Treble Clef, page 17
part #8 of DCI Cyril Bennett Series
“Do we have an address?”
“Only for Drakes. Cleared with upstairs and officers are on their way. I suggested they be armed but the powers that be said not at this stage. Warrant requested and should be with us quickly. With it being a murder enquiry it doesn’t need to go through all the hoops. Forensics team too is standing by to search.”
“Shit!” April exclaimed as the sauce began to boil frantically. The smell told her it was in the process of burning and sticking to the bottom of the pan whilst also beginning to smoke. “Bloody hell, Dan!” Ralph simply turned, yawned and curled his long limbs as best he could. She quickly moved the pan and turned off the cooker. “I’m turning into a man, Dan, can only seem to do one thing at a time these days.” It was then the smoke alarm added to the chaos.
His laughter down the phone lifted her mood.
“Not at all funny, well not where I’m standing. So what’s this information on Boardman?”
“You recall Drakes was supposedly compensated as he was thought to have suffered a severe good hiding at the hands of the anti-hunt campaigners when he was out beating for the shoot? Well, that may have been the case. We now know that both he and Tommy Boardman found employment elsewhere in the same capacity. According to this information, Drakes had suggested that their boss, the landowner, a Lord Craimer, had been involved in some deviant sexual practices with person or persons employed on the estate. Drakes had discussed this with Boardman and supposedly shown him explicit images of the alleged acts. It was suggested that Drakes tried some form of blackmail and consequently received a bloody good hiding and that included suffering some gunshot wounds. I believe the photographs were retrieved and Drakes sent down the road with some financial compensation to keep it quiet. Why Tommy Boardman left shortly afterwards I can’t say. Strangely, we now see Tommy’s brother and Drakes possibly in league. There’s nothing further on Tommy. He’s been located and will be questioned in due course but again we’re doing nothing to frighten off Drakes.”
“Is this all speculation or do you have evidence?”
“All rumour but information from a good source who was there and who knows more than he’s telling. That source, April, is our friend, Richard Carruthers. I had a drive over and politely suggested how much I could disrupt his precious timetable by insisting he came over to Harrogate for questioning as frequently as we requested. It was then the floodgates opened. I have it all recorded.”
“Worth burning my dinner for that, Dan. Well done, you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Alan had lifted the one sheet from the bed but there was nothing underneath. He checked the graffiti along each wall and then the pin-ups and posters. It was more of a challenge than he had anticipated. He had left his watch locked in the box outside along with his other personal items and so he had no concept of time.
“I can see that you’re on a roll, Alan. You’ve had twenty-six minutes.”
Alan continued to check the graffiti on the walls as methodically as he could, considering the light quality. As he came to the final wall he noticed the toilet roll standing on the floor next to the toilet. “…You’re on a roll!” He picked up the toilet roll. It felt more like tracing paper than what he was used to. Unrolling it, he counted the attached sheets. He had got to five when the piece came away; obviously it had been torn previously and rerolled. He continued and only one sheet came away. He had his five numbers.
Fumbling with the lock he knew that there were two options, either the initial three numbers or last. He decided on the latter course of action. He added the numbers five, one, four, nine and seven to the tumblers and as the last one rolled into position the lock sprang open. Quickly he flicked off the lock and the hasp from the staple and swung open the door. Although it gave the impression of being made of iron it swung with ease. It brought a smile to Alan’s face.
As the door closed behind him the lights along the skirting boards illuminated the old green linoleum flooring. He laughed out loud. “The old green mile. Stephen King would be proud.”
The room, being narrow and but a few strides long, looked more like a very short corridor; a mile it was not and could never be said to be. He stretched out both arms and easily touched the sides. Immediately he saw the two doors, one either side a few metres away. There was no graffiti on the walls that he could see although the light here was also poor. It was then he saw the torch on the floor in a far corner. Cautious initially, he ensured he knew its exact location before picking it up. He also noticed one door required a key whilst the other did not seem to have a lock at all. However, it did have a triangular yellow sign saying, DANGER OF DEATH, and a symbol showing a lightning bolt striking a falling figure. He frowned.
***
The police car pulled up next to chalet 4 and two officers looked round. There appeared to be no movement. It was not yet fully dark so there were no lights on. An officer looked through the windows and tried the two doors as the other stood back monitoring the procedure.
“He’s not been in all day… not since early doors as far as I know!” a man shouted from a few feet away.
The officer trying the door jumped.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. He left very early this morning. Car picked him up on the road, yonder.” He waved a hand in the vague direction. “Tends to be out most weekdays and occasionally at the weekends but not always.”
“Do you know where?”
“Probably work.” He shrugged his shoulders as if he neither knew nor cared. “Sees all, hears all and says nowt our Gary.”
“What kind of car?”
The man, dressed in a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a vest, simply raised his shoulders again. “It was black or grey, could’ve even been dark blue. Couldn’t really say. Why, what’s he done?”
Ignoring the question, the officer asked his name. “What time does he normally get back, Mark, when he’s been out since early doors?”
“Not late usually but there’s been the odd occasion when it’s the early hours of the morning. As I said, keeps himself to himself. Not a bad neighbour. Now you’re going to tell me he’s a mass bloody murderer.” He laughed.
The officer laughed too, thanked him and returned to the car to call in the information.
Dan Grimshaw cursed under his breath. He really did not want to go in all guns blazing, crashing through the front door, blue lights and sirens flashing and screaming, not at this stage and certainly not considering there were holidaymakers close by. He called control to patch him through to the police officers in the car.
“See if anyone’s got a key. I want the place searching. I don’t mean touch anything, just the once over. We have a warrant on the way. Try a neighbour and then the site manager. You’ve got their emergency number so use it for goodness sake. Call back to me personally when you’ve finished.”
***
Alan inspected the torch and immediately registered that the door marked with the warning sign and the torch were both linked to electricity and power, albeit in different forms.
“Maybe that’s the way out. No key, but the torch may be the key.” He leaned over to take hold of the handle but just before he could touch it a bolt of static electricity jumped the short distance. “Shit!” He had made a wrong call. He suddenly heard the sound of a bell chiming slowly but methodically as if counting down the time.
“A division bell. You have it all.”
“Clever. Not the real sounding ring of that within Parliament but the one taken from the Pink Floyd album, you’ll note. For the first time you’re now under the clock. You’ve got eight minutes to make your decision. It’s about choice, as someone said, it’s about the yea and the nay... which door will you choose? One is the correct choice and the other…” there was a pause... “A failure. Simple as that.”
The bell continued to sound.
The torch was unusual in shape, a bulbous light source with a knobbly rubber element to one end. He pressed it and immediately light was emitted from the numerous small LED bulbs. Alan knew immediately what this would do. “Black light… a valuable piece of kit for every CSI,” he mumbled to himself as he shone it first on the wall facing him. There was nothing visible but as he turned to the right-side wall, immediately illuminated was a list of neatly written words. They were in an ink invisible to the naked eye but glowed clearly once lit with UV:
RAZOR, ASP, BATTLESHIP, ACCUBATION, UNLOVED.
“Considering where you are, my friend, what word comes next?” The voice from the speaker questioned.
Alan kept the light source on the writing that glowed green and was now highly visible. This type of script did not help its legibility and the fact each letter was written in capitals also proved confusing. He read each one paying particular attention to the letter placement within each word; he had seen something like this before and once the sequence was identified there was usually an option of four words to choose from but on this occasion the word had then to be guessed. The audible volume of the bell’s chime was gradually growing weaker.
“The Green Mile is the walk to the death chamber so… The first word begins with R, the next word, second letter S so in the third word, the following letter should be T… Got you! The word I need has a sixth letter of W. A type of execution… Gallows. It’s gallows!”
Immediately the bell stopped, the room was flooded with light and from beneath the door marked DANGER OF DEATH appeared an envelope.
***
Dan Grimshaw tapped the desk with his fingers as his right hand squeezed a soft rubber ball the physiotherapist had recommended to strengthen his wrists. He worked each hand in turn until the ache proved too much. It was the waiting that was always the worst. It was then the phone rang.
“Yes, anything?”
“We’ve been through the place but disturbed nothing as instructed. All I can report is that it hasn’t been used to any form of TLC but it’s also not exactly in the category of shit hole. Let’s say it’s in the running for coming a close second. There’s no firearm cabinet, nor did we see any ammunition, and for a gamekeeper, this surprised us, unless he keeps all the tools of his trade with his employer. As instructed, we’ve not rooted, just casually looked around. What he does have is quite a collection of stuffed animals, typically English game and fish. Some, however, have seen better days, especially those without display cases.”
“Games? Figures? Did you see anything to link him with these gaming groups?”
“There’s a figure, strange bloody thing with what looks like elephants’ trunks or maybe octopus tentacles sprouting from its head. It has bat’s wings and the general appearance of a lizard. It’s not very big and it’s on a shelf over the fireplace.”
Grimshaw stood up and looked at a photograph on the noticeboards which had been taken in Carruthers’s garage. It was just as described. “It’s Cthulhu, some imaginary figure, it seems to be a common denominator with some of the key players in this case. Photograph it and forward me the image. Wait there and when our friend Drakes returns, caution him and request that he accompanies you back to the station.”
“And if…” He did not get time to finish.
“Arrest him.”
***
Alan picked up the envelope. It was sealed.
Congratulations.
Nobody has managed to get this far without showing some weaknesses and all but failing. You’ve been magnificent. Last clue for this, the penultimate room, is now yours. And after the green mile comes…?
Good Luck!
It had clearly been written by the same hand that had penned the puzzle on the wall. Taking care in opening the envelope, Alan withdrew a card. The bell started to chime again but this time much more weakly than before. It was amazing how the sounds amplified the anxiety level. Alan had to admit that he had never experienced a game like this one. It was certainly cleverly thought out and wonderfully executed. He laughed as he considered his choice of word… executed. His mind drifted momentarily, wondering what the cost of such an experience would eventually be to the average punter, but then suddenly remembered the bell.
On the card was a series of numbers:
? 34 21 13 8 5 ?
Simple?
Alan put a finger across his lips as he quickly scanned the numbers. “Fifty-five and three!” he called out as loudly as possible. His sheer joy was clearly evident. The bell stopped. Alan followed by shouting out a resounding, “Yes!”
“Well done, Alan. The yeas have it!”
The door to the right with the warning sign sprang open. Alan left the Green Mile behind as he stepped through to be greeted by the smallest of the three rooms he had been in. He knew that he was close to the end, close to escaping and he bubbled with anticipation.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tommy Boardman sat in interview room two. April and Brian faced him. Both had been surprised that he had volunteered to come in after their initial call, particularly on a Saturday evening. He was older than Colin, his brother, and it was clear from his skin colour and from his hands that he had spent much of his life out-of-doors. He had removed his well-worn flat cap before entering and that sat cradled in his ever-moving hands. A metal badge announced he was part of some fishing society, and others depicted birds in fine, colourful enamel.
“Thank you for coming in on a Saturday evening, Mr Boardman.”
“Just another day to us country folk, people with lots to do at this time of the year and who don’t have time to bugger about. I believe this is to do with Drakes and I’m happy to assist in any way I can.”
“What do you know about Mr Drakes?”
Tommy slipped a pocket watch from his jacket. “How long you got?”
Brian glanced at April and realised the error in his questioning. “Yes, sorry, that was a bit open.”
“Look, to kick off, let me say I’ve known Gary Drakes for a bloody long time. He worked for me when I was Head Keeper up in Scotland. He’s a simple man if you get my drift, back of the queue when they were handing out brains, like. We said he was thick. Bloody good at his job though and would never refuse to do owt. Brave lad too. Could hold his own in the pub. Seen him try to drop a few big ’uns who got too cocky, but often ended up the worse for such encounters.”
“So why did he leave?” April asked.
“Laird we were working for was a bit of a bully, also liked to…” he paused, looking at April and then back at Brian, “…push his advances on the weaker employees and I don’t mean the weaker sex here, Miss, they were of no interest to him. He was married too. I mean anyone he could bully and coerce, if that’s the right word. Young lads would suddenly be promoted or find themselves with a pay rise if you get my drift. Well, Drakes saw all of this and as I said, couldn’t just turn a blind eye. We told him to leave it. Any road, one day he came to me with some pictures, Polaroid jobs and not too clear either but you could just make them out. Showed the Laird in situations he wouldn’t like the papers or his wife to see.”
“So, Drakes blackmailed him?”
Tommy shook his head. “Not that bright. He just wanted what he thought was justice for the lads. Unbeknown to me he put one of these pictures in an envelope and came to me with it. It was sealed and he asked me to write the Laird’s name on it and leave it on his desk. It was the Laird’s birthday that week and I thought it was a card. Said it was important and to make sure he got it. So I did. I honestly didn’t know what was in it or it wouldn’t have got further than the fire in the entrance hall.”
“So, when did you know what was in it?”
“When the boss sent for me. He held up the envelope and smiled. Your writing, Tommy? he asked and I nodded. He then said, Drakes? Thinking it was still a birthday greeting I said aye and smiled. He said, and I kid you not, I must thank him personally in some small way that he’ll remember for a while.”
“So, you thought nothing more about it?”
“I thought it was a good move for a lad who had no brains. I thought he was in for a tip. It was afterwards I realised what was in the envelope and that everyone knew Drakes had this camera. He’d shown it around enough times and taken pictures when we were out on shoots. Anyway, I discovered he’d got someone to write on the back, If working like this can get a pay rise, we should get one for not seeing it, or something like that. The exact wording I can’t recall.”
“So, what happened?”
“That week was the shoot so it wasn’t the best of times to do anything like that, let alone with the boss. The big house was full of guests, bloody important ones who were paying top dollar, thousands. It went on for a few weeks, that’s where the main money is made for the estate. The tips too for the boys and girls were bloody good. Anyway, we had a bit of trouble with the anti-hunt brigade, always do. They can be a hard shower of bastards believe me, and you people don’t help that much. There were a few confrontations, nothing too bloody as some of our lads are brought in specially to deal with it. They’re the ones who wouldn’t know one end of a woodcock from the other but that’s not why they were there.”
“What about Drakes?”
“I’m coming to that. Drakes was beating to the west of the estate, driving the birds over the guns. Anyway, he goes AWOL but that can happen when we close for the end of the day. Some miss the transport back. Trouble was, he didn’t show the next day either so I went to where he should have been and found some of his belongings. It was then I heard a shot and out of the woods came Drakes. Someone had given him a right hiding. He’d been shot in the hand too. It wasn’t that bad, a bit peppered. It was then I saw the Laird and one of the paid lads. Drakes just looked at me and said, Sorry! He dropped at my feet. What was strange and what struck me as odd, steam was rising from his head, he’d obviously been running.
“The Laird stopped some distance away. That stinking, snivelling piece of shit tried to blackmail me, me! I’m the man who gave the underhand worm a bloody job when he didn’t have the brains to be employed elsewhere and this is how he tried to repay me. He’s bloody lucky he’s not buried in the peat and he’s fortunate that he found you, otherwise who knows what this morning might have brought. I told him that Drakes had suffered enough and needed a hospital, but the laird just said that he was getting no hospital but would receive treatment back at the house. At least Drakes was with me and I knew he was safe for the time being.”
