Some two hours after Eager Beaver's body was dragged from the river, Dr Edwards knelt on the muddy slipway next to Temple. Cantwell at some distance was taking down notes. Though even to his untrained eye, the cause of death was obvious.
"Several blows to the back of the head with a sharp object killed him. Poor chap wouldn't have known much after the first one." He pointed to a deep gash at the base of the skull. "He was dead before he entered the water. But I guess he was beaten about the face and arms before the fatal blows were struck. I suspect someone wanted some information or something from him, then they lost their cool. It was a pretty vicious attack and quite needless. Poor chap was in a bad physical shape anyway." Dr Edwards got up and nodded to the ambulance men to take the body away. "I'll do the full autopsy tomorrow, Jim. That should provide more precise details."
"Time of death would be handy. Could you hazard a guess, even now?"
"Now then," Dr Edwards gave a sardonic smile, "why did I know you'd ask me that. Well," he rubbed his chin, "at a rough guess, your words not mine, I'd say he'd been in the water for about twenty-four hours. Death was less than an hour before that. I'll try to be more precise tomorrow."
"I knew I could rely on you, Stephen. Fits in with what we've heard so far."
When Temple and Cantwell arrived back at the station, Chief Superintendent Baker was still on tenterhooks:
"My office, Temple, and you Cantwell."
He marched ahead of them, throwing open the door to his office:
"Two corpses and one woman knocked about and semi-comatosed." He leaned aggressively forward clicking his back teeth so that his jaw muscles rippled. "So what exactly do you think you're investigating?" He banged his desk.
"First it was just a missing person - usual run-of-the-mill stuff. Could have been a runaway husband. But then the wife gets attacked, their flat is ransacked. Everything pointed to Redbourne's involvement ..." Temple got no further.
"Redbourne! Redbourne! You have a bee in your bonnet about Redbourne. If there's so much as a pickpocket in Starmouth, according to you it must go back to Redbourne. You've got a thing or two about Redbourne, haven't you? Just because you messed up in London, don't bring your hang-ups down here to Starmouth." Chief Superintendent Baker's tone was neither sympathetic or encouraging. Cantwell felt intimidated and saw his own police career coming to a rapid conclusion.
"Nothing is ever cut and dried, sir." Temple spoke quietly. "But Sergeant Cantwell, by clever detective work, obtained some useful information that pointed to Redbourne being tied in with Ellacott. We have confirmed that by further investigations."
"And this chap .. Beaver. What about him?"
"It was in my report, sir." Temple said obviously irritated. "He was being roughed up in Redbourne's office, when I paid a visit. So..."
"So? So, Temple, make sure it all adds up. From what I heard, Redbourne was asking for Beaver to pay his gambling debts. Nothing more and nothing less!" He coughed and looked towards the window. "Remember this, Temple and you Cantwell, Redbourne has contacts that go way up in this town and indeed in the county."
"So I've heard, sir. I won't tread on any one's toes - if they're important!" Cantwell flinched at Temple's tone of voice. "I wouldn't want to disturb the balance of mind of the county set." He turned to leave the office. " But I should say,sir, I don't think much of their taste. Come on, Sergeant."
Chief Superintendent Baker's door closed firmly behind Temple as he urged Cantwell through into the corridor. Baker had not had time to think of a riposte.
Back in their own office, Temple gave a wry smile:
"God Almighty is this still the age of forelock tugging in glorious Devon? Do the local toffs still call the shots here?"
"Don't they everywhere, Gov?"
"Probably. It's just a bit more obvious down here. I don't like being warned off a case. Whoever he knows, we're bloody well going to nail him, this time."
Cantwell inwardly groaned. This 'getting' of Redbourne was sure to involve long hours and that would not go well with Debbie.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
The River Delivers
Cantwell could not make out the shape in the river. He turned away from it and looked out across the water to the far side of the river. The gently rolling hills looked peaceful, a picture of Devon as it should be. He looked again into the waters of the river a few feet away from the houseboat. There was definitely something just beneath the surface.
"Truscott! Andrews!" he called. "Get us some sort of pole, will you?"
Truscott came scampering along the deck, like a terrier, carrying a long wooden pole with a large metal hook at one end.
"Fish around in the water, over there. See? By that large branch."
"Crikey, Serg, I don't think I'll reach that far, even with this."
"You won't know till you try, Truscott. Anyway," he chuckled, "you've got arms like a gorilla, so you'll manage."
Truscott leaned forward, the rail around the bow only reached as far as his knees, so he was loath to stretch too far. He gingerly pushed away some branches with the pole, then he turned to look at Cantwell:
"What am I looking for, Serg?"
"I dunno, can't be sure. There's something odd out there. I'll tell you when to stop." Cantwell peered at the object. "A bit further to your left! That's it. Now a bit further out, just about a foot. Yes! That's .."
Cantwell never finished the sentence. Truscott over-balanced, catching his foot on the rail. He fell head first into the river. Cantwell, who could not swim, looked on in alarm. He tried to grab the pole but it slipped from his grasp:
"Andrews! Help! Help!"
Hearing the commotion on deck, Temple climbed rapidly up the ladder in time to see PC Andrews dive into the river, helmet, jacket and shoes discarded on deck.
"What the hell's going on?"
"Truscott fell overboard, Gov. He was trying to retrieve something for me. I can't swim so I called for Andrews' help."
Fortunately, Andrews was a strong swimmer. He reached Truscott and towed him back to the boat. Temple hauled the young constable on deck. He was choking and covered in muddy slime.
"Andrews, while you're in the water, fetch back the pole. We might need it later."
As he swam back and reached out for the pole, Andrews' hand touched something other than wood. He gasped involuntarily, swallowing water as he did. He realised he was not feeling wood. It was something far more sinister:
"There's a bloody body here!" Andrews yelled.
"Use the pole to drag it to me, if you can." Temple urged. "We'll bring it on board from the deck."
"Cantwell take Truscott to the car, get him out of those wet clothes and into your jacket. Then radio for back-up, scene of crimes crew, some clothes for Truscott and for Dr Edwards." Under his breath he said, "Perhaps this time, it's more than just a drowning."
Between them, Temple and Andrews manoeuvred the body on deck. It was Eager Beaver who lay there in front of them. It was not the Eager Beaver who Temple had last seen. His poor face was almost unrecognisable, smashed almost to a pulp. His hands too bore the marks of a severe beating and one of his legs was bent at an impossible angle. Temple cursed. Then he turned to Andrews:
"Dry yourself off as much as you can, then go and sit with Truscott, wait till back-up arrives, then get back to Starmouth and write up your report. Oh! Don't forget what Cantwell said about your shoes." Andrews picked up his clothes and headed for the gangway. "Andrews!" The young constable turned. "Good work!"
Andrews flushed. He had heard that Temple was not one to give out praise. So this was praise indeed.
"Truscott! Andrews!" he called. "Get us some sort of pole, will you?"
Truscott came scampering along the deck, like a terrier, carrying a long wooden pole with a large metal hook at one end.
"Fish around in the water, over there. See? By that large branch."
"Crikey, Serg, I don't think I'll reach that far, even with this."
"You won't know till you try, Truscott. Anyway," he chuckled, "you've got arms like a gorilla, so you'll manage."
Truscott leaned forward, the rail around the bow only reached as far as his knees, so he was loath to stretch too far. He gingerly pushed away some branches with the pole, then he turned to look at Cantwell:
"What am I looking for, Serg?"
"I dunno, can't be sure. There's something odd out there. I'll tell you when to stop." Cantwell peered at the object. "A bit further to your left! That's it. Now a bit further out, just about a foot. Yes! That's .."
Cantwell never finished the sentence. Truscott over-balanced, catching his foot on the rail. He fell head first into the river. Cantwell, who could not swim, looked on in alarm. He tried to grab the pole but it slipped from his grasp:
"Andrews! Help! Help!"
Hearing the commotion on deck, Temple climbed rapidly up the ladder in time to see PC Andrews dive into the river, helmet, jacket and shoes discarded on deck.
"What the hell's going on?"
"Truscott fell overboard, Gov. He was trying to retrieve something for me. I can't swim so I called for Andrews' help."
Fortunately, Andrews was a strong swimmer. He reached Truscott and towed him back to the boat. Temple hauled the young constable on deck. He was choking and covered in muddy slime.
"Andrews, while you're in the water, fetch back the pole. We might need it later."
As he swam back and reached out for the pole, Andrews' hand touched something other than wood. He gasped involuntarily, swallowing water as he did. He realised he was not feeling wood. It was something far more sinister:
"There's a bloody body here!" Andrews yelled.
"Use the pole to drag it to me, if you can." Temple urged. "We'll bring it on board from the deck."
"Cantwell take Truscott to the car, get him out of those wet clothes and into your jacket. Then radio for back-up, scene of crimes crew, some clothes for Truscott and for Dr Edwards." Under his breath he said, "Perhaps this time, it's more than just a drowning."
Between them, Temple and Andrews manoeuvred the body on deck. It was Eager Beaver who lay there in front of them. It was not the Eager Beaver who Temple had last seen. His poor face was almost unrecognisable, smashed almost to a pulp. His hands too bore the marks of a severe beating and one of his legs was bent at an impossible angle. Temple cursed. Then he turned to Andrews:
"Dry yourself off as much as you can, then go and sit with Truscott, wait till back-up arrives, then get back to Starmouth and write up your report. Oh! Don't forget what Cantwell said about your shoes." Andrews picked up his clothes and headed for the gangway. "Andrews!" The young constable turned. "Good work!"
Andrews flushed. He had heard that Temple was not one to give out praise. So this was praise indeed.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Eager Beaver again!
At the police station, there was a general hubbub. The Chief Superintendent was pacing the lobby, his face flushed. As soon as he saw Temple, he beckoned for him to follow down the corridor. Temple urged Cantwell along with him. The Chief Superintendent's door was wide open and the man himself appeared to be in an acute state of agitation.
"That Beaver chap you questioned, the other day, is missing. neighbours on the adjacent houseboat heard a commotion in the early hours of the morning. They did nothing about it, at the time. But, this morning they went over to Beaver's boat. There was no sign of him but there were signs of what they called 'a scuffle'. They called us. I've sent two constables along there. Since you were dealing with him, I think you'd better get down there pretty damn sharpish."
Temple nodded but made no comment. He knew that more must be coming. The Chief Superintendent was in such a state that something else had to be causing it, other than a missing alcoholic.
"I don't know how anyone could tell there'd been a scuffle, sir." Cantwell ventured. "That boat of his always looks as if it had been turned over."
Chief Superintendent Baker eyed Cantwell with both distaste and disdain:
"Well, you had better get down there and do some detective work, hadn't you? And," he turned to Temple, "I hope any fracas is not as a result of your questioning him earlier in the week." He cleared his throat. "I heard rumours that some of your questions were making assertions about various Starmouth citizens. You'd better make sure your assertions are accurate, Temple. There will be trouble otherwise."
"I don't know who told you that, Chief Superintendent, any assertions that I make are always based on facts. We'll report back when we have a clearer picture." To himself, he thought, 'pompous bastard!'.
Topsham was as quiet as before. The only sign of activity was the police patrol car parked near the river. The two uniformed constables were sitting idly chatting on the quayside, totally unaware of the approaching detectives.
"Finished your investigations, have you?" Temple asked, "About to file your report?"
Truscott and Andrews jumped to their feet in alarm:
"We thought we should wait for a senior officer, when we found the blood." Truscott stammered.
"Show us." Temple said crossing over to Beaver's boat. The deck was just as it had been earlier in the week. Mooring ropes were uncoiled across the deck, two buckets and a mop stood against the wheelhouse.
"Show us!" Temple said, "but for God's sake don't touch anything or walk in the blood."
Andrews flushed, "Sorry, Inspector, we couldn't see in the dark of the cabin ... we accidentally trod in the blood."
"Great! That's all we needed!" Cantwell shook his head. "You'll have to hand in your shoes when you get back to the station so that forensics can match them with any other prints."
Temple was pleased that Cantwell, at last, was beginning to think like a copper. Maybe there was hope for him, after all.
Below deck, despite the gloom, it was obvious the cabin was in complete disarray. Blankets and a sheet from the bunk were strewn across the far side. They were heavily bloodstained and a rivulet of now congealing blood flowed from near the bunk in the direction of the ladder. Temple realised how easy it had been for the two constables to step unwittingly into it.
"From the amount of blood, Cantwell, I guess we're looking for Beaver's body."
"Really! You think so?"
"Well, he's either dead or pretty damn close to it." He called out for Truscott.
"Yes, Inspector!"
"Go to the patrol car and radio the station, ask for forensics to come here. Cantwell, you go on deck. There's not enough room to swing a cat down here. Two of us will get under each other's feet."
Cantwell was relieved, the dark, the mustiness and the smell of the blood gave him the creeps. On deck the air was a tonic. He walked to the bow, sat down and surveyed the river. The full spate from the heavy rains, earlier in the month, had abated. Even so the water was still thick with mud and resembled reddish soup. He stood up and peered down into the water. Drift wood was all around, carried down from higher upstream. Some of it was wedged against the hull of Eager Beaver's boat. Seeing something that looked different, Cantwell leaned closer to the river and squinted. Surely, he thought, there's something else other than branches down there.
"That Beaver chap you questioned, the other day, is missing. neighbours on the adjacent houseboat heard a commotion in the early hours of the morning. They did nothing about it, at the time. But, this morning they went over to Beaver's boat. There was no sign of him but there were signs of what they called 'a scuffle'. They called us. I've sent two constables along there. Since you were dealing with him, I think you'd better get down there pretty damn sharpish."
Temple nodded but made no comment. He knew that more must be coming. The Chief Superintendent was in such a state that something else had to be causing it, other than a missing alcoholic.
"I don't know how anyone could tell there'd been a scuffle, sir." Cantwell ventured. "That boat of his always looks as if it had been turned over."
Chief Superintendent Baker eyed Cantwell with both distaste and disdain:
"Well, you had better get down there and do some detective work, hadn't you? And," he turned to Temple, "I hope any fracas is not as a result of your questioning him earlier in the week." He cleared his throat. "I heard rumours that some of your questions were making assertions about various Starmouth citizens. You'd better make sure your assertions are accurate, Temple. There will be trouble otherwise."
"I don't know who told you that, Chief Superintendent, any assertions that I make are always based on facts. We'll report back when we have a clearer picture." To himself, he thought, 'pompous bastard!'.
Topsham was as quiet as before. The only sign of activity was the police patrol car parked near the river. The two uniformed constables were sitting idly chatting on the quayside, totally unaware of the approaching detectives.
"Finished your investigations, have you?" Temple asked, "About to file your report?"
Truscott and Andrews jumped to their feet in alarm:
"We thought we should wait for a senior officer, when we found the blood." Truscott stammered.
"Show us." Temple said crossing over to Beaver's boat. The deck was just as it had been earlier in the week. Mooring ropes were uncoiled across the deck, two buckets and a mop stood against the wheelhouse.
"Show us!" Temple said, "but for God's sake don't touch anything or walk in the blood."
Andrews flushed, "Sorry, Inspector, we couldn't see in the dark of the cabin ... we accidentally trod in the blood."
"Great! That's all we needed!" Cantwell shook his head. "You'll have to hand in your shoes when you get back to the station so that forensics can match them with any other prints."
Temple was pleased that Cantwell, at last, was beginning to think like a copper. Maybe there was hope for him, after all.
Below deck, despite the gloom, it was obvious the cabin was in complete disarray. Blankets and a sheet from the bunk were strewn across the far side. They were heavily bloodstained and a rivulet of now congealing blood flowed from near the bunk in the direction of the ladder. Temple realised how easy it had been for the two constables to step unwittingly into it.
"From the amount of blood, Cantwell, I guess we're looking for Beaver's body."
"Really! You think so?"
"Well, he's either dead or pretty damn close to it." He called out for Truscott.
"Yes, Inspector!"
"Go to the patrol car and radio the station, ask for forensics to come here. Cantwell, you go on deck. There's not enough room to swing a cat down here. Two of us will get under each other's feet."
Cantwell was relieved, the dark, the mustiness and the smell of the blood gave him the creeps. On deck the air was a tonic. He walked to the bow, sat down and surveyed the river. The full spate from the heavy rains, earlier in the month, had abated. Even so the water was still thick with mud and resembled reddish soup. He stood up and peered down into the water. Drift wood was all around, carried down from higher upstream. Some of it was wedged against the hull of Eager Beaver's boat. Seeing something that looked different, Cantwell leaned closer to the river and squinted. Surely, he thought, there's something else other than branches down there.
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