
“Is everybody here?” he asked.
“All here,” Chalmers assured him.
“Then I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. Does anybody have any questions before I start?”
Thompson held his breath but nobody said a word.
“Ok then, let’s get this show on the road. Firstly I want to briefly run through last years figures so we can compare.”
What followed was two hours of bar charts, graphs, comparisons and more graphs. After that came thirty minutes for an explanation of Smyth’s complicated points system where he explained that a statistical points system had been developed that allocated certain points to certain crimes. Murder, for example carried the highest points and parking offences the least. Smyth finally came to the final result.
“We should have a drum roll for this part,” he said.
Nobody laughed.
“Final results for York Police Department for the year 2008 are eleven thousand five hundred. A nice round number and seventy points down from last year. The icing on the cake though is I heard from Carlisle that they were over twelve thousand so that’s one in the eye for old Bullington. As a result of this, I have a surprise for you all but before I reveal what this is; does anybody have any questions about the results?”
Thompson looked at Whitton and shook his head. She kept quiet.
“I know you’re going to love this,” Smyth said.
He picked up a box from the floor.
“I took the liberty of having these made.”
He picked up one of the plaques. It was brass with a dark wooden back. On the plaque it said, ‘York Police Department. Top of the League 2008’.
“If you could form an orderly line,” Smyth said, “and collect one each from me, that would be great.”
Whitton sniggered. Thompson smiled at her.
“Top of the league hey?” he said.
“That’s if for another year,” Smyth announced, “let’s make it even better for next year.”
Very few people could keep a straight face as they received their award from Smyth but he did not seem to notice.
“Thank God that’s over for another year,” Thompson said as he sat in his office.
He turned round and with amazing accuracy, managed to throw the plaque in the bin in the far corner.