Murder With Malice

By Ray Bouvier

Sebastian Brackstone returns to his home village after nearly 30 years and finds the stigma of the death of Maria still hangs over him and he is determined to find out why.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781291892420

Book preview

Murder With Malice

MURDER WITH MALICE

CHAPTER 1

The trepidation he felt as he passed the white sign with black lettering was unlike anything he had felt before in his previous 51 years of life. The nerves he had felt previously were bearable and passed within a moment or two. Even on the occasion when he married, the anticipation whilst standing at the alter waiting for his bride to arrive passed almost immediately when she stood next to him and their hands brushed lightly. At this reminiscence he felt an imaginary pain in his chest, it was expected, it had happened before, an occurrence that happened every time his thoughts returned to happier memories.

That of course was many years ago in what felt similar to another life time. Sebastian Brackstone thought back upon other times of apprehension, the hairs rising on his spine, the coldness that formed on his brow and the sweat laden palms that occurred when being scared from the walk home from his local through the woods. Despite the summer nights and the lightness of the sky in the late evening, it was the silence that caused uneasiness. A creature rustling in the undergrowth, a small mouse maybe foraging for a morsel, could begin the cycle again. He smiled now when he remembered the how silly he must have looked when he finally arrived home. Sebastian thought how his kids used to do the same route on their way home and not once ever commented about any uneasiness.

As he approached the village named on the sign he recalled sometimes the arousal he occasionally felt when being scared, the rapid heartbeat and the rush of adrenalin that coursed throughout his body like acid burning from within.

But nothing in his life prepared him for the sensations that he was enduring now. Even though they were self inflicted, after all, he didn’t have to return to the place he had spent his formative years as well as early adulthood. It had brought the numbness, a discomfort he refused to accept as normal. This bout of anxiety caused him to stop the car just before the residential properties emerged from around the final corner of Pasture Farm Road. He required composure; he took a drink of water, replacing the dryness of his mouth, the bottom of a birdcage sensation, he reached out and took the last spearmint gum from the packet making a mental note to replace them later.

Seb, the shortened version of his name had been with him since before he could talk. Only at job interviews and formal gatherings was he referred to by his full given name. He was glad of this as Sebastian was not the normal run-of-the-mill moniker pronounced upon boys of the early sixties birth, not in Ramford Village anyway. The Peter’s and Paul’s and Robert’s of the village would pronounce Seb to be posh or of foreign birth, all of which was complete tosh of course his parents were just a bit bohemian and free thinking, even before it became fashionable to live in that fashion.

Consequently Seb had always led his life with a somewhat light heartedness fashion, never really caring where the next step of his path would take him. Besides this he had never struggled in his professional life, after the graduation from Durham University with a credible 2:1 in Psychology he joined a training company in Leeds, Human Resources for new recruits to major national and international corporations. His work took him around the globe and back again. His reputation grew year on year as did his rise to company director. As is the trend with many successful men and women, Seb branched out on his own, why, he reasoned, was he employed within the boundaries set by his fellow board members when his acquired wealth allowed him to set his own parameters. His career continued to flourish, so much so that he had recently taken a sideways step, leaving his two children in charge along with an old university colleague, Alan Beswick.

It was this freeing of his time that allowed him to return to Ramford, a homecoming Seb had sought for a number of years, even though he still lived in the Leeds area and this was not more than 80 miles from Ramford he had taken a number of years to pluck up the courage to return. The BMW 5 series that Seb had chosen for his car sat and quietly ticked as the engine slowly cooled whilst he considered the reason for his return.

Death, this had been the motivation. The death of a former girlfriend. A death which occurred with no witnesses, no clues as to the perpetrator and certainly no arrests. However, Ramford being Ramford and as alike to many other English villages in being as insular as could be, was rife with rumours and gossip. Theories exchanged by the men in the pub, some angry as to the lack of progress by the Police and others blaming the influx of foreign workers to the nearest town. The staff and customers at the small local supermarket were kept busy by discussions of reasons why and this being such a quiet village and who’d have thought. There were no shortage of locals willing to give quotes to inquisitive reporters from the regional newspapers and even local radio on how this village had never seen such a thing and no this could not have been carried out by anyone from the local community.

It was in the quiet hush of semi private conversations that the real accusations transpired, and the majority were aimed at one Sebastian Brackstone. True, he even accepted that this would be the case but being in no way connected with the atrocity Seb considered it only a matter of time before the gossipmongers became bored and moved onto some other poor individual who would endure the tittle tattle.

Unfortunately this did not happen, like a tale from long ago that passes into to legend, the furtive looks as he passed locals in the street, the forced smiles from people he’d known for his entire life continued. Even his close friends shunned him ever so slightly; his phone didn’t ring as often with offers of a night out or a swift half. Sebs only release from this torment was his impending departure for a three year course at Durham.

As Seb sat, the ticking of the cooling engine now ceased, and contemplated his latter time as a Ramford resident. He wondered why he hadn’t returned on a previous occasion. In fact his only appearance had been at the funeral of his mother, she had died whilst Seb was away studying. He came back the day before the burial and departed the day after. His mother had been his last surviving relative in the village and with sale of the family home all his ties with Ramford had been severed. Despite all the intervening years the memories of that turgid time still played upon Sebs mind in periods of quiet. A discomfort that had troubled him all these years; a discomfort that plagued him and unsettled Sebs reasoned mind.

Ramford still regarded itself as a village, despite its ever increasing population. It languished 15 miles from the North-West coastline inland from Preston in Lancashire, a county in northern England. Surrounded by fertile farmland and numerous farms it could be classed as an idyllic countryside place in which to dwell. The local manor house stood proud on Ramford Hill to the east of the village, a Tudor building set in sprawling grounds and a view in which his lordship could gaze upon all of his lands. The owner of the manor was a successful businessman who bought it from the ancestral family, hard times for old money. The requirement for constant repairs and an ever dwindling pot of funds made for the abandonment of 400 years of the same family occupation. Not that you could tell that the ownership had changed, wishing to play the Lord of the Manor in the newly acquired stately pile, the building was tastefully restored.

Not quite a village green but the quintessentially English pastime of cricket continues from mid spring to late summer on weekends, weather permitting of course. The quietness of these afternoons was only disturbed by the sound of leather on willow and the occasional shouts to the umpire of a possible wicket. The clubhouse prepared teas and drinks for the players and also purveyed cold beverages for the spectators to enjoy. Old men snoozed gently in chairs dotted around the boundary, roused only by the clapping for a good stroke or the removal of a batsman.

St Luke’s church which stands resplendent in the village centre originates back to the 16th century. A stone built edifice which started life as a small chapel, like most others, and as time progressed and as the parish became more affluent, grew with donations from good willing patrons who were of the belief that they could ensure their ascension to a further life in the heavens. The graveyard showed old headstones bearing the names of ancestors long gone; to the general by-passer it would seem that not a single person could have died in Ramford for the last hundred years or so due the age of the stones. This of course is nonsense, although the vicar provides a service in the church, all interments were catered for at the Crematorium in Clitheroe, the nearest town that accommodated the deceased from outlying villages. The church held the weddings of the young and old of the area, and the newly joined couples were greeted with smiles and waves of hands as they left the ceremony as one. The church has seen the baptism of countless Ramfordians, dressed in white lacy gowns handed down through the generations; the children of Ramford were accepted into the church, whether or not they continued to worship into later life seemed almost inconsequential.

The village boasted three public houses. The Farmers Arms named as one would assume for the local workers. The Green Man, from a time of what some call pagan times, although it was actually renamed in the late 19th century as a promotion of the then owner, Mr Green. The last of the three is the Ramford Hotel. A large pub in the centre of the village dating back to the mid seventeen hundreds. Originally a coaching house with stables to the rear it catered for the passing trade between Preston and Clitheroe towards Skipton and beyond. The hotel as you would assume still had fairly comfortable rooms for the passing traveller and visitors. It was here that Seb intended to stay whilst he remained in Ramford. He knew the public house very well having had his first ever beer in the back room of the bar. In those days the licensing laws were more flexible with village folk, underage drinkers were not pilloried and hounded by the local constabulary, indeed very rarely did the police pay a visit to Ramford and on those occasions were made generally during the day.

CHAPTER 2

It was in this back room that Seb saw Maria in a different light. Yes they had known each other through school, they spoke when the need arose but never spent any leisure time together or within a larger group. Seb and Maria just never crossed paths that often. In the back room of the Ramford Hotel however things changed, whether it was the affect a couple of pints of larger may have had or maybe that the two of them had grown physically they never really worked out. Maria dressed in tight jeans and a pink blouse and trainers with pink trim looked like she had just grabbed something from the wardrobe and threw it on but Seb could tell she had taken time with her appearance. Her make-up was obviously put on with care and thought, her skin flawless and eyes green and piercing, The shoulder length blonde hair moved from side to side with every movement of her head. Seb could feel himself staring at her.  He was that deeply transfixed that he didn’t even notice her returning from the ladies on sitting next to him on the right.

Do you like what you see? She said in a teasing kind of way.

Sorry he mumbled.

You’ve been staring at me or at least in my direction for the last 10 minutes

Yes I have, sorry about that he said quietly

Why are you sorry, it wasn’t like you were sat there with your tongue hanging out or anything? She smiled.

It was a smile that put him at ease instantly, the fuzzy feeling in his head dissipated and clarity ensued.

Even so, I hope it wasn’t too unnerving. He said apologetically.

Not at all, nobody else has seemed to notice so at least you’re not going to get ribbed by the lads or teased by the girls.

The green of her eyes seem to deepen the more he looked at her, he swore he could see the depths of the ocean in them, he had to tear himself away.

You don’t normally come in here, why the change? not that I spend every waking hour of my spare time in the pub he added.

It wasn’t my idea to be honest, my friend Gill asked me to come out. I’ve been revising and she’s been left on her own, so she said that if I didn’t come out at least once a week from now on she is going to set fire to all my books. They laughed together for the first time and it wasn’t the last time that night.

Standing at 6 feet tall Seb towered over a 5 foot 5 Maria. Seb took it upon himself to be her protector, not that it was needed in Ramford but he was smitten. In the days and months that followed they became inseparable. Friends and family thought that they had been developing their relationship in a clandestine manner but this was not the case. The pair of them was 17 when they got together and were approaching the end of their A-Levels. Seb being more of an academic than Maria had plans for University and she the College in Clitheroe with a view to a career in childcare. As the relationship continued the two became closer, even the impending examinations and the obligatory revision that was required could not keep them apart.

It was not a physical relationship in as much as they did not sleep together in the carnal way but spent many a night clutched in each others arms until they fell into a restful and deep sleep. They were the perfect couple or so it appeared. Everything between the two of them was swimmingly happy until the university question raised its head. It had always been the intention of Seb to carry on his education but Maria was not totally agreeable to the idea.

Why can’t you stay here and do a course at Clitheroe with me? she said.

Clitheroe does not have the level of courses that I’m looking at. The only place I can get them is at university and the best and nearest is Durham.

Maria looked at him incredulously but what about us, you don’t drive, I don’t drive and are you going to bus it back and forward every weekend?

Of course not he replied, that would be stupid

Stupid, stupid she almost screamed, coming to see me is stupid?

No, I didn’t mean it that way. What I meant was that it would be stupid to travel every weekend. I’ll be back for the holidays, Easter, Christmas and summer, you know what I mean. Besides the time will fly by, you’ll be busy at college and before you know it I’ll be back. There was a kind of pleading in his voice. Seb could see a look in her green eyes that he had not seen before. The depths that had been there when they had first got together seem to have disappeared, a shallowness that failed to hide the disappointment.

Despite his best efforts to placate an increasingly emotional Maria, Seb could sense that his efforts were somewhat wasted.

CHAPTER 3

The ringing of his mobile phone brought Seb back to the present.

Hi darling he answered. What can I do for you?

How are you asked Wendy in a sincere concerned way.

Seb was used to hearing from his daughter at times like these. Although they worked closely together it was their way of understanding how the other was feeling. Since the death of Hazel after 22 years of blissful marriage Seb had become inwardly defensive. His external demeanour was that of a confident well balanced man, the real Seb was emotionally drained. Hazel had been his best friend, his confidante, his lover and his rock. Her demise due to illness despite being long and slow and when eventually she left this earth, Seb felt that most of his being had gone with her. The pit of his stomach had not been refilled in the 3 years that had passed and sleep defied him. He had refused all offers of assistance from friends and rebuked anyone who suggested that he seek medical help

I’m fine sweetheart said Seb trying to be reassuring.

Where are you, have you arrived in Ramford yet?

Yes, I’m here. Sat in the car taking it all in, I’ll be calling at the hotel sometime soon

Have you spoken to anyone yet?

Not yet, I’ve just been waiting and watching, there’s plenty of time for making acquaintances from the times gone by, Seb tried to sound a little light hearted and even managed a small laugh. How are things at the office?

Crap, the whole world has fallen apart without you at the helm, so much so that we have decided to put the company into administration. You only left this morning what do you think will have happened? The pair of them laughed loudly now, Wendy always had the capacity to lighten his heart.

In Wendy, Seb could see his departed wife. They shared a lightness of skin, a paleness of pallid whiteness tinged with a peach hue around the cheeks. Eyes of the bluest blue, hair an auburn shade like that of fallen autumn leaves and a button nose. He smiled when he recalled that neither of the ladies in his life was happy with shape of their respective nasal shape.

I’ll call tomorrow, when I’m settled in

Wendy took this as an end to their conversation, ok Dad, Love you

You too, sweetheart and the line went dead.

CHAPTER 4

They hadn’t spoken for a while, just walked hand in hand through the paths that took them around the fields and woods that surrounded the village. It was a path that had been followed for ages upon ages. Seb idly wondered how many other couples had wandered these trails over the years and even how many years it had taken for the paths to be trodden into their current state.

Ramford’s history went back as far as the 12th century. Henry I may well have been on the throne of England when the village was established although no records remain to give an exact date. The local archaeology society regularly dig up residents gardens to see what remains of their past, a well meaning bunch of amateurs, Seb sometimes light heartedly thought that the excavations were an elaborate screen for an opportunity to meet at the Ramford Hotel and the consumption of real ales.

Farming has always been the main industry in and around this part of the north. Potatoes, carrots and other vegetables and salad crops along with wheat and barley with their long stalks made the fields appear to be fluid in the wind, waves and waves of golden shimmering beauty. The introduction of rape seed for the production of oil turned the countryside into a bright yellow patchwork quilt, the