Murder at Seething Wells
By
P. J. Thurbin
Copyright 2014 P.J. Thurbin All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Where real historical persons, events or places are used they are used in a purely fictitious way.
This book is dedicated to the Friends of Seething Wells
Acknowledgements
As always, thanks to my wife Daisy for her tireless editing efforts. She remains my harshest critic and staunchest fan.
Chapter 1
The sun was beginning to dry off the mist that hung like a blanket over the river as Valerie Wilkins set out on her early morning walk. Widowed, she now lived alone with her SkyeTerrier, Greyfriar, in a small cozy Victorian cottage near the market town of Kingston upon Thames just south of London.
She was well known among the locals for her vigorous campaigning to prevent developers purchasing the riverside land and building high-rise apartment blocks. The disused and overgrown land,once the site of the Seething Wells water refining plant built in Victorian times, had now become a wild life habitat which she was determined to protect. Her campaign had become an obsession and she regularly confronted strangers and urged them to sign her petitions.
As she walked along the deserted road she glanced across at the somber architecture of the old waterworks and the newer Halls of Residence that Kingston University had recently opened. A few joggers went by on their way to the new health club housed in one of the listed buildings. She had mixed views about women running around the streets in skimpy cutoff tracksuit bottoms with bare midriffs; but Greyfriars was now urging her on towards the river in the hope of chasing the swans and ducks that congregated near the town. She always followed the same route from her cottage along the Portsmouth Road, past the City Arms Pub and Thames Marina, and then along the Queens Promenade towards Kingston.
She could just see the white arches of Kingston Bridge in the distance and was thinking about how much she loved the tranquility of the river. She recalled a poem by Thomas Theodore written in 1843 that her father used to recite when she was a young girl.
Here in a placid waking dream
I’m free from worldly troubles,
Calm as the rippling silver stream
That in the sunshine bubbles,
And when sweet Eden’s blissful bowers…
Her reverie was brought to an abrupt end as Greyfriar barked at what appeared to be a bundle of rags on the public slipway leading to the river. She thought at first that hooligans had dumped some household waste, but as she got closer she saw that it was a man lying face up with one arm trailing in the water, the moss covered rocks already turning a dark brown from his blood.
***
Sergeant Wilson pulled up outside number 37 Tudor Drive, a 1930’s style house in a road that had once been an oasis of calm but had over the years become a commuter rat run. He was responding to a call about an incident at Seething Wells and idled the engine as his boss, Inspector Linham, climbed in beside him, grunting as he buckled up.
“Another Saturday on duty; and I’d promised to take the wife shopping.”
Wilson knew that his boss was not looking for a reply and headed through the early morning traffic down the Richmond Road, around the Kingston one way system and along the Portsmouth Road towards the river.
“What have we got Sergeant?”
Wilson recognized the tacit instruction to keep to the facts.
“An old lady out walking her dog found a man’s body by the river. She flagged down a motorist who called 999 and the uniformed boys are on the scene. That’s all I know.”
“So what do we think, Sergeant? A drunk who fell over and hit his head or a student from the University involved in a prank that went wrong?”
“Could be anything, Sir. The Uniforms have only just got there and forensics hadn’t arrived when I spoke to them, although they should be on their way.” Wilson found it best to limit opinions when his boss was casting around for ideas. The two men drove on in silence.
“You’re a young man, Wilson. Do you get time for anything besides the job? Don’t you sometimes wonder what it’s like to have weekends off and lead a normal life? It’s the start of a nice spring day for some and here we are driving over to look at a body down by the river.”
“Life’s not too bad, Sir. At least not as bad as for the bloke we’re going to see.”
As Wilson cautiously overtook a gaggle of lycra-clad cyclists setting out for an early ride to the countryside he wondered if his boss was pondering early retirement again. He glanced across as the Inspector continued.
“For a lot of people it’s all about wealth and power, never mind the cost to their families or anyone else. Let’s just hope this poor sod is the victim of an accident and nothing more sinister.” Sergeant Wilson hoped that his boss was not going through mid-life crisis. He was always a bit moody when they got an early callout, especially at the weekend.
“The closest I ever got to fame was when I won that bottle of champagne in the raffle at the station Christmas party last year. And that turned out to be fake, as well.You never know if you are getting what’s written on the can, Sergeant,” said Linham.
“For me, Sir, I only worry if we are going to solve the next case.”
“You’re right there. Now the watchdogs are keeping tabs on our performance, we all need to be on top of things. Like that chap on the telly said, one day a rooster, the next a feather duster,” Linham said with a wry smile.
They saw the flashing light of a parked police car and pulled alongside the slipway leading down to the river. The promenade was a popular walking area for tourists and locals. About 2 miles upstream from the river bridge at Kingston. The police medical examiner was already on the scene.
“What have we got here, Doc”? Linham asked as he nodded to the uniformed constable and walked inside the screened off area near the water’s edge.
“An Oriental male mid forties, just over 5 feet, weight around 130 pounds. He’s probably been dead for less than 12 hours, although I can pinpoint the time closer once we do the post mortem.”
“Right. If he’d been here any longer someone would have seen the body last evening. Lots of people walk by here. Can you determine the cause of death?”
“It looks as though he died from a blow to the back of the head, but again, I can’t really say whether it was accidental or if it was inflicted by someone intentionally until I get him back to the lab. If someone did bash him in the head they didn’t bother to go through his pockets. I left the wallet and other things as they were. So he’s all yours until you give me the go ahead to move the body.”
Linham knelt down beside the body which was stretched out just above the water line. He pulled on his latex gloves before removing a wallet from the jacket pocket. Inside was a Kingston University photo ID belonging to a Dr. Stephen Chen along with a couple of credit cards and a few pound notes; no driving license and no keys.
“Okay. Thanks, Doc. You can take the body away now,” he said as he put the dead man’s effects in a clear plastic evidence bag. “Constable, cordon this area off. This is a possible homicide scene,” he said to the uniformed officer waiting for his orders a few feet away. “Wilson, get on to the station and set up a search team. We need to see if there’s a weapon. If this turns out to be a murder then possibly the perpetrator threw it in the river or in the area nearby; and see if we can find some keys.Even if he wasn’t driving a car he must have had some sort of keys to a house or flat or something.
Oh,and get one of the uniforms to get us the details of that woman who found the body. We’ll need a full statement from her.”
“A woman PC has taken her home,Sir,” said a young police constable as he raised the yellow tape for his senior officers. “Probably making her a cuppa by now. Must have been quite a shock for the old dear.”
“Bit strange, Sir, a bloke going out at night without his keys,” interjected Wilson.
“Yes. Unless there was someone waiting at home to let him in,” said Linham.
“Of course we’ll need to wait for the medical examiner’s report, but from what I can see it looks as though we may have foul play on our hands. He didn’t smell of alcohol and it’s unlikely students would be involved in anything to do with a staff member. There didn’t appear to be enough damage to the rest of the body for it to be a hit and run. Whatever the cause, it looks like we’re now tangled up with that lot at the University again.”
Wilson knew that his boss had an aversion to academics and disliked the way they always closed ranks to avoid anything or anyone that threatened their fiefdom.
The two officers left the uniformed branch to cordon off the rest of the area and manage the forensic team’s removal of the body. He and Wilson needed to find out more about Dr. Chen and inform his next of kin.
***
Ralph Chalmers, a respected Professor of International Business at the University was out on his regular Saturday morning run. His route took him from his apartment in leafy Surbiton, via Seething Wells along the river to Kingston then back on the other side of the river through Hampton Court and home. The eight mile circuit gave him an opportunity to stretch himself. Now in his mid fifties, he took care to maintain the fitness level he enjoyed as a student at Cambridge. This year he planned to enter a Tin Man Triathlon and was working on his weak point, the one mile swim, and had upped the number of laps he did in addition to his regular workout sessions at the Nuffield Health Club at Seething Wells.
Ralph saw the police tape as he approached the Queens Promenade. He stopped to find out what was going on from an angler who had obviously camped out overnight by the river. Technically no camping was allowed along the Thames within the town limits but generally the police turned a blind eye to lone fishermen so long as no harm was being done or they were not making a nuisance of themselves.
“Bit of a commotion earlier, guvnor. Some woman found a dead Chinese bloke down on that slipway to the river just over there where they go across to Raven’s Ait for the weddings and all that. I saw ‘im just before the police arrived. He looked like one of them illegals that they get over to work in them Chinese restaurants. Could ‘ave done a runner and someone boshed ‘im to keep ‘im quiet. Or might ‘ave been one of them students from that Seething Wells place where they stay. Funny lot the Chinese, never know what they’re thinking.”
Ralph recognized the stereotyping that people applied to anyone from a different background to their own, let alone from a different country. Prejudice was still rampant, he mused. But the angler had not finished.
“A lot of them students get drunk and can’t handle it although he looked a bit old to be one of that lot. Whoever he was, he didn’t make it ‘ome. Ruined someone’s weekend, that’s for sure. Just glad it weren’t me what got boshed.”
“Poor sod,” Ralph said as the man turned his attention back to his fishing.
Ralph continued on his run. He wondered if it could have been a student, perhaps even a suicide. He had heard of other cases where students unable to deal with being away from home and the stress of exams had committed suicide. It occurred to him that it could have been happening as he was walking home from the University event at Seething Wells the previous night.
Later that afternoon Ralph was in his apartment perusing his email and listening to BBC Radio 3, the classical music station he generally preferred over its commercial counterpart, when the music was interrupted:
Traffic has been diverted on the Portsmouth Road at Seething Wells. The police have cordoned off the area and are investigating the death of a man which may be the result of a hit and run in the early hours.The victim has not yet been named, but police have said that he is in his mid forties and that documents in his effects indicate that he may be associated with Kingston University. The identity of the victim is being withheld pending notification of his next of kin. Traffic is backed up along the Portsmouth Road as far as Giggs Hill Green and the police have advised motorists that a diversion has been set up along Maple Road into Kingston.
__________________
Chapter 2
It was a warm spring evening as Ralph sipped his beer while waiting for Katie to join him for supper at the Black Lion pub in Surbiton. He liked the friendly atmosphere and had made a few friends there over the years. It was a typical Victorian pub whose only concession to modernity had been to install heaters in the outside garden area for customers unwilling to forego their nicotine fix even in cold weather.
When he and Katie were colleagues at the University they had worked together on a number of research projects. Of course that was all before her fall from grace a couple of years earlier. The incident resulted not only in her being ousted from the University but also her conviction and subsequent incarceration in Holloway, the London women’s prison. Undaunted, she had picked herself up, dusted herself off and was back on form, having landed a teaching post at the Sorbonne that would commence
with the new term in August.
Ralph and Katie had remained in contact when she was out of commission and since her release from Holloway she had worked with him as a research associate on a project he had undertaken during his sabbatical from the University. The previous spring they had bought a cottage together on the Devon coast where Ralph could enjoy his sailing and Katie her passion for riding. They saw it as an investment as well as a retreat, and it was indeed proving its worth not only as a tranquil getaway, but as a moneymaking holiday let when they weren’t using it. Although their friends viewed them as an item, both Ralph and Katie were wary of jeopardizing their friendship in favour of a more romantic relationship. For the moment they were happy with things the way they were.
Katie had insisted on driving down from her mews house in Chelsea in the red vintage Morgan that had been the clincher on the deal for the Devon cottage. Ralph had had it restored to its former glory and although it technically belonged to both of them, he was resigned to the fact that it was Katie’s car.
The evening crowd had not yet arrived at the pub and Ralph was reflecting on the events of the previous evening. For some reason he had found it all a bit unsettling. He had been asked to represent his Dean, Rupert Granger, at a play being put on by the University students in one of the old waterworks buildings at Seething Wells. It had been held in a large grey stone building that at one time had been used to store coal for the boilers. He recalled how cold and uninviting the place had been. His role was to meet and greet a group of scientists from the Wellcome Center for Disease Research at Oxford who had been invited as guests of the University. He had been surprised at how many people had been prepared to give up a Friday night for such an event.
The play depicted the work of the famous Victorian physician and humanitarian, Dr. John Snow, whose persistent investigations had led to the discovery of the cause of Cholera during a widespread outbreak in London in the 1800s. Snow eventually proved that it was linked to a bacterium in the drinking water which was being pumped directly from the polluted Thames. The play explained that Cholera was a global disease and
easily transmitted through contaminated water and showed how The London Water
Company had responded to new legislation that required drinking water to be sourced above the tidal reaches of the Thames. In order to achieve their objective they erected
the water works plant at Seething Wells to supply filtered river water by underground
pipes to London. At one point in the presentation the students passed around glasses of water t
o demonstrate the difference in colour between filtered and untreated water, and the guests were encouraged to drink the filtered water. Some did, but Ralph decided to give it a miss. He had a sensitive stomach at the best of times and he didn’t trust the students not to mix up the glasses. He was just taking a swig of his beer when Katie walked in.
“Sorry I’m a bit late. I got off at the wrong exit from the bypass and had to do a bit of backtracking. How was the do last night, anyhow?”
“I only arrived a few minutes ago myself,” Ralph said as he sort of half stood up until
she settled herself opposite him. “Tap water with a bit of lemon?”
“Ask them if they’ll put some ice in it, Ralph. Sometimes I think these publicans try to punish teetotals like me by using the hot tap instead of the cold one.”
Ralph always found Katie’s arrival a bit unnerving. Her direct way of speaking always threw him and he had to remind himself that that was one of the things he liked about her. He could just imagine her thoughts if she could read his mind. No doubt she would accuse him of being too British. Well, he was an Englishman, after all, and sometimes it was hard to believe that only a few generations back Katie and her Australian compatriots had been English as well.
“You’re the one with all the news, Katie,” he said when he returned from the bar with her water and a couple of menus. “How are you getting on with the plans for your new job?”
“I spoke with an old friend, Marie Dupois who is on the staff at University, and she asked me if I wanted to share her apartment. As the Sorbonne only gave me a one year contract, I don’t really want to get stuck with any long term commitments. I’ll look at my options at the end of the year. At least by that time I’ll have a better idea about my prospects either there or elsewhere. Marie and I will split the rent and utilities fifty-fifty.”
Murder at Seething Wells (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 5) Page 1
