Condemned, R.C. Bridgestock [most romantic novels TXT] 📗

Annie’s eyes were to the ground as she navigated her way across the grass verge. ‘Can I ask your reasoning?’

Charley held her head high, her focus on the big house. ‘The background information on the Crownest and its occupants is the same.’

Annie’s nod was slight. ‘Makes sense.’

‘The last thing I want to do is waste time by duplicating enquiries.’ Charley fell silent.

‘What’s next then?’ asked Annie.

‘I need to allocate a few from the team to look at the enquiries into the older skeleton; an experienced detective sergeant, plus two others should suffice. The majority of our resources will be required to concentrate on the latest murder victim, in the hope that we will find those responsible alive, to be put before the Court. Let’s not forget, we still have a cold-blooded murderer on the loose.’

At the narrowing of the pathway, Annie stepped back to follow in Charley’s footsteps. There was no doubting her SIO’s determination to solve both enquiries. In order to do so Charley needed to think hard about what she knew of the individuals in her team, their strengths and weaknesses, and who would be best placed in specific roles. Experience would help her to solve the crimes in an efficient fashion.

‘First though, I have to update the Divisional Commander,’ she said. The new Divisional Commander, Bobbie Stokes, was a breath of fresh air in the Division, after his predecessor, the despot Brian Roper, had retired before his disreputable past caught up with him, and he faced getting the sack. When Charley called through to the station, Ruth, Stokes’s secretary, told her that Bobbie was in a meeting, but that she would update him on his return.

Two hours had passed since Charley and Annie had left Crownest to visit Lily Pritchard, and neither of them had heard from Ted and his team, nor Detective Sergeant Mike Blake, whom they’d left behind to monitor the mountain rescue team’s exploration of the tunnel. As she approached the house, Charley wondered if the quickening of her heartbeat was caused by anxiety or by excitement.

At the outer police cordon near the gateway, there were a handful of people taking pictures of the coming and goings. Annie glanced at the uniformed police officer at the gate as the two detectives passed. Neither knew if the photographers were from the press, freelance or other. Not one of them approached the officers, nor did they appear to know the SIO, or she them. It spoke volumes about the reorganisation of the newspaper industry in recent years that the photographers seemed more focused on getting their work used as digital content nowadays, rather than on the printed page. The local paper, the Chronicle was no different, switching as it had to a weekly publication. Journalists that Charley had known for years, including those who had supported her through the incident with Danny Ray, had either jumped ship shortly after the switch to weekly publication had broken, or had been made redundant owing to the restructuring. If her ex hadn’t landed himself in jail, then he would have without doubt been a victim himself.

Even though it was not particularly bright outside, it took Charley’s eyes a while to adjust to the inside when the detectives reached the house. When her vision returned, she saw the search team, emerging one by one from the porthole behind the dining room fireplace, like time travellers returning from a mission. Spilling into the room, the explorers immediately loosened the chinstraps under their helmets, and turned off the lamps. They huddled together in muted conversation. Charley knew instinctively to stay clear when a debrief was taking place. From where she stood observing with Annie, the team’s bright orange overalls appeared to be dry and their boots relatively clean. It pleased her as it indicated that the tunnel was dry.

‘Their eyes looked red and sore. I expect it’s the strain of searching in the darkness,’ whispered Mike. Hardly able to stand still with anticipation, he ran his hand through his hair, his eagerness to hear what the mountain rescue team had to say was tangible. ‘Let’s hope there are no more bodies…’

‘That would be a nightmare, but we’d just get on and deal with it like we always do, Mike.’

A few minutes later Ted Bentley walked towards the detectives. As he did so, he put a bottle of water to his lips and eagerly drained the contents before he spoke.

‘Well lass,’ he said, on the back of a long breath, grimacing as the cold appeared to find a nerve in his tooth. ‘No wonder we couldn’t see the end of the tunnel, it follows a downward slope and divides into two, at approximately what I would say is about twelve foot from the church.’

Charley’s eyes were wide ‘There are two exits?’

Ted nodded. ‘There are. For ease let’s call the tunnel that leads to the church tunnel A, and the other that I believe will exit into the graveyard, B.’

‘You’re confirming to me that one of the tunnels does lead to the church?’

‘It’s without doubt. A bricked-up Gothic-style doorway in the south-east corner, and we heard talking, or should I say we heard something like garbled voices, female ones. At a guess I’d say it was probably you guys making your enquiries?’

Charley’s eyes were wide. ‘You think so?’

Ted nodded, and as he did so, his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. ‘Who else could it have been? There are no more dwellings in that area.’

Charley was eager to share her news with the Ted, ‘I can confirm that our enquiries at St Anne’s revealed the place where local rumour suggests there was a doorway, which leads to Crownest’s tunnel, according to Lily Pritchard who has spent her life there. Knowing where it is located, it’s easy to see where the door would have been, although it is a solid stone wall now. It’s concealed behind a curtain. Lily, it appears,