The Woods of St Francis – 5

“My, my,” said Knowles to himself, “I thought my place was a time capsule, but it’s got nothing on this.”   

He looked at the matching Staffordshire dogs on the mantelpiece, the record player in the corner, Constable’s ‘Hay Wain’ on the flock wall-papered walls, and the cocktail trolley by the window, with fully stocked bottles he noted, and smiled. This had the potential to be a National Trust property from the 1960s / 1970s. He was relieved to see that there was no sign of a pet in the house, no cages, litter trays, dog collars, or aquariums. Not even a goldfish bowl. No need to get the animal shelter involved. Andy Bowen had lived alone.

Knowles looked in the kitchen and had a surprise. The fridge was well stocked with vegetables and fruit, and there were no processed foods. All this made Knowles wonder whether Bowen had turned over a new leaf recently, literally in the salad’s case – or whether he hadn’t included exercise in his daily habits yet. These things take time, as Knowles knew only too well. The milk smelled fresh. The food bank would love all these items. In the dish rack were one plate, one bowl, one spoon, one fork, and one knife, plus a mug full of water in the metal sink.

Some letters were in a letter rack on the counter, containing requests for payment that the estate would have to settle. There was a ticket stub for an event that Knowles didn’t recognise. He popped this in an evidence bag. There was a date on the back, stamped in red ‘25-02’, which presumably was 25th February this year. What events had taken place on Saturday, 25th February? He’d ask Linda to find out.

Barnes came into the Lounge. 

“Anything odd up there?” asked Knowles.

“He made the bed, all neat and tidy. The usual assortment of shirts, T-shirts, trousers, and shoes plus two jackets. He also has a replica England shirt and a Manchester United top.”

“I wonder if he’s a football fan then or just tries to fit in with the crowd?” asked Knowles, “there’s a ticket here for an event, would any local football teams have been playing on 25th February?”

“Well, there’s only two really who would issue tickets, that‘s Scoresby Town and Scoresby Rovers. I will check on my phone to see if either of them was playing on that date.”

As Barnes played with his phone, Knowles looked at the computer on the table and the answerphone. There were no messages. He took the computer and placed it in an evidence bag for the Forensics team to investigate. 

“Well,” said Barnes, “it looks like it was a local derby on Saturday 25th February, Scoresby Town were at home to Scoresby Rovers and it finished as a 2-2 draw, with both teams down to nine players, 4 red cards and 12 yellow.”

“A competitive game then,” said Knowles, “a typical lower league game with the ball only incidental on occasions.” 

“I hadn’t realised you were such an expert on local football clubs, sir,” said Barnes in surprise.

“I’m not, but I remember someone talking about it on the Monday afterwards, because I think things threatened to get out of hand when one player was sent off and some crowd members tried to remonstrate with him about his behaviour. There were three police constables there, and they calmed things down. It’s strange because there were only a few hundred at the match and yet there was almost violence, because one player kicked the ball at another player who he thought was feigning injury.”

“You have a splendid memory, sir,” said Barnes.

“It was the first thing I heard after coming back from my holidays, Barnesy, and I remember thinking that not much had changed during my time away.”

“I see, yes, you would remember that I suppose. Have you found anything out of the ordinary?”

“His computer is in this,” said Knowles, holding up the evidence bag, “it’s just a little Chromebook laptop by the looks of it, nothing fancy, presumably he didn’t use computers that much. As for other things, his last meal was on his own, and he cleaned up afterwards and washed and placed all the items in the dish rack, apart from the mug in the sink. The fridge is well stocked and all of it is healthy. Was there anything in the bathroom up there? And is there another room?”

“The bathroom was just a bath with no shower and very little in the cupboards other than the usual stuff, shaver, toothbrush, toothpaste, cotton buds, mouthwash. And yes, there’s a storeroom next to the bathroom with a spare bed that has no bedding on it, plus empty boxes for both a TV and what looks like an exercise bike.”

“An exercise bike? I wonder where that is? I haven’t seen that.”

Manton Rempville – 4

Knowles and Barnes drove back to Scoresby station and immediately headed to the forensics laboratory, hoping that Dr Crabtree would have some news for them.

         “Well, Colin, I don’t have that much to tell you, really. You know some of it already. Stabbed in the back with some force by someone slightly taller than the 5ft 7 inch victim – the blade has followed a slightly downward trajectory – victim died instantly and fell in a heap on the ground causing the blade to buckle and bend slightly, so that the murderer was unable to remove the sword cleanly although they had a good go, causing the exit wound to be very messy indeed. There are no fingerprints on the sword whatsoever.”

         “Really? So the murderer was wearing gloves,” said Knowles, “go on Dr Crabtree.”

         “We found a red thread on the hilt of the sword, which looks as though it has come from a sheet or towel used to hide the sword from view.”

         “No great surprise there,” said Barnes, “few people could carry a sword without alerting suspicion of some kind.”

         “Whereas carrying a large red towel is perfectly normal and wouldn’t be in any way uncommon,” replied Knowles, “although it was probably carried in a bag for the most effective disguise. What material is the thread?”

         “I think it’s cotton, Colin, we can have it analysed for you.”

         “Yes, please Doctor, I like to be thorough when analysing evidence.”

         “Of course, Colin, that won’t be a problem.”

         “And now the all important question – what was the time of death approximately?”

         “Well, I am almost certain the time was 11:06pm.”

         “Give or take an hour or so?” said Barnes.

         “Give or take 30 seconds,” said Knowles. “The doctor is indicating that the victim must have smashed his watch when he fell dead to the ground – are there any fingerprints on the watch?”

         “We’ll have to check, Colin, and let you know when it’s been dusted.”

         “Thank you – I wonder whether he would have smashed his watch though, if he fell on to the grass.”

         “The watch face was broken by something” said Dr Crabtree showing Knowles the watch enclosed in a plastic evidence bag.

         “Indeed it was, but there’s no indication it hit the grass, no soil, no colouring of green. Were there any stones lying around where he landed?”

         “Let’s look at the photos, shall we?”

         The men walked over to the doctor’s table and examined the photos that showed the ground around Pritchard’s left hand.

         “There are no stones around where his left hand and wrist would have landed, so what could he have hit the watch on?” pondered Barnes stroking his short beard.

         “There’s nothing obvious is there, so either the killer did it to fool us or it was broken before he was killed,” replied Knowles. “Doctor, what do the other signs tell us about his time of death?”

         “They more or less fit with the watch. I would have put the time at between 10:30 and 11:30 p.m. last night. Perhaps 11:45 p.m. at the outside.”

         “Interesting, so I wonder why half-an-hour could make so much difference, if the murderer knew the body wouldn’t be found until the morning?”

         “It has to be to establish an alibi, sir – I can prove I was with Person X at 11:06 p.m. and they will verify that, whereas half-an-hour earlier or later and that alibi would not hold.”

         “Indeed, Sergeant, we shall have to ask our questions very carefully when we meet our suspects.”

         “You have some suspects already, Colin? That was quick work.” Dr Crabtree readjusted his glasses with some surprise.

         “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t call them suspects yet, as I haven’t even met them, but I was referring to the people who live at the Hall near Manton Rempville. Adelaide Hills saw some people behaving suspiciously when she discovered the body and they must have all come from the Hall.”

         “Try not to bring class politics into the conversation, Colin, especially when there’s a case to be solved.”

         “Right, wait until afterwards, you mean?”

         “Something like that, yes, and don’t forget that Sir Michael Johnson, who owns Manton Rempville Hall, is a personal friend of the Chief Constable, and any complaints will go straight to that level.”

         “Thank you for the warning, Dr Crabtree, I will bear what you say in mind, but I do have to find a murderer after all and that’s the main aim of my investigation. Now, do you have a nice picture of the sword that I can show to the people at the hall, preferably one that doesn’t show it sticking into Mr Edward Pritchard? That would be quite tasteless, wouldn’t it Sergeant?”

         “It would indeed, sir, because we do need those people to be able to easily identify the sword and not have their recall impaired by seeing a dead body.”

         “We have a nice picture here, Colin, which people will enjoy looking at.”

         “Thanks, Doctor Crabtree, my compliments to the photographer.”

         With that, Knowles and Barnes left the lab and headed over to Manton Rempville Hall in Barnes’ sleek white sports car, which Knowles thought would impress the upper-class individuals they were about to meet.

Manton Rempville – 3

Barnes and Knowles drove their vehicles back to Goat Parva and parked outside The Cottage, the imaginatively named residence of Adelaide Hills and her retriever, Bingo.

         “Well, here we go again, sir,” said Barnes as he knocked on the door and heard the mad barking of Bingo inside.

         “Bingo is in fine voice today, oh how I have missed those desperate notes of happiness from our favourite retriever,” replied Knowles, “give me a cat any second of the day.”

         “And how is your kitty, Gemma?”

         “I’ve bought her a male friend from the animal shelter in Madeley. His name is Freddie and he knows who’s boss in our house. He tried to pick a fight with Gemma on his second day in residence and he won’t be doing that again. She has a mean straight right and she scratched his nose quite badly. He was so upset; he hides behind me whenever he can…oh here is Mrs Hills.”

         Adelaide Hills opened the door and flashed a relieved smile as she recognised the two officers. She looked slightly greyer than the officers remembered her from earlier in the year. Her husband had died a few years previously in a camel dismounting accident and she now lived alone, apart from Bingo. She was always wary about opening her door to anyone.

         “Sergeant Barnes and Inspector Knowles, what a surprise, I rather thought we’d never meet like this again, but how wrong I was.”

         “Well, we thought the same thing, but Bingo seems to have a nose for dead bodies,” grinned Barnes.

         “You won’t be having me followed on my morning walks will you, Inspector Knowles?”

         “Not yet, Adelaide, not yet. Could we come in? It’s a bit cold out here.”

         “Of course, where are my manners – Bingo stop there and allow these two gentlemen to pass by.”

         Bingo withdrew slightly, but eyed the shoes of the two policemen with great suspicion. As usual, the 6 foot 3 inch Barnes had to duck his head to get through the low doorway, but Knowles was a good six inches shorter and didn’t have the same problem.

         Knowles and Barnes sat on Adelaide Hills’s settee in her living room and declined her offer of a cup of tea. Barnes straightened his trousers and rubbed a speck of dirt from his left shoe. Knowles just looked crumpled.

         Barnes began: “Adelaide, you and Bingo were walking this morning near Manton Rempville when something quite familiar happened.”

         “Yes, Sergeant, Bingo started barking when we were walking through the monastery grounds and straining at his leash; I followed him into the refectory where we saw that man who had been stabbed with the sword.”

         “Did Bingo take anything?”

         “No, he was on a tight leash, and I have learned my lesson. I phoned you from the scene of the crime and waited until your local constable arrived from Norton-juxta-Wychwood and then went home. Bingo didn’t pick up anything from the scene and didn’t take any clothing.” Adelaide Hills smiled as she knew the officers couldn’t rebuke her this time.

         “Things are improving – now did you see anyone in the area of the monastery, Adelaide?”

         “I did Sergeant. There were three young men horsing around as they walked through the trees away from me towards Manton Rempville Hall and also a youngish couple sitting on a fence by the monastery car park having an animated discussion. There were no vehicles in the car park, so I presume they’d walked there too. I also heard an older couple arguing about some money related subject such as wills when I was walking back here after the constable had arrived.”

         “And how old were the young men and the youngish couple would you say?”

         “The young men were around 20 and the youngish couple were slightly older, say around 25, but no older than that.”

         “When you say the young men were horsing around – what were they doing?”

         “They were fooling around, pretending they had swords and fighting each other.” Adelaide Hills waved her arm in front of her, parodying a fencer.

         “That’s a very strange coincidence, isn’t it?” interjected Knowles, leaning forwards.

         “I suppose so, Inspector, but could their horse-play and the murderer’s modus operandi be connected, do you think?”

         “We’ll be heading to the big Hall later on today, so we’ll find out who you saw and why they were acting in that manner.”

         “Well I hope I have been of help, Inspector, and do call again if you need to ask any more questions.”

         “We will certainly do that, Adelaide, thank you.” Barnes and Knowles stood up and Knowles tried to pull the dog hairs from his trousers without much success. He glared at Bingo.

         As the two policemen left, Bingo looked rather sad. Neither of the two men had patted him on the head as they passed.

Manton Rempville – 2

The two men started to walk over to the eastern wall of the monastery’s refectory where the body had been found an hour earlier by Bingo the retriever, out on a long walk with his owner Adelaide Hills from Goat Parva. Both dog and owner were well known to the police from a few months before when Bingo had made a habit of finding bodies in the early morning.

         “According to his credit cards, his name is Edward Pritchard; we are just running some computer checks to find out where he lives. It’s how he’s been killed that you will find interesting, sir.”

         With his hands in his trench coat pockets, Knowles stood on the wall and looked down at the body lying on what would have been the refectory floor. Edward Pritchard had been run through with a sword and the handle was sticking out of his back on the left-hand side. Knowles smiled at Dr Crabtree, the forensic doctor, who was examining the body.

         “Dr Crabtree, we have a real sword being used as a murder weapon?” Knowles would have rubbed his hands with glee if they hadn’t been warming up in his pockets.

         “We do indeed, Colin, a very real sword. This is a heavy cavalry sword with a straight blade with one cutting edge whereas the other side has been thickened for greater strength. The blade is around three feet in length. It directly penetrated his heart and he would have died instantly.”

         “Any prints on the handle?” Knowles looked hopeful when he said this.

         “We’ll check back at the lab Colin, can we move him now?”

         “Yes, that will be all I think. We’ll be back at the station in an hour or so; could you have something by then in terms of fingerprints, time of death, and any ideas on a profile of who could have done it?”

         “We’ll try Colin – no promises, but we’ll try.”

         “I presume the person who murdered Edward wasn’t aware of the type of sword they were using, “ said Barnes, “because that’s a sword for slashing people with, not for running them through.”

         “So, you would have expected a murderer who knew what he was using to have hit Edward here in the neck with the sharp side,” replied Knowles.

         “Yes, sir, that’s correct.”

         “So we’re looking for an ignorant murderer then? We show the suspects the sword and ask them how they would kill someone using the sword and those who opt for the neck slash are innocent?”

         “They might be bluffing sir, so we shouldn’t just use that as a method of elimination from our enquiries,” said Barnes, playing along with Knowles’ quite acerbic sense of humour.

         “OK, we’ll just confine ourselves to telling the murderer, when we catch him, that he/she murdered Edward here in the wrong way. So where could the sword have come from? It’s not the sort of weapon you can easily conceal.”

         “The nearest house is Manton Rempville Hall – you can see it just poking through the trees over there. That might be the best place to start.”

         “Agreed – they probably maintain an assortment of weapons to keep the staff subdued and repel invasions by the local peasants in times of crisis. We should go there after visiting our oldest friend in Goat Parva, Mrs Adelaide Hills, and her bundle of fun, Bingo.”

         “It’s just like old times, sir.”

         “Indeed it is, Barnesy. I just hope that this is the only body Bingo finds in this murder investigation.”

Manton Rempville – 1

Detective Sergeant Rod Barnes surveyed the remains of Manton Rempville monastery with incredulity. He’d heard that 100,000 pounds had been spent on preserving the ruins and he couldn’t understand why anyone would do such a thing. Ruins were ruins for a reason. The natural order of things, in Barnes’s mind at least, was gradual decay – preservation only delayed the inevitable, like applying skin cream to wrinkles or a new coat of paint to a rusting car. Besides, the ruins were open to anyone and there was no entry charge, so they were never going to get their money back.

Barnes stiffened slightly as he saw Detective Inspector Colin Knowles’s Land Rover chug into the car park and lurch to a halt too close to Barnes’s Morgan sports car for his comfort. He glanced down at the body and thought that Knowles, his boss, would find this crime scene interesting indeed. Barnes had heard that Knowles was on a new diet and that his latest culinary delight was vegetable kebabs cooked on his nearly new barbecue even in the depths of autumn.

Taking care not to get his highly polished shoes muddy, Barnes walked across the uneven grass as a low, cold wind whipped across the historical site slightly disturbing his short, brown hair. He hadn’t seen much of Knowles in the past month as they’d both been away on holiday at separate times since the murders in Goat Parva. As he came towards him, Barnes noticed that even though the Inspector had lost weight, he still wasn’t able to tuck his Marks and Spencer shirt into his trousers.

“Good morning, sir, how are you today?”

“Fair to middling, Barnesy old son, the diet’s working well, nearly 15 pounds lost.” Knowles gripped his much reduced stomach with some pride.

“How’s the gym going?”

“Gradually doing more on the treadmill, lifting a few weights, and getting some stretching done on those large blue balls they have. That’s not easy – those balls are bouncy as hell – I almost fell off the first few times I tried to lie on the thing. Anyway, not only can I see my toes now, but I can almost touch them too.”

“That’s good to hear, sir. The trick to keeping the weight off is by committing to a lifestyle change rather than thinking you’re on a diet.”         “Good point, Sergeant, lifestyle sounds very magazine like though, very posh Sunday newspaper, but I know what you mean. Anyway, who do we have over there?” Knowles pointed in the direction of the photographer and Forensics team, who were investigating the crime scene.

The Woods of St Francis – 4

Knowles screwed up his face with doubt and rubbed his chin. Barnes nodded.

“Well, that’s a theory,” said Knowles,”but, she must have been drunk or blind. Strong too, to smack him on the back of the head at the same time as looking seductive. I’m not sure I’d go anywhere near a woman holding a brick, even if I was desperate.”

“There’s a picnic table over there,” said Barnes, “wouldn’t that have been a better place.”

“The voice of experience,” said Knowles, looking at Smythe and pointing at Barnes, “but I understand what he means.”

“Perhaps there was an accomplice, like Bonnie and Clyde, the woman, the distraction the man with the implement.” 

“You could be correct, Linda, I’m not discounting it at all. Barnesy, what else is there?”

“He lives in the village and has done so for about 20 years. He was a waiter at the bistro here when it was open and before that at a couple of restaurants in Scoresby. That’s all I found out from a couple of passers-by.”

“Fair enough,” said Knowles, “we should get those PCs on the house-to-house once we’re at the victim’s home. Shall we try to find the object? Let’s take 5 minutes to see if there’s anything obvious.”

The three police inspected the area with great care, but came up with nothing. Knowles bent over the body and noted that the victim wasn’t wearing any jewellery.

“You looked in his wallet, Sergeant?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s in this plastic bag,” said Barnes, “his credit cards are there and thirty pounds in cash, plus some loose change in his jacket pocket. They did not rob him unless he was wearing a pendant or something. His watch is still there too. Nothing expensive.”

“OK, Forensics can have this, I see they’re over there looking alert. Linda, go to the pub and ask the landlord, Tim Fearns, what Andy Booth was up to last night and whether he was with anyone at any point in the evening. And ask about the jewellery too. Not that anyone would have been examining him that closely. Then come over to the cottage at….what’s the address, Sergeant Barnes?”

“12 London Street,” replied Barnes, “thankfully, people in these remote villages still know each other’s business.”

“Indeed, parochialism has its uses sometimes,” said Knowles, “OK, DC Smythe, any questions?”

“No, sir,” said Smythe, “everything is very clear.”

“OK, let’s split, as people used to say, and meet up at the victim’s cottage at a time to be determined by fate.”

The Woods of St Francis – 3

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” said Knowles, “you are even more pleased with yourself than normal, what’s causing the broad smile?”

“Good morning, sir, and good morning to you, DC Smythe. I haven’t become used to saying that, Linda, and congratulations once again on the promotion, it’s well deserved. As for smiling, sir, well it’s because you seemed so happy when I told you that Bingo hadn’t discovered the body.”

“It was relief more than anything.”

“He did save your life, sir, up at the Black Hill Hotel.”

“He did, you’re right, I should be more grateful. Anyway, I’ve a feeling you have more to say on the subject. Please continue.”

“Yes, I am not sure how to put this…a dog discovered the body.”

“What?”

Linda Smythe turned away and smiled. She knew her boss didn’t appreciate canines in the slightest.

“A dog discovered the body, and it’s a dog owned by Adelaide Hills.”

Knowles opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish.

“You mean she’s bought another dog? I presume Bingo’s OK? Is he?”

“Bingo is in fine form, sir, and has been training his accomplice.”

“Oh my lord, so what’s this dog called?”

Barnes laughed before saying, “It’s not much different from Bingo…the new dog’s called Banjo.”

“Banjo….Banjo, what’s with the names?”

“Banjo is a 2-year-old retriever obtained from the dog shelter in Scoresby as a Christmas present for Bingo. Mrs Hills thought Bingo needed some company, some social connectedness as she called it.”

“Right, well…well..well, Bingo and Banjo, short and snappy names I suppose. It means we have to go back to Goat Parva and see Adelaide once again in relation to a murder enquiry. I suppose Bingo will have to be out of the room whilst Banjo gives his story.”

“He will, sir, we must follow procedures. Anyway, please follow me to view the body of Andy Booth, a 70-year-old former waiter from this village. Let’s walk on the grass as there are some footprints on the path. They smacked him on the back of the head with a sharp object, a brick or large stone. The PCs are standing guard outside his cottage, so we can have a look later. He’d been in the Dog and Duck and was taken short on his way home, hence the willy hanging, or more accurately peeping, out of his trousers.”

“Really? It’s only fifty yards to the pub and their toilets are out the back in the beer garden, so he could have just run back there, though by the looks of him, that might have been too far. He’s overweight, even from this angle.”

“There might be another explanation,” said Smythe, “though looking at him, I doubt it.”

“And that is?” said Knowles.

“How do I put this,” said Smythe, “there might have been a lady involved.”

The Woods of St Francis – 2

“I heard my name mentioned, sir,” said Smythe, putting her phone down.

“You organised Mahoney, Linda?” asked Knowles.

“Indeed, sir, he likes flowers apparently, and so is the right man for the job.”

“He is, just as long as he doesn’t enjoy stealing them. He must be patient and blend in when he’s watching the gardens of Princes Crescent.”

“Mahoney’s taking an unmarked car, so that will help, won’t it?”

“Yes, it will, did you suggest that Linda?”

“I did, Inspector, but I think Mahoney didn’t need to be reminded of that. There was a certain silence coming down the line, the sort of silence that shows someone is thinking ‘I didn’t need to be told that’, but doesn’t want to say that for fear of causing offence.”

“Understood, Linda, get used to that now we promoted you to a detective. You’re an officer, so relationships will be a little different from now on. Anyway, you did hear your name. We’re heading to Manton Rempville. We have found someone dead in the woods. Sergeant Barnes has recommended the path near the signpost in the centre of the village, and then it’s about 25 yards. We should go as he will get anxious otherwise.”

“I see, I take it that the Bingo dog from Goat Parva did not discover the body?”

“No, Linda,” replied Knowles, “Bingo the retriever didn’t discover the body. Sergeant Barnes made that quite clear.”

Manton Rempville – Monday, 9:30am

Inspector Knowles and DC Smythe chugged over to Manton Rempville in Knowles’s Land Rover at a sedate pace under a pale-brown sky that looked like it would last the entire day. The road to the village was now clear of snow, ice, and general slipperiness for the first time in 3 months. It was a shortcut that Knowles and other locals knew about, a shortcut that involved two steep ascents lasting for about 100 yards, and two steep descents of shorter duration. The tyres on his vehicle were only 3 months old and gripped the grey-brown, rutted surface with great assurance. This shortcut was one of those roads that seemed to last forever, with brown, skinhead hedges on either side that blocked out the landscape, which at this time of year was no significant loss to those who admired and enjoyed landscapes. The road emerged in the centre of the village of Manton Rempville, opposite the Dog and Duck pub, looking subdued in the morning light. The window boxes were devoid of flowers and the sign creaked in the westerly breeze. A Morgan coupe was parked at the front. Sergeant Barnes had reversed into the space, allowing him a quick getaway should the need arise. Knowles parked his Land Rover in another space on the opposite side of the green front door. He realised Sergeant Barnes felt people should be able to admire his car without an old, ugly vehicle sullying the view.   

“Right, Linda,” said Knowles, “let’s see what we can find out. Sergeant Barnes has positioned himself by the signpost, just in case we didn’t know the way.” Sergeant Barnes was indeed lurking at the entrance to the woods, leaning on a metal handrail. He wore a burgundy coloured jumper under his jacket and grey slacks with running shoes. He looked elegant, in contrast to Knowles who looked crumpled even when he was wearing his usual work attire of smart black jacket, grey jumper, and designer black trousers, bought at a duty-free shop when coming home from holiday. Smythe was making the most of her promotion by wearing her favourite outfit of blue trousers and a red jacket, almost hidden by a grey mackintosh. She didn’t trust the weather, but it was great to be out of uniform. She waited for Knowles to change into his yellow wellingtons, a customary alteration for her boss, who wandered around without watching where he was placing his feet when contemplating a crime scene. 

The Woods of St Francis – 1

Chapter 1 – Scoresby Police Station – Monday 8:15 am

“Good morning, Linda,” said Detective Inspector Colin Knowles as he strolled into the office. Knowles was happy the last vestiges of snow had disappeared on his journey into the office.

“Good morning, sir, how are you today? You seem happier than you have been for a while,” replied Detective Constable Smythe, embarrassed that she’d caught herself noticing how thin her boss now looked, or relatively thin anyway compared with a few months ago. He’d been working hard on his fitness by the look of it. 

“Yes, I am, well spotted Linda, I had a wonderful weekend and caught up on my sleep. It’s the best I’ve slept since I came back from holiday in February. The cats are both well too and got along for the entire weekend which is unusual – they must be plotting something.” Knowles sat down at his desk and switched on his computer. He placed his mobile phone in a holder by his cactus plant.

“Well, talking of plotting it seems like someone’s been stealing plants from gardens in Melton Lazars again.”

“What Jubilee Gardens and Queen’s Road?”

“No, King’s Gardens this time.”

“Right, ask PC Mahoney to pay the people a visit. From what I remember the thief or thieves are following a particular route, because Queen’s Road leads into Jubilee Gardens and then King’s Gardens, so next it will be Princes Crescent.”

“Will do,” said Smythe, smiling at Knowles’s encyclopedic knowledge of the roads in local villages. She lifted the receiver of her landline and dialled a number.

At the same moment, Knowles’s mobile phone buzzed. He looked at the caller and mumbled under his breath…”Here’s trouble.”

He picked up the phone. “Hello Sergeant Barnes, how are you? Oh, I am glad you’re well, me too, now what is it you’re wanting to tell me – you sound all eager…..oh right..….really….a body? In the woods near Manton Rempville, you say. It’s not Bingo again, is it? Good, good, well I presume Forensics are on their way? Dr Crabtree and his latest helper, Michael whatshisname…? Waters, yes, that’s correct. Right, I will sprint over there right away. Yes, sprint Barnesy, sprint, my Land Rover has go-faster stripes on one side now, courtesy of a small wall that appeared out of nowhere last week when I was taking the cats to the vet and they were distracting me. Yes, I know blame the cats who can’t answer back. Oh, and what entrance to the woods is it best to use….? The entrance by the signpost in the village, right see you in about 30 minutes. I’ll bring Linda. We could use her sleuthing skills and eye for detail by the sounds of it. Bye, Sergeant.”

Knowles placed the phone in his pocket and skimmed through his emails which were almost all notifications of system upgrades at times he hoped he would not be awake. There were a couple of notifications about appearing in court in a month’s time in relation to a boy-racer case Knowles had worked on over in Frisby Waterless. A young man, Benjamin Greatbatch, had smashed his car into a bridge parapet when allegedly racing his friend Colin Pemberton. Greatbatch died and Pemberton denied all knowledge. Knowles was inclined to believe Pemberton, and not just because they shared a first name. He had an alibi that seemed cast iron.