The Case of the Fallen Hero (An Inspector David Graham Cozy Mystery Book 3)

by Alison Golden

  “Missing person, sir,” Roach explained as he replaced the receiver. “Our old friend, Mr. Hodgson.”

  Graham sighed. “Oh, God, not again.”

  “Seems that he ‘did a runner’ in the middle of the night, according to his long-suffering mother. She found his bed empty and called us straight away.”

  Graham set down his briefcase and slid off his jacket. Gorey’s weather had become markedly cooler, and he was finding the extra layer indispensable in the early morning hours. “Well, Constable Roach, why don’t you utilize your growing investigative acumen and have a guess as to what’s going to happen next?”

  They both stared at the phone for a second, and then it rang. Roach listened for a few moments, extended his thanks, and ended the call. “What do you know, sir? Mr. Hodgson has returned! Alive and well, yet again.”

  “What’s that, four or five times, now? Where do you think he goes?” Graham asked.

  “Sleepwalking?” Roach offered.

  “Possibly. But consider this: how old is our Mr. Hodgson?”

  “Seventeen, sir.”

  “And what does that tell us about the likely nature of his nocturnal adventures?”

  “Well, if he’s anything like I was at that age…” Roach began.

  “I don’t need to learn too much about your personal life here, Constable,” Graham quickly warned.

  Roach blushed slightly. “I’d just say, well, girls, sir.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me for a moment. Pity someone can’t clue his mother in to the nature of seventeen-year-old boys and their nighttime habits. Save us all a bit of bother. And, speaking of missing persons, I’ve been noticing these dolls all around town.” Graham picked up the doll and then the silver-framed photo. “Beth Ridley?”

  Roach’s face fell. “That’s right, sir.”

  Two and two added up quickly. “You knew her?”

  “We were classmates at Gorey Grammar, sir. Went to the same youth group, too, for a couple of years. We all called her ‘Barbie,’” Roach added, but saw that his boss had missed the reference. “Because of her blonde hair, sir,” he explained.

  Graham replaced the photo and sat the doll upright on the reception desk. “I’m sorry, Roach. That must have been terrible.”

  “If I’m honest, sir, it still affects me. Especially at this time of year. It was such a shock. But it’s nothing compared to what her mother’s been going through, all these years.”

  Graham regarded the younger man with sympathy. “Mrs. Taylor gave me the basics. Have there been any new leads recently, or…”

  “Nothing,” Roach said simply.

  Graham wasn’t, in all honesty, the greatest fan of cold cases. The act of re-opening old files always felt like a slight against the detectives originally charged with the case, as though by simply re-examining the evidence, Graham was accusing them of being unprofessional. But with such strong public interest, not to mention Roach’s own emotional connection, it was a difficult case to resist.

  “Constable, how would you feel about helping me take another glance at the case file?”

  Roach gulped slightly before answering. “Beth’s case file?”

  “She deserves a few hours of our time, wouldn’t you say?” Graham said. “Do we have the file here?”

  Roach made a call and discovered that the file was lodged at the Jersey Police archive in St. Helier. “Sergeant Harding’s going to pick it up on her way in, sir.”

  “Ah, yes,” Graham remembered. “She’ll only have come back from Manchester last night. Did you hear anything from her about the computer course?”

  “Not yet, sir, but there was something on Facebook about how she was becoming a ‘digital warrior,’ whatever that means.”

  “Sounds impressive,” Graham chuckled. “Anyway, she won’t be long. Cup of tea in the meantime?”

  Roach put the kettle on while Graham placed a call.

  “Marcus?”

  “Good morning, Detective Inspector!” came the cheery voice. Marcus Tomlinson had already finished his second cup of morning coffee and was in tip-top form. “What news from Gorey?”

  “Marcus, I’m going to give you a name from the past, just to see if it shakes any old branches.”

  “Fire away, old boy.”

  “Beth Ridley.”

  Marcus was quiet for a moment. “Ah. Well.”

  “I’m listening, Marcus.” Graham reached for his notepad. “I mean, I know it’s a hell of a long time ago, but…”

  “No, it’s not that,” Marcus began tentatively. “I remember the case, clear as day. But, you see, I’m a pathologist, old boy. There was never a body.”

  “Of course,” Graham admitted. “Just looking for a little context, that’s all.”

  Tomlinson cast his mind back. “Well, this was your illustrious predecessor, of course. He did a thorough job of interviewing everyone. People spent hours at the house with Mrs. Ridley and her then-new husband, Beth’s step-father… What was his name, now? Charles? Chris, maybe?”

  “What happened to the dad?” Graham asked.

  “Oh, Bob Ridley? Haven’t you heard of him?” Tomlinson asked.

  Graham searched his memory, something that never took long. “Bloody hell, not the same Bob Ridley who’s doing thirty-to-life in Wormwood Scrubs?”

  “The very same,” Tomlinson told him, impressed as usual with Graham’s unfailing memory.

  In one of Britain’s most famous bungled robberies of recent years, Graham recollected, Bob Ridley had shot a security guard to death before making off with cash and jewelry worth millions. When he was arrested after three weeks on the run, he claimed that he had fired the gun only to scare the guard away. Then he admitted that he’d “panicked,” a word that proved catastrophic to his defense and very persuasive to the jury.

  “I’m going to guess,” Graham said, “that their marriage did not long survive his incarceration?”

  “Not by even a day,” the pathologist confirmed.

  “Got it. Go on, Marcus,” Graham said, already filling a page with notes.

  “Diane Ridley was a nurse at the General in St Helier. I knew her just slightly, signed a card to congratulate her when she got married again. The second husband sadly passed away five or six years ago. Brain tumor, or something similar. Nothing fishy about it. But as for Beth, as far as I remember, it was just one of those things. She was walking to school, and then suddenly, she was not.”

  Graham put down the pen. “People don’t just vanish into thin air, Marcus. I know the world is a strange and mysterious place, but I’m still a big fan of cause-and-effect when it comes to explaining what people do and why.”

  “True, true, old boy. I know that some suspicion fell on an old, homeless chap who used to sleep in the bushes near the Ridley house, back when there was just wasteland there. Before they built the Redbush neighborhood.”

  “Okay,” Graham said, noting this down.

  “But nothing ever stuck. Couldn’t say if she ran away, was taken, or what. Very frustrating for the police at the time.”

  It sounded to Graham, at first blush, as though it would be equally frustrating for him. “Thanks, Marcus. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

  “Tell you what, old boy,” Tomlinson told him, “if you get some movement on this, even a little, it’ll mean a very great deal to people around here.”

  “Yes,” Graham agreed, “that’s what I’ve been hearing.”

  “Dinner on me at the Bangkok Palace if you even develop a new lead. No expense spared,” Marcus offered.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” he promised. “Cheers for now.”

  Sergeant Harding arrived a few minutes later, case file in hand. “Morning, boss.”

  “Welcome back, Sergeant,” Graham said warmly. “How was Manchester?”

  She mimed a shiver. “Cold, but there were some very nice pubs.”

  Graham let her have her fun. “And did you learn anything?”

  “Oh yea
h,” Harding assured him. “Tons. I’ll be doing some review this week, and then I’ll give you a rundown on all the new databases we’re going to have access to.”

  “Splendid.”

  “In the meantime,” she said, setting the Ridley case file on his table, “are we really going to be looking into this?”

  Graham flipped open the file, disturbed to find it so slender. “How would you feel about that, Janice?”

  She glanced back at the reception area and then spoke to Graham in a whisper. “Roach was very, very upset about Beth going missing. It damn near wrecked his teenage years, I heard. He’s still cut up about it. And it’s not just him. Frankly, the whole place would thank you if you took another look at it, even if it didn’t come to anything.”

  Graham was put in mind of several cases back in London, where the entire community – even those who’d never met the missing child or her family – came out to help, to comb through bushes and search woodlands, or brought meals or money, whatever was needed. There was something of the “Blitz” spirit in those gestures, he found, a determination to stick together and see it through. Even, as was so often true, when there was precious little hope of anything but a tragic outcome.

  “I’m with you, Janice. Let’s get everyone copies of this file and see what we come up with.”

  She reached for the file and headed toward the copier in her own office. “Including Constable Roach?” she returned to ask.

  “Yes, certainly” Graham replied. “I have a feeling he’s going to play a very important role.”

  To get your copy of The Case of the Broken Doll, visit the link below:

  http://cozymysteries.com/broken-doll

  Thank you for taking the time to read The Case of the Fallen Hero. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and very much appreciated.

  Thank you,

  ALSO BY ALISON GOLDEN

  The Case of the Screaming Beauty (Prequel)

  The Case of the Hidden Flame

  Other Books by Alison Golden

  FEATURING REVEREND ANNABELLE DIXON

  Death at the Café (Prequel)

  Murder at the Mansion

  Body in the Woods

  FEATURING DIANA HUNTER

  Hunted (Prequel)

  Snatched

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Alison Golden was born and raised in Bedfordshire, England. She writes cozy mysteries and suspense novels, along with the occasional witty blog post, all of which are designed to entertain, amuse, and calm. Her approach is to combine creative ideas with excellent writing and edit, edit, edit.

  She is the creator of the Reverend Annabelle Dixon cozy mysteries, a charming, fun series featuring a female vicar ministering in the beautiful county of Cornwall, England. She also produces a Jersey-based detective series featuring Inspector David Graham and the Diana Hunter series, set in Vancouver.

  Her books’ themes range from the humorous and sweet to harder hitting suspense. They are recommended for readers who like to relax and unwind with their books, who enjoy getting to know the characters, and who prefer the tougher side of life implied.

  She is based in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and twin sons. She splits her time traveling between London and San Francisco.

  For up-to-date promotions and release dates of upcoming books, sign up for the latest news here: http://cozymysteries.com.

  "Books give a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and life to everything."

  Plato

  THE CASE OF THE FALLEN HERO

  An Inspector David Graham Cozy Mystery

  A historic castle. A beautiful wedding. A dead groom. Former big city cop, Inspector David Graham, is now leading a small group of officers in the tiny coastal village of Gorey. One Sunday morning, as he walks around the imposing Orgueil castle, Graham’s peaceful life comes to a shuddering halt when he finds a woman kneeling beside the body of a stricken man.

  As the woman’s screams ring out, Graham is there to assist – and to start gathering the clues. Was it suicide? An accident? Or something far more nefarious?

  Questions lead to trails that send the team digging through the history of not only the affected families, but the castle itself where a quartet of talented musicians have seemingly vanished. Monolithic in size and secrets, Orgueil Castle may reveal answers in the strangest…. and deepest ways possible.

  With one dead, four missing, and many long-buried family secrets, Inspector David Graham wonders if there is enough tea to see him through it all.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright © 2016 Alison Golden

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Mesa Verde Publishing

  P.O. Box 1002

  San Carlos, CA 94070

  Cover Illustration: Richard Eijkenbroek

  Edited by

  Marjorie Kramer