Three Little Maids(50)

32




At two a.m. the police station received an irate phone call. ‘Major Colby here. We have a lunatic joy rider creating havoc in Foxglove Grove. Waking up the residents. It’s disgraceful. Something should be done about it! Straight away! I want him stopped and caught immediately before they kill someone or themselves.’

‘Yes, sir. Do you notice the make or number of the car, Major?’

‘Of course. I waited out in the street and the third time it spun round I took down the last three numbers. It was a black Mercedes by the way. It was one of these youngsters from the estate running wild. Must have picked it up from downtown. From the car park or the sea front. They know you have your hands full with the murders you’re dealing with. It’s about time these young idiots were taken in hand. Bring back the birch I say.’

The Major went on from several minutes in a similar vitriolic vein. This wasn’t the first time the old chap had phoned up about a similar disruption in his neighbourhood. But it seemed he had a genuine cause for anger here. The Police car was sent out but reported back that all signs of the joy riders had gone. Which was only to be expected. The police officers spoke to the Major and took down his report. And peace descended on Foxglove Grove once again.





33




It seemed almost inevitable to Kent and Turner that another body should be found early the following morning. A young girl killed and left in the same fashion as the previous two. Jon heard about it from Turner and was fuelled with anger instantly. It served to justify his earlier bad feelings about the case.

The body was discovered by the Head Park keeper Ralph Toomey, while doing his early rounds on the Sunday morning in the Victoria Park.

He was on his way back to his early breakfast after checking up on the large aviary of lovebirds and budgerigars in the park. His early visit was mainly to see how they were. All the fuss with the noisy show, the crowds and the firework display could have frightened them silly. And they were nesting. He was worried about them. The peacocks, he’d put in the larger aviaries especially out of harm’s way. They seemed as lively as ever. And squawking at their enforced imprisonment for the night away from their usual tree perches.

From the distance he spotted a splash of bright colour between the green leaves of a large rhododendron bush. At first, he thought it was cluster of brilliant blooms he was looking at but they were the wrong colour. Then pausing to investigate closer, he pulled the leafy branches apart saw a glimpse of dark hair and thought that someone had taken a under the sheltering bush. Or indulged too much and crashed out. Easy enough to get overlooked after the late night show finished. And the crowds dispersed.

Toomey lived in the Head Keepers cottage by the main gates. He didn’t like to think he’d missed anyone before closing up. Pushing back the leafy branches further in his haste, breaking off the flower petals which fell like wedding confetti onto the bare young limbs now exposed to the sunlight, he quickly realised that these weren’t likely to be moved without an urgent call to the police. This was a murder victim. And she was in his park. He felt sick and panicky. And wanted to throw up.

He drew in a deep breath and broke out into a cold sweat. His mouth drying up on him suddenly. Swallowing hard, he forced some saliva back into his mouth. And, removing his Keeper’s cap, pushed his shaking fingers through his damp hair, wondering how long the police would take to act. Finally, getting his panic attack under control, he used his cell and contacted the police station.

‘Toomey, Head Park Keeper speaking. You’ve got to come to Victoria Park straight away. I’ve found a girl’s body,’ he announced shakily. ‘Er - near the bird aviary.’

‘Right, stay where you are. Scene of Crime officers will be with you shortly, sir.’

Staying on the spot, he cautiously took another look at the body. The girl was naked but for the brightly coloured silk scarf wrapped around her slender neck which had been bruised and crushed like a flower stem. Toomey hesitated, feeling sick. Her swollen face wasn’t a pretty sight. Her protruding tongue and glassy blood streaked eyes frightened him. The last person she’d seen with them was the killer.

And his first inclination was to throw his linen jacket over her. But knew he would be making a mistake by touching her. He could disturb the DNA or any important clues the police forensic team would be looking for. They would be narked if he disturbed anything. His cell rang shrilly in his jacket pocket making him jump. And the peacocks displaying to their hens screeched loudly beside him on the lawn.

‘Where are you Ralph? Worrying about those silly birds again, I suppose? I’ve cooked your breakfast. Mushrooms, pork sausages and bacon. Are you coming, love? It’ll spoil if it’s left any longer in the oven.’