The Bockhampton Road Murders

by Pat Herbert

  “Does that mean you’re not going to tell us the address of these people?” asked Jerry.

  “Certainly, it does,” said Harry. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, he thought with satisfaction. Teach him to come in here, strong-arming him and making threats. Count himself lucky he hadn’t called the police.

  Bernard spoke up for the first time. “Mr Grimes, while appreciating your position, this is a very delicate matter and circumstances are such that we need to contact these people urgently. We’re trying to prevent a miscarriage of justice, that’s all. We must speak to the vendors, if at all possible. I’m sure they won’t mind and will understand why you divulged their details to us.”

  “Look, all I can do is call them and ask,” replied Harry.

  Jerry smiled at him for the first time. “Yes. Please do that, Harry.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind waiting outside, gentleman, I will call them now.”

  

  There was no sign of Barry as they made their way back into the shop, but Eve was at her desk searching through a file index. Jerry gave her one of his most charming smiles. She returned it and asked him if he and his companions would like some coffee.

  They sat around companionably, drinking coffee with Eve until Harry came out of the office. He shrugged his shoulders and spread out his well-manicured hands. “No dice, I’m afraid,” he said, “They don’t want to talk to you. They were very angry that your girlfriend turned up as she did and are considering suing us for giving out confidential information without permission as it is.”

  Jerry looked at his companions and sighed. “That’s a shame. We don’t want to make any trouble for them. We just want some answers, that’s all.”

  Then he noticed Eve’s expression. She was raising her eyebrows and nodding her head slightly in the direction of the file index on the desk between them. There was one card up-ended, and all three men gathered at once what Eve was trying to do. But how could it be managed? Jerry didn’t want to get this nice girl into any trouble with her obnoxious boss. Then Eve called across to Harry.

  “Did you know that the property in Silver Street is still on display, Harry? I thought it had been sold weeks ago. Shouldn’t you remove it before we get any more enquiries?”

  “I thought I’d told Barry to take it out. I’ll go and attend to it right away.”

  That got rid of Harry for a few seconds and Barry was still away from his desk. With a deft flick Eve passed the card to Jerry who put it straight into his pocket it without looking at it. “Thanks!” he mouthed at her, making a mental note, not only to post the card back to her as soon as he could, but also to ask her out for a meal when this whole mess had been cleared up.

  Once outside the shop, Jerry pulled the card out of his pocket and all three men saw that Eve had given them the address of a Mr and Mrs Miles-Harris in Almeria, Spain. There was also a phone number and e-mail address.

  Bernard pointed out that the only thing to do was get on a plane and go out to them. They were hardly likely to answer e-mails and would probably hang up once they knew it was the poor sap who’d bought their blighted house. Also, they had to find a way of contacting the Miles-Harrises without getting that pretty young woman into trouble.

  Omar, who had been silent during much of the meeting with Harry Grimes, pointed out that he was really an outsider in this affair and couldn’t see how he could be of service to Jerry any further. But he’d be more than happy to drive him to the airport.

  “Thanks, Omar. That’d be great,” said Jerry. “But I’d really like you to come with me if you can spare the time. I hate travelling alone and I’d like someone to back me up and bounce ideas off, if possible. Please say you’ll come.”

  Before Omar could answer, Bernard butted in. “Hello, what about me? Don’t you want me along? After all, I know much more about the house than either of you. I’ve read up extensively on the subject.”

  Jerry turned to the old man and put his hand gently on his shoulder. “Oh, Bernard, I’d love you to come! But won’t the flight be too much for you?”

  “Are you saying I’m too old?” Bernard was indignant.

  “No, no,” laughed Jerry. “If you think you’re up to it – all right – I mean, I’d be delighted to have you with me. I just didn’t want you to think I was expecting you to come, that’s all.”

  “Young man, I’d have you know that I’ve travelled much further afield than Spain in my time. Why only last year I was on the Nile admiring the Pyramids!”

  “Well, if you’re sure.... it could be quite an ordeal with these people. They may chase us off their property with Rottweilers!”

  “Pooh! Rottweilers, schmottweilers. I’ve faced tougher foe.”

  The two friends shook hands and agreed to fly out to Spain as soon they could book the flights, with Omar acting as their personal chauffeur to Gatwick.

  34

  The first thing Jerry did, on returning from Doggett & Finn’s, was to go online and book himself and Bernard on a cheap flight to Almeria the following evening, leaving from Gatwick at 5 pm. The next thing he did was inform the police of his intention to leave the country and furnish them with the Miles-Harris’s address. It was touch and go but, in the end. he was given permission as long as he wasn’t away for more than a couple of days. Jerry thought that would give him and Bernard ample time to consult the Miles-Harrises and be kicked out afterwards. He was under no illusion that the interview would be easy, or even if it would be granted at all.

  “Passport in order?” Jerry asked Bernard on the phone that evening.

  “Of course. I shall pack a small suitcase and be ready as soon as you like. What time is the flight?”

  “Five o’clock tomorrow afternoon. We need to check in two hours before. So we’ll get Omar to collect us at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon, to give us enough time to drive there.”

  “Good. I’ll be ready.”

  Jerry began to wonder just how they were going to approach the Miles-Harrises. They would hardly be pleased to see him and Bernard so soon after Beth’s visit, but he was determined to ask them what they knew about the goings-on in 57 Bockhampton Road. They had warned Beth about it, so it was only fair that they should tell him all they knew, too. Whether it would help with the police was another matter, especially if all they could tell him was the house was haunted. He needed more than that if he was to get off the hook.

  He slept fitfully that night, dreaming of Beth. She looked beautiful in his dream and then, suddenly, she was covered in blood. She was calling out to him: “Take care, Jerry darling. Get away now. You’re in great danger. They told me in Spain. You cannot live there, you can only die...” Jerry awoke with a start, his heart pounding. “Oh, Beth, darling, I miss you!” he called out to the darkness. Then he noticed the atmosphere in the room. It was icy cold, and an intangible sense of menace was oozing all around him, as if through the very walls.

  He leapt out of bed and ran out of the room, but the menace had followed him onto the landing. It seemed to be rising upwards, emanating from the living room, where that vile fireplace still stood. Why hadn’t he destroyed it?

  He crept slowly down the stairs and hesitated outside the living room door. Should he go in? Face the evil head on? He wished Bernard was with him. Then he thought he heard someone talking. It was just a low mutter and he couldn’t make out the words. But he could tell it was a woman’s voice, even though it was low and guttural. It reminded him of the voice of the possessed child in that horror film he had seen recently in a National Film Theatre revival season. The film had disturbed him more than he would have thought possible, particularly when the little girl’s eyes fluttered open, giving a foretaste of the evil to come.

  “Get a grip, Jerry, you soft sod,” he said to himself. He turned the door handle and entered the room. A woman was standing by the fireplace, a poker in her hand. The fire was blazing in the grate and she was gently stirring the coals. She wore a long gown and her hair was piled high o
n her head. He thought immediately of a prettier version of ‘Jane Eyre’. As he thought this, she turned and smiled at him, showing blackened teeth. The grin was uncannily evil. Before he knew what was happening, she ran at him, wielding the poker like a cheerleader. She gave a cackling laugh and smashed the poker down on his head. As she did so, he could hear her evil words: “Didn’t you know I don’t allow anyone to live here who has a happy relationship? Your girlfriend had to die, but you’ll soon find another girl to take her place, won’t you? Then she will suffer the consequences, just like your first girlfriend. You will never be happy here.”

  Jerry screamed and forced open his eyes. It was as if they had been glued down. Sunlight streamed in through his bedroom window. What had seemed so real a second ago had only been a nightmare. “Thank God!” he said.

  After a skimpy breakfast, he packed a few clothes, toothbrush and towel into a small suitcase, just enough for an overnight stay. He had several hours to kill so he made sure, for the umpteenth time, that his passport was in his holdall, along with the flight tickets. Only ten o’clock. He decided to go for a stroll in the park.

  It was a pleasant feeling, after the horrors of the night, to be seated and relaxed on a park bench, watching the pigeons eyeing him hopefully. He was free to come and go, even though the police were far from finished with him. They hadn’t questioned him again, but he had no doubt they would do so sooner or later. There was no one else on their radar.

  He had dreaded a visit from Beth’s parents but, so far, they hadn’t even called him. What must they be thinking? he wondered. They probably thought he’d killed her. What else were they to think?

  And then he thought about work. His boss had called him yesterday, asking when he planned to return, which was a good sign in itself. It didn’t seem like he was intent on sacking him, unless he wanted to do it face to face. He had been gratified when he’d received the card from Rob, Emma and all the others in his office. Their offer of condolences for his loss moved him more than he could say. At least they were giving him the benefit of the doubt. Innocent until proven guilty, wasn’t that how it went? He decided to return to the office at the beginning of the following week, whatever happened in Spain. Life had to go on.

  Then he remembered. He had still to return the Miles-Harris’s index card to that pretty Eve at the estate agents. It was still in his jacket pocket. He jumped up from the park bench at once and ran out of the park, leaving the pigeons to pick on someone else. As he reached Doggett & Finn’s, he slowed his pace. He had to make sure he got the card back to Eve without Grimes or that other guy seeing him do it. The last thing he wanted was get her into trouble. He was relieved to find Harry’s desk empty. The younger man was there, but deeply engrossed in a phone call, his feet on the desk as if he owned the place.

  Eve was also at her desk, leafing through some flyers. “Hello,” she said to him as he approached. “How are you?”

  “Fine, thanks.” He noticed the ring on her finger and suddenly felt a fool. Had he really been thinking of her as a Beth replacement? How shallow can you get?

  He slipped the card unobtrusively under her mouse mat. “Thanks!” he mouthed at her.

  She winked at him. “Are you all right in that house?” she asked. “I see you’ve put it back on the market.”

  “Well, wouldn’t you?” grinned Jerry. “Sorry that you’re saddled with it again. I don’t expect many viewings.”

  “We’ll do what we can,” she said seriously.

  “I don’t intend to sell it to anyone until I’m sure the house is safe.”

  Eve glanced at her watch. “Look, it’s coming up to my lunch break. Harry’s due back from his in a minute. Do you fancy a drink?”

  

  Promptly at two o’clock, Omar Kemal drew up outside number 57. He found Bernard waiting on the doorstep with his little suitcase beside him.

  “Hello, Mr Paltoquet,” said Omar. “Have you just arrived?”

  “No. Actually I’ve been here for five minutes at least. Jerry doesn’t appear to be here.”

  Omar scratched his head in puzzlement. “He definitely said two o’clock to give us enough time to reach Gatwick by three...”

  Just then they heard their names being called and turned to see a flushed and breathless Jerry racing up the street towards them.

  “Sorry! Got delayed. I’ll just get my bag. I’m all packed.”

  

  As the plane began to taxi down the runway, Jerry looked out of the window at the receding tarmac. It was just after five o’clock and everything was going according to plan. Bernard was seated comfortably beside him, a chocolate bar and coffee in front of him.

  “Have you thought about how to tackle the Miles-Harrises?” Bernard asked.

  Jerry, who was staring out of the window, didn’t reply.

  “Jerry?”

  “Oh, sorry, I was miles away.”

  “Is everything all right? You seem distracted.”

  “I’m okay, Bernard, don’t worry.”

  “Is it anything to do with why you were late this afternoon?”

  Jerry smiled. Bernard was a wise old bird, he could read him like a book. “Yes, sort of.”

  “Care to tell me what’s up?” Bernard munched into his chocolate bar and slurped his coffee as the plane began to gather speed.

  “Oh, it’s nothing, really.”

  “It must be something,” said Bernard, screwing up his chocolate wrapper and putting it in his empty paper cup.

  “I just feel a bit bad, that’s all.”

  “Why?”

  He’s a persistent old bugger, thought Jerry, not unkindly. “It’s just that I had lunch with that girl from the estate agents. That’s why I was late.”

  “So, why should you feel bad about that?”

  “Because (a) Beth’s not been dead five minutes and (b) Eve’s married.”

  “Eve?”

  “Eve Mason. The girl in the estate agents.”

  “Oh, I see. So, are you telling me you’re interested in her?”

  Jerry thought the use of the word ‘interested’ was understating it now. All through their Starbuck’s lunch, he had watched her and grown more and more to like her as he did so. It wasn’t that she was pretty, although she was. Not as pretty as Beth, but she was cute in a button-nosed sort of way, and he realised she had, what most girls seemed to lack in his experience, a terrific sense of humour. They had got on like a proverbial house on fire.

  “I think I’m falling for her.”

  “I see.” Bernard smiled. “Well, it’s nothing to feel bad about. We can’t help our feelings.” Jerry noticed a wistful look cross his face suddenly.

  “I know. But I feel I’m getting over Beth too quickly. It can’t be right, not after what happened to her. Besides, Eve’s married, don’t forget.”

  “Even so. Falling in love is a God-given gift. It’s not everyone who’s so fortunate.”

  “Oh, Bernard. You never married, did you? Did you ever get close?”

  The wistful look was back. “I had a girl when I was a student at University. Sophie.”

  “What happened? Do you want to tell me?”

  “Maybe.”

  Jerry smiled and patted his sleeve. This old man had a sad secret, he could tell. His own romantic entanglements were nothing beside what Bernard had probably suffered. After all, why had he spent his life alone if, once upon a time, he’d had a woman to love?

  35

  “Oops, was I asleep?” Bernard jerked awake suddenly, as if from a bad dream.

  “Yes but carry on. It’s good if you can get some rest now,” Jerry told him. “We’ve a hard time coming up. The Miles-Harrises might very well refuse to speak to us. They may even call the police, saying we’re trespassing, if we make too much of a nuisance of ourselves.”

  “Let’s hope they’ll be more reasonable than that,” Bernard smiled. “Anyway, I don’t feel sleepy anymore. Is there any food coming our way?”

 
“They’ve brought the trolley along a couple of times while you were dozing. Here, I’ve saved you a sandwich and some crisps.”

  “Thanks, Jerry. Just the ticket.” He dug into the crisps.

  “Bernard?”

  “Hmm?” came the crisp-filled reply.

  “I’m curious. What happened to the girl you met at Uni? Sophie, you said?”

  Bernard’s eyes misted over as he got to grips with the packaging around his sandwich. Jerry took it from him and released the rather dried-up cheese and tomato sandwich from its plastic prison.

  “Would you tell me about her?”

  Bernard continued to work his way through his sandwich without answering.

  “I mean if it’s too painful, then I quite understand.”

  As Bernard swallowed the last mouthful of his sandwich, the air hostess was at his side with a selection of drinks. He chose a miniature bottle of red wine of undetermined origin, and Jerry followed suit.

  When the drinks were poured into their respective plastic cups, Bernard wiped his mouth and spoke. “She was just a girl I got friendly with when I was up at Leeds. I was studying theology and she was reading English classics. We met in a cafe and got talking.”

  “Go on.”

  Bernard smiled at his young friend. This was the first time he’d spoken about his love affair with Sophie. Not even his dear old friend, Robbie MacTavish, knew all the facts.

  

  “I was a shy student and found it hard to mix. I think my studious nature and reticence put off most of my fellow students. I shared a room with a chap called Ron when I first went up, but he was a great socialiser and loved going to parties and living it up. It was all very tame by today’s standards, mark you. No drugs or sex, or not that I was aware of. How he found time to study or attend lectures was a mystery to me, but I liked him, even so.

  “Then, one day, I was sitting in my favourite cafe, a nose in a book as usual, when this young woman came up to my table and asked if she could sit with me as there wasn’t another table free. I think I fell in love with her on sight. She was so beautiful even with spectacles on. She was obviously a student, what with the glasses and a pile of books under her arm. So we started chatting, and then she said she’d often seen me in the café, always on my own, reading something or other. When she learned I was reading theology, she said she thought I’d make a good vicar. I was slightly put out by this, as I didn’t want to give her the impression I was a prude or stick-in-the-mud. But, instead of putting her off, she seemed to like me all the more for it.