The Devil Came to Abbeville

by Marian Phair

  “Another body, you say? What’s going on?” The M.E. realised something else had occurred.

  “We’ve found Lucas Bradley’s body. He’s died in suspicious circumstances. Scott Holden want’s to know if you find anything untoward on, or in his body, when you examine it.”

  “Like what? What does he expect me to find?”

  “I can’t tell you that, doc, he hasn’t told me yet. Its some theory he has, he’ll enlighten us when the time comes, no doubt.” Jake thought for a moment.

  “Can I ask you a quick question, doc?”

  “Go ahead. What is it you want to know, exactly?”

  “Well, Lucas’s body is obviously frozen. Is there anything you’ll be able to tell us about his death, before his body is thawed? Maybe some clue that you could impart that would give me an idea where to start my investigation.” Jake asked hopefully.

  “Well, the cold would have preserved his body, but it will have obscured forever when he had been killed. There’s just no way to tell if the body has been properly preserved at the time of death. Until the body’s thawed, there is very little I can tell you, sorry.” Dan Carter was about to hang up, and start his preparations in readiness to receive Lucas’s corpse, when he heard Jake’s voice coming over the receiver again.

  “Will you be able to determine time of death any other way, or tell how long his body has hung there? We know now, that he didn’t open up for two days, three, if you count Sunday, when he would be closed anyway.” Jake couldn’t keep despair from creeping into his voice.

  “Well, if he was killed immediately after a meal, I may be able to determine from the stomach contents, and there may be microscopic clues. There might even be signs of decomposition, particularly if the intestines and stomach were full at the time of death.

  However, this would be difficult to determine whether the body began to decompose before freezing, or during some thawing point.” He was interrupted by the DCI’s voice.

  “He is still frozen, doc, he’s not been moved yet, forensics haven’t finished there yet.”

  Jake knew he was only clinging to straws, but hope was all he had right now.

  “What I was going to say, detective, if you will show a little patience, is, I won’t be able to determine when decomposition began, because there could be some thawing point, when the body was removed from one place to another. I do know something of walk-in freezers, and I can tell you now; if the body is frozen as you tell me it is, he didn’t freeze where he was found.”

  “What do you mean by that, doc? My officer found Lucas Bradley’s corpse in a frozen state, like I told you.”

  “The type of freezers that butchers use, really just keep meat chilled. Even on the coldest setting a body could not be frozen in one. No, the body would have had to be frozen beforehand, in a chest freezer for instance, and once frozen, hung where it was found. When I receive his body, it will have to be left to thaw out at room temperature. Once this has taken place, I can start my examination of the corpse.

  At this point we won’t know when he was killed, how he was killed, or where the killing took place.” He hung up the phone, before he was required to try to answer any more questions, that at this particular time, he didn’t have an answer to.

  Jake heard the click, as the phone at the other end of the line was hung up. He sat for a few moments with his head in his hands, while he worked out his next course of action.

  “Well, what did the doc have to say?” Scott asked him.

  “We’ve got zilch at the moment. It could be at least twenty-four hours before we can learn anything more about this case.” He watched, as Scott removed his silver, Lincoln Penny from his pocket, and then rolled it back and forth through the fingers of one hand.

  “Why do you do that? I’ve noticed it’s a habit of yours.” Jake nodded his head at the coin.

  “Well, Fletch, if you must know, it’s my lucky, silver penny, it helps me to concentrate. You wouldn’t believe just how many bad guy’s we’ve helped bring to justice; good ole Abe Lincoln n’ I.”

  “So, are you going to let me into this ‘secret’ you’re having about these murders, or are you going to be just like everyone else, leaving me to sort all the crap out? What was it you expected to find, on Lucas Bradley?” Scott detected a note of sarcasm in the detective’s voice.

  “Okay, I’ll throw you a bone to chew on, detective, but so far, this is just a hunch, a gut feeling. Do you remember me telling you that the evidence pointed to there being more than one killer out there?”

  “Yeah, I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Well, the white roses that were found with Percy Grimes, and the John Doe, I think are the signature of a serial killer: only this killer, is different.”

  “How so, a serial killer is a serial killer, end of story?”

  “What I believe you’ve got out there detective, is a vigilante, and, he’s hunting!”

  CHAPTER 30

  Clive Marston parked in his usual spot under the overhanging branches of an old, oak tree, in the unlit car park, behind the Crown and Garter, which was coming to life once again under its new ownership. He switched of the engine, and sat quietly waiting in the darkness for his informer, Jimmy Breen, to join him. Nicknamed,

  ‘The Ferret,’ not only for his sharp pointed features, but for his ability to access and ferret out information, where others have failed. Jimmy had been sent on a mission to find out all he could about the mystery taking place at the Bradley residence.

  The dark shadow of a man, detached itself from the even deeper shadow of the oak tree, and Jimmy Breen, opened the car door and slipped into the passenger seat.

  “Boy you’re good, no wonder they nicknamed you, The Ferret. I didn’t see you come into the car park, and I was looking out for you through my mirrors,” Clive told him.

  “Ah, that would be because I was already here, standing in the shadows.” Jimmy Breen cast a sidelong look at the reporter.

  “How long have you been standing there in the shadows, while I’ve sat like a pratt, waiting for you?” Clive snapped.

  “Long enough to make sure you weren’t followed and there was nobody else about.”

  “Who the hell would want to follow me? I’m the news reporter I do the following!”

  “Okay, keep your wig on. You have to be careful in my business. Did you bring the money?” He turned in his seat and looked the reporter full in the face as he asked the question.

  “Yes, I’ve got your fifty quid in my pocket, and it had better be worth the money.”

  “Fifty quid won’t do it, mate. What I’ve found out will cost you double that.”

  “What do you mean it’ll cost me more? Fifty quid was the price we agreed on.”

  The reporter had no intention of being ripped off by the little man sitting fidgeting in the passenger seat of his Alfa Romeo.

  “That was for the Bradley’s place. I have some more information, something known only to the police, and they’re not talking. This little tidbit of information would certainly help a reporter up the ladder of success, if he were to alert the media,” he said slyly.

  Clive Marston’s interest suddenly flared. “Tell me what this new information is, and I’ll decide if it’s worth an extra fifty quid or not.”

  “Do you think I came up the canal in a bubble, or something? I’m not stupid. Its money up front, and then I’ll give you the info’ and I’ll guarantee it’ll be worth every penny, or my names not Jimmy Breen.”

  The reporter thought for a moment, he wouldn’t really miss the extra fifty pounds, but he expected value for his money. He sat pondering, did he take the risk, or not? How did he know he would be able to use the information once he had it? It might be totally useless to him, and he would be out one hundred pounds. After a while, he had made his decision. “Ok, you’ve got a deal. You’ll get your extra fifty quid. So what’s this ‘secret’ known only to the law?”

  He looked the little man up and down, taking in his ch
eap suit, and even cheaper looking shoes. Jimmy Breen looked in need of a bath. He held out his grubby hand, and there was a line of dirt under the fingernails.

  “Money up front I believe I told you. You cross my palm with your money, and I’ll pave your way to the ladder of success.” His greedy eye’s shifted from the reporters face to his hands, as Clive reluctantly withdrew his wallet, and slowly counted out one hundred pounds into the sweaty, grubby, palm.

  “Now, give me the news, what did you find out?” He waited impatiently while Jimmy carefully stored the money away in the inside pocket of his jacket.

  “There’s been a murder at the Bradley place.” The Ferret, said quietly.

  “I’d gathered that much for myself already, get on with it!”

  “Evelyn Bradley’s body has been carved up.” he stated, even quieter.

  “What do you mean, she been carved up? Carved up how?”

  “Reminds me of what that Jack the Ripper did to those prostitutes in London, in the eighteenth century. Jimmy said in a quavering voice, “Several pieces for you to find, boss.” He sat chuckling quietly, amused by the stunned expression on the reporters face, as the penny finally dropped.

  “Bloody hell, you’re telling me her body was cut to pieces?”

  “She was disembowelled mate, and part of her liver, and both her kidneys were missing.” He was warming to his storytelling, when he noticed the reporter’s face had paled. “There’s more, if you want to hear it?”

  Clive felt bile rising in his throat, and quickly swallowed, he was afraid he might lose his dinner, as images of the Ripper murders came into his mind. Unable to answer him, the reporter just nodded his head in assent.

  “Well it appears the lady was pregnant, about four months, so I was told. The foetus was cut from her womb, and placed on her chest. The Old Bill’s looking for her old man, him being a butcher an all. She was done up good and proper, poor bugger.”

  Clive, flung open the drivers door, and leaning out of his vehicle, promptly lost the fight to hold onto his dinner, and he threw up onto the tarmac. Jimmy Breen sat watching, as the reporter withdrew a handkerchief, wiped his mouth, and then shut the car door to keep out the stench of vomit. There had been times in the past when he’d had to deal with some gut wrenching stories, and he had regretted becoming a news reporter. This was one of those times, made even more powerful, because Lucas Bradley had been a very close friend of his at one time, before his marriage to Evelyn, after that, they had slowly drifted apart. He just couldn’t get his head around the fact that his old friend could have committed such a heinous crime, and against his own wife, the woman he had professed to love with all his heart. He knew Lucas was infertile, Lucas had confided in him when he first got the news that almost broke his heart. Which meant that Evelyn had taken a lover, and this had been a well kept secret. Maybe he would have another task for The Ferret, Jimmy Breen, to accomplish. That of finding out just who the father of Evelyn’s unborn child had been. He wondered just how he was going to use this information. The police themselves would broadcast it soon, and when they did, it would be useless to him, he would have lost the advantage. He leant back in his seat, and took several deep breaths, getting his emotions back under control.

  “So, this is what you thought was worth a hundred pounds? Well I think I’ve been cheated out of fifty, what do you think about that? I had another little job for you to do for me with no danger to yourself this time, but if you’re going to rip me off like this, maybe I’d better find someone else.” He sat, staring straight ahead, waiting to hear what the little man had to say.

  Jimmy bristled with anger. “That is only part of the story, what I’ve just told you is what you hired me to find out. What I’m about to tell you now, I stumbled across quite by accident. Do you remember the Percy Grimes story, if you remember, he killed little Liam Findley?”

  “How could I forget, I covered that story, I don’t think anyone in this town will ever forgot what happened to that poor kid. Why do you ask, what has Percy Grimes’ death got to do with anything? He was found dead not long afterwards by the police, good riddance I say. The pity is, he escaped justice. He died before the police could make an arrest.”

  “Percy Grimes was murdered.” Jimmy Breen stated.

  “No way was he murdered. The police released a statement that Percy Grimes had been ‘found’ dead. His body was discovered in the same shed he killed the boy in. The police never said it was suicide, but everybody assumes he killed himself. If he had been murdered, they would be looking for his killer and they would have told the press.”

  “Trust me on this one. Percy Grimes was murdered, and when they were doing his autopsy, the M.E. found a white rose shoved up his arse. It’s as if this rose came from another planet, because there is nothing like it to be found anywhere, it would seem. There’s more, if you want to hear it?”

  “Go on, I’m listening, you’ve got my attention.” Clive told him.

  “Another body was found, a tramp, I think he was. He was found in a ditch.”

  “Yes, I know that, everybody knows that, it was in the local papers. He was a drunk and probably choked on his own vomit. The police haven’t been able to establish yet who he is, or where he’s from. Until they do, they can’t release his body for burial.”

  “Ah, yes, but what you weren’t told, was another one of these strange roses was found with his body, and he didn’t just die, he was murdered!”

  “Murdered, you’re joking?”

  “It’s no joke mate, it’s a fact.” Jimmy watched the reporter’s expression change.

  “How do I know you’re not making this up to justify getting that other fifty quid out of me? Just how did you come by this information anyway?”

  “You know better than to ask me that. Make of it what you will. The police are playing their cards close to their chests, I guess they don’t want to go scaring the crap out of everyone. I know what I know, and I know that there is a killer out there somewhere, and he marks his victims with a white rose. Two murders, and trust me, they were murdered, and a white rose was left with their bodies. Who’s to say who will be the next victim of this white rose killer?”

  Clive had a rush of adrenalin, and he sensed he was onto something big here. He was anxious to get back to his apartment, and get stuck into drafting his early morning news report. When the townsfolk switched on their radios, and television sets in the morning, and tuned into the news channel, he would open their sleepy eyes for them.

  “I’ve got another little job for you, and there’s another fifty quid in it if you can come up with the answer.” he told Jimmy Breen.

  “What’s this job then? What do you want me to find out this time?”

  “I want you to find out a name for me,” Clive told him. “It could prove difficult, but if anyone can find it, you can, they don’t call you The Ferret for nothing.”

  “So whose name do you need me to find?” Jimmy was intrigued; maybe he could work this out to his advantage and make even more money elsewhere, on the side.

  “I want the name of Evelyn Bradley’s lover. Do you think you can find it out?”

  “If she had a lover, and he’s out there, I’ll find him. How long have I got?” he asked.

  “How long’s a piece of string? Can you get to it right away, and contact me through the usual channel when you have something for me?” He studied the little man’s face while he asked the question, his expression never changed. He just sat listening, poker-faced.

  “No worries, I’ll start first thing in the morning. Now, if our business is concluded, I’ll be on my way. I’d like to get a couple of pints in before closing time. I think I’ve earned it.”

  Jimmy Breen got out of the car and headed through the side door of the Crown and Garter. Before he could order his first pint, he heard the roar of the Alfa Romeo‘s engine, as Clive Marston drove out of the car park and sped off into the night.

  CHAPTER 31

  Father Patrick
sat nursing his second cup of coffee, completely sated by the sausage, eggs, bacon and beans, that Ruth had served up for breakfast. He’d had difficulty doing up the waistband on his trousers that morning, and knew he would have to start doing something about the extra weight he had put on over the past few weeks. The small radio on the worktop was playing classical music quietly in the background.

  “You really have to stop feeding me so well, Ruth.” he smiled at her across the table.

  “I’m surprised I could manage to eat such a big breakfast after the huge dinner I ate last night. I’ll be growing out of all my clothes soon, at this rate. I’ve already gained several pounds.”

  “You certainly tucked into the liver and onions with gusto, Father. I thought it made a nice change from our usual steak and kidney pie,” Ruth said as she buttered a piece of toast for Sally.

  “Yuck, I hate liver, its gross,” Sally stated.

  “That’s why I cooked sausage for you instead, and the reason you only had bacon with your breakfast this morning. Ruth ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Now eat your toast, and don’t dawdle, I’m waiting for you to finish so I can wash the dishes.”

  Ruth excused herself from the table and began clearing away the dirty crockery. Tying an apron around her waist, she started tackling the dishes. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed out the hour letting them know it was now eight o’clock. The music ended and the news came on.

  “Good morning, here is the eight o’clock news, brought to you by Clive Marston.

  Since the distressing events surrounding the murder of young Liam Findley, by Percy Grimes, some weeks ago, an informer told me, that Percy Grimes, believed to have committed suicide, was in fact murdered, and a white rose of unknown species was found with his body. Several days later, another body was found in a case that is baffling authorities. The body of a tramp was also discovered, in a ditch, by a local farmer. He had been murdered, and again a white rose was found with the body.