Calderhill

By Allan Wood

When you have nothing else to live for, you may have everything to die for. Detective Inspector Bob Buchanan reckons he has been touched by the hand of God. His life-long colleague and friend Detective Inspector Simon Ramsay, on the other hand, has nothing but evil in his desires.

The battle between good and evil comes to an explosive end as DI Buchanan sees a glimmer of hope, a light at the end of lifes dark tunnel. Choosing sides can be difficult, especially when the good are intent on inflicting evil and the evil can be harvested to provide all that is good. Decisions have to be made. Simon and Bob are pitched against each other in their personal vendetta against the community called Calderhill. A community steeped in centuries of tradition. A tradition of selective breeding and cannibalistic practices.

When it comes to death, there is no good way to go. When it comes to survival, any way will do. If a hand reaches out, grasp it, even if it is from beyond the grave.

This is the closing chapters of the trilogy that culminates as Calderhill.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jun 3, 2010
• ISBN: 9781481792486

Book preview

AuthorHouse™ UK Ltd.

500 Avebury Boulevard

Central Milton Keynes, MK9 2BE

www.authorhouse.co.uk

Phone: [phone]

© 2010 Allan Wood. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 5/26/2010

ISBN: 978-1-4520-2082-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-9248-6 (ebook)

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER 1

Detective Inspector Bob Buchanan was in the uncompromising position of being tied to one of Stan Whyte’s kitchen chairs. His lower arms were strapped to the wooden armrests with heavy duty adhesive tape. His ankles were also taped together and secured to the legs of the chair. His ankles had been deliberately tied to prevent his feet touching the ground. He could still feel the blood trickling from the side of his head where the whole of his left ear had been chewed off. His nose hurt like hell, or at least the part of his face where his nose had been hurt like hell. The pain he felt after the additional blow delivered by Whyte’s right fist suggested his nose was now broken as well as being half missing. The swelling was affecting his breathing.

He felt helpless. The last blow from Stan had knocked him on his back. Maybe if he rocked from side to side, tipping the chair over again, and then maybe, just maybe, he could break one of the armrests or possibly a chair leg and get himself free. He had to do something, there was no doubt in his mind this visit to Calderhill was to be his last. He could still hear the muffled chatter from the other room. It was difficult to tell how many there were or what they were discussing. He knew most of the main players and he was sure they had congregated for something special.

There was still blood on the floor where Mary had previously fallen. The bloody streaks still evident from her being dragged unceremoniously out the back door and dumped in the freezing cold. No doubt to keep the body fresh. The pool of blood formed by spurts from her neck wound had been half heartedly cleaned. Limited efforts exerted, more mess to come perhaps?

The kitchen was basic, looked typical of a bachelor’s kitchen, only the essentials were on show. There was a kitchen table, sturdily built to match the chairs. The kitchen cupboards were sparse, an old style kitchen dresser stood against the end wall behind the table. An array of dinner plates filled the shelves. At the side of the kitchen sink was an alarming selection of carving knives all laid out in order of size on a large wooden chopping board. There was a small window over the sink which looked out onto what Bob presumed was the back garden area.

Bob’s perusal of the kitchen layout was momentarily interrupted as his mind wandered, wondering if his severed ear had been inadvertently dragged out to nature’s freezer when the body was removed. A glimmer of optimistic hope flitted through his mind, a chance perhaps that he would be reunited with the small appendage before the rats took it. Or crows maybe, these black bastards will eat anything, they took the Polish chap’s eyes. No doubt they could spot a blood soaked ear from some lofty perch high on a leafless tree. Bastards are probably having a peck at Mary’s eyes right now. Good fucking riddance he thought. He was raised to be kind to nature’s wild life during the winter and always threw out his crusts, Bob never did like to eat his crusts. Sustenance for the common or garden wild life in the shape of a lying, fucking whore should keep all manner of feathered and fur clad critters happy for some time.

Bob dragged his mind back to the reality of his situation. The windowsill had an assortment of bottles and jars, clutter, just clutter, collecting dust. A calendar, hanging behind the door to the sitting room was three years out of date. Maybe time did not matter in Calderhill. By the look of this kitchen, time stood still.

The floor had green linoleum, the colour matching the plastic table covering. Bob noticed there was no cooker, no oven, must survive on cold meals, sandwiches, or maybe raw meat. Toasted bread over the log fire perhaps? His mind was wandering again, headache pounding, resonating through his damaged ear, throbbing and just a hint of nausea. Shirt’s ruined anyway, if I throw up over it, it will make no difference. Must focus, try and listen to the conversation next door. He hung his head in pessimistic hopelessness. What’s next he thought, what’s fucking next?

‘Bit of a shock seeing Mary like that. Sad loss. Annoying that it happened right under our very noses.’

‘It was unfortunate Sadie, but it does give me an idea. Something that could work to our advantage perhaps?’

‘Explain then Jack. Don’t keep us all in suspense.’

‘Well, the whole idea of luring Buchanan was to dispose of him and leave no trace. That would however, without doubt, cause all manner of, please excuse the phraseology Henry, post mortems, investigations and the like, thereby running the risk of some other like minded copper, someone like his partner DI Ramsay, trying to raise his profile and make a name for himself. So, stay with me on this one. We enjoy the fruits of our labours this evening, not quite as we had planned, by feasting on Mr. Buchanan, but, as a first for our little group, by enjoying the female of the species in the shape of Mrs Buchanan. And before we all get over excited, this isn’t a free for all, we limit our dietary experience to preserve as much of the body as possible. No touching the head or the hands, so no finger food for you Gregory. We stay with the upper thighs and main torso.’

‘Sorry Jack, not sure I get your drift.’

‘It’s very simple Sadie. Our friend trussed up in the kitchen took a sizable chunk out of Mary’s neck. There would be no doubt in anyone’s mind that he is guilty of her murder. She, more importantly, prior to her demise, managed to chew off a couple of his facial bits. All in all, what we have here is the mother of all domestic violence, culminating in a crime of passion. Think of it, forensics will have a field day, there is so much supporting evidence, their findings will be a foregone conclusion.’

‘But Jack, we don’t want Buchanan banged up for murder, we want him eradicated, out of our lives forever.’

‘I know Henry; this is where the cunning plan comes in. After we are finished with Mary, we dump her remains in the boot of Buchanan’s car. We dope him up with more whisky and another shot of that very effective ‘date rape’ drug, take them both back down the hill, park in a convenient location, pierce his jugular just below the damaged ear and let him slowly bleed to death. A double crime of passion. A fitting end to this sorry tale of woe.’

‘Excellent idea, where should we dump them? Near the police station?’

‘No Gregory, we dump them at your church, maybe he was coming to repent his sins, maybe he knew his time was limited, it doesn’t really matter. You will find the poor soul in the morning and call it in. It’s so simple it can’t fail.’

‘Sounds like a plan. So, when do we eat?’

‘Can I suggest we blindfold Buchanan, I’m uncomfortable with him seeing what we do? Especially as it’s his wife, you know, it just doesn’t seem right.’

‘Sadie, we have never let relationships get in the way of our ideals. It may have a profound effect on Buchanan, but that effect will be short lived. We should care less. What difference does it make if he is blind folded or not, he isn’t going to be in a position to be a witness against our eating habits, now is he?’

‘No, I just feel that it’s better if he doesn’t see what goes on, he might end up throwing up all over the place and put me off my meal.’

‘Right, I’ll go stick a pillow case over his head and cut a hole so he can enjoy his last supper and hopefully, so can we. Does that sound appropriate Gregory?’

‘Pardon, sorry, yes, I was thinking of something else. Last supper, very fitting, every condemned man is entitled to a square meal.’

‘Is everything okay Gregory? You seem a bit distant.’

‘I’m fine Henry, I was just thinking about the car being left at the church, what about Lizzy? She will wonder what is going on.’

‘You worry too much Gregory. It will be late before we drop the car off. I will do the business and make sure that it looks as if it was caused by his ear getting ripped off. Your Lizzy should be fast asleep when we get there. In fact, you should have a lie in tomorrow morning. If Lizzy was to be first up and about in the morning, that element of shock horror from an innocent party might be just the thing. She would be more convincing than your reserved ministerial delivery that puts folks to sleep on a Sunday.’

Henry and Sadie laughed out loud. Stan was looking for an old pillow case in the cupboard in the back room. ‘What’s all the hilarity in there then, did I miss a joke?’

‘Jack was just reminding Gregory how boring his sermons are.’

‘Don’t bother yourself with what they say Gregory. They are just poking fun. I’ll go fit this hood if you two strong chaps get the meal ready before we have to thaw her out. It’s bloody cold out there tonight.’

‘We better check on the progress of those two coppers, don’t want them knocking the door when we are in the middle of dinner. What did Rosie say they were looking for?’

‘A missing police woman I believe.’

‘I do hope it isn’t our Agnes, why would they be asking round here?’

‘They are coppers, nothing they do makes any sense. That idiot trussed up in the kitchen is a classic example. Ah, did you hear that? Perfect timing, sounded like the garden gate being opened. Right everyone in the kitchen, keep our detective quiet. Stan, get rid of these flat-feet as soon as you can and don’t be inviting them in for tea.’

Stan opened the door before Riley had the chance to knock. ‘Evening officers. Heard the gate, thought it was my neighbours. I’m expecting a couple for dinner tonight. How can I help you? Bitter out there tonight. What brings you out on a night like this?’

‘I’m Police Constable Riley, this is Police Constable Wheeler. We found a car in the river this morning, down near the bridge and it belongs to one of our police women. We are trying to establish her whereabouts and whether or not she visited folks here yesterday evening or early this morning.’

‘Her whereabouts you say? No sign of her then?’

‘We believe she managed to get out of the vehicle unhurt, but strangely there are no tracks to tell whether she managed to get back on dry land. The car was only half in the water, so she should have managed fine, unless of course she was disorientated, or maybe concussed after her accident.’

‘Well we don’t get many police folks up here, so I wouldn’t know if she had been visiting anybody. I take it she wasn’t on duty then?’

‘Sorry, but we can’t say anything more, you wouldn’t know anyone she may have been visiting in these parts.’

‘As I said, we don’t get many visitors up here, especially not policemen, or police women for that matter. If there is nothing more, I’d like to get this door shut and keep the heat in. Close the gate on the way out, will you?’

‘Of course, thanks for your help. Sorry, I meant to note your name, just for the record.’

‘Stan, Stanley Whyte.’

‘Mr Whyte. One of our Detective Inspectors mentioned having met you before. He had good words to say about you. Thanks again for your help.’

‘Thanks, give him my regards, careful going down that hill.’ Stan watched the two coppers close the gate behind them and cross the road to the patrol car.

‘Have they gone then?’

‘On their way in ignorant bliss.’

‘Good, let’s get the meal on the table. Gregory, are you a breast or a leg man?’

‘White meat for me Stan. Given the choice that is. Hopefully there will be enough to go round.’

Henry and Jack brought Mary’s body back into the kitchen and laid it on the kitchen table. The colour had long drained from her face; her eyes were still opened wide, staring into blackness. Her mouth was twisted in some silent final scream, her expression captured in time, preserved in death when her blood poured from the neck wound just a couple of hours before. Frost particles had formed on her hair and forehead and were now starting to melt, strangely forming imitation beads of sweat, slowly gathering and running down into her open eyes, creating glistening pools of tear drops, portraying a lifelike sadness and reflection on her untimely demise. Jack unbuttoned the blouse and pulled it away from the body to reveal the pale nakedness of her upper body. A silver chain hung round her neck, the small pendant nestled between her motionless breasts. A Saint Christopher, the Patron Saint of Travel. Her final journey would have no need of such patronage.

Gregory reached over and held the small silver medallion in his hand. ‘How fitting this is. Saint Christopher was one of the Fourteen Holy Helpers, whose collective intercession was effective against various unthinkable diseases of their time. As much as my teachings would have me believe in the power of praying on behalf of another, alas I am resigned to the fact that neither my God, nor any others out there can bring an end to the suffering of mankind. Plagues and pestilence cannot be overcome by prayer alone. Faith will help. Faith in our wonderful medical companions who strive unselfishly to find the cure. If I may, a short prayer is called for before we feed once again on one of our own.’

All nodded in silent agreement. Bob did nothing.

‘At times like these when religious differences can cause further anguish and pain, we assemble here in anonymity to say farewell to Mary. While we know that all who are in Purgatory will enter into Heaven, we are still bound by charity to try to lessen the suffering of the Holy Souls through our prayers and deeds. While our first responsibility is to those people we have known, it is important to remember in our prayers those souls who are most forsaken. Mary came back into our lives for such a brief time before she was again taken from us. By feasting on her flesh and blood we embrace transubstantiation, her symbolic giving of bread and wine into the body of Christ in this symbol of receiving the Eucharist. May God show mercy and prepare a place for her beside him. Amen.’

‘Amen.’

‘You did say breast Gregory?’

‘Yes Jack, thank you.’ Jack carefully and somewhat respectfully started to carve slices from the underside of the breasts. Henry pushed her skirt up above her thighs. ‘Who wants first slice from the inner thigh, now doesn’t that look tasty?’

Buchanan sat motionless, listening, disbelieving, not really sure what game was being played.

‘Buchanan, eat this, it will do you no harm.’ Henry shoved a slice of flesh into Bob’s mouth. ‘Eat it or I will shove it down your throat with this knife.’ Henry placed the blade against Bob’s neck. ‘Feel that Buchanan, that’s a carving knife on the outside of your throat; imagine the feeling on the inside.’ Bob started to chew.

Sadie started to carve for herself. ‘She was a lovely looking girl, she obviously looked after herself. ‘Can I just have a little from the inside? The flesh is a bit dry for me, a drink would be nice.’

Riley and Wheeler sat in the car, giving the engine several minutes to warm up. ‘That car parked near Stan’s house, do you recognise it?’

‘Now that you mention it, yes, looks very like that four-by-four that the woman who runs that high class hooker joint drives. Can’t see the registration, there’s snow on the plate, can’t make it out.’

‘Remember when we went to see the Barclay woman, well she was one of the passengers along with the reverend the day Bob Buchanan’s wife was taken. If that is the car, then it begs the question, who is she visiting up here? We can tell Bob when we get back, we should be tailing these people. Somewhere, somehow, one of them would lead us to Mary. Poor Bob, this must really be taking its toll on him, as if he didn’t have enough on his plate at the moment.’

‘Well this was a wild goose chase, it’s now nine thirty on a cold bloody Tuesday night, no one has seen anything, no one home at Blake Farm, no Miller. Let’s get back.’

‘Poor Snowflake, she will be desperate to get out. Drop me off at home if you don’t mind, our Detective Inspectors won’t be at their desks at this time of night.’

It was very early on Wednesday morning, one fifteen and the town was asleep. The roads were deserted. Flurries of snow caught on swirling winds provided some additional cover to the clandestine approaches of the two cars as they neared the Kerse Church gate. There were no welcoming lights in any of the surrounding buildings windows. The church and manse were in darkness. The respective drivers switched off their car lights and coasted to a halt outside the church gate. Jack was driving Bob’s car. Bob was completely unconscious in the passenger’s seat, no more need for the hood. Hidden in the boot of his car were the grotesque remains of a body, ravaged as if by a pack of wild animals.

Jack’s own car was being driven by Sadie, Gregory was her passenger. The plan was simple. Push Bob’s car half way up the church driveway, less chance of disturbing anyone. Pull Bob into the driver’s seat, puncture his artery just below the missing ear and let him bleed to death. Jack would run Sadie home. She will have to retrieve her own car the following day from outside Stan’s. A perfectly simple plan. Gregory will tuck in behind Lizzy and make sure she is up and about before him in the morning. A tragic loss to the community, this fine upstanding officer taken to breaking point, the system was to blame. He snapped, one straw too many. Perfect.

Less than half an hour had passed when both Lizzy and Gregory were woken by wailing sirens. Orange and blue flashing lights could be seen through the bedroom curtains. Gregory leapt out of bed, his heart was pounding. He opened the curtains to a scene of bedlam on the church driveway. Two ambulances, four police cars, unmarked vehicles with blue flashing lights. One fire tender was positioned just outside the church gates. Neighbouring lights were on, all watching the drama unfolding before them.

Gregory felt sick; he couldn’t imagine what had alerted the authorities. Lizzy was sitting up in bed, waiting for some commentary from Gregory as to what was going on. Had there been an accident? Was there a house on fire? Is the church okay?

‘Stay in bed Lizzy, I will go and see what is happening. Don’t worry; it’s nothing to do with us.’

There was a loud banging on the manse door. Gregory put on his dressing gown and slippers. Need to be calm he thought, think clearly. Gregory slid open the two large deadbolts, unlocked the large door with the wrought iron key and swung the manse door open. There seemed to be uniforms everywhere. An ambulance was parked right next to the driver’s side of the abandoned car. One medic was in the passenger seat attending to what looked like a casualty slumped over the steering wheel. The game needed to be played, no matter what.

‘My goodness officer, what in heaven’s name is going on? Has some poor fellow crashed? How did he end up in my driveway?’

‘I’m Detective Inspector Simon Ramsay; we may have met before at some time, right now my powers of recollection seem to have left me. Did you hear anything earlier, anything at all that may have to do with what is presently happening on your driveway?’

‘Absolutely not, this is a very quiet neighbourhood. These old buildings are well soundproofed, we don’t hear much when we are tucked up inside.’

‘Is there anyone else in the house?’

‘Yes, of course, my wife is in bed, we both had an early night.’

‘An early night you say?’

‘Well yes, we normally retire early; around ten maybe, read the good book for a while, then it’s lights out. Is there anybody seriously hurt out there? Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘There is one thing puzzling me.’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, you and your wife were both in bed early, you didn’t hear anything, yet the emergency call came from your number. The emergency services log the telephone number, and it was yours. The call was made just after one thirty this morning, the caller was female.’

‘There must be some mistake Detective Inspector. There’s only me and Lizzy and she can’t speak, hasn’t done for years, so you see, it just isn’t possible.’

‘That’s as maybe, but someone called, gave this address, your telephone was used, the message was ‘help me, help me’ twice, then they hung up. We thought it was a prank until we checked the number and realised it was your good self. Whoever made that call saved a man’s life tonight. Another half an hour and the medics reckon he would have been a goner. It’s still touch and go, but at least he is breathing.’

‘He’s alive then?’

‘Just. He’s been in the mother of all wars with something or someone. God only knows how he managed to even drive. We will be doing a full forensic search of the grounds in the morning, until then no one goes wandering, it’s off limits. Don’t suppose you have a telephone extension in the church do you?’

‘Yes, of course, there is one in the vestry, why?’

‘It takes two to get into the level of grievous bodily harm he was subjected to. His assailant could have been the caller, she was asking for help. There was a mean looking carving knife lying on the passenger seat, someone else may be dying round here. I need to get into the church and have a look round, would hate to think the other party is bleeding all over your pews.’

‘I’ll unlock the door; the light switches are all behind the main door.’

‘I would think if it was me that was in danger or needed help, I would be banging on your door and windows, I wouldn’t be trying to find my way into a church on the off chance there is a phone. What do you think Reverend?’

‘I’m sorry; this is all very strange, I just don’t know what to think.’

‘Well Reverend Higgins, it is very strange, because the man in that car was Detective Inspector Bob Buchanan, a man you know well enough. He was only here a few days ago, on Saturday morning to be exact, discussing all manner of strange things. And now he turns up half dead on your doorstep. I would certainly call that strange. Just give me the keys of the church, by the way, that’s also off limits until I say different.’

Simon headed back the fifty yards down the drive to check on the medics’ progress. Bob had been lifted out of the car and was being stretchered into the rear of the ambulance. ‘How is he?’

‘He’s lost a hell of a lot of blood, he’s unconscious and his pulse is dangerously low. We need to get him back to the hospital now. If you can check his records for his blood type that will save us a few precious minutes. Call it in to the hospital emergency. Theatre staff are already on standby, we need to get going.’ The ambulance took off at speed escorted by one of the traffic cars. The contract car transporter stood by waiting for clearance to lift Bob’s car. Two officers were carefully fitting the green plastic cover to protect the car during loading, transport and unloading at the police compound. The car would be subjected to a full forensic investigation in an endeavour to ascertain who the other parties were and where and when this heinous crime took place. Simon was trying to stay calm and focussed. So far this was not a murder investigation, so far there was nothing to suggest it had anything to do with the case they were both up to their necks in. So far nothing was going according to plan.

‘Constable, come here please.’

‘Sir.’

‘Come with me lad, we need to have a look in the church.’ Simon unlocked the church door and walked into the darkness. ‘Light switches are behind the door lad, put some on will you?’

‘Have a look in there lad, see what’s behind that door, I’ll have a wander down the aisle here and see if we have any unwelcome parishioners in out of the cold.’

Gregory watched from the window. As the two men entered the church, he hurriedly called Henry.

‘Henry. Sorry for calling you this late, it’s Gregory. We have a problem.’

‘What do you mean we have a problem? I thought you and Jack had it covered?’

‘All hell has broken loose, police, ambulance, fire brigade, they are all here, responded to an emergency call, they arrived just half an hour after Jack and Sadie left.’

‘Shit. You must have some real nosey nocturnal neighbours down there. Still, makes no difference, the end result will be the same.’

‘Not exactly.’

‘Sorry Gregory, what do you mean by not exactly?’

‘Buchanan is still breathing.’

‘Fuck. Does Jack know?’

‘No, I was just about to call him, what should we do?’

‘Do nothing and keep calm, I will talk to Jack.’

‘There is another problem. The police reckon the call was made from the manse phone. That’s not possible.’

‘There’s only you and Lizzy there right? So how can the call have come from the manse?’

‘That’s the point, it couldn’t have. But there is an extension in the vestry, a couple of the coppers are checking it out now. This really is upsetting; there could have been a witness. The whole grounds are off limits until they conduct a search in the morning. I’m getting worried.’

‘Just settle yourself, there is no way any of us can be implicated in this apart from the small matter that Buchanan is still breathing. Have they discovered Mary’s body yet?’

‘I don’t think so. They have wrapped the car in some sort of plastic and are lifting it onto a trailer as we speak.’

‘So it’s down to Jack to monitor the situation at the hospital. It’s quite simple, Buchanan must not regain consciousness. I’ll call Jack now. You act like a concerned Reverend just like you are supposed to. You can handle that can’t you?’

‘Yes, yes of course I can. Keep me informed. We could do with Miller showing up to keep track of the developments with the car. As soon as they open that boot it will be hell on earth for somebody and hopefully none of us.’

‘As of now, we keep a low profile, no contact unless absolutely necessary. I’ll let Sadie and Stan know after I have spoken to Jack.’

Meanwhile on the fourth floor of a block of flats overlooking the old sewage treatment works.

‘What did you tell your wife? She must have wondered why you were getting a strange call so early in the morning.’

‘I told her there had been an accident at the orphanage. As one of the benefactors, and being the Chief of Police, my number was at the top of the list.’

‘Why the orphanage? Why not some routine police business?’

‘She takes little interest in anything I do, but even less when it comes to the orphanage. Her hormones won’t allow her to think anything remotely to do with children. Less chance of questions from her. Anyway, we were all worried