by Hylton Smith
“Hey, thanks Maggie for sorting my tyre, it’s really appreciated, I’ve had one of those days.”
“Yes sir, no problem. That’s not what I came to see you about though. I finally remembered where I’d seen some inscriptions similar to those on the disc we found.”
“Really,” muttered Black distractedly, still smarting from the altercation with Freda. “I’ve given it to a professor or some boffin at the university.”
“Oh, ok then, let’s wait and see what he comes up with. Goodnight, sir.”
“Wait a minute, Maggie, I’m seeing him tomorrow at the coke works, and he’s going to take a look at the landslip for me, so if you’ve seen something similar to the inscriptions, why don’t you come along tomorrow and we can speak with him together. Can you get your boss to let you come to the site?”
“I’ll see. What time?”
“Six o’clock I’m afraid, there’s no room for negotiation on that, but if he needs say, an hour for the slide, how about you get there for seven?”
“Ok, Maybe I don’t need to ask the Sergeant. I’ll see if I can swap with someone who is already on traffic duty for the western bypass road works, then I can shoot along for five minutes, it’s only a couple of miles from there to the site, you know, just in case I’m needed for an emergency or something. See you tomorrow unless something else comes up.” Black reflected on the difference in attitude between Maggie and Freda.
*
Winlaton Mill Coke Works Site: The Next Day
All of the personnel involved in the investigation were somewhat relieved that the weather seemed to have improved at last, there were even small patches of blue sky, only moderate winds, and at least for now the rain had relented.
Dr Leven was probably the exception. He was already at Derwenthaugh, and scampering back and forth in the mud, making notes of everything, just as Black arrived. He then began scrambling around the stepped area, which had now become more of a precipice, and he was wobbling like an ice skater who knew he was going to fall sometime soon.
“Good morning, Professor,” was all it took. The professor seemed to be totally unconcerned about his wetsuit being completely coated with pungent mud. He happily rolled down the slope, stood up, and shook himself like a dog coming out of the sea, breathing heavily but with a boyish smile on his face. The unbroken dawn and floodlights conjured up a surreal movie-like backdrop.
“Hello, Inspector, I have some interesting observations to report. Shall we start at the high end of this precipice?”
Richard Black was having difficulty keeping a straight face and simply nodded enthusiastically. They were facing the precipice near to the higher end, on their left.
“Firstly, Inspector, look at the difference in the stretching of the layering here and the lower end, over there to your right.”
“I can’t see any at the lower end.”
“Precisely,” enthused Leven, “this indicates that the shearing process began at the high end.”
“Oh, right.”
“Now, this becomes rather academic but nevertheless important. The precipice is not in fact vertical, as you claimed it to be, in fact far from it. In fluid dynamic terms we must adhere to the facts. Although the angle at which the shear stress caused sub-strata cleavage is apparently almost vertical, to the naked eye, I’m afraid that will undoubtedly prove to be an unreliable observation.”
Black tried very hard to dismiss the mental picture of standing there being lectured to by a chocolate-coated cartoon character, whose remit was one of educating our progeny, moulding scientists of the future. And yet he was rapidly losing the battle to be taken seriously.
Black chose to say nothing, steeling his stomach muscles, merely nodding as if he understood every single technological term. Leven was ready to continue, this time with more self-awareness, that in his infectious enthusiasm, he’d been spouting in fluid dynamic speak rather than fluid language. After all, Black didn’t have a doctorate in physics.
“I’ve taken all the pictures I need in order to make more precise calculations, but I can already see that the erosion caused by the incessant rain at the base of the precipice has significantly altered even the visual perception of verticality. Ergo your initial error of judgement. Suffice it to say that the layering strongly suggests the area where the skeleton emerged is inconsistent with it being buried adjacent to the edge of the landslip. It was encased by earth at a depth significantly below the bottom surface of the slab, and directly underneath it.
“I will be able to be more precise once I have scanned the photographs into the imaging programme with the various dimensional data. The variables involved are extremely complex in terms of pinpointing the exact origination location of the skeletal remains, but I am confident in the qualitative prediction I’ve given you. Is this preliminary conclusion useful to you?”
Black immediately snapped out of sarcastic mode.
“Ab, Absolutely, Dr Leven. It rules out certain possibilities, and that’s very important. However, although I’m looking forward to hearing whatever refinements your imaging process comes up with, can you just summarise your conclusion in plain English, so that I can add it accurately to my report? Don’t worry, I have a pretty good memory, and I don’t need to write it down until I get back to the station.”
“Certainly. When the slab began to slide there were many forces involved, but the two major ones were the purely downward compressing effect of gravity, and the lateral shearing action, also controlled by gravity but related to the steepness of the slope. So, we have compression and pulling apart occurring together. This leads me to believe that the remains were deep enough to resist sliding with the slab, but shallow enough to emerge in the lower residual precipice. I must mention once more that this is because the precipice is leaning backwards rather than producing an overhang.”
“Ah, I can visualise it very clearly now,” said Black, “I’ll just make a mental note that the skeleton was originally under the slab, until you have your final imaging results. Well thank you for your help, Dr Leven, it’s an extremely important starting point for us.”
For the first time since he arrived Leven seemed to be highly conscious of his appearance. Black had to look away, pretending to be examining the precipice again. Leven tapped him on the shoulder.
“I wonder if those security chaps have any spare tarpaulins to put in my car. I’m going to need a shower when I get home; one can’t go to a lecture smelling like this.”
“I’m sure they can help, maybe they have some spare overalls too, let me go and ask them while you load your samples into the car. Alternatively, I have some waterproof clothing in my car which you can use to drape over the driving seat and into the foot-well. It’s the least I can do, Dr Leven. Oh, by the way, do you have any idea when your people will have anything on the metal disc?”
“I’ll check when my morning lecture is over and call you, Inspector. It will be fairly straightforward.”
Black accepted a cup of scalding hot tea from the security men in the warmth of their cabin as the professor left. He thanked them but reminded them of his instruction the previous day.
“This doesn’t get you off the hook with the gap in your security fence, it’s still there and you need to fix it. Come on, make a temporary repair until your bosses get a new section installed.” The men pulled long faces but agreed.
Two cars entered the makeshift parking lot within a couple of minutes of each other. Black recognised Maggie Reichert’s vehicle immediately, but not the other one. The driver of a Mercedes took rather a long time to emerge with a stack of files. Meanwhile, the security men checked the number plate against their list and informed Black it was Neville Travers.
So, he hadn’t come yesterday evening as he’d promised. This had become a bit inconvenient for Black.
“Sorry about this, Maggie, but we need to speak to Mr Travers before we get to the disc.”
Turning around he greeted the approaching ex
-engineering manager.
“Good morning, sir,” said Black, extending his hand. The firm handshake from the former coke works employee was encouraging, for some reason Black didn’t like tactile ‘wet fish’ greetings. “I’m D.I. Black and this is PC Reichert, thank you for coming so soon.”
“No problem. I spent most of my working life here and there are lots of memories, mostly good, but I understand you have found a body, well, rather a human skeleton. It all sounds rather sinister, but anyway, how can I help?”
The answer was put on hold as the cabin telephone rang.
“It’s for you, Inspector.” said one of the security men.
Constance Carr had responded to his request to offer initial, if speculative information on the remains. Black asked Maggie to escort Travers to the landslip while he took the call. She wasn’t happy that she’d missed Dr Leven, her only interest in coming had been to discuss the metal disc.
Constance spoke slowly.
“I can tell you that we have the remains of a male who died pretty young, perhaps 20-30 years old. In my opinion this isn’t a recent death, hopefully I’ll have more on that later. That’s all I’m prepared to say right now, and you must respect that. So, you won’t pester me again until the full post-mortem is complete.”
“Thank you Connie, I’ll wait to hear from you then, when will that be?”
“Sod off, you’ll hear more when my report is typed. I don’t want to leave room for you to misinterpret anything.”
Travers was able to reconcile the landslip location with a site plan he’d brought with him.
“The slab can only be from the engineering office; that is certain. I remember the very day we laid the foundation. God, I could never have imagined it would come to this. Sorry, but this is a very sad situation for me, you see, this is a small village, and much of the workforce was local to Winlaton Mill.
“The closure dealt a crushing blow to the community, and I was part of the management which administered the redundancies. The villagers refused to have their spirit broken by the closure, even though many of them had no prospect of landing another job. Strangely, it made them fight even harder to preserve their communal identity. However, this discovery won’t help their cause.
“I’m not from the village, but I am from this region, which has suffered massive loss of industry – coal, steel, ship building, they’ve all been hit. I’d have thought someone, either resident in the village, or an ex-employee must have some idea whose remains these are. I would be happy to assist in any way I can.”
“Well then,” Black said cautiously, “you can start by telling me the date of this ceremonial pouring of the concrete you remember so well.”
“Yes, well, when I said I remember the day, I meant the picture was still in my mind. It happened in 1945, I’ll have to check with my diaries for the exact date, but I seem to recall it was late spring or early summer.”
“Christ,” gasped Black, as the eyes of Maggie Reichert and the security men widened, “you mean this concrete has been…..”
He just managed to stop himself in time. If this skeleton was linked to events in 1945, and Constance was accurate about the skeleton’s age at the time of death, it could be deemed a cold case and taken out of their hands.
Black thanked Travers and asked to be excused for a moment. He then took Maggie to one side.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing, Maggie. This body has been there for forty years? Professor Leven is sure that it was buried under the concrete. It all sounds ridiculous.
“Oh hell, Professor Leven! He was absolutely obliterated with that noxious mud from the precipice and had to race back to the university for a shower. I couldn’t ask him to hang around until you got here, but I should have paged you to let you know. I’m truly sorry, Maggie. I don’t blame you for looking pissed off.”
A masterstroke of understatement which wouldn’t be diminished by the three of them being offered yet more hot tea by the security men.
Chapter 4
Winlaton Mill Coke Works Site
Black suggested that PC Reichert should escort Travers back to the station while he retrieved the disc from the university.
She whispered, “Sir, what the hell is going on? You asked me to meet you here and all I do is walk Mr Travers around a pile of mud. He seemed as if he wanted to say something more about the time that the foundations of the engineering block were being laid.”
“Yes I know, but do I have to draw you a picture? We can discuss this at the station, we need to record the interview with Travers. We need to get as much as possible out of him and disclose as little as possible to him. Trust me, let’s just get on with it, I’ll explain later. I just need to get that bloody disc back.”
Maggie Reichert had always wanted to be in C.I.D. and so she complied. She had a promotion board coming up and she wasn’t going to foul up over such an issue, but she was annoyed. She’d done a lot of negotiation to get to Winlaton Mill and felt she had been used. She would take this up with Black whichever way the promotion interview went.
*
Newcastle University
Dr Leven was surprised by DI Black’s insistence that he must take back the metal disc so quickly, but it became pretty academic once he’d asked his subordinate to hand it over. The preliminary imaging had already been done and nobody was any the wiser with what was revealed. Compensating for the pitting did indeed display a clearer picture of the symbols, but they didn’t make a lot of sense.
“I can’t thank you enough, gentlemen, this is all I need from you right now. However, I may have to come back to see you sometime.”
Dr Leven and his assistant were even more perplexed but shrugged their shoulders and went their separate ways.
*
Newcastle C.I.D.
Back at the station, Black joined Maggie and Travers in interview room number two. He got straight to the point, switching on the recorder, then explained a little about his strange behaviour.
“Mr Travers, you hit a couple of nerves back at the coke works site, and I didn’t want to continue the discussion in front of those security people. Firstly, I need to confirm that I do want to take up your offer of helping out on this inquiry, it’s just routine and you don’t need a lawyer. This interview is simply to get started on that path. I want to record everything, to make sure absolutely nothing is missed or forgotten, and I hope that you’re ok with that.
“You weren’t at the site when a professor hinted that the skeleton was actually buried under the slab, and not alongside. The inference then, is that if it had indeed been alongside, it could have been put there at any time, whereas if it was placed directly underneath, it was almost certainly put there just before the concrete was poured.
“You said this occurred in 1945, and you also felt that someone who worked at the plant or lived in the village, or both, should know something about who it may have been, or indeed who may have been responsible. Now, there is something else. I believe you told D.C. Freda Collins that the metal disc which we found with the remains was not issued to employees by Derwenthaugh Management. Any ideas where it could have come from?”
“Sir,” said Maggie Reichert, seemingly not wanting to pursue this line of questioning, “I think we need…” She was cut off by Black.
“Yes, we’ll get to that pretty soon. Can we just proceed Mr Travers? It could be very important.”
He stopped the tape and asked Travers to remain seated for a minute, and motioned Maggie to step outside the room.
“At this point, we have to treat everybody as a suspect. So, it’s a bit like poker, and as I’ve already said, we have to extract as much as possible from him by giving away as little as possible, even if we have to bluff some of the time.
“If I nudge you under the table it might be because you’re about to reveal something to Travers which I’d rather keep to ourselves. Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it, there’s no manual, an
d a lot of it is instinct, believe me. Just observe for now, ok?”
She nodded her accord.
Travers sat in silence for a considerable period of time. Finally he spoke.
“The only possibility which I can think of is an individual rail wagon tag for a distillery in Scotland. They were one of our biggest customers. The weighbridge labels had to be very robust to survive the journey, with its data – you know, batch numbers, date, consignment details and the like. You would need to check this out with the production management, because, as you know I was in engineering.”
“Great, so can you think about who would be the most appropriate person from production for me to speak to and let me have their telephone number?”
“Yes, of course. Is there anything else?”
“Not right now, but I want to keep in touch with you. By the way, I was moved by your description of the emotional trauma this closure inflicted on the people in the village. They must have been tough times. Oh yes, I almost forgot, do you remember a chap called Philip Greenwood?”
“Vaguely, I think he worked in production, but I don’t think it was in a management capacity. I’m pretty sure he was a production operative, but I can’t be certain.”
“Thanks, well, I guess that’s all for now, oh, and can I just take your number again and give you my card?”
Travers nodded enthusiastically, wrote down his home number, picked up the rather ornate card of D.I. Black, and walked out of the room. Black’s face betrayed self-congratulation, whereas Maggie felt she had to get something off her chest.
“Sir, can you please sit down for a minute? There’s….”
“I think that went rather well, don’t you, Maggie? Progress on all fronts, even the bloody weather has been kinder to us. Now, you’ve been very patient, what is it you’ve been trying to tell me? I need to update Moss sometime today, but that can wait.”
“Right, well in that case you can decide whether or not to tell him. I know where the disc came from.”
“How the hell can you possibly know that? It’s a wind-up, right?”
“I’ve tried at least three times to tell you this, but you always cut me off. We’ve probably allowed a bit more information to become public than we needed to, like you’ve been telling me, so I’d think carefully about what you tell Moss. Do you want to hear it or not?”
