Basham, Robert F. Clifton [inspirational books to read .TXT] 📗

warning the citizens of Harrow to head for the shelters. “Blasted bastards! How can anyone get any work done with these damn, bloody, air raids”, he said as he gathered up his books, and writing materials as he headed for the cellar.

Accustomed now, to working under the adverse conditions caused by the air raids, Basham sat behind a make shift desk consisting of a wide pine board held up by wooden crates, one on each side. To his left on the board was a kerosene lantern that gave him just enough light to see and to write. As he worked, Marjorie Helm sat quietly knitting.

“Now, if Adolf Hitler doesn't mind, I'll try to get back to work. Where was I? Oh yes, the subject of strangulation”, he said aloud.

He began to take notes again. Only eleven pounds of pressure to the carotid arteries for unconsciousness

to occur. This can happen within ten seconds. To completely close off the trachea thirty thee pounds of pressure is required.

Alistair removed his eyeglasses and rubbed his eyes.

“Here now. I've been telling you that working down here and using lantern light was bad for your eyes. Will you listen?

No. Tomorrow morning you'll be complaining about how your eyes hurt and how your head aches. Well I'm telling you right now professor, you'll get no pity from me,” said Marjorie.

He replaced the eyeglasses and leaned back in the chair in deep thought. “With the description given of the woman suspect, her being one hundred and seventy five cm. And weighing nine or ten stone she would be capable of producing thirty three pounds of pressure when she kills. At the same time with knowledge of the location of the carotid arteries, she knew exactly where to place the knife in the throat of the chap they found in Bermundsey Station.

If the man was killed by the same suspect, a woman. All the evidence at this time is that the murder of the stevedore happened in the same area and in the underground. Yet, the Modos operandi is different. Why? Could it be some latent occurrence that triggers her impulse to kill? Let's examine impulse.”

Basham opened a dictionary and after a minute or two found the word “Impulse”. He wrote the definition on his pad.

“Impulse, the influence of a particular feeling. Mental state. Sudden involuntary inclination prompting to action. A psychic drive or instinctual urge. An impelling action of force.”

After closing the dictionary Alistair sat in deep thought,

“ At present all indications are that the suspected female is mentally ill and kills as a result of urges or impulses, both being nearly the same. Something triggers these urges. What could it be?

Most of the victims are elderly women, except for the stevedore.

Why was his murder different? Why did she change from strangulation to stabbing and then, back to strangulation? From female to male back to female?”

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

On Sundays the Darby Ale House was closed. It was also the day that Betty Darby's boyfriend, Algernon Palmer visited the flat where Betty lived over the restaurant. Palmer was born with a club foot and as a result was deferred when conscripted.

He worked as a carpenter and was kept busy repairing structures damaged in the bombings. At the same time Mildred had become wary of Clyde, the cook. She noticed that when he looked at her it was with a lecherous grin. He took any and every opportunity to rub up against her, apologizing after each incident as if his actions were an accident. When he did those things she fought the urges that began to rise in her.

With Palmer, Mildred's dislike for him was a result from the fact that when Betty wasn't in the room he would flirt with her. Most of the time he would tell her what she was missing by not being with him. When he and Betty danced in the living room to a waltz, “One Day When We Were Young”, recorded in 1939 by Geraldo and his orchestra, sung by Al Bowly and played on the phonograph, Palmer would ask Mildred if she wanted to dance. She always refused. What worried her was the fact that Algernon was persistent in his advances towards her. That and the fact that she was hesitant in wanting to tell Betty of his actions. Betty might not believe her.

Betty might call her a liar, just like her mother had a few years ago. At the same time she was afraid that the voices would come back. She hadn't heard them in sometime, but still, she worried that they would come. She knew that whoever the voices were coming from they were there, somewhere, watching, waiting. There were two of them, two voices both feminine. One voice would come when she was in danger. When she heard that voice she became defensive, then combative, striking out at those who intended To hurt her, like those who reminded her of her father and mother. The other voice came to her, softly, giving words of instruction, how to be kind and merciful to the aged women that needed care and had to be put in a place where they would be safe forever.

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

The next day, Alistair telephoned the Metropolitan Police.

When connected he asked to speak to Inspector Richardson. A few minutes later Basham heard, “This is Inspector Richardson”.

“Inspector, Alistair Basham here, might I have a word?'

“Certainly professor.”

“Jolly good. The reason I'm calling is I believe that I might have come up with a solid opinion. If you have time I would like to run it past you.”

“By all means sir please do so.”

“It is my opinion that the female we are looking for is mentally ill. She kills on impulses. Something triggers those impulses. At this time and this is only my opinion I believe she is suffering from paranoid schizophrenia. In her mind at times she is in an environment that initiates the urge to kill. At the same time it could also be caused by anyone who reminds her as a tormenter. I'm suggesting that you check local and near by mental hospitals and see if such a female patient suffering from delusions and impulses had been released recently. The other thing I would offer is to have your witnesses at the library and the Victoria Station Underground brought in and a composite drawing be made.”

“I see. However professor I must remind you that English law has the doctor-patient confidentiality clause. No doctor or for that matter any hospital administrator would risk giving that type of information to the police. Nonetheless, your suggestion about a composite drawing is spot on. I'll get right on that. Is there anything else?”

“Yes, Have you done anymore investigation into the background of the Bennett fellow? And at the moment. I hope I haven't bothered you.”

“No sir, you haven't. As a matter of fact thank you for calling. I have someone assigned to the matter of Alford Bennett and I'll let you know what we find.”

“Alright then, cheery oh.”

“Good day professor.”

After he completed his call Alistair walked into the kitchen. Marjorie Helm looked up from the piece of mutton she was preparing for dinner. “Have you fed the chickens?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

“And did you water the vegetable garden?”

“ Not yet, and I'll tell you why. It just so happens that the arseholes running the rationing program should be drawn and quartered. First, they say that you are only allowed one egg a week. Then they say if you give up your one egg allotment in return for raising chickens they'll give you the feed so they can be fed. Next, they ask you to be patriotic and grow your own vegetables. They even give you the damn seeds. You plant them and guess what? They ration water. A British citizen is allowed only five inches of water in the bath tub once a week. Well, let me tell you something Marjorie. The Germans will never invade England. They'll be able to smell us from the shores of France.”

“Maybe their thinking is that it frequently rains professor.”

Then the idiots ought to know that a drought occurs in England every five to ten years, particularly in south east England. Guess where we live?”

“I know that you've heard it before, over and over, but there is a war.”

I do know this. I'll eat brown bread instead of white.

I'll eat bangers made up of pig fat and bread crumbs. I'll do without cream and sugar in my tea, if I can get tea. I'll even wipe my arse with yesterdays newspaper or brown butcher's wrap, but I'll be damned if I'm going to walk around anywhere smelling like an unwashed Neanderthal.”

“Then you'll not water the garden or give some to the birds?”

“Certainly I'll water. The King's government not only asks me to do it, but recommends that I do it. So, I will do it Marjorie old gal. Not because it's my patriotic duty, but because the law as it stands means I should feed myself, and dress myself.

However, the law also says, I can't wash myself. If I do I'm considered a fascist, one that brings England to its knees. I should be arrested, tried in the Crown's Court and found guilty.

There should even be a public hanging. Just imagine it Marjorie. As you stand in the crowd watching, they bring me out, walk me up the steps of the gallows, I stand waiting for the black, silk hood to be placed over my head. Before they do, they place a sign on my chest. It reads, “Alistair Basham, a saboteur who bathed more than once per week.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

A Real Looker

 

Inspector James Richardson stood outside of the doorway that led into one of the dockside warehouses still standing at the East London Docks. He waited until three stevedores entered, then he followed and closed the door. Once inside he looked at the men and said, “I've already introduced myself to you so just sit where you can find something to sit on. I'll be asking question in reference to one Alford Bennett. I've been told that he worked along side of the three of you. As you know Mr. Bennett was a victim of a homicide in the Bermundsey underground. What we, and when I say we, I'm referring to the Metropolitan Police.

What we would like to know gentlemen is anything you can tell me about Mr. Bennett. For instance, was he married? If so did he have any children? Was he a hard worker or the lazy type? I want to know his likes and dislikes, his drinking habits. Who would like to go first?”

“I'll take a shot at it inspector.”

“Good your name sir?”

“Phillips, Nolan Phillips.”

“Alright, go ahead.

“Well me and him were always assigned to work together.

Most of the time when the ships came in our job was to move the cargo from the ship, to the dock and then into lorries.” He was a hard worker he was. Never seen him as a slacker.”

“Anything else?”

“You want to know his drinking habits. I can tell you that he liked his beer and ale. Never seen or heard of him drinking the hard stuff. Oh, yeah he was a cheap bastard. I can't ever remember him buying a round for the boys at the pub. Far as I know he wasn't married.”

“Thank you. Your name please,” asked Richardson.

“Francis Bellamy, but everyone calls me Frank.”

“Thank you Frank.”

“Anything else?” asked the detective.

“Yeah, I got something. Old Alford considered himself a willy-nilly ( big shot-macho) particular with the women. Most of the time he would end up with a scrubber (working class) , but he liked to try his luck with the society types. I also heard, but I can't say that it's gospel. I heard that sometimes when he had been drinking he'd get rough with the birds (girls).

“Let me ask all of you this. Did you ever see him with an attractive woman, standing about one hundred and seventy five cm. Weighing between nine