The Planting of the Penny Hedge Read online

  ‘Did you manage to take many pictures on the beach Mr Waters?’ He watched as the elderly man inspected the hanging papers.

  ‘Just a couple, I got there just as they were about to move him, so I took some before bringing him back here for examination. Here we are.’ He unclipped one of the photographs, which Detective Matthews could not see anything on due to the poor lighting. ‘Oh that’s a shame, this one didn’t work. Let’s see if the others have come out.’ He took down a further two photographs and held them both closer to the light. ‘Ah, yes, you see here look.’ Matthews came in closer and gasped when his eyes focused on the photographs. One showed the man from the waist up, his arms raised above his head as he lay on the ground. The second picture was of the man’s face, and his hands above with his wrists and neck tied onto a strange structure.

  ‘What in God’s name?’ the detective cursed.

  ‘Do you want to see the body detective? I’ve got that wooden structure that he was tied to as well, thought you may wish to see it.’ Mr Waters handed the photographs to the detective who placed them inside his envelope.

  ‘Yes please, just a quick look. Have you examined him yet?’

  ‘I haven’t opened him up yet, but I have stripped him of his clothes and started documenting the external examinations.’ He guided the detective back along the corridor and into a much larger room with bright natural light coming from an overhead window. The whole building reeked of death and a chemical odour that Matthews couldn’t identify. ‘He has some bruises to the upper arms, and of course the wrists are badly cut due to them being tied up.’ Mr Waters pulled back the sheet, which covered the dead man’s body, uncovering him only to the waist.

  Matthews had seen dead bodies before; it was an occupational expectation, so he was less than distressed at seeing this pale lifeless man rested on the table like a slab of meat. The bruises on his arms could be seen clearly, an indication of a struggle perhaps, and the cuts on his wrists from the object, which had been tied to him, looked raw and sore. His skin was dried from the salt water, with his lips and eyelids the worse effected. He was a tall man, muscular and in appearance seemed to be in good physical health. His naked torso did not show any signs of bruises or marks.

  ‘Are the injuries on his arms the only marks you have found?’ Matthews asked, hoping he wouldn’t move the cover even further to reveal the man’s private area.

  ‘No, I haven’t seen any other marks I think are of concern.’

  ‘Do you think he died from drowning or was he put there dead before the tide came in?’

  ‘Difficult to say without opening him up. But looking at his build and the small restraints I can’t see him just lying there as the tide consumed him.’

  ‘Agreed. Do we have an ID on him?’

  ‘He didn’t have anything on him that I can identify him with, and none of the officers or the man who found him knew who he was either.’

  ‘Thank you for your time Mr Waters. Once your report is ready please send it to the police station for me to go through.’ He shook the senior man’s hand and showed himself out.

  Matthews returned to the main street where he could see Harvey returning from up the street. He had sent the young lad on errands to collect him some groceries; he knew it wasn’t really his job but he thought it would keep him occupied whilst he waited. The cobbled Church street was filled with people of all ages going about their business, and Matthews couldn’t help but smile. He may begrudge his return to Whitby, but he certainly did love the town.

  ‘Sorry for keeping ya waiting detective, I stopped at the troughs for the horses to have a drink before heading back.’ He opened the carriage door for him as he spoke.

  ‘No problem young man, I have only just left.’

  ‘Where to now sir?’

  ‘Home I think.’

  ‘Erm…sorry, sir. I’m not sure where that is?’ Harvey questioned with an air of embarrassment. Matthews laughed, realising his lack of details and instructed the young lad accordingly.

  The journey back across town was again a short one, and the climb up the steep road to the top of west cliff saw Harvey dismount his seat and guide the horses slowly. Most of the streets in Whitby were a dirt track, and so the horse’s hooves would sometimes have less grip on the steep inclines.

  When the carriage pulled up outside his grandmother’s old house Matthews couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. He had only good memories in this house. Harvey opened the carriage and Matthews went to unlock the front door, leaving Harvey to bring the suitcase. The door creaked open and the smell of dust and damp flooded Detective Matthews nostrils. He stepped over the threshold and took in the sight of the hallway and staircase. His grandmother had died over six months ago, and looking at the condition and smell of the house, nobody had been in to clean up since.

  Chapter 4

  Matthews spent the remained of the evening making a start cleaning the house; it was certainly going to be a lengthy procedure. He couldn’t quite believe that he was now living in his grandmother’s old house. Cobwebs hung in every room, the intricate, delicate, sculpture of silky white thread undisturbed for so long that they covered the walls and ceiling in grey dusty clumps. The abandoned house looked more like a Halloween horror house than a warm welcoming home. The carpets and furniture were layered with a thick coat of dust; and the water from the kitchen sink run brown for the first couple of minutes. Cleaning this house would take days, and Matthews was already exhausted before he had even begun.

  At nine o’clock there was a knock on the door. Matthews could see his father through the living room window. Matthews groaned, he had hoped he could avoid him for a day or two until he felt ready to speak to him again. He was still angry with him and didn’t wish to argue again at this late hour. He opened the door and before he could say anything his father pushed his way in.

  ‘Settling in are we?’ His voice echoed through the house. It was only then that Matthews realised how quiet it had been before his arrival. ‘Brought you these over, figured you wouldn’t have time to do laundry with whatever is here.’ He handed him some fresh bedding and towels. ‘You can keep them, you know how many your mother had, and I don’t need them now. Blimey it’s worse in here than I thought it would be, but it’ll be grand once it’s had a clean-up.’

  ‘Do you want to stay for a drink?’ Matthews asked. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have much at the moment.’

  ‘No, it’s ok. Have you eaten?’ his father asked whilst rummaging through a large shopping bag. ‘Your sister made you some pie, figured you wouldn’t have eaten, she’s a worrier just like your mother, and a feeder too.’ He chuckled as he handed over a ceramic plate covered with a small cloth.

  ‘Oh, yes, thank you.’ He could still feel the warmth of the food on the bottom of the plate.

  ‘Let me know if I can get you anything. Probably in need of a sprucing up in here, will take a bit of time of course but it’s a grand old house really. Just let me know what you need and I’ll have it sent through.’ He gave a forced smile and there was an awkward silence for barely a second before he turned and headed back towards the door.

  ‘By the way Pops, Mr Waters gave me some of the pictures he took on the beach this morning. I’ll make a start looking into all that tomorrow morning.’

  ‘That’s a boy. It’s good to have you on the force. I’ve asked young Harvey to call for you in the morning. He’s switched on that young lad, could learn a thing or two under your supervision.’

  ‘I don’t need somebody to babysit,’ Matthews said.

  ‘I don’t know too much about him, he’s been in the yard now a couple of years and shows he has a good head on his shoulders, wants to be an officer one day and if he shows promise I may consider it. Anyway, don’t consider it babysitting; consider it somebody to help with the heavy lifting. Good night.’ With that he let himself out. The large heavy wooden door slammed loudly causing the dust of the cobwebs above to fall along the hallway.

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bsp; Matthews returned to the kitchen and turned on the gas to the hob and struck a match to light it. He placed an old copper kettle on to boil and whilst waiting for it to heat, he unwrapped the food from his sister. It was a chicken and ham pie, and no sooner had he uncovered it had he unceremoniously picked up the still warm pie to eat; his first meal since breakfast.

  He found an old small tray which he used to carry a pot of tea and a China plate decorated in blue and white patterns, upon which he had placed a couple of biscuits purchased that afternoon in town. He took the tray through to the living room and placed it onto the coffee table next to the envelope containing the investigation information he had yet to look through. As he landed on the sofa with an exhausted thud a cloud of dust consumed him. He coughed waving his hands in front of his face to help clear the dust. He made sure his tray was dust free, and then poured the tea into a China cup and dunked one of his biscuits before lighting a cigarette.

  The envelope on the table containing his newly assigned case filled him with dread, not because of the case itself, which he knew very little about, but because he knew that once he inspected the envelope the realisation he was staying in Whitby would become ever more real.

  He finished his cigarette, drunk the last of his tea and lit a couple more candles to brighten up the darkening room. The envelope was not thick or heavy, which basically meant there was very little known about the case already. Inside was the two photographs given to him by Mr Waters, which he stared at for a couple of seconds in disbelief. The only other item in the envelope was a one sided piece of paper written in his father’s hand. It stated the date, the time of which the body was discovered, the name and address of the man who found it, and an estimated time of death which had next to it ‘(to be confirmed by coroner)’.

  ‘Well this is hardly a lot to go with.’ Matthews sighed before returning to the kitchen to boil the kettle again so he could prepare a bath. It too needed cleaning first before he could use it, and after thirty minutes of cleaning the bathroom he had given up and decided to instead just wash and get himself ready for bed. His grandmothers old double bed however was much worse, the bedding his father had giving him was perfect, but the mattress he laid it on was covered in mould and it was another thirty minutes of cleaning and beating off the dust before he could make it up for sleeping. He didn’t sleep well at all that night, and despite his murder investigation he knew the first thing he was going to do the next day was get a new bed.

  ***

  Matthews had been awake for an hour when Harvey knocked on the door at precisely eight o’clock.

  ‘G’morning sir,’ Harvey’s enthusiastic voice rung out, ‘I’ve got something for you.’ He handed the detective a small bag which was sealed. ‘Was left at the station last night for you from Mr Waters, says it was what he found in the stiff’s trouser pocket.’

  ‘Thank you, Harvey, but please don’t refer to him as a “stiff”. Come on inside a moment so I can have a closer look.’ He guided the young lad back into his house and towards the kitchen. He unsealed the bag and carefully tipped its contents out onto the table.

  ‘What is it?’ Harvey asked, screwing up his face as he stared at the unidentifiable item.

  ‘That I believe is a piece of paper,’ he pointed at the water damaged paper, ‘that there I’d say is a one-pound note, you can kind of make out the ink on it,’ Harvey nodded but wasn’t sure he could really see it in the soggy pile. ‘And there maybe something else too; it’s difficult to say as it’s all mushed together due to the sea water. Clearly he had all these items in the same pocket.’ They both leant over the items with intrigue. ‘Let’s see if we can un-prise any of it and get any ideas of who he is.’ Harvey watched in awe as Matthews used two folks to carefully unravel the mangled mess, it was clear straight away that paper money was indeed entangled with other paper. Harvey leaned in closer, and using his little finger tried to assist the detective in prising apart the mushed paper, unsure if he was really helping at all.

  ‘Wait, what is that.’ He hollered at quite a volume, causing the detective to jump. ‘Sorry.’ He quickly said realising his rather dramatic squeal.

  ‘I think I saw what you did,’ the detective said as he returned to the section. ‘Ah, yes. Can you see that?’ It was the corner of what looked like a logo stamped onto the piece of paper, it was blue inked and was difficult to tell for certain what the entire logo could be. ‘Looking at the paper I think this stamp was at the top of the page, maybe even top middle, so it could be a logo or company brand. A lot of businesses like to stamp letters or documents as it makes them appear more official.’

  ‘Can you tell what it’s from?’

  ‘Unfortunately, far too much has been washed away. But let’s put it to the side and keep digging through the mess, we may get another clue.’

  The detective placed the potential logo to one side for safety, and continued with care to search through the distorted mess of paper with Harvey. They were about to give up when another clue presented itself.

  ‘Look!’ shouted Harvey, ‘that bit there has something written on it.’ Matthews had spotted it too and carefully prised the delicate paper away from the mass. The letters on the torn paper were smudged and the words could barely be read.

  ‘I wonder if this is written in the victim’s hand?’ Matthews wondered aloud.

  ‘H…loc…ace.’ Harvey spoke aloud, trying to figure out the blanks. ‘Wait, it could be Havelock Place, it’s a street not too far from here.’ He looked at Matthews with a wide grin on his face. Matthews pulled the paper in for a closer look and beamed back at him.

  ‘Well done Harvey, that certainly could be it.’ The street name was written on different paper to the stamp, and frustratingly the house number was completely destroyed. ‘Where have I heard that before?’ Matthews tapped his fingers on the table as he tried to recall why that street name rang familiar. ‘Hold on a minute.’ He crossed the kitchen and reached for the envelope his father had given him, and pulled out the single paged report he had been given. He scanned his eyes over it and there in his fathers handwriting was the street name Havelock Place. It was the exact same street name as given by the witness who found the body, as his contact address.

  Chapter 5

  Detective Matthews placed his father’s written report, the photographs and a fresh notepad and pencils into his small thin leather briefcase before leaving the house. Harvey rushed ahead to open the carriage door for the detective, and nearly crashed into it he was running so fast.

  Matthews thanked him for opening the door for him as he stepped inside. As Harvey closed the door and rushed up to the horse Matthews leaned out of the window to speak to him.

  ‘Harvey,’ he called, and the young lad immediately spun around to see, ‘let’s go the long way to Havelock Place and go via the cliff tops so I can see the beach where he was found. We don’t need to stop I’ll just look from the carriage this time, I just want to get an idea how far away the body was to the closest houses.

  They passed over the cliffside in the carriage only a couple of minutes later, and Matthews leaned out of the carriage window as they slowed down. There was obviously nothing to see other than the beach, and the houses set back against the cliff were so far back that they were unlikely to see anything happening down on the beach, the cliffs were just too high. There was however the pavilion building which was built hanging over the cliff edge. He made a note to himself to pay them a visit later as Harvey swung the carriage to the left and away from the sea front.

  Havelock Place was lined on both sides with tall terraced town houses. On one side they were all grand red bricked houses, with stones steps leading up to the front door. On the opposite side of the street the houses were much larger and were white washed giving them a more grandeur appearance. Matthews dismounted the carriage and walked along the street until he came to the house he needed, it was one of the red brick ones. He climbed the small couple of steps and as he knocked on the large w
ooden door, a voice came from behind startling him.

  ‘May I help you?’ Ernest O’Sullivan was returning home from walking his King Charles spaniel.

  ‘Mr O’Sullivan is it? My name is PC…I mean, Detective Matthews. I have taken on the case regarding the man you found on the beach yesterday morning, and wondered if I could ask you a couple of questions?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Ernest in his gruff voice, ‘but don’t be expecting much more information cos I don’t know nuffin’.’ He unlocked the front door and showed the detective into the living room, it had the odour of tobacco smoke and the brown seating and yellowing walls did little to disguise it. ‘Just wrong place wrong time, as they say. Take a seat detective; I’ll just take Molly here into the kitchen. Would you like a drink or anything?’

  ‘No thank you.’ Matthews took a seat on the long sofa, leaving the armchair, which looked as though it was Mr O’Sullivan’s favourite chair given how flat the cushion on it was. The living room was quite modest in size, and had minimal furniture, there was an open fire that was currently lifeless, although a barrel of coal sat beside it ready to be used. The fire wasn’t lit but the halve was dusted in white ash from the night before. A large wooden cabinet lined the back wall, and it was filled with picture frames of all different shapes and sizes, each one displaying a different member of the family. There was also a collection of porcelain ornaments lining the fire place and windowsill.

  ‘So detective,’ Mr O’Sullivan grunted as he returned, landing hard into the arm chair, ‘what questions do you need to know?’

  ‘Mr O’Sullivan, I have some information that you gave the chief regarding the time you found the body in the morning, but I was wondering if you took your dog for a walk late on an evening the same way, and if so did you see anything?’