The Case Of The Bog Bodies by Robert F. Clifton (e textbook reader .TXT) 📖

Bule.

Fortunately for me she resides at the same address at nine seventeen Oldharn Road so she wasn't hard to locate,” said

Cummings.

“Jolly good but will she talk with us?”, asked Basham.

“I'm certain that she will. When I met her I explained that Inspector Godwin was still investigating the missing person case of her granddaughter. At that time she seemed to be both surprised and glad,” Cummings replied.

“Excellent. We are ready when you are,” said Godwin.

“I'll be just a minute. I have to sign out for the motor car and get the keys,” Cummings replied.

Twenty five minutes later the three men sat in the living room belonging to Agatha Bule. Basham took a long hard look at the woman. What he saw was a small, frail woman he judged to be near or nearing eighty years of age. She sat in an English Oak rocking chair with a gray, wool shawl around her shoulders. Her bright blue eyes were watery and her white hair needed combing.

“Thank you for meeting with us Mrs. Bule,” said Cummings.

“You say you have news of my granddaughter. What is it and if it's bad news be out with it,” the woman replied.

“Right now we have no bad news to report to you. What we do need is answers to several questions,” Godwin said.

“Question? Then ask them.” said Agatha.

“First, could you tell us what you know about your granddaughter?”, asked Godwin.

“Certainly. Edna was a good girl that is until she met up with some Yank in Hesterton,” said the woman.

“Do you happen to know the Yanks name?”, asked Godwin.

“All I know is that she said his name was Jim,” said Agatha.

“I see. You said the Edna was a good girl until she met the Yank. What do you mean? ” asked Godwin.

“I mean she got in trouble. Pregnant she was and her being only eighteen at the time.”

“Did she tell you she was pregnant or did you merely suspect that she was?”, asked Godwin.

“She told me. Told me with tears in her eyes she did. Asked me what she should do,” Agatha related.

“What did you tell her? ” asked Basham.

“I gave her two choices. One has an abortion or two

have the baby and give it up for adoption,” said the woman.

“Why not keep the child?”, asked Godwin

“It was during the war. Things were hard. Her mother was killed in the bombings. Her father, my son had disowned her and during those years a woman being pregnant out of wed lock was looked upon as a lost woman. She would have been seen as a whore and her child a bastard. No, better to rid herself of the baby one way or the other I say.”

“I'm curious as to what she did, Mrs. Bule,” said Alistair.

“ The last time I saw her she was as big as a house. I must assume that she either gave birth and kept the child or gave it up for adoption. Some believe that she married the Yank and he sent her to America. I doubt that very much,” said Agatha.

“I must ask you Mrs. Bule, your son, is he a violent man?”, asked Basham.

“ Ebert? No. He's a pussy cat. He did get angry when Edna asked for three hundred pounds,” said Agatha Bule.

“Did Edna say why she wanted the money?”, asked Godwin.

“No but my way of thinking is that it had something to do with her pregnancy,” the woman replied.

“One more thing Mrs. Bule. The remains of a pair of eyeglasses were found recently in Hesterton. I wonder if you would mind taking a look at them,” said Godwin.

“ Let me see them,” Agatha replied.

Inspector Godwin removed the silver frame containing one lens from a paper bag and handed it to the woman.

“Oh my! Oh My! I swear they belonged to Edna,” said Agatha.

“Can you be certain?”,asked Godwin.

“Yes. I can tell by the frames. I was with her at the

optometrist shop when she had her examination. I chose those frames for her myself.”

“And the name of the optometrist?” asked Godwin.

“Boyle and Perkins on Oxford Road, Mrs, Bule replied.

“Well thank you Mrs. Bule you have been very helpful,” said Godwin.

“She's dead isn't she?”, asked Agatha.

“Now, we don't know that. We're still investigating. We still might find her,” Godwin answered.

“No. She would have contacted us by now even if she was in America. She's dead. I've always had the notion that someone killed her.”

Twenty minutes later the three men entered the optometrist shop of Boyle and Perkins. “Yes sir gentlemen may I be of service?” a man attired in a Grey smock asked.

“You may indeed. I'm Inspector Cummings of the Manchester City Police. I would like to know if you still have the examination and prescription records of a Miss Edna Bule. Her address was nine seventeen Oldhard Road,” said Cummings.

“Can you give me an approximate date sir?”, asked the man.

“During the war, say nineteen forty-two to nineteen forty-four or five,” said the Inspector.

“ Those records are in the storage closet. It will take a bit of time to find and read them sir.”

“We'll wait.”

“Very good sir.”

Cummings turned to Godwin and Basham and said,

“While the bloke is looking I'll just step outside and have a fag.

I won't be long. Either one of you gents care to join me?”

“No, I don't smoke,” said Godwin.

“And I use a pipe occasionally but not in public,” Basham related.

Twenty-five minutes later the clerk returned and said,

“ We examined Edna Bule on a Wednesday, March 26, 1941. as a result of the examination, she did decide to purchase eyeglasses.

We then prepared them for her and she received them on Friday,

March 28, 1941.”

Inspector Cummings then handed the silver frame with one lens to the clerk. “Is it possible for you to inspect this one lens and tell if it is made from the same prescription that your company recommended?,” he asked.

“I'll examine it for you and see what I can find. This lens is for the left eye. Miss Bule had a astigmatism. She was nearsighted in that eye. Again, I will need some time to examine the lens,” said the clerk.

“Take as much time as you need, “ said Cummings.

Sometime later, the clerk returned. “Sorry it took so long but I wanted to be certain. From what I have observed this lens for the left eye was made from the exact prescription given to Miss Bule,” he said.

“Then you are saying that this damaged, eye glasses belonged to Edna Bule,” said Cummings.

“What I am saying sir is that the prescription of the left lens is identical to the prescription made for Miss Bule. At the same time allow me to advise you that many people are nearsighted. However, although it is possible that one or more young women might have the need for the same prescription the odds are maybe one in several thousand that it would be exact,” said the clerk.

“I see and what about the frames?”, asked Cummings.

“Although they appear to be silver they are Nickle Silver. We purchased them from a German company operating in both Shenzhan and Hong Kong China before the war. They are attractive but inexpensive,” said the clerk.

“I see and if you don't mind sir, I need your name for my report,” said Cummings.

“Basset, Peter Basset.”

“Thank you Mr. Basset. You have been very helpful,” said Cummings.

On the drive back to Hesterton both men rode a while in silence. Inspector Godwin finally said, “I welcome you ideas and opinion right now Doctor Basham.”

Basham looked at the man and said, “ An opinion you say? My opinion is that Edna Bule is or was a victim of homicide and that she was murdered by the same person or persons that killed the babies.”

“I agree but why,” said Godwin.

“I wager it had something to do with her pregnancy,”

Basham related.

“ Then it's possible that her remains are in Rose Bog” said the Inspector.

“I sincerely doubt it. My wife has exhumed the remains of dinosaurs, ancient and early man as well as semi-modern relics. She knows what she is speaking about. If she says that the body of a young woman would likely as not be placed in the bog then I accept her opinion. Nonetheless, the finding of the eyeglasses places you one step closer to solving these cases,” Basham explained.

“Then where do we go from here?”, asked Godwin.

“You continue interviewing those who lived here during the war years while I examine recorded information, providing I can find any records,” Basham replied.

Later back at the Bridgeport Inn Alistair sat reading

“The Times”. He checked the sports page looking for news of the football clubs He heard footsteps in the hallway and as they approached his hotel room door he lowered the newspaper and waited for Joyce to enter. When she did he smiled and said,

“Hello love, find anything new or exciting today?”

“No but that doesn't mean I won't. What about your day? How did you fare in Manchester?,” Joyce asked.

“Rather well I'd say. We were able to confirm that the eyeglasses you found do belong to Edna Bule. At the same time it was revealed that the young woman was indeed pregnant apparently made that way by some Yank soldier.”

“Do you think that she is alive somewhere?” asked Joyce

“No dear. Even her grandmother considers her dead, murdered.”

“What will you do next Alistair?”

“Do? Continue to investigate of course. The answer is right here in Hesterton. Either someone knows what happened here in this hamlet or it is recorded somewhere or somehow. Either way I feel that I am getting close to being able to create a portrait profile for Inspector Godwin.”

“That's nice dear. Now finish reading your paper. I will have a hot bath and then we may go to supper.

The evening at supper as the waiter poured water into glass goblets Alistair asked, “I say my good man. Could you tell me the street address for the local library?”

“Yes sir. It's located in Victoria Square. Do you require directions?,” asked the man.

“No, I shall find it.”

“ Very good sir. Are you ready to order?”

“Not quite. However you could bring me a sherry while we inspect the menu,” said Basham.

“Any particular brand sir?”

“No, just as long as it's Bristol's,” said Alistair with a smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

Sybil Morgan

 

At ten AM a light misty rain fell from a gray slate colored sky as Alistair Basham walked under an open umbrella. As he neared the public library the rain began to increase it's intensity.

He walked quickly to the main door stood for a moment as he closed the bumper shoot then shook off the accumulated water before opening the door and entering.

“Good morning sir,” said a matronly woman Alistair assumed was the librarian.

“Yes it is, except for the rain of course he answered.

“May I be of service sir or do you know what you want?,” she asked.

“Yes, you may. I required newspaper articles from the last war. Say 1943-45 if that's possible,” said Basham.

“We do have some on microfilm. How many I can't say. It has been sometime since anyone asked to see them. If you wait I'll see what we have and if we do have those years I'll load them in the Microfiche for you.”

“That would be splendid. Is there a place were I might place my umbrella?” he asked.

“Behind you sir, near the front door there is an umbrella stand,” the woman instructed.

“Ah yes, thank you,” Alistair replied.

While he waited for the woman to find what he needed he stood looking seeing the yellow pine tables with matching chairs arranged in a neat row. A large black and white sign hanged on a wall reading, “Silence Please.” Then he saw the rows of tightly packed books neatly placed on metal shelves. His attention was interrupted by the librarian. “Yes sir, we do have microfilm of the years you are interested in. If you follow me I'll install the first of the lot in the Micro fish for you.” she said.

“Smashing!”, he replied as he followed the woman.

After she placed the microfilm in the machine