The Case Of The Barefoot Boys - Robert F. Clifton (christmas read aloud .txt) 📗

Chapter One Princetonh

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Case

Of

The Barefoot

Boys

 

by

Robert F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Case Of The Barefoot Boys

Copyright 2016 by Robert F. Clifton

All rights reserved. No part of this book may

be reproduced or transmitted in any form or

by any means without written permission

from the author.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The reader is advised that this is a work of

fiction. Any similarity to names, persons,

places or events is purely coincidental.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the summer of 1950 Alistair Basham is invited to

teach a course on Criminology associated with the Sociology Department at Princeton University. While there he becomes interested in a homicide that took place in Atlantic City,

New Jersey. As the killings increase he notices that each victim is a young, male, adolescent, ages between sixteen and eighteen. He also observes that each victim is found with bare feet.

After being interviewed by press, Basham is contacted

by the Atlantic City Police and asked for his expertise in constructing a criminal personality profile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Table Of Contents

 

Chapter One....Princeton

Chapter Two....Charles Beckmen

Chapter Three..Atlantic City

Chapter Four....Micheal Wilford

Chapter Five.....Harry Lodell

Chapter Six.......Multiregional

Chapter Seven..Norman Ridgeway

Chapter Eight...School Days

Chapter Nine....The Numismatic

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

Princeton

 

On a hot afternoon on Friday, June 9, 1950 Professor,

Alistair Basham sat uncomfortably in the rear of a Yellow Cab that was taking him from the airport in New York City, to

Princeton University in New Jersey. Because of the heat and the fact that Basham was attired in a tan, tweed jacket he was constantly wiping the perspiration from his face with a handkerchief.

“Hot, ain't it?” asked the cab driver.

“Oh, rather,” Basham answered.

“This your first time at Princeton?”

“Yes, first time at the university and first time in the former colonies.”

“Colonies? What colonies?”

“It doesn't matter. Are we almost there?”

“About another mile or so. What did you say the name of the building was?”

“The Prospect House.”

“Oh yeah, I know where it is. I've been here a couple of times.”

“That's nice to know.”

“As a matter of fact there it is up ahead.”

“Fine, now, if you'd be so good as to retrieve my luggage and inform me of your fare I should like to pay you.”

“Well, from Laquardia to here is, let see. Thirty five dollars will do it.”

Basham removed his wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket and removed fifty dollars in United States currency. He had exchanged British Pound notes for American Bills in London. Handing the driver the money Basham said, “Keep the difference.”

“Hey, thank you very much. Hope you enjoy your stay here in the States.”

“So do I”, Alistair replied.

As he reached for his luggage that had been placed on the sidewalk. He heard someone call his name. “Alistair, leave them there. I have a man on the way fetch them.”

“Ah, Maxwell. Very well, however should I become a victim of theft I will hold you responsible”, Basham replied as he walked into the shaded, covered entrance to the red, brick building.

“As the two men shook hands Maxwell Shieble said, “So, you're finally here. How was your flight?”

“A bit bumpy over the Irish Sea. The food they served was bland and there wasn't a drop of sherry anywhere. Other than that, functional,” Basham replied.

“Well if you're hungry I'll see what I can get from the kitchen.”

“No matter old boy. I just want to sit someplace where it is cool.”

“Certainly, we'll sit in the bar. That way I can brief you about your stay here.”

As the two men sat at a table a waiter arrived to take their order from the bar. “I'd like a dry sherry,” said Basham.

“I'm sorry sir. We do not stock sherry. We do have wines. Allow me to give you our bar menu, replied the waiter.

“A terrible flight, the heat of summer and now no sherry. Seems that I'm off to a fabulous start, said Basham as he examined the list of available spirits. “I'll have a Crown Royal. No ice”, he said.

“I'll have the same”, said Shieble.

“So, now that you are here, as your department head I would like to read your lesson plan”, said Maxwell.

“Lesson plan? Am I still lecturing on, Criminality and The Mental State?”

“Of course.”

“Did you read my book with the same title?”

“Yes I did.”

“Than that's my lesson plan. I intend to teach from it, verbatim”.

“Really?"

“Oh, absolutely old boy.”

“Well, I must say that is somewhat different.”

“That's what many people say about me.”

After the waiter placed their drinks on the table he turned and left. Basham took a sip. “Ah, jolly good. Now, I know you have more to tell me so tell me what's on your mind.”

“Very well. First of all, I want you to know that your living accommodations will be in an apartment complex that houses faculty members only. I'll take you there later. Next, I suggest that you rest. Tomorrow night there will be a meeting of sorts with old and new members of the faculty along with alumni. I want you to mix, particularly with the alumni. Many of them make donations to the university.”

“I'll try my best, although we both know that I have nothing in common with any of them.”

“Not necessarily. There's a Professor Joyce Hampton here. I understand that she is originally from Nottingham. She'll be teaching an anthropology class here this summer.”

“Ah, a countryman. It will be enjoyable to converse with someone speaking the King's English.”

“One other thing Alistair. You have a tendency to drop teaching and getting yourself involved in investigating some type of crime. I've been told that when that happens you lose interest in the classroom.”

“Not true old boy. I never stop teaching. I will admit that there have been times when I change the profile of say a juvenile purse snatcher to a serial killer, but it spices up the curriculum, don't you see?”

“No, I don't see. I want you to stick to the subject I've asked you to teach and don't. I repeat don't get caught up in some criminal matter while you are here at the university.”

“I promise to be a good lad, father.”

“Now, unless you want another whiskey I'll drive you over to your. apartment and see that you get settled.

“Lead the way McDuff.”

When they reached Shieble's automobile Maxwell said, “I'll put your luggage in the trunk.”

“Don't you mean the boot?”

“Not on this side of the pond.”

“Touche. If you see me with my eyes closed it's because of the fear I have as you American blokes insist on driving on the wrong side of the road.”

“Just get in the car.”As Maxwell drove along the clean streets Basham gazed upon the tall, American sycamore trees growing at the edge of the roads. Everywhere he looked he saw bright, green manicured lawns. One or two were being watered with a moving sprinkler head. Maxwell broke the silence by saying, “You do know that Doctor Einstein is here at the university don't you?”

“Yes of course.”

“I'm sure that you will want to meet him.”

“Why? His field is mathematics and physics. Mine is sociology and criminology. I don't know if either one of us has anything to offer the other.”

“Still, if the opportunity arises you will at least meet him?”

“Yes, if the opportunity arises.”

“Good, well here we are. I'll give you a hand with your luggage and we'll go inside. Your apartment is on the second floor. Number 207. I think you'll like it.”

“If it has air conditioning, I'll bloody well love it.”

“You will notice Alistair that you are the only one wearing a tweed jacket on a summers day.”

“Quite, but not for long. Lead the way.

Arriving on the second floor, Maxwell stood in the doorway of apartment 207 unlocked the door, opened it and allowed Basham to enter first.

When he entered Basham stepped on a blue wall to wall carpeted floor. There were two dark gray matching upholstered chairs and a couch. A large, wide window allowed ample light to filter into the room. Curtains and drapes were open.

“Well? What do you think of the place?”, asked Shieble.

“I see no desk or for that matter a telephone,” Basham replied.

“Both are in the bedroom. Someone thought it handy if one was to wake in the night with a thought or idea and needed to put it on paper immediately. As for the telephone, it allows a bit of privacy for conversation.”

“Clever,” said Alistair as he entered the bathroom. He opened the frosted glass shower doors, checked the tub then walked to the basin and turned on first the hot then the cold faucets. Satisfied he walked into the bedroom again.

“Come I'll show you the kitchen,” said Maxwell.

“No need. A kitchen is a kitchen”, Basham replied waking back to the living room. He stopped and stood at the window.

Shieble then stood next to him. “To your left you can see a red brick building. That's Walker Hall. Your classroom will be there.

Exactly where hasn't been determined as yet. That building in the distance is the cafeteria. It's pay as you go. They only accept

American currency.”

“A bit of a journey, hey what?”

“Depends on how you look at it. It could be considered a healthy walk. However, you can always rent or buy a bicycle.”

“Either way it means moving about in the heat old chap. Very well, the accommodations are satisfactory and I now know where I will work and where I will eat. Is there anything else I should know?,” asked Basham.

“Yes tomorrow evening, Saturday, there will be a short meeting for the faculty on campus for the summer. After-wards a cocktail party of sorts with members of the alumni. Dress comfortably, but I do suggest wearing a tie. Things begin at eight.”

“Then eight it shall be. Now, if you're quite finished lecturing me I should like to get out of these damp clothes and into a tepid shower. After-wards I will unpack,” said Basham.

“Certainly and if you need anything just call me. I'll leave my card on the desk.”

“Wonderful, now cheerio Maxwell”.

At eight thirty the next evening Basham stood talking to a woman who when learning the Alistair was British kept him in conversation merely for the fact that she enjoyed listening to his accent. “So, please tell me Doctor Basham. Just how are things in England?,” she asked.

“Well, we still maintain a stiff upper lip and rationing is still in play other than that it's like the song relates, “They’ll always be and England”. Now if you'll excuse me I simply must talk to someone”, said Basham as he walked away.

He walked slowly to where a woman he judged to be in her mid-forties stood talking to two other women. When he stood beside her he said to the women, “Please excuse me but at this time I must speak to Doctor Hampton in private.”

As he led her away and towards a corner of the room Joyce Hampton said, “You must be the Brit they said was on campus.

Thank you for rescuing me. You must tell me how you recognized me.”

Basham looked at the woman. She was approximately five feet seven inches tall, well proportioned, slender with light brown hair styled in what was called a page boy cut. “It wasn't too difficult. First, you have a type of tan that you have gained through years of working outside in the elements. Second, the thin lines you have in the corner of your eyes is a result of squinting into sunlight on the many digs you have investigated as an anthropologist. And third, the drink you were holding in your hand lacked ice. Americans prefer ice in their drinks, Englishmen do not.”

“Well, there's no need to ask my next question as to who you are. Your answer can only mean that you are Doctor Alistair Basham, the criminologist.”

“At your service dear lady.”

“And, how are you making out? Is this your first time to the United States?”

“To answer your questions, fine and yes. I say, are you really interested in mingling with these people?,” he asked.

“Not really.”

“Jolly good. I suggest we depart from this affair and go somewhere quiet