Basham - Robert F. Clifton (easy books to read in english txt) 📗

Tooley Street.”

“Go on, I'm sure that there's more to tell.”

“Well sir, a few days later the body of a man was found near the bend in the Bermondsey Tube Station.”

“Was he strangled?”, asked Basham.

“No sir. Oddly enough the bloke was stabbed in the throat, with a steak knife mind you.”

“By that I assume you retrieved the murder weapon.”

“Oh yes sir, As a matter of fact we went one better. We traced the knife to the manufacturer Borrows and Williams in Liverpool. The knife had a lot number, sixteen thirty seven. One hundred of the knives with that number were sold to the Tom Thumb Restaurant on Jamaica Road.”

“I see, what can you tell me about the chap they found?”

“ He was identified as one Alford Bennett, Caucasian thought to be about forty years old or there about. He was a former merchant mariner but at the time of his death was working as a stevedore on the East London docks.”

“Let me ask you this. Did you do a complete background check on this chap?”

“Complete? No sir. We do know he liked to visit the pubs and considered himself a ladies man.”

“And how close is Bermondsey station from Tooley Street?,” asked Alistair.

“Approximately thirteen minutes walking, I'd say.”

Mrs Helms interrupted the two men. “Excuse me gentlemen, but the tea is ready. I'm sorry sir, but due to the rationing I have no sugar, I do have some honey if you'd like,” she said.

“Thank you. That would be splendid”, Richardson replied.

As Basham stirred his tea he said, “Did you happen to notice that the three locations you have reported when connected form a triangle. If you draw a line from London Bridge Station to Tooley Street and from Tooley Street to Jamaica Road and then to Bermondsey Station a triangle forms. It appears that the killer or killers might have been apprehensive in leaving that area. Why?”

“I can't say sir. I do know that the next victim, one Catherine Briscoe, age seventy five a librarian was found strangled in the library on Chestnut Way near London Bridge.

This time it was determined that the victim was strangled by the murderer using his or her hands.”

“And, once again all the killings occurred in the same area.”

“Yes sir.”

“Is that it?”

“No sir. The latest victim was one Minerva Thompson, Caucasian, age sixty, a charwoman at the Victoria Street Underground Station. Cause of death strangulation caused by the use of a garrote.”

“So, the killer left the place in which he or she felt safe. Why? It's is possible that our suspect is on the move like the many bombed out homeless of London. Whoever it is is looking first and foremost for a place to live and food to eat. I'd say that the murders are not planned or premeditated. Rather they are the acts of impulsive behavior. That could be a sudden urge or perhaps sudden anger.”

“What you are suggesting sir is that the killer is mentally ill.”

“Possibly, mentally ill, but not stupid. I would say from what you have told me so far is that the killer is a schizophrenic, possible a paranoid schizophrenic. Keep in mind Inspector that I'm not a physiologist and have only studied the fringes of that particular science. I'm afraid that at this time there is nothing more I can add. I hope that I have been of some help to you.”

“You have sir. I hope that we can stay in touch on this matter.”

“It would be a privilege Inspector. Give me your card and I'll give you my telephone number. You'll find me at home most times now days, either tending my garden or raising chickens.”

*************

Mildred Perkins stopped in front of “Darby's Ale House”, a small cafe. She was tired and hungry, hungry to the point that she was becoming lightheaded as she walked the sidewalks. She entered and took a seat as usual in the rear of the restaurant facing the front door. As she waited to be served she sat with her head in her hands. “Are you alright deary?,” she heard someone say.

She looked up and saw the waitress standing at her table.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Just a bit tired mind you.”

“By the looks of you I'd say it's more than being knackered. When was the last time you ate a good meal?”

“It's been awhile. Perhaps you could bring me a cup of tea and two biscuits.”

“You need more than that my lady. Tell the truth. How much dosh (money) do you have and don't be lying to me.”

“I'm down to two pounds and three shillings.”

“Tell you what. How about I bring you a plate of bangers, bubble and squeak?” (sausage, cabbage and vegetables)

“I can't afford it.”

“Ain't no one going to charge you. You eat what I bring you along with a cup of tea and some bread. If and when you get your strength back you'll be good to go.”

“Isn't there some way I can repay you for your kindness?”

“Well, if you're so inclined you can stash your things in the kitchen and wash a few dishes, pots and pans, how's that?”

“Thank you Miss?”

“Names Betty. Betty Darby. The real names Elizabeth, but I prefer Betty. I own and run this ramshackle joint. It ain't much, but it pays the bills and keeps a roof over my head.”

“Thank you again Betty. My name in Mildred. Mildred Perkins.”

“Nice meeting you honey. Now let me get your meal. Take off your heavy coat and relax. I'll be right back.”

About an hour later Mildred felt well enough to stand. When she stood up from the table Betty came to her and asked, “Are you sure you're alright?”

“Yes, it must have been because I hadn't had anything to eat for a spell, Mildred replied.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

The Flat

 

Mildred dried the last pot that she had washed. She placed the dish towel on the rack. She turned when Betty walked into the kitchen. “How did you make out deary, us not being able to

have enough soap it being rationed like everything else? Even the bangers I'm able to purchase is made mostly of bread filler,”

said Betty.”

“I had to stretch what little I used, but I managed,” Mildred answered.

“Good, now let me ask you this. Where do you intend to spend the night?, asked Betty.

“In the tubes more than likely.”

“Tell you what. I got a bloke coming by in a little while. Got some business to discuss with him about him supplying me with some pigeons. If he supplies me with what I want I'll have Clyde, the cook who you met make pigeon pie for the menu. Seems the chap knows where the birds roost at night. After I'm done with him if you want you can stay the night with me.”

“You're willing to do that for me?”

“Why not, the ways I see it I'll give you room and board and I get a dishwasher. What do you say?”

“All I can say is, thank you very much.”

“Don't mention it and don't take this the wrong way, but I believe you could use a bath as well as a bed.”

“Yes, I must look and smell awful.”

“You don't. Upstairs is where my flat is. I find it convenient as well as economical. You'll find a tub with a shower, take your pick.”

*************

Marjorie Helm answered the ringing telephone and after determining who it was on the line and what they wanted she called for Alistair. “Professor, it's that detective chap. Says he wants to talk to you.”

Basham got up from his desk and picked up the telephone.

“Alistair Basham”, he said.

Professor, this is Detective Richardson. I thought that you might like to know that we've made some progress in those so called, subway murders.”

“Really? How so?”

“I'll start with the murder of the librarian, Catherine Briscoe. On the day she was killed there were three workmen repairing windows at the library. One of the men gave us a statement that he saw a young woman, Caucasian, brunet approximately one hundred seventy five cm (five foot nine inches) weighing between nine or ten stone ( 130-140 lbs).

The bloke says that the bird (woman) was a real looker and that he whistled at her but, she ignored him. He also said she was carrying a small case of some sort and a large pocketbook. Further more she didn't appear to be in a hurry, walking normally away from the building.

“I see anything else?”

“Yes sir. In the murder of Minerva Thompson in the ladies restroom at Victoria Street Station we were also able to get a description from a janitor working the platform the day of the killing. He described a woman who asked him why the trains were not running that day. His depiction of the woman is identical of that of the workman at the library.”

“Did you get an age?”

“Excuse me while I check my notes. Here it is, a young woman late twenties, early thirties.”

“Anything else?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Very well. I'll add this information to the file I set up and go from there. Should I come up with anything of interest I'll let you know.”

“Thank you Professor.”

Alistair placed the receiver on the cradle then stood thinking. “ There is almost certain with the possibility already mentioned that the killer is mentally ill. Now, with the description given to the police one must consider the fact that the subject is female. That being so, many questions are added to the problem. Mania of course, impulsive behavior, possibly caused by infanticide or even the lost of a child in a traumatic fashion, such as the air raids. Many insane killers have lost their sanity from much less circumstances. Just a thought. At this time I still believe that the killings are done either on impulse or anger, perhaps both. I'll add it to my notes.” Alistair walked back to his desk and sat down.

******************

Clyde Dixon the cook sat at the table in the kitchen of Darby's Ale House. Seated across from him sat Mildred who looked squeamish as she watched him gut a fat pigeon. Looking at her he said, “What's the problem girl. You look green around the gills I'd say.”

“ I don't like watching what you're doing.”

“What? Gutting the bird? Tell you what. You pulls the feathers off of em and puts them on the tray. I'll take em from there, gut em and prepares them for the pot. Bet that even if you can't stands looking at em being butchered you'll still want to taste my pigeon pie.”

“No, I don't think I will.”

“Better get them now. Soon there won't be a squab left to be feeding on bread crumbs in the city parks. They'll all be et before this war ends.”

“I'll pass. I'd rather have a meat pie.”

“Suit yourself, but there's no knowing what kind of meat is in the pie these days. At least you can see that I'm using a lot of pigeon.”

********************

Alistair Basham walked to the living room windows and pulled the heavy, black drapes together. Satisfied that no light would be emitted from the lamps in his house he walked to his desk and sat down. He then open a book to the pages containing information on “Strangulation and Domestic Violence”. As he read he took notes, writing on a yellow, blue lined, pad. “There are two types of strangulation’s: Manual and ligature. (note- apparently the killer has used both methods-interesting!) However, manual strangulation is the most common. Naturally, a ligature could be anything such as a rope, electric wire, scarf, silk stocking, etc. It is no secret that death is caused by asphyxiation caused by the lack of oxygen to the brain. The carotid arteries, one on each side of the neck carry oxygenated blood to the brain. Once that supply is interrupted the victim falls unconscious and death occurs within four to five minutes. It most be noted that at this time that all information ascertained indicates that the killer had ample time to kill, both in the tubes, libray and flat.

Alistair was interrupted by the air raid sirens