Lost Lad

by Annable, Narvel

  It was getting into the early evening. Detective Sergeant John Winter hoped that the boss would call it a day, but Derek felt the urgency to leave no stone unturned. Information on 'Guzzly Granddad' was scant and mainly hearsay. Some knowledge came from a local officer who spoke of 'a bit of bother' when a neighbour complained that a bunch of noisy youths were drinking in Granddad's front room -

  "Does this man have a proper name?" asked Derek.

  "Piggs, sir, a Mr T Piggs," replied PC Harris. "I think the T stands for Toby."

  "Toby Jug!" laughed Sergeant Winter. "Put him with Jasper, Simon and Dolly and they'll think the circus has come to town!"

  "I wouldn't exactly call him a freak," said Harris, choosing his words with care in an effort of remembrance. He became amused as the recollection became clearer.

  "Certainly a bit on the smelly side, he was piggling his toes when I questioned him. The neighbour said he spent a lot of time sitting in the Arboretum, would get chatting to lads and sometimes invited them back for fags and beer."

  "Did you interview any of these boys?" asked John.

  "I considered it, but the old bloke didn't know any of their names or where they lived."

  After making a small purchase at a rather dingy, seedy little shop on Ebenezer Street, John Winter engaged the shop-keeper in casual conversation -

  "This part of town doesn't change much does it? I used to pass this shop on the way to work. Is that old man still around ... funny name, now what was it?"

  "Oh 'im. Dirty sod. Kids call 'im Guzzly Granddad. 'E's still at end. E'll never shift."

  "Better off than me anyway, he can run a car."

  "Nay lad, 'e's no car."

  "Oh. I thought that Morris 1000 was his."

  "No, that's one of 'is visitors. 'E's often there, little dumpy chap. Strong smell o' scent but very pleasant, nice manners an nicely spoken."

  Minutes later this information was communicated to Detective Inspector Derek Russell who was just outside the shop. Both men walked down that rather quiet drab street of terraced houses where doors opened directly on to the pavement. They stopped in front of the last house. About to wield the usual official knock, John was silently restrained by his senior who deliberately gave the door a more gentle, furtive knock. From within they heard -

  "Ya 'an come in kent ya?"

  Entering, they were enveloped by a musty smell, something between sweaty socks, ash-trays and damp beer-stained carpet. Dark pre-war tatty wallpaper was the backdrop to a mangy old sofa, pressed down by a pile of human blubber, which comprised the ample, odious, unclean person of Toby Piggs. Simultaneously, both visitors saw how he came to be called Guzzly Granddad. Attention was drawn, at once, to a slimy, toothless orifice surrounded by grey stubble. Oozing slobber, this repulsive, glistening cavity was loosely contained by uncouth crooked lips. The sight of the two hunky men touched off a Pavlovian conditioned reflex. A salacious tongue stealthily, very stealthily crept up from the blackness of the thick throat and, slowly, lasciviously, moved side to side making the lower lip viscous in an unspoken, lewd invitation.

  It was the one word 'police' which immediately shut down all these wanton succulent secretions and closed the old man's mouth into an expression of alarm and dismay. His voice was coarse, deep and guttural -

  "Huh! Ave not done oat [anything], av a?"

  The total impression was of a mess. Unshaven, he reposed in a once white, collarless, soup-stained shirt. His braces were hauling up, at near nipple level, ancient baggy grubby trousers. At his feet, a growing pile of orange peel and nut shells, by his side, the remains of supper - greasy chip papers. Partly under the sofa, John noticed the edge of a dinner plate with even older food.

  It was explained to Mr Piggs that a teenage boy was missing and they had reason to believe that he may be able to assist their enquiries.

  "It's that ugly owd 'ag at Belper in tit? Aye's sent ya ant 'e? Huh."

  Once more Derek and John were entertained by a string of bitter and biting recriminations concerning Jasper Wormall. Petty jealousies, rivalries and spiteful comments about the abuse of public toilets were delivered, this time, slower and in a lower register. Defensive denials flowed a-plenty, on the incorrect assumption that Wormall had made numerous allegations and the tone gave the impression of one time colleagues rather than one time friends.

  "Ays allus in t' bogs, ay stinks like a bog, ay used ta empty bogs when 'e were a lad."

  Further questions followed. Yes, like most folk in Derby he often visited the Arboretum. No, he was not interested in boys and never spoke to them. Unnecessarily, he added that he was not in the habit of sitting in a public lavatory all day long nibbling cracker biscuits like a certain -

  " ... evil lyin' owd cow in Belper ... 'oo'll be gettin' me fist down 'is bloody throat ..."

  "Visitors, Mr Piggs! One in particular: one in a green car."

  "That'll be little Dolly. 'E's all right. A decent sort."

  He was happy to talk about Dolly who came about three or four times a week. Sometimes he would bring a friend, "an adult friend" he added significantly. According to Mr Piggs nobody knew Dolly's real name, where he lived or where he worked. John considered this was an attempt to protect a friend, but, put with other information about Coggan, Derek felt it was consistent with the gardener's secretive character.

  "Simon Tonks."

  "What about 'im?" said Guzzly Granddad.

  "Do you know him?"

  "Everybody knows Simon, but not everybody wants ta be seen we 'im. 'E won't come 'ere agen."

  "Why not?"

  "Camp as bloody Christmas! Huh. Ya cana tek 'im anywhere. Ya couldn't walk down t' street we 'im ... "

  His flow was abruptly halted by a firm knock at the door. Two more policemen had arrived to make a search to which, reluctantly, Mr Piggs agreed. With such a small property, it did not take long. The hard trodden earth of the tiny back garden had clearly not been disturbed in years. As expected, pornography was discovered, old fashioned and dog-eared. Most of the photographs could have been classified as 'soft core' featuring adult women, but it did cross Derek's mind that such pictures may have been used to intrigue young men.

  When they were outside on the pavement, a very silly and very amusing thought popped into the mind of Detective Inspector Derek Russell. It was so silly that he would never have shared it with his junior colleague. So impressed with the extraordinary contrasts between the two hideous men they had just interviewed - he imagined them attired as Romeo and Juliet! The lugubrious, lusting, deep throated Guzzly Granddad cast as Romeo looking ridiculous and repulsive in tights -

  "But soft! Huh. What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Jasper is the sun!" Answered by the high pitched, head nodding co-star, an ugly crone in medieval costume -

  "O Guzzly Granddad, Guzzly Granddad, wherefore art thou Guzzly Granddad? O be some other name. Meh!"

  This frivolous absurdity was, in truth, a masking device to hide the fact of meeting up with yet another dead end. True, Adolphus Coggan still needed to be interviewed, but Derek had a bad feeling and said as much to his colleague -

  "Nay, sir. Surely not! It's not like you to be despondent so soon. We're only into the second day ... what ... 56 hours. Anything could turn up."

  "I hope you're right, John. Just can't see these fools as kidnappers. It's beginning to feel wrong. Perhaps this sleazy sexual lead is a red herring ... they don't seem sophisticated enough."

  "Hardman is."

  "Yes, Hardman ... I wonder ..."

  "And then again, sir, our Brian could easily be walking around somewhere with no memory - it's only a matter of time now. We've got lots of publicity in Manchester, Sheffield, Nottingham and Derby ... we'll find him, sir, just you see."

  Chapter 19

  Dolly, Dolly, Deep, Dark and Devious

  At 9.00am the next day, Tuesday, July 26th, under cheerless skies which were still cloudy, Russell and Winter were knocking on the door of Cressbrook
Hall Lodge. Adolphus Coggan seemed pleased to see them and, in a soft sighing voice, bade them enter into a comfortable old fashioned living room; a cosy oasis in which there seemed to be all the time in the world. Part of the calming atmosphere came from the slow careful tick of a round clock on the mantelpiece: indeed, the reoccurring theme of that room was roundness. A plump curved settee with matching armchairs and globular pouf set the tone. In a half circle bay window reposed a round heavy Victorian dining table. In the centre of the table, a large bulbous pot was home to an ancient dusty aspidistra plant.

  Two police officers sank deep into the soft upholstery of the two seated sofa. The opposite armchair became pregnant when it was filled with the podgy flesh of their host who, at the same time, threw out an odour of expensive cologne into the stagnant air. In an un-hurried measured manner and with exaggerated movements of the lips, fat full lips, he articulated beautifully formed round vowels -

  "Now gentlemen, how can I help you today?"

  Eyes like saucers set into that soft chubby face intrigued and mesmerised the two visitors. Tilting his spherical head very slightly to the left, Dolly became more than just quizzical, he became slightly patronising and yes, a touch condescending as if he were addressing two little boys.

  Derek asked about his movements during the previous Sunday and received the same answers which had been given to his subordinates. The gardener went out driving in his motorcar sometime at about 11.30am and was out until past 11.00pm. Detective Sergeant John Winter jumped in with -

  "Where did you go, Mr Coggan?"

  With large twinkling orbicular eyes, he replied, slowly, in a thinly veiled sardonic purr -

  "Do you know, Detective Sergeant, I'm really not at all sure ... "

  "That won't do, Mr Coggan," snapped Derek who was now getting irritated. "This is a serious matter. I suggest you consider your position and give us some hard facts. Where did you go and who were you with?"

  Unfazed, the fat man started to examine his long finger nails in a casual manner. John had noticed these podgy, delicate, little hands, clean white hands which appeared to have done precious little gardening.

  "You see, Detective Inspector," he said with a half smile in deep, rich, silky tones, "I'm in a rather delicate position."

  "We're in full agreement there, Mr Coggan! Please continue."

  "How shall I put it? I was rendering a service to people ... well somewhat unusual people who are very nervous at the mention of the word 'police'."

  "Body massage, Mr Coggan?" inquired John somewhat facetiously.

  "Oh no!" the other responded persuasively in mock shock with an engaging full smile. "No no no. Nothing at all like that. You've quite shocked my delicate sensitivities, Detective Sergeant - suggesting that innocent little Dolly here could be so naughty!"

  Having softened his audience to the point where they were now amused with this little comedy, Adolphus Coggan wisely decided to reveal the secret of how a poor gardener (poor in both respects) could comfortably afford to drive a car 20,000 miles a year.

  It came to light that some years before, young Adolph had indeed - 'considered his position'. Whilst appreciating the beauties of the countryside, he had accidentally come across the delights and excitement of the city - particularly the City of Manchester. Certain pubs which catered for certain interesting minorities fascinated the little rotundity -

  "Have you ever visited The Union? Or, perhaps 'The Rembrandt'?

  These establishments, rich in local colour, hosted regional comedians, 'drag shows' and various other bawdy entertainments. In his travels around the Peak District, being a chatty friendly character, Dolly met many shy people who warmed to his tranquil and velvety personality. Some expressed a desire to do these 'pub crawls' and have a chance to rub shoulders with interesting quirky types - but lacked the courage. Bizarre venues were often hidden in the back alleyways, nooks and crannies of sleazy neighbourhoods. Dolly knew where all the 'action' was to be found and occasionally proposed himself as an escort to those of a ... 'timid disposition' who were keen to taste the fruits of the wicked city. As time passed, it was a natural progression from offering the hand of companionship - to holding out a hand for money.

  Dolly began to charge. The fee would cover his time and the cost of his entertaining personality, endless jokes - everybody loved Dolly. People were prepared to pay for his specialised knowledge of the metropolis which extended to guided tours of Derby, Nottingham, Birmingham, Sheffield and even London. Like the clients of Jasper, 'the friends of Dolly' came to expect anonymity and total discretion.

  "And I have to be very careful."

  "What do you mean?" asked John.

  "Well, Detective Sergeant," he responded lyrically, tongue firmly in cheek. "Some types take advantage of a good-looking young innocent like me! Only last week this man, oo such a big man, deliberately put his leg dangerously close to my gear stick. I was appalled! And do you know, Detective Sergeant, that just ten minutes later, parked up, I had to bang on the window with a sponge to attract attention!"

  "Quite so," murmured Derek. "But I'd like to know more about your special tours."

  "Well now, let me see? 'Victorian Lavatories' is in vogue at the present time."

  "Oh yes!" said Detective Sergeant John Winter in a hard firm tone with his arms folded. "Of some historic interest - no doubt," he added cynically. Dolly parried this by stating that people were amused and entertained by anything old and quaint -

  "Like my tour of 'Ugly Old Queens'."

  "Pardon?" inquired Derek.

  "My dear, Detective Inspector, that really is, as your handsome colleague put it - 'of historic interest' and very popular having real living fossils to view in their own habitat. I'm booked up solid for this season. And no surprise, Derbyshire has Britain's best collection of weird and hideous camp old queens ... "

  "Such as Jasper Wormall?" interrupted Derek.

  "Oh, one the very best! My customers really enjoyed their visit to 'The Crone under the Crows' as I billed him - so deliciously low and common." He sighed and became a little melancholic looking out at the darkening clouds as he recalled the incident of the false teeth.

  "'Tis gone, 'tis gone. We pay for our mistakes. But I've still got Guzzly Granddad who drools when shown the right one and a most nauseating ancient drag act in Ripley. My clients love to be repelled by her 'Gracie Fields' numbers and the 'Old Mother Riley' sketch really is a scream. A mass of wrinkles, dead rough, she trips out in these tiny revolting shorts shouting - 'Ya 'n see t' cheeks o' me arse.' And you should see ... "

  "We'd like to see Brian Forrester, Mr Coggan! Can you help us?

  This last ended the comic flow and brought an edge of reality to the interview. Coggan was asked, in turn, to volunteer a personal opinion regarding the probability of Hardman, Wormall, Tonks or Piggs having anything to do with the inexplicable disappearance. He had a great respect for his employer and became (for once) serious when expressing regret about the recent tragedy.

  "It'll take years for him to get over it. Poor man, it's knocked the stuffing out of him - changed him you know. Oh yes. Won't let that boy out of his sight. Won't let him go back to school, talking about private tutors now." He shook his head slowly and stared through the aspidistra plant with enormous eyes. The thought of Jasper having any guilty secrets regarding teenage boys amused him -

  "Now if you were looking for a missing wrestler, Jasper might be your man ... And when Simon becomes entangled with youngsters he always gets the worst of it. He's either robbed, given a black eye or ends up gagged, tied and suspended under a tree! No, not Simon, definitely not Simon."

  With the assessment of Toby Piggs he became thoughtful and chose his words with care -

  "It was spiteful of Jasper to send you to Guzzly Granddad, but, ... I'm afraid he was right. I've warned him. He's a fool having kids in that house. Well, they could say anything couldn't they? One thing I do know and everybody knows this - Granddad wouldn't hurt a fly. Anyway you'
ve more evidence against Jasper than Granddad - and I can't see how a cyclist from here could possibly end up at Derby ... unless?"

  "Yes, Mr Coggan?"

  "Have you considered the sudden onset of - amnesia ?"

  "Yes we have," replied Derek. Any more ideas?"

  "Well, it's a bit far fetched ... but ... " The clock started to chime the hour of ten as Dolly gently patted his thick fleshy lips with four fingers in an effort to organise his thoughts.

  "After being separated from his friends in a strange area he may have become disorientated and wandered off into the woods. They do go on for miles you know ... "

  "You're beginning to interest me."

  "Assuming there was some sort of accident ..." continued Dolly " ... resulting in some sort of head injury he may have sustained ... Well, he may have just died! I don't know anything about these things, you'll need to talk to a specialist, but I've heard about sudden death occurring after the subject has walked some distance."

  "We've looked. We've combed the woods. He's not there!" said John.

  "You've not looked everywhere. It's impossible. It's a massive area. You've not been all the way up Cressbrook Dale Woods: they go on forever. There's swathes of nettles, ferns and weeds taller than me up Hay Dale; if he fell into something like that it'll be years before he's found. What about all those deep mine shafts on Longstone Moor - he could be in any one of them - and you'll never find him ... "

  "We intend to search Eldon Hole," said Derek. "The lad wanted to go there. But you're quite right, Mr Coggan, we have a marathon task ahead of us but, unfortunately, I don't have an army of .." Coggan and Winter looked at him. "Just a thought, maybe I do have an army, the British Army.

  Yes, Mr Coggan, many thanks for your interesting suggestions. We're aware that this part of Derbyshire is honeycombed with limestone caves and traitorous hidden pot holes. We've taken steps to alert all pot-holers and walkers."