The Case Of The Barefoot Boys, Robert F. Clifton [read book TXT] 📗

stop. There are motor-cars in front as well as behind me. I'll keep driving until we can find a place to park. Then, we'll walk back,” Joyce explained.

All the parking places on both sides of the street were taken and as she neared the end of Virginia Avenue she saw the large white sign with red letters which read, “PARKING”. She drove in, then stopped beside the little shed where the attendant stood. After following the attendants directions she parked the Ford sedan next to a black Buick. As they walked out of the lot and on to the sidewalk Alistair turned and looked in the direction they had come from. “I say, it's a bloody long walk back to the one hundred block,” he said.

“Right on, but I suggest that if we are going to do it, we do it now. It is only going to get warmer as the day goes by,” Joyce replied.

After crossing Pacific Avenue the couple continued walking. Finally they stopped in front of a Guest House at 115 South Virginia Ave. “I say, every building on both sides of the street are separated by alleyways,” said Basham.

Joyce Hampton turned and faced a store across the street.

Loud, operatic, music was being played over loud speakers. “Wait here. I'll go over there and see if anyone can tell me where the murder took place”, she said.

Basham agreed and watched her cross the street and enter what appeared to be a dry cleaner and cobbler shop. Approximately five minutes later Joyce walked towards hm with a grin on her face. “It's across the street. It happened in an alley that's between 122 and 124”.

“Jolly good. Lead the way”, said Alistair.

After finding the location of the reported homicide, Basham stood slightly inside the alley. He looked first at the concrete

walkway, then the walls of the buildings on each side of the alleyway. Stepping out of the alley he gazed upon the sidewalk.

“I say, this is interesting,” he said.

“Did you find something?,” asked Joyce.

“Possibly, possibly,” said Alistair as he removed a small penknife from his pocket, knelt down and began scraping a black, substance from the sidewalk. “Blimey, I don't have anything to put this in”, he said disappointed.

“Would an envelope do? I have an old letter in my purse. Could you use that?, asked Joyce.

“Yes, excellent”, he answered taking the small white envelope and placing the black scrapings inside of it.

“Now what?”, asked Joyce Hampton.

“Now we enjoy the rest of the day doing whatever you want to do”, Basham answered.

“Fine, then I suggest that we stroll the boardwalk, take in the sights and if necessary, shop.”

“Come now, we both know that you intend to shop. I subscribe to the theory that the female specie has an inborn gene that frequently is triggered resulting in the need to shop.”

“May I remind you Alistair, that I am the anthropologist, not you”, she replied with a laugh.

As they walked up the wooden incline a cool breeze coming in off of the ocean greeted them. Basham could hear the voices of hundreds of people on the beach as well as the boardwalk. When he reached the top of the incline the aroma of roasting peanuts

made his stomach growl. He glanced at his wristwatch and noticed the time. It was near noon. Then on the wooden walkway he spotted a flock of pigeons all being fed by pedestrians who bought peanuts and pop corn from the Planters Peanuts store. Walking around the flock of birds the couple walked then stopped and watched a man in the large, plate window making

saltwater taffy. Basham noticed the sign stating, “We ship Anywhere”.

“I say, do you mind? Sugar is still rationed at home. I'd like to send a box of candy to my former housekeeper, Marjorie Helms”, said Basham.

“Of course, let's go in,”

Later, after walking outside Basham asked, “What is the attraction of this pier across the way. It appears to built right into the ocean.”

“That's the Steel Pier. And to use the word attraction is spot on. One can spend the entire day there. It is said that they have musical theater, motion pictures, a water circus, picnic area and even a diving bell that takes you to the ocean bottom.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and on top of that they have a visiting orchestra that plays for dancing in the ballroom.”

“Outstanding.'

“Tell me, do you dance Alistair?”

“Not since some German bloke put some shrapnel in my hip.”

“Still, if I wanted to dance would you dance with me?”

“Only after you sign an affidavit absolving me of all ligation should you be injured.”

“Come now, you can't be that bad on the dance floor.”

“Well, in order to prove to you just how bad I am, I suggest that we return sometime this summer and spend the day on the pier. Are you up to it?”

“Of course. As a matter of fact I look forward to it. Next month might be the best time. According to the advertisement on display Frank Sinatra will be appearing.”

“I'll leave the decision making up to you. Now, I'm in the mood for lunch. Are you in the mood for this so called boardwalk fare or would you like to sit at a table and be waited on like a lady?”

“I can tell that it's you that wants to visit a dining room. What do you suggest?”

“By watching the skyline as we drove in I noticed the many, tall hotels. I suggest that we walk until we find one that suits our interest.”

“Fine, let's go.”

After walking several blocks they came upon the Hotel Dennis. There they saw the outdoor Garden Terrace with tables and umbrellas to protect the patrons from the hot sun. “ I say, this appears to be tip top. Does it meet with your approval?”, asked Basham.

“Oh yes, if this is what you want,”Joyce replied.

After being met by the head waiter the couple was escorted to a table situated in the shade created by the tall, west wing of the hotel.

Sipping on a glass of ice tea Joyce placed the tall glass on the table and said, “I'm surprised that you didn't ask for sherry.”

“Why would I? Evidently Americans never heard of it.”

“There's always beer.”

“Try and get a beer that's not ice cold. Once again Americans have a fascination with ice. Whiskey on ice. Beer ice cold. Ice tea. Ice coffee. Besides, I don't fancy walking out there in the sun with alcohol in my system as I sweat all the way back to the car park.”

Changing the subject, Joyce asked, “ Well, now that you found Virginia Avenue have you learned anything?”

“Other than the supposed location of where the murder happened, nothing outstanding.”

“What about the sample you took off of the sidewalk?”

“At this point, merely speculation.”

“How so?”

“At this moment I'd say what I took off of the concrete is rubber residue left from the rubber heels of someone's shoes. It's very possible that the victim after being struck in the head was then dragged into the alley. Yet, supposedly, the victim when found was barefoot. The question bothering me is, why? Why was Charles Beckmen barefoot and if he was wearing shoes, where are they?”

“Have you considered the fact that it's summer? Young people enjoy the beach and the ocean. Isn't it quite possible that

Beckmen might have been on the beach?”

“Yes, but did you notice the distance from the boardwalk to the one hundred block of Virginia Ave? That's along way to walk, especially with bare feet.”

“I see. Will you contact the police and tell them what you found and your opinion?”

“No, right now it's merely conjecture on my part. I only converse with the police when I'm invited to do so. Now, enough about me. How are your classes going?”

“Surprisingly well. Although as usual I am meeting with some resistance with those students who are firm believers of the

Out Of Africa hypothesis.”

“I'm quite sure that you have the information and evidence to support your opinion,” said Basham.

“Yes, of course. I will say however, that I'm not only arguing the findings of other paleoanthropologist's, but I am also presenting my theory as a female paleoanthropologist.”

“And, that's a problem?', asked Alistair.

“Of course. Practically every discovery made by female anthropologist, archeologists and physicians is challenged by the male dominance that occurs in those fields of study.”

“I say, I can see that as a problem.”

“Nonetheless, we sisters of the sciences carry on. We do it with not only stubbornness, but also with facts. In my particular case in supporting the Multiregional hypothesis there are two

outstanding pieces of fossil evidence that actually prove that Darwin's theory of transformation of man is wrong,” said Joan.

“How so?”

“If you recall I told you of Darwin's theory that man transformed from monkeys and apes. Thus, the main attention in research in anthropology began in Africa, because that's were the monkey's and apes are. However, in 1850 in France, the fossil remains of a primate was found. Called, Dryopithecus fontani. The remains of this fossil ape has been determined to be, sub-human. Not in the African ape family.”

“Interesting,” said Basham.

“Do you really think so? Try this. In 1870 in Wyoming the fossil remains of a primate was found. What is interesting about this find is the fact that the presence of the extended thumb was recognized. This allowed for the grasping of tree branches. Along with the skeletal remains were fossils of tropical plants and trees.

This primate was called Nothactus tenebrosus. After testing it is said that the remains are over sixty million years old. Now, if there were primates in Europe, North America and as well as Africa indicating Multiregional placing of primates

who can say that it didn’t happen with the human species of man as well?”

“I must say you are very convincing”, said Basham.

“Thank you. It's a shame that you're not a paleoanthropologist.”

“I have enough problems of my own teaching my theory of criminology. I say, on the way back to the car park, look for a shop that has a map of this city. Do you mind?”

“Of course not.”

Later, on the ride back to Princeton, Joyce looked over at Alistair and said, “You're awful quiet.”

“Sorry about that. I'm thinking about the killer of that young lad. At the moment I can't picture him. What is his ethnological background? How old is he? Then again, how tall is he? I can't know these things without someone providing me with the facts. For instance we know that the young man was killed by a blow to the head. Where on the head?”

“Is that so important?”, asked Joyce.

“Of course. Knowing where the blow or blows to the head

were could indicate many things. The position of the killer when he or she attacked. Was the killer in front or behind the victim.

Blows to the top of the head and the degree or angle of the weapon used could tell me approximately how tall the assailant is. The type of wound in the skull could also possibly tell me how much force was used. Did the victim receive one or more blows to the head. If more than one, which one killed him?”

“It seems to me Alistair that you are acting more like a detective rather than a criminologist,” said Joyce.

“You may be right. I'm sorry. There are times when I get not only involved in a case, but also fascinated with it. Something I'm trying to stop doing.”

“Well if you want to get involved with something try telling me where you want to have supper. We're almost back to the university,”Joyce advised.

“Any place except the school cafeteria.

“ How would you like to sit down to a plate of bangers and mash?”, asked Joyce.

“Don't toy with me woman.”

“Seriously, the place is called Winberies. They serve that dish and the atmosphere is like an English pub. Are you interested?”

“Oh, rather and you bloody well better be serious.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Four

Micheal Woolford

 

On the morning of evening of Wednesday, June 28, 1950

Alistair Basham got up from the upholstered chair in the living room and walked into the bedroom. Once