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

attended Atlantic City High School. Keep in mind sir that it is the middle of the summer and actually the public schools are closed. That makes it difficult to find someone in authority who can gain access to records. We did find someone, another student who knew the boys and that's what we found”.

“What else?”, asked Basham.

“What do you mean, what else?”

“Were they in the same classes together? What subjects were they taking? What extra curricular activities did they do? That's what I mean when I say what else!”, said Alistair, perturbed at Baxter's question.

“I see. Sorry, we didn't think of that. I'll have somebody follow up on that tomorrow,” said Baxter.

“Jolly good. I'll be in touch. My daughter is contemplating another visit to your city. Should that transpire I would like to get together with you and go over a few details. Of course this means a weekend visit and I don't know your work

schedule.”

“Normally I am off duty on weekends, but of course I'll make myself available to you sir.”

“Excellent Sergeant.”

“Will you be staying at the Penn Crest again?”, asked Baxter.

“Possibly, possibly. I leave those matters up to Joyce. You know women, she may be looking for other accommodations. Nonetheless, I assure you it will be in the city.”

“You do have my home telephone number, right?”

“I believe it's on the back of your business card”, said Basham.

“It is.”

“Good, until then I bid you a good day Sergeant.”

“Goodbye.”

At six thirty PM, Friday, August 4, 1950 Alistair Basham signed the register of the Dennis Hotel in Atlantic City. N.J.

“Have you stayed with us before Mr. Basham?”, asked the desk clerk.

“No. My daughter and I visited and ate at the Terrace sometime ago. She found it to her liking and suggested that we stay here on our next visit to your city. So, here we are.”

“Well. I hope you enjoy your stay with us Mr. Basham,”

said the clerk.

“One more thing my good man. My daughter requests that a cabana on the beach be reserved for us. Any problem with that?”

“No sir. I'll make the arrangements and notify you when the reservation is complete”.

“Excellent.”

As Alistair unpacked Joyce stood in front of the large mirror in the bathroom combing her hair. “Tell me Alistair do you intend to call your detective friend straightaway or later?”, she asked.

“After we get settled. I must know however, your plans for us tomorrow.”

“Plans? Nothing unwindable. Actually I thought this weekend was for the purpose of us getting away from university

and to relax. I for one intend to sit in the sun. What did you have in mind?”, she asked.

“Exactly that. I must admit that I'm no sun worshiper. I thought I'd sit in the shade and read your book, “Evolution And The Transformation Of Man.”

“In doing so you will undoubtedly become the third person in history to read it”.

“I doubt that very much.”

“Very well, give me your honest opinion when and if you finish reading it.”

“I shall. Now, if you will excuse me I will call Sergeant Baxter”. Basham turned Baxter's card over, read the telephone number on the back of it and dialed the number. When there was an answer a female's voice came on the line. “Hello?”

“Hello. I should like to speak with Sergeant Baxter please,” said Alistair.

“I'm sorry Alan is not at home. Can I take a message?”

“Indeed. I'm Doctor Basham. Would you tell the Sergeant that I am at the Dennis Hotel, room 414.”

“Yes I will. Thank you.”

“Cheerio”.

“Goodby”.

Noticing that Joyce was in the bathroom again he walked to the large window in the room and gazed down at the boardwalk and then out at the ocean. The water was calm, small waves rolled in then curled and crashed finally running up onto the wet sand. He judged that there was approximately slightly more than one hundred people in the water. Another hundred either lay, sat or stood on the hot sand as an August, summer, sun beat down on them. He turned when Joyce came back into the bedroom attired in a two piece, baby blue bathing suit.

“What do you think?”, she asked as she turned around first to the left, then to the right.”

“I think I finally realize why some blokes go off the deep end and commit sexual assault,” Basham responded.

“I'll take that then as a compliment.”

“And, what if I didn't like it?”, he asked.

“Oh, I packed two other bathing suits.”

“Why on earth what for?”

“No woman wants to be seen in the same outfit particularly on the beach each and everyday.”

“I see. My way of thinking is different you see. As I recall I last bought a bathing suit in nineteen thirty nine. I still have it. Made of wool it is. A gray tank top and maroon trunks. The trunks came with a white belt. When wearing it in the water the wool absorbs approximately five gallons of water which then tends to sink one to the bottom. Rather annoying at times.”

“I bet you look smashing Alistair.”

“I've been told that I have knobby knees.”

“I've been told that my breasts are too small and my bum is too large”, said Joyce.

“Whoever told you that is either daft or a liar,” Basham replied.

“Thank you.”

“No thanks needed. Now, as an old man developing impure thoughts at the moment allow me to change the subject. “To me it appears rather late in the day to go to the beach. At the same time the clerk has not called informing me just which cabana is assigned to our room. If however, you intend to go to the beach I'll call down and get that information,” Alistair suggested.

“That won't be necessary. Tomorrow will be the beach day. Today, I'll spend time walking the boardwalk. I don't assume that you want to join me, do you?”

“No, I'll take a short nap and wait to see if Sergeant Baxter returns my call.”

“ Very well. Is there anything I can pick up for you while I'm out and about?,” asked Joyce.

“Not that I can think of at the moment”, Basham answered.

The next morning at approximately eleven o'clock Basham sat in the shade of the blue, canvas covered cabana. He made himself comfortable in the beach chair and was just about ready to open the book written by Joyce when she said, “ Aren't you a bit concerned that your detective friend hasn't yet to return your call?”

He looked over the rim of his reading glasses and said, “Not at all. He's a police officer. No doubt he got called out for some type of investigation or another. When the bloke is ready, he'll call.”

“Well. I for one intend to lay in the sun. Would you be a good fellow and rub some tanning oil on my back?”. She asked.

“I'll do it, but I want you to know that while I'm doing it, I

couldn't possibly be considered a good fellow”, said Basham.

“Don't tell me that you're turning into a lecherous, old man,” said Joyce with a laugh.

“Turning? I think not. Actually, I firmly believe that I was born lecherous. There you are. Now, could you tell me just how in bloody hell I get the oil off of the palms of my hands?”

“Just wipe them on the towel.”

“Fine, there, now if you'd be so kind I should like to read your written words. Words by Doctor Joyce Hampton, PHD”.

“Enjoy yourself Alistair”.

“By Jove, I think I will. Before I start do you want anything? A drink? A bit too early for lunch wouldn't you say?”

“Yes, we can order later and eat right here in the cabana. I'll probably order a sandwich of some sort. How about you?”

“I say, you didn't perhaps put another bottle of London Stout in your suitcase, did you?,” he asked.

“No dear. I'm afraid that you're going to have to drink American beer. Just let it warm in the afternoon heat.”

“I will, but it's not the same,” said Alistair as he opened the book written by Joyce. He read, “ At this time anthropology and the study of human evolution offers two doors, the Out Of Africa Hypothesis which offers scientific evidence that the animal, man originated and migrated out of Africa and into the rest of the world. The second door projects the Multiple Regional Hypothesis which provides evidence that the different species of man originated in different parts of the world at either the same or different time.”

“I don't wish to appear dogmatic my dear, but one could say that your introduction to your book tends to protect your bum”, said Alistair.

“Do you really think so? By now you should know that I'm not afraid to take on the male, dominating, critics of my profession. I think you are misinterpreting what I wrote”, Joyce

responded.

“Perhaps, perhaps”, muttered Basham.

“Doctor Basham?”

Both Joyce and Alistair looked up to see Alan Baxter standing on the sand in front of the cabana. “Alan, old chap.

How good to see you. Come in here out of the sun. Have a seat,”

said Basham.

After sitting down in a beach chair Baxter said, “My wife told me that you called. Unfortunately Doctor there has been another murder. Naturally, I was at the crime scene when you called. I apologize for not getting back to you at the time”.

“No need for that my good man. Now, this other murder, I hope it wasn't another young lad like the others', said Basham.

“It was. As a matter of fact, it's identical. Death caused by a blow to the head. Body found barefoot, shoes missing,” said Baxter.

“Blimey. What's the boys name and where did it happen, inside or outside?”, asked Alistair.

“Outside. Actually, it occurred in the tunnel underneath the Boardwalk and Virginia Avenue. The tunnel allows motor vehicles to gain access to the boardwalk.”

“What type of motor vehicles?”

“Most of the time it is delivery trucks going to the Steel Pier. At the same time private vehicles use it as do our patrol cars. Anyway, the young man, was Norman Ridgeway, Caucasian, male eighteen years old.”

“I see do you happen to know why he was there in that vicinity?”, asked Basham.

“Ridgeway worked on the Steel Pier. He had a summer job working as an attendant and usher at the Vaudeville and motion picture theaters”.

“Hmmn. If what you say is true, that the tunnel is used mainly for vehicle traffic, then why was your homicide victim,

on foot in the tunnel?”

“Allow me to further explain Doctor. At Virginia Avenue and the Boardwalk there is a pedestrian ramp on both sides of the street end. In the middle is the tunnel. We believe at this time that the killer called the boy either into the tunnel or to at least the tunnel entrance. There, in all probability the victim turned around after meeting the assailant. When he did he was struck in the head and killed.”

“I see. I must say that it is indeed feasible, very feasible”,

Basham replied.

“I was wondering Doctor Basham if you would like to take a look at not only the crime scene, but all of the evidence in all of the cases?”, asked Baxter.

“Before I answer Sergeant. I only get involved in police investigations when I'm formally invited to do so, Basham, answered.

“I realize that sir. I'm asking you for your help.”

“Thank you for asking me. If there is anything that I can possibly do it is to develop a personality profile. Hopefully, that will lead you to the killer”, said Basham.

“When can you start?', asked Baxter.

“Immediately.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

Norman Ridgeway

 

Alistair Basham stood in the middle of the street end of Virginia Avenue in Atlantic City. As he dd he looked left, then right eventually turning around and faced the Boardwalk. “I say, from here I can see the motor car exhibit. Is the exhibit part of the Steel Pier complex?”, he asked.

“Yes sir,” Baxter answered.

“Then from where we are standing that means the Steel Pier is to my right.”

“Yes.”

“Then, common sense dictates that young Mr. Ridgeway, leaving work from the pier crossed the Boardwalk and used the right hand ramp to walk to street level. Wouldn't you agree?”, asked Basham.

“Yes,