The Devils often in the Detail by Ben Henderson

The story opens with Harry our story teller speaking at his retirement do: Alright, alright, I’ll just say a few words because convention says that I must at a retirement do. As most of you know, at Streatham nick, on the first floor is the Detective Inspector’s office, it’s always been there and many have occupied it and I’ve seen plenty come and go. In 1922, the man that had that office was as straight as an arrow, a bit of a legend, and the story he told me has haunted me, for thirty years. It’s so long ago now, I’m sure the people concerned are no longer with us. His story starts on a cold wintery night in December 1922 and it’s about six o’clock in the evening in the snug lounge of the Volunteer Inn. The pub is on the outskirts of a village called Finsey by the north Norfolk coast. On the back wall between the bar and the door is an old glass fronted display case, in it there is an old flintlock pistol and below it a Victoria Cross medal on a ribbon with a small card citation...