The Green Goddess

By R Nicholls

Who lit the fire at the struggling engineering works? Who is the shy, young 'Green Goddess' in reception? Why is she so frightened of a pair of nuns collecting for charity? Inspector Kirkwall and DC Hargreaves investigate but are glad of heop from 'The Flying Boat Lady' Catalina, the Granny with the Landy, a private 'army' and Kirkwall's dubious acquaintances.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R Nicholls
• Release date: Sep 18, 2019

Book preview

The Second Abbotsbourne West County

Detective Story

Author: R Nicholls

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2019 R Nicholls

No part of this document or the related files may be

reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means

(electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without

the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

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

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Abbotsbourne Books

Chapter 1 - Saturday & Monday

The sky was blue. A warm breeze fluttered the bunting. A gust caught at the young lady’s pretty green summer dress and blew the hem up across her thighs. The children behind her on the miniature railway squealed as her haste to cover up her knees made the carriages rock violently.

Sit still, everybody, please, called Harry, the driver of the locomotive at the head of the little train.

***

The incident had been captured by the regional paper’s reporter/photographer and on Monday a short report of the open day at the engineering works of S. C. Harker was illustrated by a large picture of the miniature railway with its load of laughing youngsters and a young lady passenger struggling to cope with the playful breeze.

Fifty miles to the west, in a rather run down seaside boarding house, a woman in black held up the paper to show her female companion, who was also dressed in black.

Look, she said. It’s that Jezebel! It is her! Shamelessly doing the Devil's bidding. She may have been snatched from us once but we must take her back into our fold. And she must pay!

If it's going to do us much good we need to be bloody quick about it, said the other woman.

***

A hundred miles to the north a man in a dark blue suit also saw the picture in the paper. He looked at it long and hard, mainly concentrating on the girl’s face. He then picked up another photograph and compared it. He gave a thin smile.

***

There was a knock on the door.

I'm glad to have caught you ladies before you go out, said the Barnstaple landlady. But, like I said the other day, I need some money . . . I know all about your vows of poverty so there's no need to start on all that again. And you needn't worry about my soul. I'm an Egoprovidentialist! I provide for me first and any supposed deity can take his place in the queue afterwards along with the Tax Man and the VAT Man and the Council and Uncle Tom Cobleigh. Now, can you settle your bill or shall I get Tom to put your stuff outside the gate?

The leading nun started to protest stridently in well worn religious phrases but to her surprise was drowned out by the Barnstaple landlady in full flow.

All your stuff goes out of the door at eleven sharp if I don't have money in my hand by then! Understand!

The leading nun drew breath to protest but before she could start the landlady shouted again, Eleven sharp! and walked off.

The leading nun let out her breath. "Get the car Sister Steadfast. The West may have fallen but now we must go to Abbotsbourne. That’s where Jezebel is. We must prepare the way. The Pastor can join us there.

***

It was just after noon that there was nearly an accident outside the works of S. C. Harker Engineering in Haminster, near Abbotsbourne. An almost new white BMW swept imperiously across the stream of oncoming traffic as it turned off the main road into the service road to the little industrial estate on which the engineering works was the first business.

The driver of the nearest on-coming vehicle who had to brake, shook his head sadly at the pig ignorance of some other road users.

The white car pulled up diagonally in front of the glass doors of the small factory’s office entrance. The driver , sweeping his briefcase from the passenger seat as he got out, put his shoulders back and strode the few steps to the office door. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The door shut with a bang behind him. The smartly dressed girl receptionist looked up, startled.

Can I help you? she stammered.

The BMW driver looked at her as if he was viewing something disagreeable. Tell Harker I’m here, he said brusquely.

I’ll see if Mr Harker is in, stammered the girl in the grey-green lady’s suit, rather overawed by the cold, nose high expression.

Just tell him I am here! repeated the man.

Your name, Sir? enquired the girl, screwing up her courage.

Cromford! answered the man, And you’d better remember it!

I’ll tell Mr Harker you’ve arrived, said the receptionist and stepped out from behind the curved reception counter to go to his office.

Don’t waste time, snapped Cromford and made to push past her. For a moment or two they side stepped awkwardly round each other.

Out of my way girl, barked Cromford. There’re going to be some changes round here and you’ll be one of the first, he stated loudly as he walked off towards Harker’s office.

The wall of Mr Harker’s office on the opposite side to the door had a large window which looked out over the shop floor of the works. The view was good as the office floor was a meter or so above the level of the workshop. Mr Harker’s desk was at right angles to the window and on the side of his desk nearest the exterior wall of the building was a comfortable swivel chair with padded armrests. Pushed back on the other side of the desk were two comfortable but slightly more modest office chairs for visitors.

Having let Cromford in, Harker closed the office door after him.

When Harker looked round Cromford was settled in the chair with armrests.

I’ve come to do you a favour Harker and take this apology for an engineering firm off your hands! Cromford said.

***

With far better road manners than the last visitor to the firm, a little khaki Landrover with the canvas top removed slowed, double de-clutched to first gear and then trundled gently up into a parking space outside the works. The driver, protected only by the windscreen did not match her vehicle. She was of retirement age. Her hair although not white had faded to a rather mousey colour. She wore a white long sleeved jumper and faded blue ladies jeans. She was of medium height and maybe just a pound overweight.

Behind the Landrover a grey van with the firm’s name on the side pulled into the car park too and paused by the office door. A man in a blue boiler suit jumped out of the passenger side and walked across to the lady who was now retrieving her handbag from the passenger seat of the Landrover.

Hello Granny, called the man. Wanted to catch you - the boss sent me and Tim to Exeter last Friday afternoon to fetch a little lathe he’s bought. Took us a while. Looks a bit funny on the time sheets but that’s what it’s about.

Thanks Colin, said Granny. I’ll remember that when I get to your sheet and Tim’s. I’ll tell Catalina too.

They started to walk towards the offices.

In the boss’s office Cromford leaned back in the chair with the armrests. Right, Harker, he stated. Here are my terms. . . I’ll pay you twice what you drew from the business last month and take this . . . ‘train wreck that’s waiting to happen’ off your hands, debts and all! You can keep your old Ford and we’ll forget about our dispute over those out of specification parts. Do it the easy way now. You can’t hold out much longer.

And if I don’t? said Harker.

We’ll ‘bust’ you and then we’ll get the whole damn lot, machines and all, for nothing. Take it to the wire and get nothing or do it the easy way now?

Momentarily Mr Harker looked a little less tired than usual.

I’m damned if I’ll give my company away! If it hadn’t been for you pirates we’d be in the black with a healthy profit.

Think about it! said Cromford slowly, with emphasis. He stood up and swept his briefcase off Harker’s desk. Take your time. I shall be out of the country for about a fortnight. I’ll call for your answer when I get back.

By this time the Landrover Lady had entered the building and was talking to Ruth in reception. Cromford glanced at them as he strode past. Start looking for another job, he said. He thrust the glass doors open and let them bang behind him.

What an ill mannered man, announced the Landrover Lady.

Yes, Granny, he was horrid when he came in too, agreed Ruth.

It never ceases to amaze me just how ignorant some people can be! said the Landrover Granny. Oh well, she went on, I’d better go and let Catalina get away. She said she was going shopping after lunch.

Chapter 2 - Thursday Morning

The sunny days seemed to have brought out people’s better natures. The office was fairly slack and Inspector Kirkwall and DC Hargreaves had been given the fill-in job of investigating a sexual harassment claim against the local MP. The accusation had been made by Mrs O’Brien, a prominent supporter of the other main party. She alleged that the MP had patted her behind and said, Nice day for a change. The pat could not be substantiated but Mrs O’Brien was able to produce a witness to the MP’s improper remark, ‘Nice day for a change’.

Kirkwall was thoroughly bored with the whole thing and even Hargreaves felt that he was wasting rate payers’ money. Kirkwall was relieved when the first words of the Chief, who had sent for him, were not about the MP.

There was a fire last night at that little engineering works at Haminster, said the Chief. Done quite a lot of damage. The Fire Officer says it was arson - no doubt at all. Get on over there, Kirkwall and see what you can sort out. And take Hargreaves with you, he added.

The sun was shining as Kirkwall and Hargreaves drove over to Haminster. The countryside looked at its best, benign and peaceful. Here and there trailers loaded with hay bales the previous evening were waiting to be hauled off to the barns.

I know this guy, said Kirkwall to Hargreaves. The one with the factory we’ve got to see - well, vaguely anyway. Came to his Open Day with young Lynnette at the weekend.

Wouldn’t have thought it was much in your daughter’s line, Sir, said Hargreaves.

Oh yes, replied Kirkwall. Miniature railway, little boats in a pool, games for the kids - all the fun of the fair. They put a lot of effort into it and it was really good.

They turned into the service road leading to Lockyer’s Feed Mill and various other little businesses and turned again immediately into the car park of S C Harker, the biggest business on the small industrial estate.

The factory was basically a modern rectangular building with its long axis parallel to the main road but all along the wall of the factory on the side nearest the service road was a single storey flat roofed extension containing the administration offices. The administrative block had double glass doors at its centre leading to quite an elegant reception area. ‘S C Harker, Engineering’ it said on the glass doors. Kirkwall parked the car in one of the spaces on the forecourt and he and Hargreaves strolled over to Harker Engineering’s front door.

A few spaces beyond Kirkwall’s car a short wheel base Khaki coloured Landrover was parked. On the other side of the door a lady’s bicycle was leaning up against the wall. It was quite new but of a traditional upright design. It’s maroon paintwork was clean and shiny. The Landrover had been washed since the open day and looked very tidy. It caught Hargreaves’ eye. That’s a Series One over there, he said to Kirkwall enthusiastically.

I know. Lynnette and I rode in it at the Open Day. The lady who owns it drove us over all sorts of humps and bumps, replied Kirkwall. Hargreaves opened one of the glass doors for his boss and they went in.

The reception area had a deep pile grey carpet. Several office chairs of the more expensive kind were placed around the sides of the area. Opposite the doors was a receptionists’ alcove with desk. At the desk sat a young woman with medium length brown hair which kicked up prettily into an ‘open curl’ below her shoulders. Today she wore a white high necked blouse and a string of dark red beads. The green/grey jacket of her lady’s suit was carefully hung over the back of her chair. Pale brown low healed lace up shoes and the green/grey skirt of her suit could be glimpsed below the desk. A matching green/grey hat hung from a hat stand at the back of the alcove. She had a not unpretty face and although she was young the complete lack of any make-up and her conservative dress made her look older. She looked up. How can I help you gentlemen? she said

Detective Inspector Kirkwall and Detective Constable Hargreaves, said Kirkwall giving her his ID card. We’ve come to see Mr Harker.

I’ll go and tell him you’re here, said the green-grey receptionist softly. Even the telephone isn’t working this morning!

She returned a minute later. He’s just coming, Sir, she said.

There was the sound of footsteps and Harker emerged from the corridor on the left of the reception area. He held out his hand. So glad they sent you, Robert, he said. This is a dreadful business. Let’s go in to my office and I’ll tell you what I can about it.

The view through Harker’s window that looked down on to the workshop floor did indeed make a depressing sight. The double lorry doors at the end of the building, blackened and grimy, had now been dragged open, their mechanism having buckled. The railed off electrical switching apparatus and associated transformer on the left of the door, where the three phase supply entered the building, had apparently been the centre of the fire and was blackened and soot covered. In places half flaked paint still clung to the metal. The few items like notice boards that would burn had burned. It was obviously going to take a lot of expert attention to restore power to the factory. The steel roof trusses appeared to have withstood the heat but some of the transparent panels in the roof had melted or broken. Further from the big doors in the gable end of the building the effects of the fire were progressively less noticeable. The innermost end of the building looked virtually unscathed. Red and white plastic tape stretching across the big doorway and up the side within the factory, restricted the workforce to the vehicle park or the area around the drinks machine which was under the flat roofed extension and untouched by the fire. Of course, neither the drinks machine nor the lights nor anything else electrical was working. Although access to this area was permitted via a small personnel door most of the workforce were standing or sitting around in the sunlit parking area outside. The fire had been long since extinguished but two fire officers remained examining various bits of the wreckage, mostly by the doors.

What a mess! said Kirkwall.

Indeed yes. It’s going to just about finish me, said Harker. And it was deliberate. He went on, The Fire Officer says someone poured a large quantity of petrol under the vehicle doors which are right next to our main distribution boards where the electricity comes in to the building. We use a lot of juice. Most of the machines run on three phase. It’s knocked us right out. We can’t even boil an electric kettle.

Outside there was the noise of a car arriving fairly rapidly in the gravel car park. It scrunched to a halt and the door slammed. Women’s voices could be heard indistinctly as the newcomer and Ruth exchanged a few words. The next moment Harker’s office door opened hurriedly. A cheery female face looked round the door.

OK to make coffee on my camping stove, Mr Harker? she said. I’ll bring you a cup from the first kettle full.

Oh, er, yes, of course. . . Thank you, Harker replied and the cheery face disappeared again. Don’t set fire to the place! he called after her. The Brigade has only just left!

Harker, accompanied by Kirkwall and Hargreaves followed the cheery lady to the next office. The room was similar in size to Harker’s office and also had a window looking out into the factory and there were filing cabinets round the sides.

Seated at the table in the centre of the room was the lady with the Landrover. She smiled, recognising one of her customers from the Open Day to whom she had given a joy ride on the ‘off road’ course. Not got your little girl with you today? she said.

No, she’s not quite old enough to join the force, replied Kirkwall.

This is Inspector Kirkwall and Detective Constable Hargreaves, put in Harker quickly. Gentlemen, Mrs Rudderham and Mrs Douglas. These ladies are our accounts and personnel department. . . I thought you were on afternoons, Catalina? he went on. Mrs Rudderham and Mrs Douglas job share, he added by way of explanation.

Granny telephoned me about the fire and said the electricity was off so I thought you might be glad of the old camping stove, replied Catalina Douglas. Anyway, I thought you might need a hand.

I should perhaps add that Mrs Rudderham is universally, and with affection, known as Granny in the Works, explained Harker.

Meantime, Mrs Douglas had the stove set up on a corner of the table that had been cleared off. She lit it and put the kettle she’d also brought with her on to boil.

Catalina? That’s an unusual name, murmured Kirkwall.

I was named after an aeroplane, stated Mrs Douglas returning Kirkwall’s small smile with a big one.

Twin engined flying boat! said Hargreaves before Kirkwall was able to kick his legs surreptitiously.

Yes, confessed Mrs Douglas putting her shoulders back and swaying her body above the waist in a motion vaguely reminiscent of an aircraft banking left and right while making a sort of 'brm-brm' noise.

She had a tanned complexion and wore glasses with fairly heavy brown frames which matched the glossy dark brown hair that just reached her shoulders. Her bright red lipstick and twinkling eyes made her look a cheery person. At first guess she looked about thirty but this was probably due to her vivacious manner and a more accurate assessment would have suggested another ten years.

The kettle boiled and Mrs Douglas added the boiling water to six mugs already ‘coffeed’ and then added sugar and powdered milk to each person’s taste. Oh, I grabbed up these. Like one? said the aeroplane lady and handed round a paper packet of chocolate biscuits.

Mrs Rudderham took the kettle to refill and Mrs Douglas took the sixth mug of coffee and a couple of biscuits down to Ruth who, with no office telephone, was having a very quiet morning.

Taking their coffee with them Harker led Kirkwall and Hargreaves back to his own office. You see the quality of staff the firm has - the shop floor are the same too. They came in on Easter Monday to finish an urgent job. Their idea, not mine! Ironically, we’ve had so much trouble with that customer I wish we’d never seen the damned job now. But that’s another story. Be such a shame if we have to close down.

Is that likely? asked Kirkwall.

Getting more so by the day, replied Harker nodding towards the devastation outside his window.

What about insurance? said Kirkwall.

There’ll be a lot of delay and that will strain our liquidity and when it’s all settled up it will leave a gap. Money has been tight here for some time. We haven’t had the cash to go in for more than the minimum insurance.

Through the window to the workshop Kirkwall noticed that the remaining fire officers seemed to be packing up. I’d like a word with those guys before they leave, he said.

Kirkwall, Hargreaves and Harker walked down to the front entrance of the offices and from there round to the vehicle park outside the workshop. They stood by the red and white tape stretched across the open lorry doorway. The senior Fire Officer saw them and came over. He and Kirkwall nodded to each other. They had met once or twice previously in the line of duty.

What I don’t understand, said Kirkwall, is how whoever-it-was got the petrol to run into the building under the door when there’s that little round topped ridge in the floor across the doorway to prevent rainwater driving in.

And how did they get it to run round the corner to our transformer and switching bay? added Harker.

That’s easy, said the fire officer. Look here. They made a little hole in the door down the bottom at the side here. He showed them where a little round hole, about 5cm across had been burned in the door low down near