Cranford

by Bill Sm
(Lochgelly, Fife, Scotland)

During the 1960s I worked as a Police Constable in Scotland. One morning at the start of my shift I was detailed to accompany a member of the CID to a house in a new housing estate that had been burgled. I was to take the statements, with descriptions of the stolen property then carry out the necessary door to door enquiries, while the CID Officer who on this occasion was a Sergeant, checked the house for fingerprints.
In fairness to Angus (the CID Sergeant) when we arrived at the housing estate, all the streets had similar names for instance Smith Street, Smith Drive, etc. Angus stopped the Police van outside a smart looking house. At the gate there was a slice of varnished tree trunk with the word ‘CRANFORD’ burned into it..
When Angus knocked on the door, an attractive middle aged woman answered it. Angus said.“Good morning Mrs. Cranford, We’re from the police,” by way of an introduction. After a quick glance up and down the street to see if the neighbours were about, the woman immediately invited us in. When we went inside, and possibly because of the early hour, she asked if we would like a cuppa, an offer Angus couldn’t refuse
About ten minutes later Angus got down to business and asked the lady his usual first question “How did they get in?”
She replied. “You’ve lost me Sergeant?”
Angus replied. “The burglars, how did they get in? Did you let them in the door? Or did they come in through a window, or what?”
She then said rather indignantly. “I can assure you. Sergeant no one broke into this house”
Because of the seriousness of the situation I beat a hasty retreat mainly to conceal my mirth.