12.THE COTTAGE IN THE WOODS

Two little scenes, a somewhat odd superitendent and a metal detector!¬!!

THE COTTAGE IN THE WOODS

12. The Half Crown

Superintendent Partridge was both worried and annoyed. His senior detective, Inspector Greengage, was getting nowhere and it didn’t surprise him because he was pretty sure there was nowhere for him to go. But the man was convinced that he was about to end his career with a triumphant arrest and the solving of crimes that had remained unsolved for ages.

A murder not only unsolved but not even known about, and solving a murder would be one up for him because he hardly ever got murders to solve.

There was a worry for him. For some reason Huckleberry cottage had fallen off every map he knew about since before it was built, and that was probably some time in the nineteenth century.

He called for Constable Pierce to join him in his office.

It wasn’t very often that he spoke directly to one of the minions, the lower grades of policeman like green in gills constables. He much preferred to discuss policing matters with the more senior officers, sergeants possibly, but above that, preferably. But words with both the pretty female, Detective Ruby and Sergeant Goodbody as well as Inspector Greengage had provided him with no information on what might just turn out be an important case. And he had nothing to tell the Chief Constable, and that austere gentleman had already been on the phone.

Constable Pierce, young and too fresh faced to be a copper in the superintendent's eyes, why he could almost fancy him himself should the lad pop into his home when Rosemary chanced to be out. He knew that he had a bisexual streak in his own make-up and rather enjoyed it, especially when he was in the crowd at Brumpton rugby ground and the sports shorts worn by some of the players seemed to be getting shorter year on year. Or was that his imagination? Sometimes, in between filling in report forms and the like in his office he found his mind wandering that way and he experienced a strange mixture of shame and pleasure at the way it made him feel.

“Constable,” he said, breaking his thought before it betrayed him, “this business of the cottage, let me see, Humperdink is it called?

“Yes sir, I believe so,” replied Billy.

“What do you make of it? I’d like the opinion of an officer from the younger set.”

“Well, sir,” began Billy, “I’ve been looking into it. I’ve been down the library and so on just to check various archives, and a young neighbour of mine has been looking on line to see if she can discover anything. It was she and her boyfriend who first alerted us to it, sir.”

“Oh. I like it: involving the public in local affairs. Very good, Pierce. You’ll go a long way doing things like that.”

“Thank you, sir. It seems there’s very little to go on from before the second world war, and then there was a pretty devastating fire caused by a German fighter plane crashing into the surrounding woodland. It made the nationals.”

“Was the cottage damaged, then, constable?”

“No. Not as far as I can tell. But it was discovered when the local authorities were trying to discover the whereabouts of the crashed plane’s pilot, who appears to have survived the crash. It was reckoned that he bailed out and may have survived, though he was never found. But the cottage was, but they weren’t bothered about looking for cottages so nothing was done about it.”

“They were very difficult times, Pierce. One thing at the time, eh?”

“I reckon that’s the way it must have been, sir.”

“And do I hear you’re taking one thing at the time in your personal life? Getting married before long, I heard on the grapevine?”

“Yes sir, To Amy Cinders, a young widow who I like, very very much.”

“That’s good, constable. A man needs a good woman. I have Mrs Partridge. A good woman and a keen Detective working in the Marnford division, far enough away so as not to be under my feet twenty-four seven eh?”

“Very good sir.”

“Good to have some blokes around, eh? Men of a like mind, fine fellows you can depend on, eh?”

“Yes sir.”

“Do you get on well with the other officers? The men?”

“Okay, I suppose.” Billy felt uncomfortable. There had been a few rumours about the Superintendent and he felt a trifle worried about the turn of the conversation.

“Well, have a good time, young fellow, and I’d be glad if you’d keep me up to date with the events at the cottage, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

Meanwhile, Anthony and Enid had decided to make their way to the cottage in the woods and see if they could spot anything unusual. He even had a small metal detector with him, one that he’d had for Christmas, just in case, he suggested with a grin, they could detect a hoard of gold coins in the deepest part of the woods, maybe one left by outlaws like Robin Hood in days gone by!

One thing was on their minds and dominated their conversation. How could one elderly lady have survived alone? Where did she get her food from? That question had sprung itself on them when they found themselves discussing the very isolation of the cottage. It didn’t have a huge garden and what there was looked largely uncultivated, and they couldn’t imagine the rather frail Winifred going out into the woodland and trapping small animals whenever she felt hungry. In season there might be hedgerow fruits, blackberries and elderberries and so on, but what during the rest of the year?

It was a weekend day, a Sunday. so they were free to take as long as they needed to mooch around. And they both enjoyed the fact that they were on their own with nobody staring at them as they walked close to each other and hand in hand.

“Do you think she goes to the shops?” asked Enid, “if there are any near here?

“There’s a small shopping centre with half a dozen shops not too far ahead, the other side of the woods” Anthony told her, “I’ve been this way before, though I can’t remember taking much notice of the old cottage.”

“I’ve not see evidence of her having much money to spend,” pointed out Enid, “and she should be receiving a pension I suppose, but I don’t think she does. It looks to me as if she’s dropped off any lists there might be, as if she doesn’t exist.”

“I doubt she would understand money!” grinned Anthony.

“It’s no laughing matter, the poor old sou!” protested Enid.

“The one who tried to shoot us,” reminded Anthony, then “Look, where do you think that goes to?”

The rough pathway had divided into two, one going straight on to wards the cottage, and the other veering off to their left.

“It doesn’t look much more than an animal track, the sort a fox or squirrels might make as they wander though the undergrowth!” pointed out Enid.

“Come on, let’s take a look. We needn’t go far!”

“OK.”

They didn’t have to go far before they came upon a large clearing where something had reduced the woodland to little more than scrubland, though a few saplings were struggling to take over and probably would one day.

“This is just the job!” said Anthony, “I wonder if we’ll find that gold hoard here where there aren’t so many trees? Wouldn’t that be exciting!”

“I reckon it must be what that fire in the forties left behind after they’d put it out. You know, the one that we saw on microfiche down the library, where an aeroplane crashed?” decided Enid, “because if there was ever going to be a clearing left after a devastating fire, this what it would look like. All signs of burning gone, but still not so many trees.”

“Good thinking, love!” Let’s sweep over it for a few minutes and see if there’s anything metallic left behind.”

“If you must,” murmured Enid, and then she smiled, “go on, I know you want to, and when you find it you can share the gold with me!”

Anthony switched the machine on and started sweeping it above the ground. He hadn’t gone far before it started whistling and he paused. “There’s something here,” he said.

He had a small trowel with him and he dug down where the object his metal detector had found was lurking just under the surface. It was a twisted piece of metal, not with any recognisable shape to it so he had no idea what it might be.

“Part of the aeroplane that crashed?” asked Enid.

“Possibly,” he nodded, “there’ll probably be more if it broke up,” and he moved forwards. Several yards further on and the metal detector shrieked again, and when he dug down with his trowel he saw something shining silver.

“Ah, this is more like it!” he said.

“What is it? A hoard worth millions?” she teased.

“No. It’s a single coin, only one of them I think. Look:” he held a slightly soiled silver coin in his hand, larger than anything he would expect in his change these days. He rubbed the face of it until he could clearly see the image of a king’s face.

“That’s George the fifth!” Enid told him. “Look, it’s got the date on, 1934. That’ll be when it was minted.”

“But what is it?”asked Anthony

“Look again: it says on it Half Crown! I’ve heard my folks mention them. Dad would say he could buy just about everything when he was a kid if he had a half crown in his pocket! And these days that’s only ten pence and a bit”

“So how might such huge wealth have got here, to be lying on the ground, unwanted and unloved?” asked Anthony.

“And might Winifred have dropped it on the way to the shops you mentioned?” asked Enid, “poor old thing if she did.”

© Peter Rogerson 24.01.23