The Case Of The Bog Bodies, Robert F. Clifton [best novels of all time txt] 📗

said Joyce.

“Not much you say. The rate is up a guinea. Not much indeed. I hate to see the menu prices for the pub.”

“I must say Alistair you are becoming a penny pinching disagreeable old man.”

“Why? Because I resent being taken advantage of financially?

When they entered their room Joyce began unpacking

as she did Alistair picked up the hotel restaurant menu and carried it to a seat near the window. “Hummf!” he exclaimed.

“What is it now that bothers you?” she asked.

“ As I recall their sandwiches are up a ten pee from the last time we were here,” Alistair answered.

“Oh my. Can we afford it?”

“That's not the question, The question is why did prices go up in about sixty days?”

“The desk clerk told you. It's summer. Many things happen here in Hesterton. There are foot races, bicycle races,

baby parades and the like,” said Joyce.

“That may be but it is still not a good enough reason to raise the price of a pickle and cheese sandwich ten pee.”

“Well since you noticed the price that must be what you want for lunch.”

“I must admit that I do enjoy that sandwich. Cheddar Cheese is typically British along with a pint of course.”

“Do they have what I like?” Joyce asked.

“They have Coronation Chicken.”

“Excellent. Allow me time to freshen up and we will go to lunch.”

Later, as they sat eating the lunch Alistair took a sip of beer, wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and said, “Now tell me Pet just what do you hope to accomplish alone out there on the bog?”

“I've already told you why I will be working the old site. What I hope to find is artifacts belonging to those who lived here during the Iron Age.”

“Well I would imagine that there won't be anything of interest if you were to ask me.”

“That's what you said in July. Look what we found. It brought you back here again didn't it?”

“You know love you have a way of taking my words and making me wish I didn't say them.”

“Anyway, I shall be on the bog in the morning. While I'm there I assume you will be with Inspector Godwin,” said Joyce.

“Yes but I don't know for how long,” Basham replied.

“Then I guess he will either drive you back to the hotel or you will have a nice walk. I will have the Bentley at the bog,” said Joyce.

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

The next day at mid-morning Alistair Basham sat beside the desk of Inspector Alfred Godwin. “So, as yet this

Field chap hasn't been located,” said Basham.

“No sir,” Godwin answered.

“You realize of course that he might never be found,” Alistair inferred.

“Yes I do. Nevertheless, I shall keep the search for him active,” Godwin replied.

“Have you come up with any new ideas about this case?”, asked Basham.

“As a matter of fact I have.”

“And just what would that be?”

“ This is strictly conjecture on my part of course but I believe that over the course of a few years some woman here about after becoming pregnant time after time deliberately killed her babies. After doing so carried them to the bog and placed them there,” suggested Godwin.

“Perhaps, perhaps. Of course if such a woman did exist after one or two pregnancies with no live offspring about neighbors, relatives or friends would become suspicious. Naturally they would then ask questions. No, my good man even though your idea has some merit keep in mind that so far the bodies of seven newborns have been found. Someone certainly would have asked where the babies were,” Basham replied.

“I have done some research doctor. As I recall many infanticides are caused by the new mother suffering from postpartum depression. Can we consider that factor?”, asked Godwin.

“Normally yes. In this case no. Once again it comes down to the amount of infant bodies that have been found. Infanticide caused by postpartum depression is usually a one time occurrence. I doubt if it would happen seven times without detection,” Basham answered.

“Then I must admit that I'm at a lost of how and where to proceed.”

“Patience young man. Many a police officer has bungled a case by either acting hastily or losing patience. When that happens mistakes are made, evidence is overlooked and witnesses are ignored,” Basham advised.

“Then do you have any thoughts on the matter?.” asked Godwin,

“Thoughts yes. Anything positive? No. However, when one looks at the facts placed before them what do we have? We have the bodies of seven newborn babies in all probability the result of infanticide. Seven that were supposedly killed and placed in the Rose Bog between the years of 1940 and 1945. One then asks what took place during those years. The answer of course is World War Two. What happen then during those years in and around Hesterton? The answer is American Army Air Force Bases where the Yanks had the availability of silk and rayon stockings, perfume, cigarettes and money to spend. Let's assume that many young girls and women were seduced by such products. Nonetheless, immediately after the war returning British servicemen contributed to a large increase in the birthrate of England. Now, we know that not all pregnancies are

welcomed. The pregnant unwed British girl or woman had three choices. One seek an abortion or two deliver the child then keep it or give it up for adoption.

The Child Destruction Act of 1929 deals with abortion which as you know is illegal. However, it is not illegal to deliver and give the child up for adoption. Since we are dealing with seven infant corpses which appear at the moment to be victims of infanticide I am leaning to the possibility of someone, a doctor or perhaps a midwife who delivered these babies at the time of birth, then killed them. The question is why? Was there a disease? Were these babies born deformed? Right now it is difficult to say. My wife has told me many times that all that exists of the bog babies is skin, skin tanned by the chemicals in the peat moss, said Basham.

“Then what do we do?”, asked Godwin.

“Search for a woman, any woman who might have given birth and gave up the baby in or around Hesterton during the war years.” Alistair answered.

“That's a tall order,” Godwin replied.

“No one ever said it would be easy old boy. At the same time you might get lucky and find the old chap that might remember where he shipped blue ribbon from Ashton's,” said Basham.

After Inspector Godwin drove Basham back to the Bridgeport Inn Alistair made his way to the pub. Taking at seat at the bar he ordered a pint and as he took sips from the glass he struck up a conversation with the bartender. “I say old boy are you from these parts?,” he asked.

“Yes sir. Born and raised right here in Hesterton,” the man answered.

“Ah, excellent, then you should know what old gossip has circulated in he area over the years. You see I'm interested to know if you have heard or have any knowledge say of an abortion ring or adoption agency here in town or on the outskirts so to speak. This would have been during the war years,” Basham explained.

“No sir. I was born after the war and like I say I've lived here all my life. Never heard of either such thing,” the bartender answered.

“I see. Thank you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

Evidence

 

Alistair Basham sat at a table with Inspector Alfred Godwin inside the coffee shop of the Bridgeport Inn. “I have some news of Charlie Field,' said Godwin.

“Ah, I take it that you found him,” Basham replied.

“Actually, no but I do believe is that the bloke is alive.”

“How do you come to this conclusion?”, asked Basham.

“We were able to ascertain his previous address when he worked at Ashton's. The Manchester Police looked for him there but he had moved. It appears he moved six months ago. Unfortunately right now we don't know where. Nonetheless. We do have his National Insurance Number. His account is still active indicating that he is alive. What we need to know now is where are the payments being sent,” Godwin explained.

“Brilliant,” said Alistair after taking a sip of coffee.

“Thank you but I still consider the fact that I could be doing more in this investigation,” Godwin replied.

“May I make a suggestion?,” Alistair asked.

“Certainly sir.”

“Begin questioning those members of the city that are aware of what took place in Hesterton during the last war. In particular inquire about the presence of an obstetrician or a midwife who worked during those years,” Basham advised.

“Is that who you suspect?”, asked Godwin.

“It's either that or the women of the area were killing their children during the war,”Alistair answered.

Later, that evening and at dinner Alister asked, “So how was your day at the bog love?”

“I must say uneventful,” Joyce replied.

“So you found nothing. Is that what you are saying?”

“More or less. I did find the remains of a pair of old eyeglasses, but nothing else. Tomorrow is another day as they say.”

“Eyeglasses you say?”

“Yes, eyeglasses. Why?”

“The answer to why is that they might be important. What did you do with them?,” asked Basham.

“I placed them in the boot of the Bentley with the intention of disposing of them later.”

“Are they still there?”

“Yes, of course.”

Alistair got quickly to his feet tossing his napkin on to the table. “I'll be right back,” he said. Walking outside of the hotel he made his way to where Joyce had parked the silver and black Bentley. He made his way to the rear of the automobile and after reaching into his trouser pocket removed a set of keys to the car. He then opened the boot lid and then looked carefully into the interior. After a few seconds he found the eyeglasses where Joyce had placed them. Picking them up he held them gently in one hand as he visually inspected them. The first thing he noticed was that one lens was missing. The second thing was that the frames were made of silver. Next, he noticed the smell of the bog, faint, but present. He removed a handkerchief from his rear pocket and carefully wrapped the spectacles in it. Then he closed the boot lid to the Bentley and made his way back to the hotel and Joyce.

Basham entered the restaurant walked to his table, sat down and replaced the napkin putting it on his lap. He then took a sip of tea from the cup and made a face. “Bloody thing is cold,” he complained.

“Tell the waiter dear. He'll bring you more hot tea,” said Joyce.

“Try and get his attention. They pay little or no attention to your needs but are quick to present you the bill,” Basham grumbled.

“I'll get his attention. Now, did you find the eyeglasses?”, asked Joyce.

“Yes, and if you can tell me just how deep was the peat where you found them?”, Alistair inquired.

“Not too deep maybe twelve or fifteen inches.”

“I see. And the babies, how deep were they in the peat?”

“They too were in what could be considered a shallow grave. I'd say from two to three feet. Keep in mind dear that it takes thousands of years for the peat to get to five to seven feet deep.”

“I understand, however, if the killer or killers wanted to place bodies in the peat isn't it possible that one could dig a grave of sorts, place the body then cover it?”

“Yes I suppose they could. Why do you ask?”

“A few reasons. First of all no one in their right mind is going to just toss the body of a baby on top of the peat and wait for it to sink and be covered naturally. Therefore one can assume that a grave was dug into the peat and the body placed and then covered. Second, since you mentioned that you found the eyeglasses under, let's say fifteen inches of peat it indicates a hasty burial by someone and that someone buried all of the children. Now, let's return to the broken eyeglasses. Why are they