Bury in Haste

by Jean Rowden

  Emily Spraggs was tearful when she opened the door. It was a relief to be able to offer her reassurance, though by the time Deepbriar left a few minutes later she was looking baffled. That made two of them, the constable reflected, for he too was mystified.

  ‘Mary?’ Deepbriar called tentatively as he let himself in at the back door of the police house. The silence told him the worst; nobody was home. On the cold cooker stood a plate, covered with a saucepan lid. He lifted the lid and looked sadly at the congealing gravy that failed to disguise the overcooked state of the meat. The shrivelled potatoes and limp Yorkshire pudding didn’t look very appetising either.

  He found the note on the hall table, brief and to the point, with no affectionate greeting or signature; Mary had gone to visit her sister at the other end of the village.

  Having eaten his meal, Deepbriar returned to the doctor’s house as agreed. Joe Spraggs’s face was no longer so pale; he looked now as if he was merely asleep.

  ‘His eyes are moving more,’ Dr Smythe commented. ‘He’ll be with us shortly.’

  Sure enough, a few minutes later, Joe stirred, half turning over.

  ‘Back in the land of the living then?’ Deepbriar quipped. At his words the young man came abruptly bolt upright, his eyes wide with terror.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Spraggs demanded wildly. For a long moment he stared at Deepbriar then at the doctor with an expression of horror on his face, showing no sign of recognition. Slowly the glazed look left him. He gulped convulsively.

  ‘I thought …’ he began, then broke off, looking round the room before bringing his gaze back to the constable. ‘Mr Deepbriar?’ he said uncertainly. ‘What happened?’

  ‘We were hoping you might be able to tell us that,’ Deepbriar replied, taking out his notebook. ‘You were saying you thought …’

  Spraggs swallowed again. ‘Sounds daft,’ the young man said hoarsely. ‘I thought I was dead. Until the man came back.’

  ‘Drink this,’ the doctor urged, holding out a glass. ‘It’s only water,’ he added as his patient hesitated.

  Spraggs drank thirstily, draining the glass. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know I was so dry. How did I get here?’

  ‘The constable found you, in your lorry I gather,’ the doctor said, taking the young man’s wrist to check his pulse. ‘How are you feeling now? No pain? How about your head?’

  ‘A bit muzzy, that’s all.’ He looked from one man to the other. ‘I haven’t smashed up the lorry, have I?’

  ‘No, no.’ The doctor raised his eyebrows. ‘He’s with us, I think. You can go ahead and ask your questions, constable.’

  Deepbriar nodded. ‘Let’s begin at the beginning, Joe. Saturday afternoon. You were working late, is that right?’

  ‘Yes, I normally finish about four on a Saturday. I’d already done one delivery to Falbrough, then there was a rush job, taking a load of timber to Gristlethorpe. I’d told Emily I’d be late, and I was going to meet her at the village hall. She wasn’t too happy, what with this weekend being sort of a honeymoon.’ His brow furrowed as he tried to work things out. ‘I’ve missed it, haven’t I? Madame Butterfly? Emily’ll be upset. She was keen, because her auntie was in it.’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid you have missed it.’ He refrained from further comment, keeping to the business in hand. ‘What time did you get back to the yard?’

  ‘Must have been about a quarter to seven. Emily had given me something for my supper, a nice bit of meat pie. I was going to sit in the cab and eat it. I went to fetch my coat first though, from the office. And that’s when I saw it.’

  ‘Saw what?’

  ‘Tea. Already made. A whole pot of it, steaming hot. I thought Mr Wriggle must have just left. I poured a cup and took it back to the lorry, because I was checking the plugs. I remember I drank it after I’d eaten the pie …’ a puzzled expression drifted across his face.

  ‘That may well be it,’ the Doctor put in, ‘hot tea, especially with plenty of sugar, will disguise quite a strong flavour.’

  Deepbriar nodded, still watching Spraggs. ‘Would that be normal, your boss leaving tea for you?’

  ‘No, not really, but I didn’t think much about it. I mean, the office wasn’t locked either, but he forgets sometimes.’

  ‘You locked it then, did you?’

  ‘No, not much point. I’d be putting the cup back, wouldn’t I. Only …’ he faltered. ‘I don’t remember doing it.’

  ‘You remember drinking the tea though,’ Deepbriar prompted. ‘What happened next?’

  ‘Blowed if I know.’ Spraggs rubbed a hand round the back of his neck. ‘Did I have an accident?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Deepbriar confessed, ‘but I don’t think so.’

  ‘This is rum.’ The young man lifted his head and stared out of the window. Bright sun slanted across the village green, lighting up the red and gold of the fallen leaves. ‘What’s the time?’ he asked.

  ‘A quarter past three,’ the doctor told him, ‘on Sunday afternoon.’

  ‘You’re kidding!’ Joe leapt to his feet. ‘My Emily will be worried sick!’

  ‘No, she won’t,’ Deepbriar said, putting a restraining hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ve seen her, and told her you’re here. She’ll be along in a while and the pair of you can go home. Just you sit yourself down. Let’s get back to when you finished work. You didn’t see anything when you drove into the yard? Or along the road?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Another lorry maybe, or a car?’

  Joe shook his head. ‘It’s always quiet, Saturday teatime. Didn’t see a soul.’

  ‘All right. What about when you first came to?’ Deepbriar consulted his notes. ‘You said … “I thought I was dead. Until the man came back.” What was that all about?’

  Joe gave him a guarded look. ‘I’m not sure. Maybe it was just a dream. My head’s in a proper muddle. I don’t understand half of this. Can’t I go now?’

  ‘In a minute. Fact is, Joe, you disappeared. At half past ten this morning I searched all over Wriggle’s yard and you weren’t there, but when I got back for another look just after one o’clock I found you lying unconscious in your cab. If there’s anything else you can tell me, no matter what, it could help us find out what has been going on.’

  Joe stared at him. ‘I disappeared? That’s crazy.’

  ‘Maybe, but that’s how it was. Perhaps there’s some simple reason for what happened. You’re back safe and sound, so maybe the hows and whys don’t matter.’ The constable watched as Joe considered what he’d said. ‘If I was you I’d want to know,’ he went on, ‘and I’ll do my best to help, if that’s what you want.’

  Slowly the young man nodded.

  ‘Right,’ Deepbriar said. ‘The man you mentioned. Tell me what you remember.’

  Spraggs was silent a moment, gathering his thoughts. ‘I was lying on the ground. It was dark. And bitter cold; I mean, it’s been cold for days, but this was worse somehow, right into my bones. I felt sort of funny, my arms and legs were all weak, like I’d been ill or something. After a while I managed to sit up and I groped about a bit. Couldn’t see a thing. I tried shouting.’ Joe shuddered. ‘It was like I was buried, deep underground. My voice didn’t sound right.’

  ‘What do you mean, it didn’t sound right?’

  ‘Quiet. Sort of echoing, but muffled. I thought it was because it was so dark, like nothing could get through. I wasn’t exactly wide awake, but I was scared that I’d run out of air.’ The young man shook himself and tried to smile, but without much success. ‘Sounds daft.’

  Deepbriar shook his head. ‘Not at all. Any idea how long you were in this place?’

  ‘No. It seemed like forever. But then I saw light, just a bit of a glow. I wanted to get up and go over to it, but my legs wouldn’t work properly. I suppose that’s when I decided it must be a dream, though when I tried to wake myself up I couldn’t. Then suddenly this man appeared. There must have been a bit of light coming in,
not much though, because he wasn’t much more than a shape looming over me. He seemed to come out of nowhere.’

  ‘Did you see his face?’

  ‘No. I tell you, he was just a shadow.’

  ‘Was he tall? Thin or fat?’

  ‘Not small. I’m not sure. I was scared half out of my wits.’ Joe flushed, a deep shade of pink spreading across his face. ‘All this could have been a nightmare, couldn’t it?’ He looked at Deepbriar pleadingly.

  ‘It could, but I don’t think it was, and you don’t either, not if you’re honest with yourself.’ He gave the young man a searching look and Joe shook his head miserably.

  ‘The ground you were lying on, what did it feel like?’

  Joe considered for a while. ‘Hard. And rough. Like stone.’

  Deepbriar nodded thoughtfully. ‘That matches the dust on your coat, it had to come from somewhere. I’m sure you weren’t dreaming, Joe. Go on, this man appeared, then what?’

  ‘He threw something over my head, and then these hands grabbed me.’

  ‘You mean the man took hold of you?’

  ‘I don’t think it was him, not at first. There must have been more than one of them. I tried to fight and I was shouting at them to let me go. They got me rolled up in a blanket or something, and it was so tight over my face I could hardly breathe. There was a funny smell, sort of sickly. I don’t remember much more after that.’

  ‘You didn’t hear anything? These men didn’t talk to each other?’

  ‘No.’ Joe shook his head. ‘Hang on, though. Right at the end I was in a bit of a panic, I was going fair crazy. Somebody yelled. I think I might have kicked one of them. I hope I did,’ he added fervently. ‘I hope I got him right where it hurts.’

  Dusk was falling as Constable Deepbriar opened the door of the police house. There was still an ominous silence within. The telephone rang, and he went to answer it.

  ‘Good afternoon, constable.’ Father Michael’s cheerful voice greeted him. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Deepbriar replied, ‘what can I do for you?’

  ‘I had a word with Mr Crimmon, and I’m afraid it will be several weeks before he’s able to play the organ again. I gather he shut his hand in a door. I’ve asked young Nicky to play for evensong today, but we’ve a couple of weddings coming up, as well as the regular services. I’d be grateful if you could fill in for us.’

  ‘My pleasure. I’ll have a word with my sergeant, and see if I can arrange my duty to leave me free when I’m needed, if you’ll let me have the dates.’

  ‘Excellent! I’ll ask Miss Lightfall to contact you with the details.’

  ‘Tell Mr Crimmon I’m sorry to hear about his hand. I thought he looked a bit upset this morning.’

  ‘Ahh yes. He’s inclined to be a little jealous of his position, I don’t think he likes to see other people sitting in his place, as it were. No matter, a little hardship is good for the soul. Give my regards to Mrs Deepbriar.’

  ‘When I see her,’ the constable muttered gloomily, as he replaced the receiver. Feeling like a martyr he made himself a cup of tea in the deserted kitchen and sat down at the table, staring at the new Dick Bland which lay on the dresser where he’d put it the previous day. Alongside it was the package Harry Bartle had given him. He got up and fetched it, unwrapping the brown paper to reveal a garish paper-covered book.

  A woman of the less respectable kind, wearing a red dress that showed off far more of her figure than would be considered respectable in Minecliff, glared at a dark man in a homburg hat. A cigarette dangled from her painted and pouting lips. ‘Mitch O’Hara and the Thousand Dollar Dame,’ the title proclaimed.

  Like Deepbriar, Harry was an avid reader of detective stories, and devoured all he could get his hands on; this book was a gift to the young man from his cousin, a local girl who had married a GI during the War and now lived in Wisconsin.

  Deepbriar placed this new offering alongside his library book. He usually enjoyed a good read on a Sunday afternoon, but today his mind was too full of his own mystery.

  On the other side of the hall was the little room that served as Minecliff’s police station. Deepbriar decided to write his report about the disappearance of Joe Spraggs while it was still fresh in his mind. Since Joe was back home and apparently unharmed, the case probably wouldn’t be taken seriously by his superiors, not with the affair of Ed Walkingham still hanging over them. But there could be no doubt Joe had been the victim of assault; if the abduction had been a practical joke it was a pretty heartless one, and it had definitely gone too far.

  Deepbriar stared blankly at the paper in the typewriter. Why, he wondered, would somebody want to drug Joe Spraggs and hold him captive overnight? There was no sign of any other mischief being done at Wriggle’s yard.

  It might have been easier to understand if only Joe wasn’t such a sober and sensible young chap. He wasn’t the kind to have upset anyone, and Deepbriar was sure he was an honest man. There wasn’t much of a criminal element in Minecliff, and although Falbrough and Belston had their share of rogues, Spraggs didn’t mix with bad company. What possible motive could anyone have for kidnapping him? No answers came to mind and Deepbriar sighed. When it came to real life mysteries he didn’t have the Dick Bland touch.

  Monday morning brought the first white frost to the fields around the village of Minecliff, but the cold air outside was nothing compared to the atmosphere inside the police house, which hadn’t warmed up since the previous day. After he’d eaten his breakfast, the constable was relieved to receive another summons from Ferdy Quinn.

  On second thoughts he wasn’t quite so sure it was a welcome development; the reappearance of Joe Spraggs had completely driven the matter of the straying heifers from Deepbriar’s mind, and when he heard Quinn’s irate tones at the other end of the line, he steeled himself to admit that he hadn’t yet reported the affair to his superiors. He needn’t have worried; the farmer was no longer concerned with his cattle, he had something else to complain about.

  ‘Get out here!’ Quinn bellowed, almost incoherent with rage. ‘He’s gone too far this time!’ As his voice rose to an hysterical squeal, Deepbriar winced and held the handset away from his ear.

  ‘Take a deep breath, Mr Quinn,’ Deepbriar advised, ‘or you’ll be giving yourself a heart attack. I’ll be along, just as soon as I can.’

  He telephoned Sergeant Hubbard and explained why he wouldn’t be making his report in Falbrough until the afternoon, then he wheeled his bicycle out on to the road, calling a farewell as he went. There was no reply from the scullery, where a rhythmic splash and thud told him that Mary was tackling the week’s wash.

  If Ferdy Quinn had appeared furious the previous day, this morning he looked almost insane with rage, his face redder than his hair as he paced to and fro, his two dogs keeping a wary distance from his stamping feet, reminding Deepbriar irresistibly of the men who had acted in similar fashion the previous day. They were evidently making themselves scarce; sounds of metallic hammering came from one of the sheds, while the cows were milling about in the yard as they left the dairy. Will Minter stood by the cattle byre, watching his irate neighbour and looking as if he’d prefer to be somewhere else.

  ‘About time!’ Quinn snapped as Constable Deepbriar free wheeled in through the farm gate. ‘Come on!’ He stomped across the yard and off up the hill without another word, waving an arm to call Minter and the constable to join him, evidently too furious to explain where they were going.

  Chapter Four

  * * *

  ‘Morning, Thorny,’ Will Minter nodded. A slow-thinking, slow-moving man, he fell into step beside Deepbriar. ‘Been a bit of a fire.’

  ‘A fire? Here?’

  ‘Over yonder.’ he pointed. ‘Was me what found it. Smelt smoke when I come out this morning and sent one of my lads to have a look.’

  ‘It’s my barn, down in the hollow,’ Quinn bawled, half turning round but not stopping. ‘Burnt to c
inders, along with what was left of last year’s hay.’

  ‘Bit hidden down there,’ Will Minter added, ‘nobody would have noticed, any road, not in the middle of the night.’

  ‘I hope you’ve not been trampling over the evidence,’ Deepbriar said. ‘If the fire was set deliberately they might have left signs.’

  ‘ “Set deliberately”?’ Quinn looked ready to explode. ‘You danged fool, of course it was set deliberately! It was Bunyard! Who else could it be?’

  ‘We went through this yesterday, Mr Quinn,’ Deepbriar said stolidly. ‘You could get yourself into trouble if you go slandering people. I agree Bert’s done a few things contrary to the law in his time, but he’s only human. He can’t walk two miles on a broken leg, and that’s a fact. We’ll go and take a look at the damage, and meanwhile I’d thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head.’

  Ferdy Quinn took a deep shuddering breath. ‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘I’m sorry, constable. But I just know Bunyard’s behind all this somehow. He must be!’

  The three men walked on across the fields with Quinn muttering angrily under his breath until the steepening slope silenced him. A few wisps of smoke became visible, rising over the crest of the hill. At last the barn came into sight, or all that was left of it. A steep-sided valley sheltered a smouldering heap of charred wood.

  ‘Lucky I didn’t have any beasts in here,’ Quinn growled, kicking at a blackened doorpost.

  ‘Last year’s hay, you said.’ Deepbriar began writing in his pocket-book. He glanced up to see a range of emotions flit across Quinn’s flushed face, and quickly looked down again to hide his smile. The farmer was regretting his honesty; given time it might have occurred to him to claim something of more value had gone up in smoke; until now he’d been too upset to think about the insurance.

  ‘That wasn’t all,’ Quinn said, picking up a stick and poking at the ruins, uncovering what might have been a large metal buckle. ‘Kept my old harness in here, too.’