The Case Of The Berkshire Hog, Robert F. Clifton [books to read to be successful .TXT] 📗

that he was dead,” asked Filmore.

“Cause I’m not stupid. His head was bashed in and he was laying in a pool of what I considered to be blood. His blood, although it was black in color and almost dry.”

“Excuse me Sergeant, may I ask if you took any samples of what you considered to be the victims blood?,” asked Basham.

“Certainly. That was done by Detective Chambers. As I recall he took scrapings of what he considered to be dry and then three cotton swaps in the places where it was still wet or I should say, semi-wet.”

“What did you do with those samples, may I ask?,”said Basham.

“They were listed in my reports and eventually sent to the Criminal Analysis Laboratory,”Draper answered.

“Do you know which laboratory?”, asked Alistair.

“Seems to me I recall that it was sent to the yard”, Draper replied.

“You mean Scotland Yard,” Basham indicated.

“Yes.”

“Thank you. Please continue”.

“Then, as I recall I noticed something in part of the black, dry, pool of blood. First, I was able to identify what appeared to be and eventually turned out to be a partial rubber heel print. The heel print turned out to be a valuable piece of evidence if you was to ask me,” Draper boasted.”

“How so”, asked Basham.

“Cause we was able to trace the heel print to the cobbler in Chelmsford that had repaired the boots of one Silas Mercer,”Draper explained.

“And from that you developed the opinion that Silas Mercer was the killer?”, asked Basham.

“That and other things”, Draper replied.

“What other things?”, Alistair asked.

“I also found three hairs next to the heel print. Of course we took the hairs as evidence and had them analyzed. Turns out they was hog hairs. Not only was they hog hairs but hairs of the Berkshire breed. Now, I asked myself. Who had a problem with Fleming. The answer, Silas Mercer. Who had rubber heels that matched the print in the dry puddle of blood? Silas Mercer. Finally, who raises Berkshire hogs? Once again, Silas Mercer. Putting all of these facts along with evidence I figured I had probable cause to arrest Mercer. Which I did. What I testified to in court is just what I have told you here today. I was positive then and I’m positive now that Silas Mercer struck and killed

Roger Fleming,” said Sergeant draper.

For several minutes there was complete silence in the room. Then, Basham asked, “What with?”

“What? What do you mean what with?”, asked Draper.

“If you say that Mercer struck and killed Fleming what did he strike him with? So far you haven’t made reference to any weapon. So, I ask you again. What with? A spade? Rolling pin? Club? In fact Sergeant, did you ever find the murder weapon?,”asked Basham.

“Actually no. We did construct a search of the fields of both farms looking for what we thought was a club, but found nothing”, Draper explained.

“I see. Well Mr. Morgan at this time I believe there isn’t anymore that the Sergeant can contribute. Unless you have any questions sir”, said Basham.

Basil Morgan shook his head. “No. And allow me to thank you for coming in to meet with us Sergeant. I’m sorry I had to pull you out of your retirement in order to answer some of our questions, but I appreciate you coming in to see us,”he said.

“No problem counselor. It felt good getting out and about. I’m glad I could help. Now, I’ll have Archie here push my old arse back to the motorcar and if it doesn’t rain enjoy the ride home.”, Draper responded.

After Draper left Morgan turned to Basham and said, “Well? What do you think?”

“Off hand I can see how the jury was swayed with the evidence presented in court. Sergeant Draper although he collected, preserved, and protected evidence did what many police officers tend to do, jump to conclusions,” Basham replied.

“Do you mean that there is still doubt that Mercer killed Fleming? From what I just heard it appears that the Crown’s case was very solid,” said Morgan.”

“Sorry to interrupt you gents, but I have to go to the loo,” said Fillmore.

After the private investigator left the room Morgan asked Basham, “What do you think of Fillmore?”

“Not too much. Still, there will probably be a need for someone to do leg work. Better keep him for awhile at least,” Basham answered.

“Is there anything else you need Doctor?”

“Yes, I noticed that you have two legal aids. I assume one of their duties is to research cases of law. Am I correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good I’ll need one to do some research for me, starting with who in England was manufacturing rubber heels from say, 1900 to 1926. What do you say?”

“I say that you can put Deborah Mitchell on that assignment as soon as you want,” Morgan replied.

“Excellent.”

“May I ask why you are so confident that there is more to this case then has already been exposed” asked the barrister.

“Certainly. Have you been out to the farms?”

“Yes sir.”

“What would you say the distance is between the Mercer and Fleming farm?”, asked Basham.

“Somewhere between a quarter to a half of a mile.”

“Exactly. Now, how possible is it that Silas Mercer walked that distance from his farm to Fleming’s house and still have hog hairs on the bottom of his boot?”

“Not very likely.”

“There you go.”

Later, after arriving home Alistair walked through the front doorway of his home. When he did he noticed two suitcases that appeared to have been packed. “I say, Joyce are we off to someplace?’, he said in a loud voice.

“I’m upstairs love. We’re not. I am. The university called awhile ago and informed me that archeologist have uncovered a ancient, English, Iron Age village. It seems as though they have also found some bones. They want me to take a look at them to see if they are animal or human,”Joyce explained.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A fortnight perhaps.”

“A fortnight you say. Isn’t that a rather long time to look at bones?”

“Look at it this way Love. If you had found bones at a murder scene you would want me to take as much time as necessary in order to tell you what you wanted to know. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“So me taking my time in your profession is perfectly alright, but I should rush to judgment in my profession.”

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.”

“Perhaps, but I do have a point don’t I?”

“Yes, damn it, yes.”

“Good, now I’m sure that you will survive while I’m away. Dine out once in awhile and since I’m taking the motorcar use public transportation. When I get to the location of the dig and get settled in I’ll call you on the telephone an give you the particulars of where I’m staying.’

“Where is this dig, anyway?”, asked Basham.

“Near Plymouth.”

“So, the sea shore. Did you pack your bathing suit?”

“No, I’m going there to work not on holiday.”

“Good answer.”

“Oh, how did your meeting go in London?”, she asked.

“Fine. I found a few discrepancies in what the police did in collecting evidence. I must say that the meeting has perked my interest in the matter. I don’t know if it’s curiosity or professionalism as a criminologist. At the same time I seem to be getting along with Basil Morgan, even though he is a barrister.”

“You and lawyers. You feel the same way about newspaper people.”

“That’s because both professions are made up of liars .”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you”, said Joyce.

“I don’t know either, but whatever it is you better do it before you leave for Plymouth, Alistair answered with a smile.

“Is there enough petrol in the tank?,” she asked.

“Are you inquiring about me or the motorcar?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

Harry Mercer

 

It appeared as though it would be a warm, sunny day as the morning fog was burned off by the rising sun. Basil Morgan drove the 1950, black and silver Bentley Continental towards Chelmsford in Essex. “I say Basil, this is a fine motorcar. A bit more expensive for my wallet, but still a fine machine”, said Basham.

“Why is it that I get the impression that although you act as a man of meager means that you have your money salted away. You probably have accounts in the Bahamas”, Morgan replied.

“Absolutely. As a university professor the Secretary of The Home Office borrows from me. Now, enough about that. Tell me about this Harry Mercer chap we are going to meet,” said Basham.

“There’s not too much to tell. Harry was born in 1920. At the age of thirty one he runs the hog farm near Chelmsford. The farm is owned by he and his sister Helen Bell. Helen is married to a physician and lives in town. As I told you in the beginning when both of Silas Mercer’s children were able, both in age and wealth they began to pursue the innocence of their father for the murder of Roger Fleming. You know the rest,” Morgan explained.

“I see. And, what will this meeting accomplish? Does he have some new information or evidence that will help us?,” Basham asked.

“I doubt it. I’ve arranged this meeting for the purpose of both parties getting to know one another. Hopefully it will open doors of familiarity. Harry can speak comfortably and you might pick up on something as well, once everyone is at ease”, said Morgan.

“A worthwhile enterprise I suppose”, Alistair responded.

Approximately forty five minutes later the wide, open fields belonging to the Mercer farm came into view. Basham estimated that several hundred swine occupied one field and they appeared to be feeding in an open earth trough. “This must be the place”, said Alistair.

“Yes it is. What you see is probably only half of the number of the hogs Mercer owns. The rest are probably younger and being kept in barns,”said Morgan.

“If you say so. I know absolutely nothing about pigs or hog farming”, said Basham.

“Neither did I until I met Harry Mercer. If you look at the fields beyond where the hogs are feeding you will see fields of corn growing. In the other fields Mercer grows soy beans. Mixed together they make up much of the herds diet,” Morgan explained.

“So, Mercer is shall we say, self sufficient”, Basham replied.

“Well, at least when it comes to raising hogs,” Morgan responded as he drove the Bentley up to the farm house.

As the two men got out of the automobile a man, who Basham thought to be Harry Mercer came out onto the porch.

“Hello, Mr. Morgan. I see that you made it alright. How was your drive? Much traffic?,” said the man.

“No Harry. Smooth as silk. Harry allow me to introduce you to Doctor Alistair Basham. He is the criminologist I brought on board to help us in our endeavor. Doctor? Harry Mercer”, said Morgan.

Mercer came down off of the porch and extended his right hand. “A pleasure to meet you sir. Mr. Morgan has told me all about you”, he said.

“I doubt that very much considering the fact that I haven’t told him all about myself. Anyway, the pleasure meeting you is all mine young man,’ Basham replied.

“Come, come into the house. Some refreshment perhaps, coffee, tea, a whiskey?”,asked Mercer.

“Not right now Harry. I think it best that we get right down to business. I’m sure that Doctor Basham has some questions to ask you,” Morgan responded.

“All of which I’ll gladly answer if I’m able,” said Mercer.

Once in the house Basham selected an overstuffed chair in the parlor and sat down. After Morgan and Mercer were seated Alistair said, “According to my calculations you were about six years old when your father was killed”.

“I was six my sister Helen was eight,” Mercer replied.

“My impression then Mr. Mercer is that at that very young age there isn’t too much that you or your sister can remember or for that matter render in our quest for the truth”, said Basham

“Only what we were told growing up by aunts and uncles”, said Mercer.

“Excuse me, but you see that at the time could be viewed as only their opinion,” offered