8. A HELPING HAND

Rosie Baur gets involved in the case

“If my boss gives your boss a ring and asks nicely, how would you feel about kind of unofficially helping with the investigation?” asked Dai Jones when they were back at Rosie’s caravan and having yet another cup of tea. The twins were kicking a ball around some distance down the field and away from any caravans with Jerry and Cat Bingham, who seemed to have quite taken to them.

Rosie frowned.

“This is supposed to be my holiday with the kids,” she replied, “and you wouldn’t be in a position to ask if I’d gone to Majorca with them, would you?”

“I’m sorry,” he said wretchedly, “it’s just that we’re stretched well nigh to breaking point back in the station, and this is a cold case that doesn’t need so much close attention when there’s a modern day killer at large back home.”

“How cold would you say it was?” asked Rosie.

“Thirty years at least,” he replied.

“I’d agree but for one thing. Someone saw fit to remove the vehicle registration plate from the back of the old van, and did it this very morning! It strikes me there may well be a killer on the loose round here too!”

“But will you?”

She sighed resignedly. She knew that she would and that it needn’t impact too much on her holiday if a few officers were made available to her. But that number plate needed chasing up, and quickly. Other things were largely down to forensic investigation, and that could safely be left to experts even though they were thin on the ground too.

“I’ll help,” she said, “as long as all you really need is a lead player who can slot a few pieces of the jigsaw into place. But I am on holiday, I’ve got a couple of ten year-olds with me and tomorrow we’re going treasure-hunting on the beach!”

“At Seaholme?” grinned Dai Jones, “best of luck, but I doubt you’ll find much there! There are blokes with metal detectors bleeping up and down the sands most days and I’ve yet to hear of a doubloon or piece of eight being washed up!”

“The kids will enjoy it,” Rosie said firmly, “this holiday is a family affair and they’re two thirds of my family. It’s for them.”

“Dai nodded, “sorry,” he said, “I didn’t want to pour any scorn...”

“That’s all right then. You are forgiven.” Rosie smiled at him. “Are things quite as difficult in Seaholme as you’re making out?” she asked. “I always looked upon it as a peaceful town, half asleep most of the time.”

“It’s a holiday town which means it attracts all sorts, especially at this time of the year,” said Dai. “There’s the murder I told you about, and it doesn’t look as if it’s going to be too easy because there are traces of gangland to it and it may have been one of their sordid executions if the victim’s upset someone who looks upon himself as a big boss. Add to that a spate of burglaries on the rather large council estate and you’ve got all my man-power used up if the job’s going to be done properly. And don’t forget the far too frequent road traffic accidents when the drip-drip of alcohol-induced slaughter on the roads that needs looking at.

“You paint a sordid picture!”

“I’m having a bad time at the moment,” sighed Dai, “and the last thing I really need is a cold case in which it’s most likely nothing will be solved. I’ve watched the telly dramas that portray cold cases as easily soluble, but take my word for it, they’re not.”

“Thirty years is a long time for evidence to remain intact and usable,” agreed Rosie. “OK, you get your boss to talk to my boss and if they agree I’ll play some sort of role here, but I’m not going to let it interfere with the kids’ holiday.”

Dai nodded. “I couldn’t ask for more,” he murmured, “Meanwhile your pathologist has taken the bones back to his mortuary where he hopes to get a few things for us. The bullet that killed the corpse would be as good a start as anything. Tell me, how well do you know other people on this caravan site?”

Rosie sighed. “The owners are reliable and I’m sure have nothing to do with whatever happened. They live in the bungalow at the end of the field and the old boy’s really getting on a bit now.”

“It was thirty years ago,” reminded Dai, “he’d have been younger then.”

“No. I think we can discount him unless evidence to the contrary crops up, and the same with his family. Then there are the two I look on as a bit of an odd couple, Tom and June Coppleby. They spend half their lives doing jigsaw puzzles, for goodness’ sake! He’s getting on a bit and she’s quite a lot younger. A second wife, I believe.”

“You don’t seem particularly fond of them?”

“No, don’t get me wrong, I’ve met them here loads of times and they’ve always been decent to me. Then, when my husband was killed Tom did his best to make things easy for me when I brought the kids here.”

“That’s them, then. Who else might there be?”

“There are the Ripleys. Two sisters in their seventies who spend a lot of time here, and despite their ages they enjoy the naturist life-style, wandering about with everything on show! And they don’t look their ages, not by any means. I’ve not seen them yet this time, but that Pageant near the taps is theirs.”

“Pageant? I don’t understand.”

“It’s the name of their caravan. My car’s an X-trail, their van’s a Pageant. Then there’s Eggy, a farmer from Brumpton. He’s a loner, in his forties I think and never here for long at a stretch. He’ll be off soon I should think seeing as I’ve marched his labourer to Brumpton Jail!”

“Really? What did he do?”

“In truth he did to a neighbour of his what he’d be encouraged to do to a wounded dog and put him out of his misery with a hammer. The man had been attacked and blinded by his wife because she’s a miserable old biddy. The farm labourer came upon him and did the necessary, which ended up being called manslaughter. He’s on remand now, but I reckon that if there’s any justice in the world he’ll get a non-custodial.”

“So that’s your Eggy then. What about the young couple?”

“They’re taking us metal detecting tomorrow come rain or shine. This is their first stay on this site and will probably be their last what with all the fuss and a skeleton in the woods. Anyway, I doubt either of them was alive thirty years ago.”

“Anyone else?”

“This site gets full some times and there are loads of different people who come here, mostly couples, mostly of an age to have been around when that unhappy corpse breathed her last, and mostly perfectly innocent.”

“Will you do one thing and keep an eye on the comings and goings while you’re here… please?”

She smiled at him. “Of course I will,” she said. “Meanwhile, if you don’t mind, it’s time for me to feed the kids or I’ll have a riot on my hands!”

“And tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow we’re off treasure hunting,” she said firmly.

TO BE CONTINUED…

© Peter Rogerson 27.03.17