Blood on the Strand

by Chris O'Donoghue

‘They’re both missing,’ Russell said.

  ‘So?’ Pike stated belligerently.

  ‘And we have a body.’

  Pike shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t see how that affects me.’

  ‘It doesn’t – directly – but if you see this Duncan, or the Frenchman again, please let me know.’

  Chapter 10

  Between 1804 and 1812 the British authorities built a chain of Martello

  towers based on the original Corsican Mortella tower, to defend the south

  and east coast of England, Ireland, Jersey and Guernsey against

  possible Napoleonic invasion. A total of 103 were built in England,

  along the coast from Seaford to Aldeburgh.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Drake asked, the quiver in his voice reflecting how distressed he felt.

  ‘Pull yourself together, for God’s sake,’ Tedham commanded.

  The two were standing in the Martello tower, looking down on Crabbe’s huddled form. Tedham thought he had shaken him gently but the moan had become a scream and he had jumped back. Crouching he’d asked what was wrong. Crabbe was obviously delirious and the sounds that came out of his mouth had made no sense. They could see blood on his forehead and a nasty gash and there seemed to be something wrong with his arm.

  ‘’E’s bad, ain’t ’e?’ Drake whimpered.

  ‘I reckon so.’

  ‘Do you think we can move ’im?’

  ‘Doubt it, judgin’ by the noise ’e made when I touched ’im.’

  ‘What are we goin’ to do then?’

  ‘’Ow the bloody ’ell should I know?’ Tedham’s voice was a snarl.

  ‘We can’t leave ’im ’ere, like this – can we?’

  ‘I s’pose not. So what are we goin’ to do?’

  Both men were silent. The only sound was the occasional groan coming from Crabbe. ‘’E needs a doctor,’ Drake said.

  ‘Too bloody right. But I ain’t inclined to get one.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Cos we’re on the run, unless you’d forgotten. If we show our faces the bloody rozzers will ’ear about it and then what? You forgotten you thumped that lassie?’

  ‘Yeah, but we can’t just leave ’im.’

  ‘I know that! No need to remind me!’

  Silence descended again. Then, ‘Shh!’ Drake hissed.

  ‘What?’

  ‘There’s someone outside.’ Suddenly the sound of footsteps scrabbling up the ramp could be heard. The two men pressed themselves into a deep recess in the stone wall of the tower and waited.

  ‘I thought I heard talking,’ a young voice said.

  ‘Are you sure, Sandy?’ came the equally youthful reply.

  ‘Sounded like it. Let’s take a look.’

  The two boy scouts reached the top of the ramp and entered the tower. Christopher was holding a torch, playing it over the solid walls. Then he stopped when it lit the body of the man on the floor. ‘Wow! What’s he doing here?’

  They moved cautiously forward. Sandy reached out and touched the man’s arm. The shout that the man let out made them jump back. Christopher dropped the torch and they were plunged into darkness. ‘Damn!’ The two boys groped about the floor for a few moments.

  ‘Here it is!’ Sandy said. He flicked the switch with his thumb. ‘Blast, it’s not working.’

  ‘Let’s have a look.’ Christopher took the torch and banged it against his hand. The beam of light reappeared. He shone it on the prone figure. ‘Better not touch him again.’

  ‘D’you think he’s badly hurt?’ Sandy asked.

  ‘I reckon so.’ Christopher played the torch slowly over the man’s body. ‘Looks like he’s had a nasty bump on the head. And I don’t like the look of that. He pointed at the man’s arm that seemed to be strangely twisted.

  ‘Can we do anything? We’ve got a first aid kit back at the camp.’

  ‘I think this is more serious than we can deal with. He needs a doctor and maybe an ambulance to get him to hospital. We’ll have to get help.’

  ‘But we’re miles from anywhere.’

  ‘Well maybe from proper roads. But if we cut across the dunes we could be at the river in 10 minutes, if we run. Then get Jack Spratt to row us across to Compass Point.’

  ‘Good plan. Mitch has got a telephone in the boatyard. We can ring from there.’ Sandy thought for a moment. ‘But shouldn’t one of us stay with him?’

  Christopher scratched the top of his head. ‘I suppose so. I’ll stay,’ he said, bravely. ‘You’re a faster runner than me.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. Quite sure.’ He was feeling more confident now that he had made a decision. ‘You get off and bring help as quickly as you can. Hang on, before you go. Have you got your water bottle?’

  ‘Yes, here.’ He handed it to his friend.

  ‘I’ll see if I can give him a drink. Looks like he could do with one. You go – as quickly as you can.’

  Sandy set off, leaving his companion with the unconscious man. Carefully placing the torch on the floor, Christopher unscrewed the top of the water bottle. He held the neck to the man’s lips and gently tipped it up. At first, the water just dribbled down his chin but after a moment the man’s tongue came out and licked at the droplets. The beam from the torch gave a faint glow as the light was directed mainly along the floor and so intent was the boy on getting the man to drink that he didn’t hear or sense someone come up from behind. Suddenly, a hand was clamped round his throat, his arm was wrenched up behind his back and the water bottle clattered to the floor.

  ‘Let go! You’re hurting my arm!’

  ‘I’ll hurt more than your arm if you don’t shut up!’ The voice was low and rasping. ‘Now listen. We’re gonna leave you to look after this man. ‘Don’t turn round or it’ll be the worse for you. Understand?’

  ‘Y-yes.’

  The grip on his throat was relaxed and his arm was released. ‘Remember – don’t look round.’

  ‘Okay.’ The boy continued looking towards the injured man. He could hear grunting and rattling. It sounded to him as if heavy objects were being lifted off the ground.

  Then the voice said: ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’ Christopher stayed staring forward for a few seconds until he judged the men had gone. He turned just in time to see someone filling the open doorway and then disappearing down the ramp. He ran across the room and stared out through the opening. Accustomed to the dark of the tower interior, his eyes took a few moments to adjust to the bright daylight. So all he saw were two vague figures, each carrying a large sack as they disappeared along the track and out of sight around the scrubby gorse bushes. He almost set off in pursuit but thought of the injured man and decided against it. He turned back into the gloom of the tower.

  -0-

  Sandy ran as if his life depended on it. Leaping over tussocky grass, and skidding down dunes it took him just over 10 minutes to cover the mile or so of rough, sandy ground. He arrived, panting, at the landing stage and rang the bell vigorously, hoping there was enough water in the river for the ferry to cross. Sure enough, within a couple of minutes, he could see the blue boat approaching with Jack Spratt rowing strongly, the vessel moving crabwise across the current. It bumped against the jetty. Before Spratt could secure the painter Sandy had jumped aboard.

  ‘Quick, Jack! Take me across.’

  The ferryman turned to see his fare – a red-faced youngster, gasping for air. ‘What the…?’

  ‘Jack,’ the boy panted. ‘Can we get across to Compass Point? Please!’

  The urgency in the boy’s voice communicated itself to Spratt. Skilfully he turned the boat and within a couple of dozen deft strokes the rope fender round the bow was nudging the ferry steps on the other side. In that minute or so, Sandy had explained about the man and as soon as he could he had leapt off the boat and was clambering up the steps and running across to the boatyard.

  The yard owner, Mitch Mitchell, was sitting behind his clutte
red desk when Sandy rushed into the office. ‘Hello lad. Why the hurry?’ He smiled, his drooping walrus moustache lifting at the corners.

  ‘Mitch,’ he panted, ‘Police, ambulance – probably fire brigade!’

  ‘Now steady boy. Sit down and take your time.’

  ‘But Mitch. It’s urgent!’

  ‘That’s as maybe. But I think we should take a few moments to get the facts.’

  Sandy sat. ‘Okay. I suppose you’re right.’

  When he’d explained the situation, Mitchell took control. ‘Right lad. First of all I’ll ring for an ambulance.’

  While Mitchell made the call Captain Salt barged into the room. He’d seen the lad tearing across from the ferry. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Oh, sir. We found an injured man in the Martello tower over at Shell Bay. Christopher’s stayed with him and I’ve come for help.’

  ‘Isn’t your friend Christopher something to do with DI Russell? Salt asked Sandy.

  ‘Yes, that’s his uncle.’

  ‘I’ll ask Mitch to get hold of him, too. I’m sure he’ll be interested in this man you’ve found.’

  -0-

  A convoy comprising an Austin Welfarer ambulance and a Wolseley police car bumped along the rutted track towards Shell Bay. Russell was in the passenger seat, next to the driver, PC Beaumont. DC Weeks, who would normally accompany him, was back at the police station with WPC Sharpe, compiling a list of the contraband the dredger had brought up. On the way they’d picked up Captain Salt and Sandy. The two were now sitting in the back of the police car with Aggie happily wedged between them. Christopher, watching anxiously from the doorway of the tower, waited impatiently for them to arrive.

  -0-

  Close by, Tedham and Drake were lying in the dunes, concealed by clumps of Marram grass. ‘Bloody ’ell! That was close,’ Drake said.

  ‘I should say so,’ Tedham agreed.

  ‘What are we gonna to do now? We’ve gotta find another place for these sacks.’

  ‘Christ, I dunno. I was ’oping we could dump ’em in that there tower. But that idea’s gone by the board now. What the ’ell was Nipper doin’ in there? ’Ow did ’e get ’urt so bad?’

  The convoy had now passed. Just a swirl of sandy dust and the rumble of the engines was all that was left. Drake pushed back his cap and scratched his head. ‘Search me,’ he said miserably. ‘And why weren’t ’e with Ted Stump? They’re usually as thick as thieves.’

  ‘P’raps somethin’s ’appened to ’im.’

  Drake’s sunburned face was creased with anxiety. ‘Don’t sound good if the state Nipper was in is anything to go by.’

  ‘No, you’re right.’

  ‘Anyway. We’ve got enough on our plates without worryin’ about them. Where the ’ell are we gonna ’ide this stuff? You sure we can’t take it back to the boat?’

  Tedham rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin. ‘I suppose we’ll ’ave to,’ he said, slowly. ‘Gawd knows what’ll ’appen if Lou turns up though. We’ll just ’ave to risk it.

  -0-

  As soon the as the vehicles had stopped, Christopher ran towards them. Sandy tumbled out of the back of the car, almost tripping over Aggie. He was keen to see what was going on. The boys led the way up the ramp, the ambulance crew following with Russell, Beaumont and Salt close behind. The beams from several torches lit up the inside of the tower.

  The circular first floor room they were standing in measured almost 30 feet across. Some of the wooden floorboards had rotted away leaving gaps that revealed glimpses of the damp basement; a central stone column rose and flared, supporting the ceiling. It bore an uncanny resemblance to the underside of a mushroom. All eyes turned to the man huddled against the wall. One of the ambulance men knelt down and shone a torch in the man’s face. He lifted an eyelid and the man flinched. He touched his arm and the man screamed out, making them all start.

  ‘Let’s leave them to do their job,’ Russell said. ‘You stay here to see if you can help,’ he told Beaumont. ‘I want to have a chat with these lads.’ Leaving the medics with the injured man the others made their way back into the daylight.

  Christopher spoke. ‘There’s something else, Uncle Sonny.’

  Russell looked down at his nephew. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘After Sandy went off for help I was giving that man a drink and someone came up behind me.’

  ‘Did you see who it was?’

  ‘No. He told me not to look round. It was jolly frightening. He grabbed my arm and put a hand round my throat.’

  ‘My goodness! That must have been scary, you poor lad. What happened next?’

  ‘I did what I was told, and didn’t look round. But, I could hear them all right…’

  ‘Them?’

  ‘Yes, I’m pretty sure there were two men.’

  ‘What did you hear?’ Russell asked, intrigued.

  ‘It sounded like they were lifting up something heavy – they were puffing and panting and I could hear a sort of clanking sound.’

  ‘Did you see what it was they were picking up?’

  ‘Not then. I was too frightened to turn round. Then I heard them move towards the door and I risked a quick peek.’

  ‘What did you see?’

  ‘Not much I’m afraid, just the shape of a man as he went out through the opening.’

  ‘That’s a shame. It would’ve been good if you could have seen who it was.’

  ‘Sorry, Uncle. It was so dark inside that my eyes were dazzled when I looked out. But I did see them running off.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Yes, but not clearly. As I said, it was very bright outside and my eyes were a bit fuzzy.’

  ‘Can you remember anything about them?’

  Christopher frowned. In the scouts they had played Kim’s Game and he was very good at it. He thought hard, trying to recall any details of the men. ‘They were both carrying sacks – they looked heavy.’

  ‘Well done, lad. That’s a help. Anything else?’

  The boy tried picturing the men as they ran off along the track. He concentrated on the image, then sighed. ‘I’m afraid not. It was just too bright.’

  ‘Never mind. You’ve done well. Especially after that experience.’

  ‘Hold on!’ Christopher looked up suddenly, his blue eyes sparkling. ‘One of them, the thin one, was wearing a red scarf round his neck!’

  Beaumont came skittering down the ramp waving his arms to maintain his balance. ‘Sir! Sir!’

  ‘Calm down, lad. You’ll come a cropper!’

  The PC made it down on to the ground without mishap – just. ‘I know who that is!’

  ‘Go on…’

  ‘It’s Nipper Crabbe!’

  ‘You mentioned him before, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, he’s a close mate of Ted Stump.’

  ‘Wasn’t that who you thought the dredger brought up at Compass Point?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Russell frowned. ‘There’s something very nasty going on here I think.’

  They turned to see the two ambulance men carefully bringing Crabbe down the ramp on a stretcher. He’d been given a shot of morphine and, apart from the occasional groan, was relatively quiet.

  ‘When do you think we’ll be able to talk to him?’ Russell asked.

  ‘Not for a while, I’m afraid,’ one of the men replied. He’s quite heavily sedated. We’ll get in touch when he comes round.’ They loaded the stretcher into the ambulance.

  ‘You had better go with them, Beaumont. He may be injured but we don’t want him absconding before we’ve had a chance to interview him. So stay close.’

  As the ambulance drove off Salt spoke. ‘Do you think he was beaten up at the same time as Stump, Sonny?’

  ‘Possibly. Although that begs the question, how did he get here? Anyway, time to go back to the station and give the Superintendent the latest news.’ Russell was just about to get in the Wolseley when he stopped. ‘Hang on. Has anyone seen Aggie?�
� While they had been engrossed in getting the injured man into the ambulance and talking to the boys she had disappeared round the side of the tower.

  ‘Aggie!’ Russell called. He waited but there was no sign of the terrier. ‘AGGIE!’ he shouted. There was excited barking from the bushes. The boys ran towards the sound.

  ‘Uncle Sonny! Quick. Look what we’ve found!’

  When Russell reached them they were energetically pulling branches aside to reveal Drake’s hidden Bedford van. ‘Well I never,’ the DI smiled. ‘What have we here?’

  Chapter 11

  Gypsum plaster, or plaster of Paris, is produced by heating gypsum to about 300 °F. When the dry plaster powder is mixed with water, it re-forms into gypsum. The setting of unmodified plaster starts about 10 minutes after mixing and is complete in about 45 minutes.

  ‘I just thought I’d warn you.’ After making a few discreet enquiries among his friends in the antiques world Septimus Pike had tracked down Duncan Fountain to his emporium on the far side of Collinghurst. This was a much fancier set-up than Pike’s but he was not bothered or impressed. The dealer sat on a mock-Chippendale chair. His long overcoat was gathered around him; his arms folded with fingers tucked into his ragged sleeves. ‘I’m afraid your name – just your Christian name – was mentioned, so I expect you will be getting a visit from the boys in blue, sooner, rather than later.’ He exhaled noisily through his nose. A hand came out from his sleeve and he fondled his wispy beard, the grimy nails dark against the pepper-and-salt hairs.

  Fountain threw his hands in the air, his eyes wide behind his glasses. ‘Why the bloody hell did you mention my name?’

  ‘I’m afraid I didn’t have a choice in the matter.’

  ‘What, did they put the thumbscrews on?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Pike guffawed. ‘But they did pile on the pressure. That Detective Russell is a wily one.’

  Fountain snorted. ’I thought you, of all people, could out-wile anyone, Septimus.’

  ‘So did I,’ he chuckled. ‘But, I’m afraid that’s how it is. At least I’ve taken the trouble to warn you.’