by A. B. King
The problem as I saw it at that point was that there was so little factual evidence to go on. The three girls had gone camping at this site with the blessings of the parents, and they had two tents between them. One twin had died from drowning, and if there had been any suggestion of foul play it would have been noted at the time. Danny was found unconscious with serious burns that the doctors had established were consistent with a lightning strike. By all accounts, the only witness to what had happened was Julia, and although her story didn't exactly fit the facts as far as he was concerned, any discrepancies could easily have arisen from the shock of the disaster. I tried to imagine myself in the same situation, standing outside Julia's tent facing her camping companions when, without warning, out of a threatening sky a bolt of lightning blasts a tent out of existence in front of my eyes, bowling me over. Frankly, I doubt whether I would have remembered if it was Christmas or Easter! It was a crying shame that there had not been any other witnesses, for then there wouldn't be any 'mystery' to investigate!
But perhaps there had been other witnesses? I looked out over the river, seeing the trees and shrubs that lined the far bank. Ok, so fourteen years had passed, but a good many of those trees would have been there at the time, and who knows who might have been out there on that fateful evening? The problem was that even if there had been other people present at that particular time, how on earth could I set about finding such hypothetical individuals after the lapse of fourteen years? I looked above the tree line, and in a couple of places I could see the roofs of two or three scattered houses. I suddenly wondered if any of the local residents had seen anything that night. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than I realised that I was clutching at some decidedly fragile straws. If anyone had seen anything untoward it would have been reported at the time, and asking anyone to remember now what happened on a particular night fourteen years ago was a bit like asking for the moon. In any case, it wasn't impossible that during intervening years the properties had changed hands, or the original owners passed on. Still, I had to do something to justify the fee I had agreed to, so maybe I would go and knock on a few doors at some stage? It would be a long shot of course, but I thought it was just barely possible that somebody might remember the night when a bolt of lightning was responsible for the death of a young girl. I suddenly remembered Danny telling me that she had a press cutting, which meant that locally at least, it was obviously a nine day wonder, and so it might be worth the effort.
“So, has Sherlock Hammond now solved the case,” Danny asked, breaking into my reverie.
“I've no intention of solving it in under a week,” I responded seriously.
“Oh, why's that?”
“You would expect a refund, and I hate parting with cash.”
“Too right I would!” she agreed, and I couldn't make up my mind if she was joking or not.
“What's on the other side?” I asked, pointing in the general direction of the footbridge.
“Nothing much as far as I can see; can't say as I recollect going over there. I suppose I may have done when I was camping here.”
“Well, as we are here, we might as well take a look. You never know, something over there may jog your memory.”
I led the way down the grassy bank towards the somewhat Heath-Robinson-ish looking wooden structure that spanned the river. It was pretty evident even to me that it didn't get a lot of use; probably it only existed because of some well established footpath that was now protected by law. It was very narrow, only just about wide enough for two normal sized people to pass should they coincidentally wish to cross the bridge at the same time in opposite directions. As I set foot on it I idly wondered what would happen if two outsize people tried to pass on it; I guessed it had never happened, the bridge would probably have collapsed under their combined weight anyway, because it certainly struck me as an extraordinarily flimsy structure. The wooden planks rattled under our feet as we walked across, and we could see the waters swirling past underneath between the gaps. The structure was just about high enough to allow passage for a narrow boat at the present height of the river, which was obviously a bit swollen from all the rain we had recently endured. It took us less than half a minute to get to the other bank, where once again we saw that there was one path running in each direction along the bank, and one that meandered up a gentle rise in the land through the rather dense shrubbery in the general direction of at least one of the houses I'd seen from the far side.
“Let's walk up through the trees and see where this path leads,” I suggested.
“If you insist,” she agreed without an excess of enthusiasm. “If I'd known you had a penchant for cross-country hiking I would have worn different shoes. What is the interest up there anyway?”
“Paths always go somewhere; I just want to see where this one goes.”
“I don't see what that has to do with what happened to my sister?”
“Neither do I at the moment,” I agreed happily. “However, I would like to point out that you are paying me to investigate, and so I will 'investigate' anything I think might or might not help me to get you an answer.”
“Huh,” she snorted contemptuously. “I think you are clutching at straws; instead of tramping round here sightseeing we ought to be cross-questioning Julia.”
I stopped and looked at her seriously. “Danny, if I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it in my own way. If you don't like that way, then I'm naturally sorry, and I'll give you your money back.”
“Sorry,” she exclaimed immediately, throwing her hands wide in a self-deprecating gesture. “I've done it again; allowing my big mouth to upset the apple-cart! I'm sorry Neil, yes, we will ‘investigate’ by all means; it’s your show.”
She didn't wait for an answer as she stepped smartly off ahead of me. I followed a pace or two behind, and I couldn't help but notice the extraordinarily feminine swing to her hips as she moved. Just looking at her, I was glad that I didn't have to hand the money back. Not because I'm that enamoured of money, but because I knew that if I did, I would never see her again. I sighed inwardly; life can be so difficult at times. We had only gone a dozen paces when she stopped suddenly, and I all but collided with her. Only seconds later did it occur to me that it might have been quite a nice experience if I had! I squelched that thought quickly and replaced it with one of a thousand pounds threatening to take instant flight in one direction, with me heading for A & E in the other.
“It seems we are not the only people who have come this way recently,” she exclaimed.
“Oh?”
She pointed off to her right at a patch of shortish grass at the base of an ash tree. I looked in the direction she was indicating, and saw at once what had caught her eye; a used condom.
“I guess the locals like a bit of natural seclusion in their love life,” she observed. “Personally, I'd prefer the comfort of a nice hotel bedroom.”
“Maybe they don't have suitable hotels hereabouts?” I commented. “You will of course note that I politely refrained from asking if you were speaking metaphorically or from personal experience.”
“Ah, now that would be telling, wouldn't it?” she responded enigmatically.
We continued with the increasingly steep ascent, and eventually the undergrowth cleared enough for us to see that the path actually passed between the boundary walls of two rather select-looking properties, the upper parts of which I had noticed from the far bank of the river.
“One would need a tidy packet to live up here I should imagine,” I ventured as they came into full view. “I'm surprised they don't have direct access to the river?”
“I expect the steepness of the slope along this stretch has something to do with it,” she suggested. “Wouldn't be a lot of fun hauling even a small boat up and down here; I think I have read somewhere that there is a sort of Marina a bit further down river.”
“Oh, well, I guess that explains it.”
Eventually we came out on a road, and just off to
the right I noticed that there was a lay-by adjacent to a third property. As far as I could see, there were no other houses in the immediate vicinity. Not a particularly populous part of the country judging from what I could see.
“Well,” Danny said, standing with arms akimbo as she glanced up and down the road. “Now we know where the path leads, and apart from being a bit footsore I don't see as it gets us any farther forward. What do your ‘little grey cells’ suggest now, Hercule Hammond?”
“They suggest,” I said, ignoring her gentle dig, “that we may as well take advantage of the fact that we are here, and go and knock on a few doors.”
“What?”
“These houses overlook the river,” I pointed out. “I grant you it’s a long shot, but if the same people live here from all those years ago, and if they happened to have glanced out of a window at just the right time, they may have seen something?”
“Aren’t you overlooking the fact that if they had seen a crime being committed they would have reported it to the police?”
“I don't doubt it,” I agreed. “However, supposing they just saw a glimpse of someone going somewhere or doing something, it would give us a small insight from someone else's point of view as to what was actually going on at the time. At the moment all I have to go by are your unfounded suspicions, your report of Julia's account of what happened, and your account of the p.m. report on your sister, which you admit attributes the death to by natural causes. Like as not, even if the same people do live here, the chances of them actually happening to be looking in the right direction at the crucial time is remote, but if we don't ask, we are never likely to know, are we?”
“No, I suppose not,” she conceded, glancing up at the house we had just passed. “Ok, you're the 'detective', what do we do?”
I was afraid she would ask me a question like that; it's one thing to pretend to be a successful private eye, it is quite another to actually try to be one. “Go and knock a door?” I suggested hopefully.
Chapter Eight.
“You're not serious are you?” Danny asked dubiously. “I mean, surely you can't just go up to someone's door and say, good afternoon, did you by any chance see anyone murdered down by the river fourteen years ago?”
“Yes I'm serious, and no, I don't actually propose asking leading questions of that nature. I shall explain that I am a writer and researching unusual tragedies, and as the house overlooks the scene of this one, if they lived here at the time, and happened to be at home and gazing at the river, etc. etc.”
“Oh, I see.” She stopped and looked at me speculatively. “And if you are a writer, what am I supposed to be?”
“Missing?” I asked hopefully.
“Very funny!”
“How about you being my wife?”
“What, with no wedding ring?”
“Oh, very quick Danny; full marks. Ok, how about being my fiancé, or whatever the modern equivalent of the term is?”
“Couldn't I be your business partner?”
“No, we’ve already been all through that.”
“How about your very personal and private secretary?”
“Private investigators, whether they are writers or would-be detectives, don't use secretaries, they use recorders.”
“Oh well, then I suppose that 'fiancé' will have to do!”
We sauntered up to the rather imposing looking drive gates of the first house, and I did my best to exude an aura of confidence. I singularly failed to convince myself, and I doubt that Danny even noticed. She was half a step ahead of me and obviously keen to press on. It made me wonder yet again why she needed me in the first place.
“Don't you think it would add a touch of authenticity if I put my arm round your waist?” I suggested hopefully, with my fingers firmly crossed behind my back, “I think it's what couples are supposed to do?”
“Only if you fancy a black eye,” she responded sweetly. “Our 'engagement' is strictly theoretical, remember?”
Her comment did not auger well for a long and tender relationship, but where women are concerned I am, as I have said, ever the optimist. I rang the doorbell, and immediately found myself hoping that there was nobody at home. I knew as soon as that desire formed in my mind that I was about to be unlucky. Unfortunately I couldn't very well bolt for the gate; there was always the possibility Danny would want her money back. I was just getting hopeful that just for once my silent prayers would be answered when the door swung silently open, and we saw an elderly lady peering out at us.
“Good afternoon,” I said at once, putting on my best cheesy smile, which probably did little to lessen the suspicions in the old lady's mind on seeing two complete strangers on her doorstep, “My Name is Hammond, and this is my fiancé-”
“Hi, I'm Danny,” my companion interrupted brightly. “We do apologise for disturbing you, I do hope our visit is not too inconvenient?”
“Well,” said the lady in an understandably dubious tone, “I'm not sure-”
“It's all right,” I hastened to assure her, “we are not trying to sell you anything, and we are not peddling religion or anything like that, we have knocked your door on the off-chance that you may be able to help us?”
“Help you?” she said with a worried look on her face. “You haven't broken down or had an accident in a car have you?”
“Oh no, nothing like that,” I gushed. “I suppose I should have written and asked for an appointment to see you, only as I was right in the area I took a chance. If it really isn't convenient we can call back at a more suitable time?”
“What sort of help is it you are looking for?”
“Well, I'm a writer,” I lied, “and I'm currently researching local tragedies. Are you aware that about fourteen years ago a young girl died close by in the river during a sudden storm?”
“No, I didn't know that,” she admitted. “I'm afraid my husband and I only moved here just over a year ago.”
“Oh,” I said, “then I don't suppose you will be able to help me after all. Oh well, it was just a long shot. I'm very sorry that we disturbed you.”
“That's all right.”
“I don't suppose you could tell us who lived here before you, could you?” Danny chipped in as I was preparing to back away.
“Oh, yes, that would be the Rawlinson's.”
“Would you happen to have a forwarding address; maybe I could write to them?” Danny asked.
“Er, yes, I do have it somewhere, if you will wait a minute I will see if I can find it.” She closed the door, and we were left kicking our heels as we waited. Presently the door re-opened, and the lady thrust out a piece of paper with some lines of rather spidery writing on it. “I've written it down for you,” she said. “Now, you really must excuse me.”
We thanked her profusely and said good bye, and walked back to the road.
“Well, that went quite well,” Danny said breezily when we exited the gate and stood once again on the roadside.
“You think so?”
She looked at me quizzically. “Something you want to tell me?”
“Danny, you are a lovely girl,” I sighed, “but this just isn't going to work. I still can't figure out why you even want me along. For all the good I did I might just as well not have bothered to knock the door.”
“I don't get you; we established that she wasn't here when it all happened, and we managed to get the address of the people who were!”
“Correction, you did!”
“It was a joint effort.”
I sighed again in despair. “Danny, as I have said already, you are the sort of person that simply cannot resist taking over. I would have got around to getting the address, and I may well have found out quite a bit more about the Rawlinson's if you hadn't gone in like a bull at a gate. It wasn't me that poor woman was frightened of, it was you! Maybe it is that aggressive dominant streak in you that makes you successful in the cut and thrust of business, but it sure as hell isn't suited for charming old ladies!”
