The Female of the Species

By Mike Crowson

15 Short Stories involving the Psychic, mixed-race female detective from Witchmoor Edge in Yorkshire. These are the short stories that gave rise to the novels - the woman who turns up alive when her husband's in jail for murdering her; the disappearing proceeds of armed robbery; the murder that turned out to be suicide and the suicide that turned out to be murder ... brain teasers all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Crowson
• Release date: Dec 28, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458158604

Mike Crowson

Former teacher, former national secretary of what became the UK Green Party and for 40 years a student of things esoteric and occult. Now an occult and esoteric consultant offering free and unconditional help to those in serious and genuine psychic or occult trouble

Book preview

The Female of the Species

15 Short Stories featuring

Detective Inspector Millicent Hampshire and the Witchmoor Edge CID

Mike Crowson

Copyright 1989-2000 Mike Crowson

Smashwords Edition 2010

Contents:

Dead Ringer

Dead Drunk

Dead Centre

Dead Certain

Dead Lucky

Dead On Her Feet

Dead Beat

Dead End

Dead Wood

Dead As A Dodo

Dead Shot

Dead Letter

Stone Dead

Dead Fall

Dead Set

DEAD RINGER

Detective Inspector Millicent Hampshire pushed back a straying strand of hair and took a sip of canteen coffee. She pulled a face at the rather bizarre taste and tried to concentrate on the reports and the variety of non-urgent jobs that had accumulated.

Millicent considered that the downside of being an inspector was the definitely the paperwork. Everybody finds their level of incompetence: she had proved herself as a detective constable, sensing when those she interviewed were telling the truth and seeing the truth when they lied. The promotion to sergeant had given her the scope to look at larger puzzles and untangle them. Being an inspector included less of the active work she loved, more of the human resource management she was proving good at - and more of the paperwork she did to a distinctly second rate standard.

Detective Constable Tommy Hammond came in grinning.

Got an interesting one for you, he said.

Hampshire tried not to look too relieved at the intrusion. Yes, she said. What is it?

Something that the night shift took in, Hammond said. Detective Sergeant Grierson did all the initial interviews and it all hangs together so sweetly you'll be more suspicious than me.

The detective in Millicent was definitely interested. Tommy Hammond was a pretty shrewd individual - if he was suspicious there would be good reason.

Okay, Hampshire said. Tell me about it.

A call came in to Ilkley about ten twenty last night. A caller by the name of Robert Ronan called in to say that he'd had a call on his answerphone a few minutes earlier from his sister-in-law, Sarah Greenhow in Witchmoor, saying she thought there was a prowler. He said there was a sound like breaking glass in the background of the recording and when he called her back there was no answer, He just got her voice mail. He told Ilkley he was going back to her house at Witchmoor and would they get someone local call by as well. He got there just before the patrol car and discovered the woman dead by the open french windows. Sure enough a pane of glass was broken in the french windows and there was a footprint or two in the flower bed. All very neat, right down to his message on her mobile.

Right, Hampshire said. First, you said he went back to her house. You mean he'd been there earlier?

Hammond thumbed through the file he was holding. I think so, he said, Yes, here it is. He and his wife Jane - she was the sister of the victim, you remember - they'd been to a meal and left around nine-forty five.

That's a bit early, said Hampshire. What was the victim's name, did you say?"

Hammond consulted the file again. Sarah Greenhow, he said. Unmarried. An accountant of some sort with a merchant bank. Fairly well off.

Hampshire nodded. He went into the house, she said. How did he get in?

That's one of the things that didn't seem right to me, Hammond answered. He said the door wasn't locked. He rang the bell and then tried the door and just walked in.

Never, Millicent said. If the woman thought she had a prowler she'd double lock the door and put the chain on, surely.

That's what I thought.

The message from the victim was on the answerphone? Hampshire asked. Why didn't they answer?

Sister Jane was in the bathroom and running a shower. She says she didn't hear the phone at all and that would probably be true. Brother-in-law Robert was outside with the dog. He heard the phone but it had stopped ringing by the time he got to it. He says, Tommy read from the file, I listened to the message on the answerphone and called Sarah pretty well immediately. It must have been within two or three minutes of her call. There was no reply, so I talked to Jane through the bathroom door and rang the police at her suggestion before I drove back.

It sounds straight enough, Hampshire said thoughtfully. Everything slots together so well timewise that I do feel uneasy about it. We'll have to tread carefully though, because it might all be true, in which case they're totally innocent and most likely very upset. All the same, I tend to agree with you: it's a bit too good to be true.

Hammond looked pleased to be vindicated thus far and nodded.

Okay, Millicent said, Let's go and look at the scene of the crime."

A patrol car stood in the drive and a uniformed officer was still in the house, keeping almost pointless watch over some chalk marks on the floor and some footprints in the flower bed. The clatter of crockery from the kitchen indicated the presence of another person, so Hampshire followed the sound. A middle aged woman in an overall was taking dinner things from the dish washer and putting them away. Millicent introduced herself.

Mrs. Binns, the woman said. I come in every day to do the cleaning..

You don't live in? Hampshire asked.

No, she answered. That would have cost too much for Miss Greenhow.

Tight, was she?

Careful, anyway, Mrs. Binns said. Not like her to leave the ice cream out last night.

It wasn't an ordinary night, last night.

Mrs. Binns thought about it. No, she said, But leaving the ice cream out happened before the prowler, leastaways that's the way I hear it. She thought about it some more and added, And before she stacked the dishes in the dishwasher. That was unusually thoughtful of her.

Millicent judged that Sarah Greenhow did not normally do much housework, but stacking dishes was thoughtful while leaving the ice cream out was thoughtless. The two seemed contradictory.

Miss Greenhow didn't normally do much housework? Hampshire asked.

She didn't usually do any at all, Mrs Binns said. She was busy with her career and always said she didn't see the point of doing it herself when she could afford to pay someone else.

Did she pay well? Hampshire wondered out loud.

Mrs. Binns seemed to think about it again and Hampshire had the notion that she was balancing an honest opinion against speaking ill of the dead. Eventually she said carefully, Miss Greenhow paid the going rate, but not a penny more, and she was keen on getting value for her money. She was scrupulously fair though, I'll give her that.

Any other staff?

There's a gardener comes in twice a week for a few hours, Mrs Binns said. He'll be here tomorrow afternoon, unless some one tells him not to come.

Was there anything else odd about last night's dinner? D. I. Hampshire asked.

Odd? How d'you mean, odd.

Considering Mrs. Binns had mentioned two oddities already her puzzlement was a bit frustrating. Anything out of the ordinary, said Hampshire.

No, I don't think so, Mrs. Binns said, Only that the coffee maker was still on but the coffee cups was clean. That's a bit odd, her wasting electricity like that. Maybe she meant to have coffee with the prowler or something.

Hampshire thought it was odd too, but she didn't think coffee with a prowler was likely. With another visitor seemed faintly possible though."

Millicent thought that, with the other unusual features of the dinner party, that was actually quite a lot, none of which seemed individually significant. Taken together, though, what could they mean, if anything?

Hampshire wandered into the lounge. She was hit with a candlestick? she asked Hammond, checking his memory of the file.

That's right, Hammond said. Blow from the front right and from a little above, that's Doctor Millard's first assessment.

Well how the hell did the candlestick get from the mantelpiece to the window? Hampshire asked rhetorically, pointing to one on the mantelpiece. I presume the murder weapon was one of a pair and that's the other.

Out of idle curiosity that was really her intuition at work, she called in Mrs. Binns and asked whether this was its usual home.

Goodness me I never noticed, she said. No, they was usually on the dining table. Miss Greenhow said they as how they added atmosphere.

Mrs. Binns went over to the fireplace to move the candlestick back to the dining room. On another little impulse Hampshire stopped her.

It's all right Mrs. Binns, she said. I'm going to get that fingerprinted, just as a precaution.

The cleaning lady looked puzzled and then shrugged.

Did Miss Greenhow quarrel or have any enemies that you know of? Hammond asked Mrs Binns.

It was an interesting question Hampshire thought.

Not really, the cleaner said. She was always getting cross with people about money, though goodness knows she had enough. She had a blazing row with her sister about a week ago about some money she'd loaned her and wanted back to buy some shares. Mrs. Binns paused. I wouldn't say any of this rowing amounted to anything serious though. Just greed.

Hampshire took this all in thoughtfully. Thank you, Mrs Binns, she said. You've been most helpful.

Can I get on and tidy up here? the cleaner asked. I don't like to leave things half done, but I'm not coming to work if there's nobody to pay my wages.

Hampshire checked on the phone with forensic that they had finished with the scene of the crime and told the relieved uniformed man that he could go. She also told Mrs Binns she could finish up in the lounge.

Right, she said to Hammond, let's go and talk to Robert and Jane Ronan and listen to some phone messages. She popped the candlestick in a plastic bag and handed it to Hammond.

In the hall she stopped, looking at a phone on the hall table. Why, she asked Hammond, Did Robert phone Sarah Greenhow's mobile not her BT land line phone.

Presumably because she rang him on the mobile.

Make sense, Millicent agreed slowly. But how did he know which she was using and why, when he got no reply from the mobile didn't he try the other phone?

Now that I don't know, Hammond said.

Okay, Hampshire said. My suspicious nature suggests one reason, but let's go and ask him.

I don't know, Robert said. It just never occurred to me.

Hampshire had listened the answerphone message on BT's 'call minder' service. The time - Ten ten pm - fitted in with the time of the message on Sarah Greenhow's 'voice mail' service at ten fourteen pm and the 999 call logged at then twenty two.

She had talked to Robert Ronan but not his wife. He claimed, and she had no reason to doubt it, that Jane was under sedation prescribed by their doctor for the shock and was asleep. Millicent had not pressed the point, for now at least.

Well, I think that's everything for now, she said. I'll call back again when I have the full forensic reports and I'll talk to Mrs. Ronan then.

Ronan nodded and stood to let them out of the house.

On the path Hampshire remarked, You have a nice garden. Do you do it yourself, or do you have a gardener, like Miss Greenhow did?

We don't have Sarah's money, Ronan said. We don't employ a gardener, my wife does it. She's more keen and more knowledgeable than me.

She'll need a new pane of glass in the cold frame, Hammond said sociably as they walked out.

Hampshire paused in her walk down the garden path to glance at the cold frame, then walked on.

Goodbye, Mr. Ronan, she said at the gate. I'm afraid I shall have to bother your wife when we return in a day or two.

Ronan did not seem enthusiastic at the prospect of seeing them again, but who would?

As Hammond slammed the car door and started the car, Hampshire remarked, That glass looked recently broken and the pieces were still there.

Hammond couldn't see any significance in the remark and just grunted his agreement.

Forensic reported more or less what they had already said, plus a few odds and ends that Hampshire expected. The candlestick was clearly the weapon - traces of Sarah Greenhow's skin, blood and hair were found on it, but it had been wiped clear of fingerprints. The footprints in the flower bed were completely anonymous and might even have been the gardener's and the key had been in the french window lock, so breaking a pane of glass would have gained entry.

Hampshire noticed that the scene of crime staff reported that the key had been wiped as well. This was of only slight significance, but it did suggest that this was a careful murderer cleaning up after him or herself, rather than a surprised thief - the latter would almost certainly have been wearing gloves.

About the state of the dining room and kitchen she had only Mrs. Binns' recollections, but these had produced some deviations from the normal. The weapon and its partner taken from the mantelpiece were usually on the dining table in the next room. The ice cream had been left out and the coffee unpoured - this suggested that the meal had been interrupted. That was in keeping with the unexpectedly early finishing time Hampshire had noted at the start of her investigation. She drummed her fingers on the desk absently and considered.

Had Sarah Greenhow rushed the meal because she was expecting someone else? If there had visible signs of hurry on Sarah's part, why hadn't Robert said something to that effect? Surely Robert's only reason for covering up an interruption would be to hide something.

There was a tap at the door and Tommy Hammond entered.

Anything new on the Witchmoor Prowler? he asked.

Hampshire pushed the file across her desk towards him.

Various forensic reports, she said, but they don't amount to anything actually new. I think we have it all right here already.

Hammond read the file without any great enthusiasm.

You've changed your mind about the prowler? he said.

Oh no, Hampshire said, I'm more convinced than ever that the whole story is false. I just can't see how we can prove it.

The phone rang. Millicent picked it up. Hampshire, she sad. She covered the mouthpiece. Forensic, she told Tommy Hammond. She uncovered the mouthpiece. What would I be interested in ... and will that stand up in court under cross examination? Well, that is interesting ... Okay, send the report over a.s.a.p and, thanks.

Tommy Hammond looked curiously at his boss. "What was all