The Planting of the Penny Hedge Page 4

  ‘To be honest lad, it’s all about if the tide is in or not, and how light it is. If it’s in, I’ll walk along the cliff top. I normally take Molly for a final walk around ten thirty, but I don’t take her as far as in the morning. It’s normally dark by then so I wouldn’t go down on the beach that late. I don’t recall seeing anything though.’

  ‘Tell me, although you say you don’t know the man, have you seen him around the town before?’

  ‘Goodness me lad, there’s thousands that live and work in Whitby, I can’t remember everyone.’ Mr O’Sullivan gave a throaty cough before continuing. ‘No detective, I don’t have any awareness of seeing him before. He ain’t from around this part of town as I’d more likely of seen him.’

  ‘As you can imagine he didn’t have any identification on him, so I will begin making enquiries around the town. I would appreciate it if you let me know if you hear anything.’

  ‘Certainly detective. You know what folk are like round ‘ere, nothings secret. Whole bloody towns probably heard about it by now.’

  ‘Can I ask you Mr O’Sullivan what it is you do for a living?’

  ‘Retired. Army man in my youth.’ His voice was coarse and cold.

  ‘Have you lived in Whitby your entire life?’ Matthews made small notes about the man as he spoke.

  ‘Mother was from Whitby, she moved inland to Pickering when she married my father, but after he died she returned here. I was off in the army and when I left I came to Whitby to take care of her; got myself a job as a coast guard manager until I retired myself.’

  ‘Do you live here alone?’

  ‘My wife, Elizabeth, has gone to the market. She should be home soon. Then there is Molly the dog of course. Will you need to speak with the wife?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think that be necessary. One more thing before I go Mr O’Sullivan.’ Matthews stood to leave, Mr O’Sullivan followed him to the door. ‘In the pocket of the victim was some papers, mostly destroyed due to the sea water, but I have been able to identify a couple of things that I’m hopeful will help towards identifying the man. One of which was a street name, and the reason needed to see you again was because the street name was Havelock Place.’ Mr O’Sullivan’s face dropped. For the first time he looked genuinely concerned.

  ‘Ah, I see…yes well that looks even worse for me doesn’t it.’

  ‘It may be a coincidence of course. Whitby is not that large of a place, but I need to figure out if he was maybe visiting somebody or looking for lodgings.’

  ‘There is nobody on this street that runs a guesthouse, not unless it’s somebody that was going to let him stay because they knew him. But then how’d you end up dead like that if he only just arrived in town?’

  ‘Thank you for your time Mr O’Sullivan, I will most likely be in touch again.’ Matthews shook Mr O’Sullivan’s hand and bid him farewell.

  Outside Harvey was waiting with the horses, ‘Where too now, sir?’

  ‘I think before we go to the station I would like to just drop in at the pavilion, since we are so close to it. You never know, somebody there might have seen something.’

  ‘Right you are, sir.’ Harvey gave a salute as he turned back to the horses. The Pavilion too was walking distance, and Matthews felt this was somewhat stretching the need, but it seemed to be pleasing Harvey to be of assistance.

  Chapter 6

  hey arrived at the Pavilion within minutes. From the road side the building could have almost been missed. It was build down the rock face so low that only a slither of roofline was visible to the street above. Matthews left Harvey and the carriage by the side of the road and took the stone staircase down towards the entrance.

  The Pavilion was a redbrick building with white painted stone framing the windows and a slate roof. The entrance was at the side of the building, which from this angle was only three floors high and four large windows wide. It looked more like a grand house than a theatre. However, despite this the building stretched along the cliff face quite a considerable amount, making it longer than Tate Hill pier.

  The theatre was not yet open today, and so Matthews simply knocked on the door and waited to see if there was any response. After a couple of seconds, a man came to the door.

  ‘Can I help you?’ he asked, his voice nasal. He was of average height yet extremely skinny with dark hair and deep-set sleepy eyes that had large bags under them. He looked to be in his early thirties, wore black boots, grey trousers and a dark shirt.

  ‘My name is constab… erm … Detective Matthews and I am here…’

  ‘Oh, I wondered when I’d be seeing one of your lot,’ the man interrupted, ‘come in.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Matthews wasn’t sure he appreciated the rudeness of this man, but regardless he followed him through to a small office area just beside the doorway.

  ‘Take a seat detective.’ The man gestured towards a shabby wooden chair before taking his own seat behind a rather small and somewhat littered desk.

  ‘Could I get your name please?’ Matthews asked whilst retrieving his note pad and pencil from his bag.

  ‘Names William, you can call me Will for short. I’m one of the security men at the Pavilion. In fact, you just caught me as I’m about to leave.’

  ‘I see, I will try and make this quick then. You said that you had been expecting one of my lot. Can you tell me why?’

  ‘Well the body on the beach yesterday morning of course, been expecting one of you to come around asking questions.’

  ‘Can I ask how you know about the body?’

  ‘Saw it being taken away, will no doubt be in the gazette this morning too.’

  ‘May I ask what hours were you working yesterday and the day before?’

  ‘Do the same hours all the time. I start at ten, roughly the time the punters are being kicked out, and I go through to nine or ten the next morning.’

  ‘You said you were one of the security men that worked here, can you tell me the others?’

  ‘Just me and Edward, he just left. But to be honest he’s an old fart that can barely deal with locking up anymore, I don’t know why they keep him. Put on a load of weight since I started too and can barely even handle the stairs anymore.’

  ‘When is it you started working here?’

  ‘Oh about six months ago, maybe a little longer.’

  ‘And you both do the night shift?’

  ‘Yes. The boss should be here any minute and then he and the staff look after the place during the day, us security just man the place at night.’ He gave a yawn and looked less than impressed at being kept from going home.

  ‘When you arrived at work on Wednesday night was it already completely dark, or could you see out onto the beach at all.’

  ‘Let me stop you there detective.’ He raised his hand as he said this. ‘When I get here I ain’t looking at the beach, it’s all about ensuring everybody has left and the building is locked down. The staff leaves not long afterwards and by midnight it’s usually just myself and Edward left.’ His tone was getting more and more rude.

  ‘So what about in the morning?’ Matthews was becoming inpatient with the man already. ‘You must have seen something given you were expecting me.’

  ‘I just saw a cluster of people on the beach, it caught my attention given it was early. I realised it was the chief of police with a handful of others, and it wasn’t long before a stretcher came to move a body. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what must have happened. Daft fool probably got pissed and drowned.’

  ‘So the group of people standing on the beach was the first time you noticed anything?’

  ‘Yeah. I do a walk around every hour or so, and the tide was in on my last check so yes that was the first I saw; not that looking out onto the beach is my usual routine. They were using the steps further along the cliff, so none of them even came past the Pavilion windows.’

  ‘Do you ever get people wandering past the Pavilion on a night, since there’s a pathway down to the beach her
e too?’

  ‘On occasion, the coloured beach huts are at the bottom of the path here so it’s usually people going to them. But I can’t say I saw anybody that night.’ He sighed. ‘Do you need anything else or can I go home now?’

  ‘I think that is all for now. If I need any more from you or your co-workers I will call back. If you don’t think there is anything else I need to know then I will let myself out.’

  ‘You not want to see the boss?’

  ‘Not right now, although I may come back.’ Detective Matthews let himself out of the office and William escorted him back to the front door.

  ‘If you ask me detective it was probably a drunken fight gone too far.’

  Matthews politely wished the man a pleasant day and made his way back to Harvey and the carriage. Back on top of the cliff Matthews paused and looked onwards to where the next set of stairs was located. It seemed quite a distance, so it is plausible he didn’t see much until he was purposefully looking that way.

  Back up on the street stood Harvey and the horse drawn carriage. Harvey clearly hadn’t realised Matthews was approaching as he stood talking to his horses without a care in the world. Matthews cleared his throat to alert him of his arrival, and Harvey blushed with embarrassment.

  ‘To the station now, sir?’ Harvey jumped to attention and opened up the carriage door for the detective. Matthews laughed, he found the boy rather amusing and the company was proving to be valued after all.

  ‘Yes, let’s head to the station, I need to speak to all residents on Havelock Place but will see if there are any spare hands available to lighten the weight; it’ll take days to work through every house alone.’ Harvey nodded and closed the carriage door after the detective, and proceeded with guiding the horses away.

  As the carriage drove along Matthews made final notes of his conversation with Mr O’Sullivan, and even made some from the pavilion. Mr O’Sullivan seemed an unlikely suspect, Matthews thought, but as it stood he was the only one he had.

  The noise of the town centre came into ear shot and Matthews watched from the carriage window as the buildings and houses passed by. Despite this his mind was not on the town at all. He was thinking about the transfer his father put in on his behalf, and wondered if he could do the same to return to York, once this case he had been given was complete.

  His attention was soon caught however as they passed an open doorway, and Grace, the woman from the train, walked out. She didn’t notice the detective, who rode by in the carriage, but turned back to her fiancé who followed her out of the door. Their voices were raised and Matthews gasped with horror when he saw the man slap Grace around the face, causing her to scream and fall to the ground.

  ‘Stop the carriage,’ he shouted up the Harvey, and leaned out of the window to open the door for himself. He jumped out into the road before the carriage had fully stopped, managing to stay on his feet by a mere coincidence. He raced over to Grace’s side and quickly took her elbow to assist her to her feet. Grace jumped with fright, pulling her arm away with force before realising who had come to her aid. She gave a soft, almost embarrassed smile to the detective as he helped her to her feet.

  ‘Who the fuck are you?’ the fiancé snarled in anger, squaring up to the detective and forcing his hand from Graces elbow.

  ‘I am Detective Matthews of the Whitby police, and…’

  ‘Please detective,’ Grace cut in, ‘all is well here, you may leave us.’

  ‘Miss I cannot walk away if I think you are in danger.’

  ‘Thank you detective, I appreciate your concern; but there is nothing to worry about here.’ She gave him a long hard stare. ‘Please detective.’

  Grace walked back to her fiancé side in the doorway, Matthews didn’t want to leave her with this brute of a man, but he had no choice. He returned to the carriage, looking back occasionally at Grace who remained in the arms of her fiancé, who was grinning with satisfaction at the detectives failed intervention. Matthews watched as Grace returned inside her house as Harvey drove the carriage away. Just before they were about to leave the harbour and head up towards the police station detective Matthews once again called for the carriage to be stopped.

  ‘Is everything okay, sir?’ Harvey dismounted from the driver’s seat and leaned into the carriage doors open window. Inside the detective was rummaging through his briefcase and pulled the small sealed bag containing the mangled pieces of paper. Carefully he removed a piece and joined Harvey on the side of the road, looking back along the river side he scanned the various fishing docks.

  ‘Look at that,’ he said to Harvey, holding up the piece of paper to eye level. Harvey tried to see exactly where his gaze was pointing. ‘What do you think? They look the same right?’

  Against one of the unloading bay fences was a large logo, it was a simple blue square with an even more simple outline of a fish inside. The paper in Matthews hand showed the corner of the square and the nose of the fish. On the loading bay fence, underneath the logo was the company name, Ocean Venture.

  ‘You think it’s that?’ Harvey asked.

  ‘Well there is only one way to find out. Park the horses over there and follow me.’ Harvey did as he was told and tied the horses up outside one of the public houses, before racing after the detective who had gone on ahead.

  Chapter 7

  By the time Harvey had caught up, Detective Matthews had already spoken to a young boy, a couple of years younger than Harvey, who ran off just as Harvey approached. He had gone to fetch the dock manager as requested to him by Matthews. The pair of them stood just outside the loading bay, and watched the multitude of men unloading the large fishing boats that had recently docked.

  The river Esk was lined with many docking areas, and boats of all sizes were being loaded and unloaded along the harbour constantly throughout the day. Hundreds of men and boys worked here and with the number of fishing vestals there was always work to be done. The detective could barely hear his own thoughts over the sound of crates be thrown around and the sound of men’s voices shouting over one and other to be heard. It was certainly a different type of hustle and bustle to that of York, thought Matthews. It also had a very different smell, one which Matthews could only stomach for so long before having to leave.

  ‘Detective, I hear you wish to speak with me?’ A large man with a thick bushy black beard, and wearing dungarees approached Matthews and Harvey, he held out a hand which the detective immediately shook. At first glance Harvey thought he looked like a pirate. His voice was croaky and the skin on his face and hands were flaking slightly due to the salty sea water drying it out.

  ‘Are you the manager of the Ocean Venture fleet?’

  ‘That’ll be me. Names Brown, Peter Brown.’ He strained his voice over the surrounding noise and struggling to raise his clearly straining voice any further said, ‘Why don’t we head on over to my office where it’s a little quieter?’

  He guided the detective across the road and through a small doorway nestled between two shop fronts; any passer-by would have walked past this door without even noticing it due to it being so plain and inconspicuous. Harvey waited outside where he could keep watch of his horses that were parked up a couple of doors along the street.

  The office was no bigger than a broom cupboard, but managed to squeeze in a small desk with a chair at both sides. There were maps of the sea surrounding Whitby on the wall and two paintings, one of a fishing boat out in the harbour, and the second of a man who Matthews predicted was a relative of Peter Brown.

  ‘Please, take a seat detective.’ Matthews sat on the wonky old wooden chair opposite Mr Brown, the room smelt of seaweed.

  ‘Thank you for your time Mr Brown, I won’t keep you long.’

  ‘Good, I’ve got six boats to unload. Now what can I do for you detective?’

  Matthews pulled out of his briefcase the small mushed up paper with the corner of a logo showing, and placed it on the desk. Mr Brown looked slightly confused by this but waited for
the detective to explain himself.

  ‘Mr Brown, yesterday morning a man was found dead on the beach. We believe it to have been murder. However, we have yet to figure out the identity of this man.’ Mr Brown’s heavy expression softened to concern. ‘In his pocket we found traces of papers, mostly unreadable due to the sea water, however this piece here looks as though it should be a stamp, or logo. As I passed your dock just now it looks similar to the logo on your sign.’

  ‘Ey, yes I can see that too. But I don’t know anything about a body.’ He looked nervous as though he was being accused.

  ‘Mr Brown, I have a photograph in my bag of the body, it shows the face quite well. Would you be willing to take a look to see if you recognise him?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Mr Brown. Detective Matthews slid across one of the pictures. Mr Brown gasped with horror. ‘What the fuck…yes I do recognise him, but what the hell is he tied to?’

  ‘That I am not sure. Was he an employee of yours?’

  ‘Yes, never on the boats, just on the loading bay, he had muscle to help unload the heavy crates. I feel bad now cos I was calling him all kinds of names this morning for not turning up.’

  ‘Could you tell me his name?’

  ‘James…er…Shit what’s his last name.’ Mr Brown began tapping his forehead as he racked his brain to think of the man’s surname. ‘Fuck, I can’t remember his last name. I don’t usually need to remember.’

  ‘How long was he in employment with you Mr Brown?’

  ‘Not long. To be quite honest it’s only the boat crew we have on the books, any hands in the loading bay are paid for a day’s work as and when they show up. We have the regulars who come most days, and then we have the strays who come and go. James was here most days, he’s not from Whitby but has been in town, I’d say just over six, seven months, something like that. If you wait here detective I’ll see if David Turner is around, he knows more about James than I do, I think they go drinking together.’