The Case Of The Barefoot Boys by Robert F. Clifton (portable ebook reader txt) 📖

there he answered the ringing telephone on the desk. “Hello?”, he said.

“Alistair, I don't know if you have heard, but there was another killing in Atlantic City,” said Joyce Hampton.

“When you say another, was it like the first?, he asked.”

“I believe it was exact in that the victim was a teenage boy.

He was found in an alley on the steps of the Penn Crest Hotel. He was barefoot, just like the other lad.”

“The Penn Crest Hotel you say. Do you happen to hear just where the hotel is located?”

“No. Perhaps the hotel is listed on that map you bought on the boardwalk.”

“Jolly good idea. I'll take a look see. By the way where did you get this information?'

“It was on the telly about thirty minutes ago.”

“I see, well if we're still on for the July trip to the shore I shall look into the matter.'

“About that Alistair we still have to make arrangements for where we intend to stay.”

“Well, it's my understanding that this July fourth holiday is a big to do here in the United States. Something about breaking away from Merry Olde England back in 1776. If King George had been sane at the time we'd still have the colonies. Oh well. Look into reservations at the Penn Crest. By now the notoriety of the place should be enough to keep patrons away.”

“What about sleeping arrangements”,? Asked Joyce

“Ask for twin beds. If none are available one of us sleeps under the covers the other sleeps on top of the covers”, Basham replied.

“For me to have to sleep on top of the covers I must have your word that you'll be a gentleman.”

“No problem. Also you should be aware that one can't put a marshmallow in a piggy bank”.

Later, on Friday, June 30, 1950 Alistair and Joyce unpacked in their room at the Penn Crest Hotel. As Basham was placing his folded pajamas into the chest of drawers Joyce said,

I saw you talking to the desk clerk. Would you mind telling me what the conversation was about?”

“Certainly, we spoke about the accommodations. I requested a room with twin beds. I had noticed when checking in that the desk clerk gave us a telling look. To protect your reputation I informed him that you were my daughter.”

“And, he believed you?”

“Do you or do you not see twin beds?”

“Yes.”

“That, plus the fact that I'm sixty eight years old must have verified what I told him. And, here we are.”

“Thank you. Now, what are you going to do?”, asked Joyce.

“While you're unpacking I shall be outside examining the alley way and side steps of this hotel. Hopefully, I might just find something.”

“Isn't it surprising that both murders happened only a block apart?,” asked Hampton.

“Nothing surprises me anymore. However, it could possibly have some bearing on the case.”

“How so?”

“I'm not quite sure as yet. Nonetheless, as flimsy as the current information presents itself, it is possible that the assailant was aware of the path that each victim took and was able to lay in wait. Now, if you'll excuse me I will be in the side alleyway.”

The Penn Crest Hotel was located in the beach block of Pennsylvania Avenue. At thirty five minutes past noon Basham walked out of the lobby and stepped onto the sidewalk. When he did the warm, summer sun combined with the aroma of salt water coming in from the ocean and carried on a slight breeze greeted him. He stopped and stood still, looking at various buildings and alleyways. All were practically identical to those he had seen on Virginia Avenue a couple of weeks before. Satisfied, he turn to his right, walked up to then entered the alleyway belonging to the Penn Crest. He moved slowly looking, searching hoping to find something, anything that might be relevant to the current homicide. Finding nothing he moved then to the steps of the side porch and entryway that led into the hotel. “Probably the service entrance. Good for arriving employees and delivery people”,he thought to himself. He turned when he heard a male voice.”

“Do you mind telling me just what the hell you're doing?”, asked a tall man who Alistair immediately assumed was a police officer.

“Actually, I don't mind at all. I and I assume that I, like you are perusing what I believe is a crime scene, officer, officer?”

“Baxter, Alan Baxter, Atlantic City Police Department.”

“Ah, jolly good. I am Alistair Basham currently in the position as Professor of Criminology, Princeton University”, Basham answered offering his hand in friendship.

As the two men shook hands Baxter asked, “How did you know I was a cop?”

“Tone of voice old chap. In certain situation police officers tend to be somewhat arrogant when speaking to a citizen.”

“If I seemed to be arrogant I apologize.”

“No need my good man. Now, I must admit that I'm interested in this and the other homicide. Both victims being adolescents and both killed in the same manner and found barefooted.”

“True. Have you come up with a solution?, asked Baxter.

“Oh no. If I did I'd probably keep it to myself. I'm not one to place my nose in a place it doesn't belong, you see.”

“Then, let me put it another way. Have you found anything of interest, as a criminologist not as someone sticking their nose into a police investigation?,” asked Baxter.

“Now that you ask, I did find something in relation to the homicide on Virginia Avenue”.

“And just what would that be?”

“Why don't we go up onto the porch, take a seat in the rocking chairs and while you wait comfortably I'll got to my room and get what you might find interesting. I'd invite you to the room, but my daughter might be in a state of undress and that would be embarrassing. I shall return shortly.”

Ten minutes later Basham returned and seeing two empty

chairs away from the other patrons seated on the porch said, “I suggest that we move to the far side, over there where we can talk without being overheard by those present. Say what?”

After the two men sat down, Basham handed Baxter the white envelope.

“What's this?”, asked the detective.

“That is the scrapings I took in front of the alleyway reported to be the crime scene in the Beckmen homicide. At this time I believe that it is the rubber that was removed from the heels of Beckmen's shoes as he or I could say, as his body was dragged back into the alley out of sight of anyone passing by.”

“It's an interesting theory. However, our Crime Scene people did not report seeing any such thing on the sidewalk. At the same time anyone before or after the murder could have left the marks”, suggested Baxter.

“True, but we both know that people overlook things. In particular the small, minute things. However, I've told you my theory. You now have what I collected. What you do with it

is up to you.”

“Thank you. I'll have it sent to the lab for analysis. If it comes back as rubber I'll place it in evidence.”

“Smashing. Now, let me say that it has been a pleasure meeting you sir. My daughter has planned an afternoon of us visiting the Steel Pier. I'm afraid I'm keeping her waiting.”

“Professor, thank you. It has been a pleasure. Let me give you my card. Should you need anything while in town don't hesitate to call on me. The Police department is located at

Tennessee and Atlantic Avenues,' said Baxter.

“And if I can be of service you can reach me at the university. Here is my number,” said Basham writing his units telephone number on his card.

When he returned to the room he found Joyce sitting on her bed. “Sorry to keep you waiting my dear, but the detective chap had me engaged in a somewhat lengthy conversation. I must say that after an awkward introduction we seemed to hit it off,” said Basham.

“In that case I should have liked to have met him”, Joyce replied.

“Well, that might have proved to be difficult. You see I referred to you as my daughter.”

“Again?”

“Quite, since it worked the first time I decided to do it again.”

“When we're in public would you prefer I call you Pa Pa, Father, or dear old dad?”

“Pa Pa will do nicely, but only here in the hotel or with any police officers present. Shall we go?”

Later, Basham sat on a bleacher seat shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight. He watched as a young, female acrobat climbed to the top of a large, round, steel ball. The woman then placed her feet in some type of stirrup then stood and began swaying back and forth. As she did the people in the crowd oohed and awed, fearful that the entertainer might fall to her death. Basham joined others in applauding as the woman descended back to the solid, wooden planked pier, her act over. Next, came the Collegiate Divers, followed by the Diving Horse. “I say, the fact that the horse knows when to dive is amazing,” said Alistair as he and Joyce moved slowly with the exiting crowd.

“What next?', asked Basham.

“Well, let me see. There's a vaudeville show in about an hour followed by a motion picture,” said Joyce.

“What's the motion picture called?”

“The Outlaw.”

“That sounds familiar. Seems to me there's a bit of a problem with the censors here in America,” Basham replied.

“True, but do you want to see it or not?”

“Not really, most of those going to see it are looking for the spicy parts. I'm not curious about things like that.”

“Alright, that leaves Frank Sinatra.”

“Sounds good, providing he sings, Begin the Beguine.”

“Shall I rush ahead and look at the list of songs he intends to sing?”

“Smashing idea. Unfortunately you won't be able to get to him. He's always surrounded by screaming, teenage girls.”

“And older girls and women. Not to mention housewives,”

Joyce replied.

As they sat next to one another in the theater in dim light, suddenly the lights brightened and a man walked out onto the stage. “Ladies and Gentlemen we are sorry to announce that Mr. Sinatra must cancel this show due to an unexpected medical problem. Thank you very much for understanding.”

“That's it. I've had enough. I say we go back to the hotel, rest a bit and then prepare and dress for dinner. What say you?”

“Fine, I must say all this walking from one end of the pier to another is tiring. If you want to go, we'll go.”

“Excellent, look, even the line of those waiting to go on the diving bell is too long. Enough I say.”

Back at the Penn Crest Basham stopped at the desk and asked the clerk, “Are there any messages for me, Doctor Basham.?”With the clerks back to her, Joyce said, “Pa Pa, I shall be in the room.”

“Thank you daughter, Alistair said with a smile.

“The clerk turned and said, “Yes sir. Here you are”, as he handed Basham a sealed, white envelope.

Back in the hotel room Alistair took a seat at the small, writing table. He then open the envelope, removed one sheet of paper and read, “ Doctor Basham. The results of the first test which was conducted under a microscope indicates that the substance you collected does indeed appear to be rubber. As a result the sample will be sent to a forensic laboratory for additional analysis. Thank you for your help in this matter,

 

Alan Baxter

Sergeant of Police

Atlantic City Police Department

Basham removed the detectives card from his shirt pocket, then lifted the receiver and asked the woman on the lobby switchboard for an outside line. When he got it he dialed the number on the card. A male voice came on the line. “Detective Bureau, officer Hensley”.

“Good day sir. I should like to speak with Sergeant Baxter please,” Basham replied.

“Hold on.”

After a few moments Alistair heard the sound of a telephone receiver being lifted from its cradle. “Sergeant Baxter”, came the voice.

“Sergeant, Alistair Basham. Thank you for your note. I appreciate it. I was wondering if you would be able to answer a few questions in relation