A Village Not So Green (John Harper Series Book 1)

by Edward Holmes

  He found running therapeutic and relaxing; back in the city he used to run to think through cases, and it also went back to his days on the streets when he had to chase down thieves and shoplifters. John had been one of the fastest men on the force, and with stamina to burn he had been a valuable asset to the department’s football team. Half an hour later he was at the top of the beacon. A little blue historical plaque informed him that it had been the site of a defensive tower during the fears of the Spanish Armada. The view was amazing, giving him a panoramic look for miles around, with the clear morning air he could see mountains as far as way as Wales, “Times like this I wish I was better at geography,” he muttered though deep inhalations.

  Returning the way he ran, he stopped at a cafe near the top of the village and had a fried breakfast. Looking up from the paper he was reading John noticed a little flyer for the community police on the counter, when the owner offered him another cup of tea. The front three pages introduced the local bobbies on the beat, with gleaming smiles and dress uniforms. After that there was a detailed paragraph about how the six-strong team had reduced the number of vandalism incidents over the last four months. John tried not to smirk at the pamphlet but it was difficult and he put it in his hooded jumper’s pocket and began to walk down the hill.

  Instead of going home he went to the newsagents. There was a large selection of magazines on the wall and papers on the left side of the room. On the right were two fridges of drinks, the closest alcoholic in content. In the middle, there was a set of shelves with sweets and assorted chocolates. John picked up one of his favoured chocolate bars and a copy of the Racing Post, and went to the counter. Behind it an elderly woman with streaky white hair and grey eyes made to look huge by the severe prescription of her large glasses, who was struggling with the crossword puzzle after completing the Sudoku problems. Next to her, behind the counter, was the man that John nearly knocked over, “Sorry about earlier mate.”

  The man looked sheepishly at his hands, the woman turned and looked at him, “What happened Billy?”

  John quickly reassessed Billy as he tried to mutter an answer. He was overweight and balding with wispy brown hair; that was greasy and plastered to his head in what was becoming a poor comb-over, yet his features seemed young so it was hard to narrow down an age. A pair of glasses like the woman’s hung around his neck on a chain, resting on a t-shirt that was stained with food, which at that early hour seemed out of place. Billy struggled to answer under the stern gaze of the cashier, “Oh it was my fault, ma’am I was running earlier and nearly ran this young man over.”

  “Is this true Billy?”

  “Yes mum,” he managed raising his overly large head.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” her hand was on her hip, and John felt a little awkward with the interrogation, of what he suspected was her son.

  John decided to try and quell the problem, “Ma’am it wasn’t Billy’s fault; he was moving the papers when I ran past. I’m sorry for any inconvenience.”

  Rounding on the detective and her face softened, “I’m sure that it wasn’t just you to blame sir, my boy can be a little clumsy at times. Apologise to the kind gentleman, William.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  Realising it was better to leave the situation, John replied, “Well thank you Billy, I’m sorry I got in your way. I realise you were just helping out your mum,” the beleaguered man said thank you and with that John left, slowly shaking his head as he went into the bookmakers next-door.

  Like most shops these days it was well lit and air conditioned. It was clean and not at all like the dingy home of vice proclaimed by most sanctimonious politicians and social do-gooders. Considering that it was still early the premises were well populated by elderly and middle aged men. A small queue was at the counter being served by a young man who seemed a little bedraggled. John went and sat down at one of the large tables and opened his paper. He was reading about the current issue of racing prize money whilst listening to the conversations of the men who sat around him. Bookmakers were a brilliant place to hear information. Finding a place that was well frequented by local residences during the day was often difficult but in villages like Hollingswood it was a focal point of male clientele before the pubs opened.

  John knew that sitting there in his sweat soaked running gear would not be the best way to become inconspicuous to this crowd. So he quickly went scribbled down a couple of horses and went to place a bet. The manager stood from his stool as John approached, “How are you today sir?”

  “Fine thanks. Lovely village you have here.”

  “Just passing are we?”

  Shaking his head the detective responded, “Staying here for a couple of weeks to rest and recuperate.”

  “Well it is a nice place to live, very quiet if you want to relax. I’ve been here for over ten years and I can’t think of a village that’s as peaceful as Hollingswood,” he said smiling, a name badge hanging from a lanyard around his neck indicating his name was Steven.

  “Seems it, still the Blacksmith’s Arms looked lively enough,” John said taking the change and his betting slips from the bright red counter.

  “Oh it’s good if you like a real pint but for a more lively experience there is always the Hollingswood Arms across the road.”

  “Thanks for the offer but I’m here to do some work and staying just down the road from where that farmer died is weird enough.”

  “Yeah I heard about that, never met the guy but it has been one of the big talking points for the past couple of weeks. Like I said not a lot of stuff going on around here.”

  John nodded, “Boring old farmer falling of a ladder isn’t the most interesting thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “True but he may not have been that boring. Some of the stories I’ve heard about him are juicer gossip than the goings on behind here,” Steven said, pointing his thumb behind the counter.

  John laughed but before he could ask anything else the phone rang and Steven got up and walked over to it making his excuses. The first time I’ve heard anything interesting and that blabbermouth has to answer the phone. He stood at the counter for a little too long but turned away before Steven noticed and walked back to the cottage.

  Chapter Six

  Fully washed and dressed in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a fleecy jumper, over which he had on his favourite jacket, John walked back down towards the farmer’s house. The muddy lane was drying in the summer sun that was struggling out from behind cloud cover, but he was still glad to be wearing his army issue boots. Considering the time of the weekday he saw a number of walkers and cyclists on his way to the farm.

  John walked around the farm yard and barns before going up to the house. Other than some woodpigeons and some cigarette butts that were rather close to hay and flammable materials he saw nothing of interest. His wandering led him to the house. The disrepair that led to Harry Bailey’s fall was obvious; slates where missing all across the bowed roof, leaving bare patches that would allow water to get in. There were also two boarded windows that, from the condition of the wood suggested that it had been in place for a number of months. Rusty scaffolding was propped up next to the side wall near the window. John let his hands trail over the rough sandstone walls as he went up to the porch. The front door was open but the second was locked. John went back and looked around the courtyard.

  There seemed nothing to suggest foul play but there was little in the way of outside lighting which would have made it easy for someone to have waited for the farmer. John was going to do another circuit of the farm when someone called his name. Turning he saw Rachael Bulloch waving from over the well maintained hedge next to the farmhouse on his right, “Oh hi,” he called back walking over to her, “how are you this morning?”

  “Still a little groggy from last night, I must say. We don’t often stay out that late on a school night, but it was very good fun.”

  “How’s your husband?”John asked a little disappointed that he
could hardly see her because of the raised level of the ground and the height of the bush.

  “Oh Tom struggled through. He had to get a flight this morning, so he would have caught up on some sleep then.”

  “I take it he wasn’t going on a holiday without you.”

  Rachael let out a little laugh, “No he travels a lot with work. He’s out of the country most of the week so it’s nice that we got to spend to fun time together.”

  “Must be difficult having a long distance relationship?”

  “Oh it is but things are a lot easier with the internet and Skype. Getting postcards from around the globe whilst I was stuck here was very frustrating when he first started on this job.”

  John nodded pulling his phone out of his pocket, “Honestly don’t know what I would do without this thing. So what do you do for fun around here then?”

  “Whatever I can to pass the time,” she said a glint in her eye, “I like to keep fit so I like to do a lot of sports. I also run a few local groups.”

  John arched an eyebrow, “Groups?”

  “Yeah like I said I try to keep active; mentally and physically. I joined the Women’s Institute years ago but honestly there is more corruption and politics there than when I was on the Parish Council. That’s why I started the book club, much quieter, I got to know Mary through those awful thriller books she likes. She introduced me in turn to the neighbourhood watch which has been quite fun. I find nothing better than helping people.”

  “You should’ve been a nurse.”

  “Well I do have the uniform,” Rachael said winking. They both laughed but John was certain she was telling the truth on the matter.

  “So what do you think about the death here then, Agatha?” he waved his hand in the direction of the yard.

  “It was such a shame, I used to speak to Harry quite a bit. After his mother died he became a bit of a recluse but he came out of his shell in the past couple of years, especially after he got his puppy Diane. I’d often go round to his and look after the dog when he had to leave the village.”

  John had seen nothing to indicate that there was a dog, “What happened to her now that her master’s voice is no longer around?”

  “I wanted to keep her but Tom is very particular, probably why he never wanted kids, all the mess and such. No I think Harry’s brother Anthony has taken her to his farm, probably under duress. They hadn’t seen eye to eye for years.”

  “I don’t have any brothers or sisters but from what I’ve seen favouritism from family members can cause a lot of sibling rivalry.”

  “That might have been the start of it but since their mother died they had been fighting over a piece of land.”

  John turned and looked at the house, “So does he get the property now then? He’ll probably have to do a lot of work on it.”

  “Why are you looking to buy? Just a day in Hollingswood and we’ve got you to stay?”

  “Well if I had a neighbour like you it would be very tempting. I don’t really know much about farming though, more of a city dweller. It would be a nice house once it was done up. Needs new windows and a roof, not that I’d be climbing up to fix anything in the rain.”

  “I’m rather good at DIY to be honest.”

  “Maybe you can give me a hand sometime. What’s it like on the inside?”

  Rachael shrugged, “I’ve still got a key if you want to have a little nosey?”

  This brought a laugh from the detective, “You’re part of the neighbourhood watch and you are actively letting me break into a house.”

  “It is a good cause. Plus I’d like to have a look round without Harry there. I wanna little snoop upstairs, I’ve never felt comfortable going up there on my own.”

  “Ok let’s go then.”

  “Brilliant. just let me go and get the key.”

  Rachael left to go back into her house and John waited a little uneasily. He was enjoying flirting with the married woman but having been cheated on he would never want to put another person in that position. It was nice to be appreciated and it had been a long time since he had had the attention of an attractive woman. She came round the hedgerow wearing a short white skirt and a pink polo shirt, with white sandals on; fitting for the summer month but not for the weather. The outfit accentuated her long slender legs and ample bosom. God this is gonna be harder than I thought. Flashing her extremely white teeth she dangled a set of keys in her hand, before throwing them to him, “I hate to think what this place will look like. After his mother died like all men he found it easier to not do cleaning.”

  John held up his hands, “Hey don’t tar us all with that brush. Shall we?” walking to the door he opened it for her and tried not to look down at her backside. It was a challenge he failed as they went in.

  The place smelt of mould and dust. A small hallway had only three doors in it before leading to what was the front door to the house but it looked painted shut. Next to the door on the right was a kitchen, which was poorly supplied and had a stack of dishes in the sink, “Guess you were right,” John said.

  Rachael merely nodded and continued walking. On the left was a small door which he went to open, “Oh that’s just a closet,” she said looking in at what was a living room. There were three badly threadbare chairs and a small coffee table that had a thick tome on it. Surprisingly there was no television in the room but a bookcase which was stocked with old novels, next to it there was polished and well maintained rocking chair with a handmade multicoloured cover thrown over its back. A dog bed was in the corner of the room underneath the curtained windows.

  Mrs Bulloch rounded the corner to go up the stairs but John decided it best to not follow her considering the shortness of her skirt. As she made her way up the creaky stairs he opened the closet door shielding him from view as he pulled out one of the more illegal devices he owned, from the inside pocket of his jacket. Technically the Curtis Clipper was legal for cutting keys, a handheld device that was well known at junkyards to get into cars that have no keys. His uncle had once worked selling second hand cars and he had given one of his older Clippers to John when he had started working undercover. When he opened the door, he noticed a shotgun propped up on a standing rack. Before he looked at anything he heard the creaking of the stairs above him as Rachael put her weight on the boards above, “Are you coming up? It’s a little creepy up here I need a strong man to keep me safe.”

  John shook his head and pocketed his new key, closing the door he ran up the steps, very aware of the lack of stability of the wood, even the banister was weak. At the top of the landing the first room was a bathroom. The next room had a shut door and after that one that was open. Popping his head round the door he saw Rachael bending over in an open closet. Her skirt had ridden up to show the curvature of her buttocks and with great restraint John merely let out a cough, “Found something?”

  Turning around she held up a pair of ladies shoes, “Strange man that Harry.”

  “Ok that’s a little creepy,” the bedroom was as barren as the other rooms. Just one unmade double bed, two bedside tables, a full length mirror standing on one side the wardrobe in which Rachael was going through on the other, “what’s in the other room?”

  “Like I said before I’ve never been up here but it’s locked. If it is as bad as this one though I do not want to go in,” Rachael said now holding up a nightdress.

  John looked in the cupboard; one side was full of male clothing, mostly in green. None of it seemed new and there was a sewing box on a top shelf with a bag full of odd pieces of cloth to be used to mend any holes. The other side was a much more interesting, as it was full of ladies clothing, from summer dresses to full evening gowns. Each one was in protective plastic bagging as if straight from a dry cleaner but there were no left over tags on the hangers to suggest a time when they were cleaned, “How long has his mother been dead?”

  “At least five years maybe longer.”

  “Ok that is weird.”

  Rachael looked rat
her uneasy, “I’m feeling creeped out here. I’m going to back to my house and shower. Feel free to come round and drop off his key when you’ve finished looking but I just don’t want to be in here.”

  “I can come with you if you want.”

  “I think I can shower on my own but thanks for the thought big boy,” she offered a weak grin and brushed past him leaving a waft of her perfume behind her. John exhaled and tried to relax. I’m completely confused by her. Is she hitting on me or not? He shook his head to clear his thoughts and really debated whether or not to go her house but he decided on having a look in the locked room instead. If I ever needed something to change my mind an ominous room is it.

  He closed the closest door and walked back onto the landing. Sunlight valiantly tried to come though the dirty double windows on the side but it was still bright enough for him to look at the lock. Checking the keychain Rachael had given him there was no key that would fit in the lock. John had a small lock-picking set that he kept on him at all times; it was a bad habit but it had come in handy in the past. He heard the clicking of the tumblers and he nearly opened door when he heard a car pull into the courtyard, “Crap.”

  John raced down the stairs just in time for the back door to open. Luckily he had dived into the living room and stood up close to the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible.