The Samsara Project - David Burgess (early reader books .txt) 📗

a pub on this site for the past three hundred and fifty years. Originally it had been a staging post for horses and coaches heading north. The pub had a number of outbuildings that would have been used as stables and the local blacksmith. The original cobbled stone yard was still in evidence. According to the landlord the cobbles had a preservation order on them all though most of the regulars thought this was just wishful thinking. Full refurbished some two years ago at a cost of just over half a million pounds, the Horseshoes had been transformed from a mediocre pub come restaurant, barely managing to survive, into a plush modern establishment. The pub now had a bright and airy feel about it compared to the dingy atmosphere it previously had. No expense had been spared in the refurbishment, and much to the credit of the landlord he had resisted the easy option of fibre glass beams and laminate flooring.
Fortunately, at the same time The Three Horseshoes was being refurbished and three hundred year old church was being demolished to make way for a new, low cost housing development. The church had been decommissioned by the Church of England some thirty years previously. Attendances had dropped and the parish had been losing money at an alarming rate. No one had come along to restore or convert the church so the local authority places a compulsory purchase order on it. For the Three Horseshoes the church was a ‘gold mine’. The original oak pews, the parquet flooring and the roof timbers were all made use of, ensuring an authentic feel to the pub.
Some locals had tried to stop the refurbishment on the grounds that Church property should not be used to tart up a drinking house. No doubt these were the same people who had not used the church and allowed it to close in the first place.
Pat and John sat themselves in a quiet corner of the restaurant area looking through the lunchtime menu. John had to admit that for the first time in a couple of days he was now quite hungry and was looking forward to a very pleasant meal. Pat returned from the bar. A pint of draught Guinness for himself and a pint of fine imported German lager for John.
“Thanks Pat,” said John approvingly. “Good health.”
Pat returned the toast. “The mixed grill looks good to me, what about you Pat?”
“I’ll have the same,” said Pat without really looking at the menu.
A very pleasant middle aged waitress called Shirley came over to take their order. “Good afternoon gentlemen. Welcome to the Three Horseshoes. Are you ready to order now or would you like more time to look through the menu? “Yes, now will be fine thank you,” replied John.
“Is this your first visit?” asked Shirley
“It is,” answered John.
“Well, I’m sure it won’t be your last. Would you like a starter or are you just going for a main course?”
“We’ll have two mixed grills please,” said Pat.
“Excellent choice, you’ll love them.” Responded Shirley “should be with you in about ten to fifteen minutes. Can I get anything else for you gentlemen? a drink from the bar maybe?”
“No thanks, not just now,” said Pat. “We’re fine.”
“That’s fine sir.” Shirley then left them and walked straight into the kitchen area and handed their order to the chef.
“Nice woman,” said Pat.
John grinned and mockingly shook his head at Pat. “It’s time you found a good woman,” he said, “everyone needs someone and you’ve been on your own for far too long now. Trust me, being married to your job and being married to a good woman are not the same thing.”
“The job doesn’t nag.” said Pat.
“Maybe, but it doesn’t keep you warm and cosy either.”
Pat shrugged. He knew better than to continue this conversation. It was one they had had many times before, each time he had lost.
John took a drink of lager, “Any more thoughts about yesterday?”
“I’ve thought of nothing else. I must have only had an hours sleep last night.” Pat paused looking troubled. “How can what you know to be true, not be true? How can the impossible be possible?”
“Just now, Pat, I’ve not got an answer. I know somewhere there is one. I just don’t know where”
“John, I’ve got something for you.” Pat looked around the pub, checking they were not being watched.
“Who are you looking for?” asked John, feeling slightly nervous at his old friend’s unease.
“I don’t know,” said Pat. “I just feel a bit uneasy. It’s a big responsibility knowing something that nobody else knows. Not only that, but knowing that it is true, even if anyone you tell thinks you’re crazy and should be locked away for a very long time in a nice padded cell.”
“You’ve not told anyone have you Pat?”
“No, have you?”
“No” replied John.
“Not even Andrew?”
“No not even Andrew.”
“Why not”
“He wouldn’t understand.”
“Exactly,” Replied Pat, “and that’s why I haven’t told anyone either.
John looked Pat, eye to eye. “You’re not on your own Pat, I know it too, and, I know something else as well. I’m not crazy. What we know may be crazy, but I’m not and you’re not.”
At that moment Shirley came over carrying two of the largest plates that either of them had ever seen before. Laid out on the plate was a mixed grill that would satisfy anybody’s appetites. She carefully placed a plate in front of each of them.
“I hope you’ve brought your appetites with you today. This mixed grill is the house specialty. Customers come here from all over just for this. We’re very proud of it.”
“I’m sure you must be.” Replied John, “then let’s hope that we can both do it justice, I must say it looks delicious.”
“So long as you enjoy it, and don’t forget to leave some room for desert.” Shirley then walked away to serve another table that had arrived a few moments earlier.
The Three Horseshoes was beginning to fill up now as staff working for the local offices and businesses started their lunch breaks.
“This looks a very popular place.” John said as he cut into his medium rare sirloin steak. It was also in his mind that this may be a good place to bring Tracy for a meal. It had a nice atmosphere. The food was good, not too pretensions for a first date but pleasing enough for her not to think of him as being ‘cheap’. Best of all for John though, probably even more than the food was the excellent premium lager. The Three Horseshoes was a free house, meaning the landlord was able to pick and choose the beers, wines and spirits he sold. John did not know who the landlord was, but he was obviously a man of impeccable taste when it came to beers. This pub was good find. He would defiantly be back.
Pat finished eating a piece of Cumberland sausage, “Can’t say I’m too surprised. I can’t remember the last time I ate a meal this good.” He picked up his napkin and patted his lips with it. “Delicious,” he said cutting into his steak. “You know John, food not only has to taste good and look good. It has to smell good. I tell you, this does. You can keep your fancy French and Italian foods. Give me good home cooking any day.”
“Fat, cholesterol and all,” replied John.
Pat raised his glass, “To fat and cholesterol.”
John laughed and raised his glass, “here, here”
John knew he would have to bring up the subject of proof sooner or later. “Pat. How are we going to prove our theory? You said yesterday that you may have an idea. Have you?”
“Pat swallowed,” then whispered, “I might have. It’s a bit complicated but I think it will work. I’ll need your help though John. I can’t do it without you.”
”You’ve got it, one hundred percent,” whispered John. He then wondered why he was whispering.
“Whatever it takes?” asked Pat.
“Yes, whatever.” Replied John, still whispering and with just touch of exasperation in his voice.
“No one knows what I’m going to tell you just now, so let’s keep it between us for now.”
”Agreed”
Pat then went on to tell John his plan. “Going back to the original Ripper murders in the 1880’s the Metropolitan Police were heavily criticized for the lack of evidence they collected from the crime scenes. It was said that this was one of the reasons why they could not catch the killer. The bad feeling towards the Police became so bad that it almost cost the Police Commissioner his job.
What the public and the press did not know, and why it was never released I will never know, is that the Police were swamped with evidence. At least was passed for evidence in the 1880’s. They had clothing from the killer; they had blood samples; they had hair samples. What’s more they had this from almost every crime scene.”
John did not interrupt Pat at all. He just sat there enthralled. This was all new information to him on the Ripper killings. A piece of local history that he had studied, had given talks on and yet he knew nothing of what he was hearing.
Pat continued, “For some reason, and we have no idea why, the police decided to keep samples of everything they found. Maybe they thought that someday what they had collected may be useful in solving the crimes, or maybe they just collected and kept everything for some unknown reason.”
John interrupted for a moment, “Is it possible the police could have known who the killer was, but, because of their identity actually suppressed the evidence so they could never be brought to justice. If you think about it Pat there was some very high profile suspects. In one instance about as high as you can go.”
“At this stage, John, anything is possible. Whatever their reasons for doing what they did, just be glad.” Pat continued,” I spent most of the early hours of this morning searching through the Jack the Ripper evidence boxes looking for a good sample of the ripper’s blood. In one of the boxes I found a good sized piece of cloth. Looks like it may have been a shirt or something similar. I know it’s old and the blood has dried up and it’s a long shot, but I think. No, I hope, that a DNA match can be made against a test sample. If the two samples do match then there is absolutely no doubt that Jack the Ripper is responsible for the killing the other day.”
Now it was John’s turn to look around, “You have a test sample of the murderers’ blood from the Suzie Reeves murder?”
Pat grinned and raised his glass, “Of course my boy. You’re not the only one with a bit of influence in certain places. Anyway, there was that much the police will never miss the drop that I’ve got.”
“You hope” said John.
“Don’t worry; it can’t be traced back to me. Besides have you any idea how many pieces of evidence are misplaced every year?”
John looked at his empty plate. “I’ve no idea where that went,” he said, but I’m still hungry.”
“So am I.” answered Pat. He caught Shirley’s attention. She came over straight away. “Looks like you two gentlemen were hungry. Not many finish a ‘Mixed Grill De Lux Special.’ Would you like the desert menu?”
“Please.” said John.
The menus appeared and before they had a chance to look through it Shirley recommended the black forest gateaux. “I’ll make sure you