Sidney's Beach

By Reginald Tripp

The local rich man who has retired with money got from - no one knows- but he has his usual Halloween Party where strange incidents happen. Not many people like him but his wife is a favourite. The next morning Sidney is scouring "his" beach as usual looking for flotsam and jetsam and finds a body. The murder, if it is murder, seems to be connected with Halloween and other Celtic rituals.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9780244773731

Book preview

Sidney's Beach

Sidney’s Beach

By

Reginald Tripp

CHAPTER 1

Bridget groaned quietly to herself when she saw Arthur standing in his front porch oozing bonhomie. Come in Bridget, quickly, such awful weather. He smarmed. She was not encouraged by his oleaginous smile nor by his inept imitation of a man of charm. Yet she was not offended either – it was just him. She smiled back in her normal friendly way and his smirk intensified. His manner was always so over-the-top that she was never quite sure whether he was deliberately sending himself up for some devious reason or whether he was being boorishly real. Surely he must be mocking himself was her latest opinion. Yet he must know that his parody of an old fashioned cad from the School for Scoundrels was now a cliché and no longer funny.

She put on her own self-righteously tolerant but wary smile. It was awful weather. The wind was gusting wildly and the rain which seemed to taste of salt from the sea not far away was lashing down. She made a dash for the porch and the front door.

Lovely night. She said in a dead pan voice and with her own mocking grin. She shook the rain from her hair and stepped over the threshold. Another gust of wind swept her forward. Predictably Arthur pretended he thought she had had a change of heart and was rushing in to greet him. His sickly smile broadened into a glutinous mass of cheek and jowl and he held out his arms ready to engulf her in undesirable and uninvited sensuality. Fortunately the gust also caught her two children and they were thrown against him instead. He was annoyed and growled at them in a different voice, abrupt and unfriendly.

Go into the conservatory ... perhaps the lightning will strike all of you kids there. He was too late; they had rushed off.

Sorry. Bridget apologised politely.

Bloody children. He swore after them but once again Bridget was not offended. She knew the remark was aimed at all children including his own and in any case not meant seriously. Arthur shrugged in genial resignation to confirm this. His smirk had gone. He could be normal and had he only realised it, he was more attractive this way and much more likely to succeed in his never ending quest to seduce her.

You always were a provocative creature. He smarmed once more and caressed her arm. Bridget despaired. His lechery was piteous. Why couldn’t he behave naturally for goodness sake? She smiled again but this time it was forced.

Arthur knew that he had failed again in his doomed campaign to seduce her. But he had expected that and was not depressed and not going to let it stop him trying again next time. His persistence had to be admired and was half the reason for his success with some other women even if always a failure with Bridget. Bridget gave him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek and stepped back quickly before he tried to grab her and kiss her on the lips which was an intimate gesture reserved for her close male friends. Arthur Pettigrew was not a close male friend. In spite of what he thought he was merely a forced acquaintance. She allowed him the façade of friendship only because he was married to Rhiannon, her real friend, her best friend.

Bridget had known Rhiannon for ever and was puzzled, even dismayed, that she had married Arthur. Rhiannon was so different; she was genuine and sincere and pleasant. She was one of nature’s optimists, always happy, always cheerful. She was liked by everyone and it was largely because of her that people tolerated Arthur. But Bridget was in no position to criticise her friend really. Her own husband Richard was hardly a prime catch either. He was a dull man ... but reliable. Dull but reliable, that was Richard Sandberg.

The dull but reliable Richard Sandberg trailed his wife Bridget into the house. He was a natural follower, a sheep. Life in the fast lane was not for him. He was not one of the world’s exciting people. His normal response to most things was negative with an unemotional lack of enthusiasm. He delayed and resisted any change by inertia and inaction. Yet he was not stupid, he was just precise, unimaginative and boring. By comparison with the urbane and well-travelled Arthur he was a slow, parochial country bumpkin. He was aware of this and accepted it because there was nothing he could do about it anyway or even wanted to do about it. He knew little about the ways of the world outside Cornwall and England and that suited him perfectly.

He handed Arthur a bottle of Spanish Cava and tried a friendly slap on the back which turned into a clumsy gesture. Arthur took the bottle of Cava in exaggerated surprise. Why Dick you shouldn’t have. He always called him Dick to annoy him. He put the bottle on the shelf in the doorway in a dismissive gesture.

Richard noticed. It’s pink. Maybe the children… He bumbled. The bottle of Cava was a faux pas. He knew that Arthur served the best of everything even to children. He had the money and that was just his style anyway, always the best of everything. Richard should not have brought a bottle at all, as he well knew, and bringing this bottle of cheap Cava was on a par with leaving a ten pence tip in a restaurant after a meal costing a hundred pounds. It was either a deliberate snub or further proof that Richard had shown his social incompetence and done the wrong thing again. Richard felt his inadequacy. And as usual he was also at a loss for anything further to say to Arthur.

They stared at each other for a moment and tried not to show too much antipathy.

Arthur spoke sarcastically at last. And how’s Sandberg, Sandberg, Tredennick and Sandberg? Any new customers? His manner was condescending, implying that he himself was once an important captain of industry and that a mere country solicitor, even a Senior Partner like Dick Sandberg was inferior. But people had noticed that in fact Arthur never gave any real details about his past life nor where his money had come from so he might in reality have been a complete fraud.

Business is fine. Richard lied. He habitually spoke in cliché and platitude to hide unpleasant truths.

Arthur affected a puzzled expression on his face and gave an almost audible sigh of long suffering at having to put up with such a fool. It amused him to mock Dick’s pathetic attempts at small talk. He made no effort to help him so there was usually an awkward silence when they met. It was obvious that they did not like each other and had nothing to say to each other. Arthur Pettigrew and Richard Sandberg were like chalk and cheese, totally incompatible. Everyone knew that. But ... there was another reason for this antipathy between them. And that was something to do with guilt.

Ah. Cherchez la femme. Yes. But it was not the perennially lecherous Arthur who felt the guilt at trying to seduce Richard’s wife Bridget; he never felt guilt at trying to seduce any man’s wife. It was the dull but reliable Richard who felt the guilt because surprisingly he was in love with Arthur’s wife, Rhiannon. Or thought he was. But of course there was no way he would ever actually do anything about it or try to really seduce Rhiannon even if he knew how to. He saw, he sighed, he loved, was scorned and died.

His love of Rhiannon – perhaps adoration would be a better word, an obvious, hopeless, tongue-tied adoration – was no secret. Arthur knew. Bridget knew and so did Rhiannon herself. In fact everyone knew that Richard Sandberg was besotted with Rhiannon Pettigrew. They all laughed about it because it was so out of character and so ridiculous and it was an absolute certainty that he would never do anything but grovel at her feet with tongue-tied devotion. He was so out of his depth in the real world of deceit and how to conquer women – another of his failings perhaps – that he had become a laughing stock.

Arthur was contemptuous and insulted by Richard’s adoration of Rhiannon. How dare this wet, joke of a man fall in love with my wife? I don’t mind Rhiannon having admirers, even active lovers perhaps. In fact I encourage it – but Dick Sandberg.

Rhiannon’s just over there. She’ll rush over in a moment to hug and kiss you, Arthur mocked.

At mention of Rhiannon’s name Richard tried to show the right balance of polite pleasure and polite indifference. He failed and merely confirmed again how stupid he was in general and how stupid in particular when it came to women.

Ah, there you are. Rhiannon came to the rescue at last. Richard and Bridget responded to her with a great deal more warmth than they had to Arthur and brightened up immediately.

We’re all here now, Rhiannon said. You’re the last to arrive.

Are we? Sorry. Bridget pretended to be contrite.

Rhiannon took them by the hand and led them into the main room. The house was warm and inviting. Tonight was the Pettigrew’s annual Halloween party and some of the children were in fancy dress. A bonfire and fireworks were planned for later, weather permitting. A sort of Guy Fawkes and Halloween party combined.

Bridget smiled. She anticipated an enjoyable evening. Same crowd as usual. You know everyone.

Thank goodness. Tonight should be with familiar faces and old friends rather than with strangers.

Yes, even the weather might make it more fun.

Rhiannon found it amusing that Richard was besotted with her. He did not ask anything in return, which was just as well because she was not going to give him anything. She encouraged him however, and teased him in a friendly way; she was not a malicious person. His adoration was reliable and uncomplicated: always there and always devoted like a large warm comfortable dog. But she also worried about it because Bridget was her best friend and she hated the thought of doing anything that might hurt her, however innocently or unintended.

Rhiannon was not the type to cuckold her husband, even though she knew full well that he deceived her. But was it deceit if she knew about it she wondered? He was such an obvious man and although they never spoke about such things they knew each other well enough. There was no longer much love between them. There was familiarity and comfort.

From behind the bar Arthur surveyed the scene and gloated. He served only top quality brands: Black Label whisky, Remy Martin Cognac, Plymouth Gin, Stolichnaya vodka, Boddington’s Beer and tonight Krug Champagne and for the children bucks fizz with freshly squeezed orange juice and Krug Champagne as well. He liked being the generous host. He liked everyone grovelling and being nice to him. He liked putting everyone under obligation.

A self-satisfied smirk spread across his face as he poured some champagne for Bridget and Dick. He realised he had seduced all the females present except one. The one exception being Bridget. She would take some time to fall for his charms – come on be honest – it would probably never happen with her he admitted to himself.

Oh well ... but look at young Dana over there. Was she old enough yet? Yes, of course she was. He would keep a look out for her in the future. Perhaps he could test the water with her later on tonight when they played Murder in the Dark. The game was almost deliberately designed for such experimenting and for that reason had become a tradition at their Halloween party. And for that reason their party had become famous, even notorious.

All of them, they were all regular guests, knew what was in store later on and it created an extra frisson of expectation as they congregated for another enjoyable evening at the Pettigrew’s. Arthur may be a bit over the top sometimes but he certainly knew how to throw good parties.

There was no hint yet that tonight was going to be exceptional and a night that none of them would ever forget. And the last party that Arthur and Rhiannon would ever hold.

A mistake. Arthur Pettigrew mistook her grin for encouragement. It was hazardous to encourage him in any way. But Bridget Sandberg could take care of herself. She usually endured his harassment with a beguiling lack of offence which inflamed him even more. But she was in control. There was no subtlety to the man she thought, any real women would have little difficulty in handling him. She was never blatantly rude to him and never directly snubbed him. She showed her contempt by not rising to the bait and by not responding in the manner he wanted. She took no notice of his blatant innuendo, treating it as a social gaffe. She ignored it as if he was a small boy who had to be humoured and tolerated for politeness sake. She rather enjoyed frustrating him like this. Unfortunately there were many women in Cornwall – bashful, modest, innocent women – who had no experience of handling such a lecherous man of the world. They thought he was real and simpered in his presence, bowled over by his false charm. They were excited by his shameless reputation and thrilled by his aura of danger. Naively they thought he might provide an illicit but basically harmless bit of fun in their otherwise boring lives. They did indeed have a bit of fun but their suffering afterwards was worse and lasted much longer. Some of these trusting unassuming women would be at the party tonight and were ripe for the plucking if they had not already been plucked. Arthur had no scruples of any kind.

CHAPTER 2

Well Jane, are you going to a fancy dress party tonight? Detective Inspector John Kerridge asked in his avuncular manner.

You always seem to think I’m younger than I am, Sir, Jane Pullen replied without concealing her irritation. She had only recently been promoted to Detective Sergeant and was indeed young for the job. This made her sensitive to what she saw as oblique references to her age. She had been promoted on merit and not for any reasons of political correctness so she was doing herself an injustice. But her sensitivity did perhaps show a certain immaturity and lack of self confidence..

Not at all Jane, I though fancy dress was the latest craze.

Not in the circles I move. Not even at Halloween.

Ah well, you’ll just have to watch telly then, like me, he said, hoping for a denial and further enlightenment about her social life. It was none of his business of course but there were times when he looked upon her and even treated her openly as a daughter.

I’m not that sad Sir, she said rudely but tempered with a smile. She was not sure whether he would understand the modern meaning of the word sad.

He looked puzzled. She laughed. I am going out, as it happens, but not to a fancy dress party, she added more kindly but with deliberate evasiveness. She had nothing to hide but she was never quite sure whether to take his protective manner towards her as a good thing or a bad thing. At times it was useful because she could be blunt and even rude to him without his taking offence, but on other occasions she found it irritating and patronising. In the practical world of police work however, there were not many personal problems between them. Their respective strengths and weaknesses dovetailed nicely and they got on well together.

Ah where to? Anywhere exciting?

Yes and no.

Yes and no?

She laughed again and teased him. Is this the way you interrogate people you’ve arrested Sir? Perhaps I should put the tape recorder on.

Sorry Jane, I know it’s none of my business. I’m not interfering. I’m just interested, that’s all. My life at home is quite dull these days.

You should get out more Sir; play golf; join the bridge club.

I don’t do either of those things.

Actually I’m going to the Globe Theatre in Plymouth for a concert and then dinner afterwards and probably a club.

Ah. Sounds as if he’s trying to impress you Jane? he asked hopefully.

She did not rise to the bait and merely laughed. I just hope no nasty crime is committed tonight and forces me to cancel, she hinted.

Don’t worry Jane. You have a good time. Fortunately it seems to be a fairly quite time for crime at the moment. Holiday season’s over.

Don’t tempt fate Sir. Especially at Halloween.

We can’t arrest ghosts.

What about people pretending to be ghosts?

No law against that.

Unless they’re robbing banks.

In this awful weather? Anyway you enjoy your night out. I’ll deal with all the ghosts and people pretending to be ghosts.

Thank you, Sir.

She was lucky with her boss and she knew it. Life down in the sticks, as her contemporaries jeered when they heard she had been sent down to join the C I D in St. Austell, could be worse. Much better than an inner city environment, she rationalised. Maybe. But is this the fast track to the top, she wondered, or had she really been put out to pasture already before her career had even started?

CHAPTER 3

Bridget walked to the fire to warm up. A familiar face was standing there but looking unhappy. Hello Ariane why so glum? She asked.

Ariane was the most beautiful woman in Cornwall, or had been at one stage in her life, so people believed. About twenty years ago she had been a pop singer but few people could remember her in that role. In fact there had been only one hit and that had reached number eighteen on the pop charts for one week only. Her other songs had disappeared without trace so she gave up life as a failed pop star and tried modelling instead but her beautiful face was not enough. She was not tall enough and not thin enough for that type of work.

She married Brian a local disc-jockey and settled down to a life of boredom as wife and mother. She yearned for a return to the fast life which she had experienced so briefly. For a while Arthur Pettigrew hove into view to offer a return to excitement. For a couple of weeks with him it had been the fast life again. But with hindsight she realised she had given in to his demands too quickly. She had been too easily seduced and was badly hurt when he dropped her soon afterwards. The chase had been too easy and the spoils of victory had been an anti-climax for him but not for her. Now it was too late. He was no longer interested.

Ariane was dressed seductively as Queen Guinevere. She wore just enough for modesty, not much more. She looked sexy but the costume was flimsy and exposed her bare tummy in a youthful way beyond her years which made her look brazen rather than attractive.

Oh … you know, the weather. It’ll spoil the fireworks tonight. She said dismissively, obviously not the real reason for her sour face

No fireworks, yes what a pity. Bridget said sarcastically but with a laugh. You don’t normally dress up for this party do you?

Ariane continued sadly. No but I had to this time. Dana and Tom are just at that awkward age refusing to dress up unless I do as well. I had to lead by example.

Bridget was not fooled and probed a bit further to confirm her suspicions. You shouldn’t tempt King Arthur like that. She said knowingly but she was only half right.

Ariane enlightened her at last. Unfortunately he’s beyond me now, the bastard. But I’ve got to try and tempt him again. He’s after Dana, can you believe? I’ve seen the way he’s looked at her.

Bridget already had suspicions about Arthur’s affair with Ariane but was surprised and really angry now