The Duke and the Dark Row Detective

By N.E.P. Williams

Book Two of the Elliot Eaton Escapades.

Breaking and entering. Sort of. Trespassing. Almost. Charitable donations. Perhaps. A heady mix, no doubt.

And there's only one man to sort it all out. Well, one man on Dark Row, of course. But this time helped by his trusty new assistant. And the ever welcome hand of the Chester Constabulary.

So our eponymous hero returns, as a Christmas chill descends across Chester ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: N.E.P. Williams
• Release date: Jun 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463914465

N.E.P. Williams

N.E.P. Williams is the author of the humorous Chester-based crime series, the Elliot Eaton Escapades, following the trials and tribulations of Elliot Eaton, the one and only Dark Row Detective.Discover historic Chester through the eyes of our eponymous hero. Roman Centurions. The City Walls. The Eastgate Clock. The Rows. The river. The Cathedral and the Cross. Chester Races. Even the Zoo. It's all there.So, need a bit of light relief? A bit of fluff and whimsy? No gore. No sex. No bad language. What's not to like?! Intrigued? Well, check them out! They're only little. Enjoy! Elliot Eaton will take good care of you.N.E.P. Williams lives in Chester. As does Elliot.

Book preview

The Duke

and the

Dark Row Detective

By

N.E.P. Williams

Copyright 2019 N.E.P. Williams

Smashwords Edition

For Maddy

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One – Trim Taxis

Chapter Two – The Zookeeper

Chapter Three – The Bishop’s House

Chapter Four – A Visit from Trim Taxis

Chapter Five – The Christmas Lights

Chapter Six – A Stakeout at the Zoo

Chapter Seven – The Sunday Worship

Chapter Eight – A Visit to Trim Taxis

Chapter Nine – A Case Review

Chapter Ten – The Coin Collector Shop

Chapter Eleven – The Lantern Parade

Chapter Twelve – Security Breach

Chapter Thirteen – The Office Party

Chapter Fourteen – Another Stakeout at the Zoo

Chapter Fifteen – Grab-a-Cab

Chapter Sixteen – The Coin Collector Club

Chapter Seventeen – Winter Watch

Chapter Eighteen – The Deva Divas

Chapter Nineteen – A Pint in the Pub

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Now this was a first. He’d done all manner of stakeouts. In all manner of places. But never before at the zoo.

They arrived just before closing, as the light was fading and the last visitors, wrapped up against the cold, ambled their way home, the children with their faces painted and the adults laden down with cuddly toys purchased from the shop. A few tantrums were in evidence. And that wasn’t just the children.

As agreed, they made their way straight to the Information point, where a lengthy discussion with the Zookeeper ensued on the most appropriate positions to take up.

It’s a big place, you know. And there are only the two of you. You won’t be able to cover all of it.

No indeed, no indeed. So we’ll have to move about, won’t we. If only to keep warm. From vantage point to vantage point. Like hunters on the prowl!

So there he found himself, holed up on an Arctic night on the viewing platform, overlooking the Sun Bears.

‘Well, if they live up to their name, they’re not going to be coming out tonight, are they?’ he thought, as he peered out across the zoo in the moonlight with his newly acquired binoculars. He had his trusty stakeout kit with him, in his trusty stakeout rucksack - a thermos flask, the Times, a torch and a packet of custard creams.

This is probably a wild goose chase anyway he muttered. Or whatever is an appropriate expression for a waste of time in a zoo. But, I suppose, you never know.

A lion roared in the near distance, as if to offer encouragement. And then a dark, diminutive, hooded figure came into view by the monorail station and strolled up towards the viewing platform.

I seem to recall watching another hooded figure on another stakeout, not so long ago.

Humph the figure responded.

But that’s quite another story, isn’t it, constable? Although I really should stop calling you constable, shouldn’t I?

Up to you, sir bristled the figure.

Anyway, anything to report? he tacked. Any unusual goings on?

No, all quiet. Apart from various animal noises.

Yes, indeed. Quite. It’s remarkable, isn’t it, how noisy a zoo can be in the dead of night? Not so different from a Saturday night in the City really. I wonder which set of wildlife is the more rowdy?

The hooded figure shrugged.

I’ll tell you what, Stubbins. You take over lookout duty here and I’ll go for a walkabout. And then we’ll move on to another vantage point. Don’t think we’ll be here all night though. We do need some sleep, after all. No, I can feel a repeat performance coming on.

I can’t wait, sir.

I keep telling you, Stubbins, no need to call me sir. You’re not dealing with Detective Inspector Crump now, you know. Speaking of which. Remind me, Stubbins. How did we end up creeping about Chester Zoo in the middle of a cold, dark night?

A love of animals, sir?

Ah yes. That must’ve been it.

But they both knew, full well, that wasn’t how it had started.

Chapter One – Trim Taxis

He turned off the engine and stepped out of the car. An icy blast, straight down from the North Pole, or at least straight down from Liverpool, nearly knocked him off his feet. He hurried round the back of the car, grabbed his ski jacket out of the boot and shot off across Castle Square, doing up his zip and poppers as he went.

He quickly made his way along Castle Street, almost running, his hands firmly in his pockets, emerging on to Lower Bridge Street about half way down. With a flick of the eyes he checked the traffic both ways, crossed the road in a hop, skip and a jump, before finally tumbling into the off licence, gratefully pulling the door behind him with a twinkling of the bell. A well trod path, if not usually in so much of a hurry.

Evening Joe. And how are we today? said a man from behind a counter. Warm enough out there for you?

Tell me about it!

And how is trade tonight?

Oh quiet. Don’t know why I bother with Monday evenings really. I mean, who’s out on a Monday night? Especially one’s like this?

Yeah, me too. I’ve hardly sold a bean.

Don’t think the Christmas parties are in full swing yet. Not that you get many of those on a Monday night. And not that Christmas parties are all they are cracked up to be - you should see the state of some of them.

Tell ME about it. I get some right specimens in here, I can tell you.

Why do we bother, Fred?

I don’t know, Joe. Got to put bread on the table?

I guess so. And speaking of which, I better get back to it.

A pack of your usual?

If you’d be so kind. Much obliged said Joe, with a pretend doff of a pretend cap. You never know, might even warm me up. If I can light one of the bloody things!

Joe stood at the door, put the packet of cigarettes into his jacket pocket and turned to go.

I could be gone some time he declared with a smile, as he disappeared back into chilly Chester, pulling the door behind him with another twinkle.

If you’re not back tomorrow, I’ll send out a search party echoed Fred from inside the shop.

Crossing back over Lower Bridge Street, he immediately stopped at the bottom of Castle Street and took out the new packet of cigarettes. He removed the wrapping, cracked open the pack, tapped out a cigarette and placed it in his mouth with two fingers. Returning the pack to his jacket, he extracted a cigarette lighter from a trouser pocket and then bent his head forward, shielding the cigarette with one cupped hand while striking the lighter with the other. At the third attempt he achieved ignition, took a few deep, satisfied drags and set off back up the hill.

Despite the cold, he took his time on the return journey, savouring every warming puff, switching hands every so often to stave off the onset of frostbite. With perfect and well practiced timing, he got back to his cab on reaching the filter, taking one long, last fix before dropping the butt on to the tarmac and squashing it beneath his shoe in time honoured fashion.

He returned his ski jacket to the boot and hurriedly jumped back into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind him. He’d only been gone about ten minutes but the car had quickly cooled down, so he fired up the engine again and put the heater on full blast. It soon had the desired effect.

He stared through his misty windscreen across Castle Square car park.

‘Hmm. Not much of a castle’ he mused, as he peered up at Agricola Tower, the only vestige of the original fortification. Founded by William the Conqueror, no less, but now the ideal place for an idle taxi driver waiting for his next fare. ‘What William always had in mind, I’m sure.’

He felt like another cigarette, but he tried not to smoke in the cab, as he knew it put off some of the punters. So, as a distraction, he switched on the radio, permanently tuned to a local radio station for the traffic reports - which, in this town, usually took up half the air time.

‘Not that there will be many of the them tonight’ he thought to himself.

He reached over to the passenger seat and picked up his copy of the Daily Wail, which was lying on top of the Chester Chimes, and settled in for a long evening of sensation, titillation and all round fabrication from the flagship of the gutter press.

He’d barely got beyond the front page headline, about some Member of Parliament using his dog as a tax avoidance scheme, when, suddenly, much to his amazement, a job popped up on the booking screen above the dashboard, accompanied by the tell-tale ping.

Well, bugger me he exclaimed. A fare! Who’d have thought it?

He threw his paper to one side and reached forward to press the accept button on the touch screen, two fingers pointing like a gun. He didn’t even bother to check the details of the job - he knew that time was of the essence.

Who’s the fastest gunslinger in the West?