17. BIRD WATCHING FOR ONE

A close examination of the naturist camp proprietor

Had she not known Inspector Richards as well as she did, having worked with him in the past when he was a mere sergeant, Trayda might have felt uncomfortable. As it was she accompanied him, at his own request, to Happy Valley Naturist camp, where he intended to interview William Hampton.

It was something he had to do. Annie Hampton’s name had come up more than once, both to himself and to Trayda, and every time it was as a lover of the dead man. And this, to the minds of experiences police officers, represented a really good motive for the murder of David Stokesey by an outraged husband.

The two of them were in the main office to the naturist facility and William Hampton had done them the courtesy of pulling a pair of shorts over his bare bottom. There was nobody else in the office, much to the relief of the police outsiders who were both as fully dressed as the weather permitted, and both of whom would have been far from happy at the presence of too much naked human flesh.

“”Were you aware that your wife was having an affair with Mr Stokesey?” asked Reuben bluntly once they had sat down.

“Who says they were?” asked The Happy Valley proprietor evasively, his eyes furtively moving from one to the other.

“It’s common knowledge,” Trayda told him, forgetting for a moment that it was Reuben and not she who was leading the investigation.

“During our enquiries the fact has come up at just about every turn,” said Reuben, frowning at Trayda. “It would seem that some sort of romantic liaison between your wife and the deceased is common knowledge.”

“Well, she may have been,” replied William, “and if she was it is of little real concern to me, and most certainly not a motive for me to hurt the fellow.”

“That’s a most peculiar thing for you to say,” said Reuben thoughtfully, “I must say I’ve never heard of any married man virtually giving permission for his wife to have affairs with ice cream salesmen!”

“Maybe our marriage isn’t your normal matrimonial institution,” sighed Mr Hampton. “Look, let me explain. It’s bound to come out sooner or later now that the police are involved in a murder that’s close to home, so I might as well set the story straight from the off.”

“Go ahead then,” encouraged the Inspector, “this should be interesting,” he added to Trayda.

“I’ve always been aware that I am not quite like other men,” said the site owner reluctantly. “I have always known that, although I love the sight and the company of, shall we say, the female sex, I find close contact with even the most beautiful of them to be, well, not repugnant, nothing like that, but less desirable than close contact with members of my own sex.” He looked uncomfortable as he spoke, as if he would happily have fallen through a hole into another world had such a thing been possible.

“Is that why you run a nudist camp, sir?” asked Reuben, taken aback.

William shook his head vigorously. “Not at all! He snapped, “and I suppose there’d be a greater incentive for me to run this place if my orientation, let’s call it, was more, how shall I put it? Normal.”

“How come you got married then?” asked Trayda.

“I love my wife,” muttered the other, “I love her dearly. I love to see her as she goes about her life, dressed when she goes out of the camp in the sort of gear that would excite any man! I love the way she thinks, the woman she is. But I find physical closeness with her something I prefer to avoid. I knew what I was like when I was young and we got married, and just assumed that I’d change because I was married to a beautiful woman who loved me. But I didn’t change. The me that had lived and breathed as a teenager was still living and breathing in my married body. I found it difficult to be physically close to her even though I found her enticing to look at.” He seemed to squirm in his seat as he spoke.

“And I’m still like that,” he ended forlornly. “But I’m not a fool, not really. I know that my wife has needs and so, even though part of me is upset by it, I turn the blindest of blind eyes to her little excursions into the world of other men. Though I have been known to follow her, to see from a distance what her latest conquest looks like.”

“And she’s happy living like that?” asked Trayda.

He looked uncomfortable. “Not exactly happy,” confessed the unhappy camp owner, “but she accepts it. And we both know there is a chance that she may fall deeply in love with a more normal man at any time, and want to be released from her marriage to me, and I have acknowledged that. She knows that I won’t stand in her way.”

“What do your visitors, your paying guests, make of it?” asked Reuben.

“They don’t know, and as this is a naturist camp they don’t interest me. You see, I’m not that keen on the sight of human flesh and certainly not the wobbly sort that tends to be the lot of middle-aged nudists who think that getting undressed is a doorway to a lost youth! And by that I mean both male and female,” replied William.

“So you’re saying that you had no motive for going after that ice cream salesman?” asked Reuben.

William Hampton shook his head vigorously.

Reuben looked severely at him and shook his head. “Then I’d better tell you I don’t believe a word of what you’ve just told me,” he said heavily, “and that you must come down to the police station with me, where I can put a few more questions to you under caution. So come along, then.”

He stood up and glared at the camp owner who looked miserably back at him. Trayda Sibsey shook her head imperceptibly, and made her way out of the office before she said more than she had any right to say.

oo0oo

Angela Comely had been left to her own devices when her friend Trayda disappeared, with the briefest of apologies, to the naturist camp with the Inspector.

“All on your own then, lady, for a change?” asked an unfamiliar voice. She looked behind her and it was a cheery looking man with a scruffy dog on a lead.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“We’ve not spoken, but it goes round who you two ladies are,” replied the dog walker, Walter Tiny. “It’s said you’re with the rozzers, investigating poor old Stokesey’s demise,” he added inquisitively.

“My friend is. I just tag along,” she told him.

“And it’s on the grapevine that they’re after him as runs the nudey place,” said Mr Tiny.

“I believe they’ve gone to question him,” replied Angela, “on account of his wife having some sort of affair with the dead man.”

“Oh, they were having an affair all right,” nodded Walter, “it don’t need an Inspector from Southwesthampton nick to work that one out! And it’s something most folks round her know full well.”

“So you reckon the Hampton bloke had a motive after all?” asked Angela, “I mean, there’s not many men who’d be happy knowing their wife was sleeping with someone else.”

“He wouldn’t care,” Walter said confidentially, “he’s got other things on his mind! See these,” he indicated the binoculars in a case hanging round his neck, “I take these with me and I tells folk I’m bird watching. And I am, but, begging your pardon for saying it, but not the feathered sort! Walk a mile and a bit down that way,” he pointed past the beach and into the near distance, “and you come to that Naturist camp, Happy Valley they call it, and it’s jam-packed with naked birds at this time of year! And a few, not so many mind you, but a few are worth looking at through these glasses. And while I’m doing my bird spotting old Hampton. The guy as runs the place, he’s got his own glasses looking at me! And, you know, I’m not much to look at, I know that, but I reckon he sometimes gets fair excited when I’m wearing my swimming shorts!”

“He does?”

“Sure he does. I don’t mind. What’s sauce for the goose is also sauce for the gander, they say, and I gets my sauce when the sun’s out and the birds are playing on that tennis court! That I do! And never mind what old Hampton’s doing. Never mind at all.”

And Walter Tiny winked at Angela before carrying on his way down past the beach towards his own personal bird sanctuary.

© Peter Rogerson 04.04.19