Unit 245: Investigate - A Rather Queer Murder

By S.D. Gripton and Sally Dillon-Snape

Adams, the wealthy ex-S.B.S. sailor, Suzanne Bevan, MI5 Agent and her lover Jayne Harris, Met Detective Inspector, re-unite to investigate the murder of a homomsexual male in Manchester; the killer is said by friends to be an MI5 Agent. The three are formed into Unit 245 to investigate, moving north to do so. This move terrifies the London-centric females but with his usual kindness and calmness, Adams guids his female companions through the terrors that await them. They chase the killer halfway across the country before any conclusion seems to be at their fingertips. A unique novel from the imagination of S.D. Gripton

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.D. Gripton
• Release date: Oct 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005868161

S.D. Gripton

S.D. Gripton novels and real crime books are written by Dennis Snape, who is married to Sally who originate from North Wales and Manchester respectively and who met 18 years ago. I work very hard to make a reading experience a good one, with good plots and earthy language. I enjoy writing and hope readers enjoy what I have written. I thank everyone who has ever looked at at one of my books.

Book preview

Unit 245

Investigates

A Rather Queer Murder

Almost

Another Spy Story

By

S.D. Gripton & Sally Dillon-Snape

© Dennis Snape & Sally Dillon-Snape

© Copyright © Sally Dillon-Snape & Dennis Snape (2024)

The moral right of the authors is hereby asserted in accordance with The Copyright Act 1988

All characters and events in this publication other than those of fact and historical significance available in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons living and dead is purely coincidental

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publisher

Cover by Snape

***

Chapter One

Saturday January 1st 2022

Overcast – Coldish

The Longdendale Woodhead Tunnel Trail

The men were dressed for the weather, one wearing a dark anorak, jeans, leather gloves, a woollen bobble-hat, good walking boots; the other a long coat, buttons open, flapping in what wind there was, a sturdy woollen jumper beneath, warm trousers, also with good walking boots.

It was New Years Day, of course, a day for exercising the overeating of the festive season off one’s waist, which was what the two men were doing. They had walked the six-and-a-half miles to the Tunnel entrance, and had stood in admiration of it, the third, and largest, tunnel beneath the mountains, closed because Yorkshire and Derbyshire could not come to an agreement about who should be responsible for maintaining it, the men who constructed it, who toiled in the darkness, still alive when it closed. Heartbroken men.

As the two men had made their way towards the Tunnel, there had been many people around, lots of them, children on bikes, parents, couples, few couples of men, like them, walking together, but now, with the falling of dusk, few remained on the trail. Their walk was almost complete. Almost, but not quite. There was still enough light left in the day, enough distance to walk, for one of the men to die, to be murdered by the other.

Just enough time.

One man reached out a hand to grip the hand of the other, pulling himself close for a shadowed kiss, receiving instead a headbutt. A vicious headbutt, one that broke the man’s nose and made blood flow.

‘You dirty cheap whore of a man,’ the attacker hissed. ‘You queer bastard, how dare you touch me, how are you!’

‘But…’ the bleeding man stammered, understanding neither the words nor the violence of the action, the headbutt being only the beginning. Following would come the gloved thumps, the kicks, the stamps and time would pass slowly for the attacked man. It would not be a quick death, it would not be understood; the men had been together for months without a hint of anger, without any sign of rage, they had been together.

But now…what was now?

Now was death.

Now was a seemingly endless assault on a gentle man by a terribly brutal one, something not expected by one but planned by the other. One suffering, one being unbelievable excited, doing what he was good at. Killing.

When it was over, the body was rolled into the grass at the side of the trail, no attempt made to hide it or bury it or dispose of it in anyway. The dead man was simply dumped. As waste, as if he had never existed.

The killer walked away without a backward glance, smiling to himself, feeling elated, knowing he would never be brought to justice. It wouldn’t matter how many queers he killed; he would never suffer in any way for his crimes.

He was simply too important to the State.

The thought gave him a warm, deep feeling of comfort.

***

Chapter Two

Haslemere

Monday January 3rd 2022

54 Degrees – Cloudy

The House

There is a house in Haslemere; a rather upper-class town located on the Surrey/Sussex border; that once belonged to a gentleman named Sebastian Thoroughgood. Much like the town in which it is situated, the house is rather grand; three floors high, six bedrooms, four bathrooms, large kitchen, large lounge, reading and laundry rooms, a gymnasium; extensive grounds, where the many decorative blooms and borders are tended by a pair of exceptionally talented local sisters three times a week throughout the seasons, the lawns kept immaculate by a male named Adams.

He actually lives in the fine house since inheriting it from his uncle; Sebastian Thoroughgood. He feels it is his duty to keep the lawns in the finest possible condition as a way of thanking his uncle, who now lives, secretly, somewhere up mountainous north, where it is often cloudy and cool in what is considered to be summer in the wider country; winters being somewhat worse.

The gentleman Thoroughgood likes it there, where he lives his anonymously happy life under another name, surrounded by new friends and memories and mementos of his wonderful wife, Eloise. In the normal flow of life, he has no contact with his nephew nor with anyone else from his previous southern life; he prefers it that way.

Adams is extremely happy living in his uncle’s house; though he does not live in all of it, he does not even live in it alone. He lives in the old gentleman’s enormous office, which ran the width of the house, two bedrooms to one side of it, two to the other, a bathroom on each side; two further bedrooms on the second floor, two further bathrooms, a large lounge. The office is now converted into a one-bed apartment with its own kitchen, shower-room with toilet, an office and a bedroom with a bed that comfortably accommodates three. It covers almost the exact same floor-space as his old apartment did in Richmond, which he still owns but now rents out; the middle one of three in a block also owned by him.

Since moving in, Adams has surrounded the property with six-feet high decorative iron-work, designed and constructed by an incredibly gifted and inventive mother and daughters’ engineering firm; the same firm that constructed similar iron-work around a wine-bar that stands on the north bank of the river Thames in London. Adams visits the wine-bar now-and-again; it is now a private females-only club in which he is the sole male member. Also constructed within the iron-work in Haslemere is a six-foot high gate that is always locked but is activated by a small white disc carried on key-rings or upon the person; in very much the same way as the gate to the private females-only club is also activated. The gates at the wine-bar and the house close automatically, the only difference being the fact that there is a reasonably long drive leading to a gymnasium near the house; separate to the main building; hidden from the gate by a high hedge; showers and fans have been added to the room that holds the equipment. It is used, exclusively, by females, as are the six bedrooms and the four bathrooms; the reading room now converted to an office which is locked, used exclusively by Jayne Harris; a Metropolitan Counter-Terrorism Police Officer; and Suzanne Bevan, a Senior Executive Officer in the Civil Service, working in the Home Office in London, who visit the house more often than Adams visits the wine-bar.

All the other females who occupy the house are under the protection of a reasonably-new charity; GIRLSAFE Ltd, a privately-owned charity with a committee of thirty females who own it, which includes Suzanne Bevan and Jayne Harris. It is a charity devoted to the care of females in London who have been abused or feel unsafe in some way and need its care. The private club is part of the charity, a meeting-place where females can congregate without fear of persecution by males. It is a place of genuine relaxation and happiness.

A female does not have to identify as lesbian to take advantage of the charity’s protection though many do so identify. It is the main reason given by females who seek the charity’s protection because they are so persecuted; prosecuted, maltreated and beaten by males; every male in the land having the freedom to do as he wishes with his life, be who he wants to be; females not enjoying such freedom; females still slaves to male desires and orders and instructions; freedom to be how or what one wants to be, being different if one is female. The charity protects those who wish to make their own decisions, to be who they truly want to be.

For example; Suzanne Bevan and Jayne Harris are dedicated lesbians; they love and adore each other, as they love and adore almost every other female on the planet, though they do not impress their way of life on any other females. Those who use the charity choose their own destinies, their own lives.

Since being in receipt of 2.5 million dollars from the American Embassy in London; their share of a reward placed upon the head of a very bad male; the charity expanded somewhat from its early days. In addition to the members-only wine-bar on the north bank of the Thames; close to an apartment inhabited by Suzanne Bevan and Jayne Harris; it now owns several apartments throughout London town where females live safely until their lives are arranged again to their satisfaction. When this happens, they move out and they move on; no pressure is ever put upon them; everything is at its own pace.

The house in Haslemere is an extension of that accommodation, though one that is without cost to the charity, as Adams charges nothing for the use of his house and grounds, which now contains several seating areas, some beneath rose-covered pergolas, all out of sight of public gaze, and various outhouses for extra privacy during daylight hours; all use of the gym is free; the only cost to anyone staying the house being the duty to keep the house immaculate, to ensure the kitchen is clean, pots and pans put away, loud noise kept to a minimum.

Males are not allowed to visit; that is the Number One rule; the reason being, some females may be close to recovery, ready to move on, others may still be traumatised from recent relationships where the presence of an unexpected male could cause further breakdowns. Visits into town are allowed for those who wish to do it, as is drinking in local bars, or any other places of social interest, but males are not welcome at the house, no matter how cute a visiting female may find one. If a male is heard in the house, or if one causes any trouble in the grounds, Adams will step out of his apartment and deal with it. Sometimes this is not a pretty sight; blood is often involved, very little of it being Adams’.

Females who break rule Number One very quickly learn the consequences of their actions. Members of the committee turn up to deal with them.

Rule Number Two is, like Cinderella, females staying at the house must be returned to it before the midnight hour. From that hour until 0600 hours the gate will not open; unlike the club in London which is accessible twenty-four-hours a day. if a female needs a place of safety; the clubhouse is not available after 2 a.m., though a single telephone call will bring one of a hundred volunteer members who will either find, or offer, accommodation. A coffee machine stands in the courtyard, drinks are free; the machine donated by Adams. The courtyard is covered now, another addition courtesy of the American Embassy. It works very well for everyone involved.

At the house in Haslemere, the females rarely see or meet Adams around the house. He is not a caretaker though he does cut the grass, and neither is he a landlord nor a manager. He has nothing to do with the charity and he is something of an ethereal presence at the property, noticed only by early-risers, of which there were always a few, who see him suddenly appear on the lawn at the front of the house usually dressed for running; never using the main entrance, leaving and entering the property via an old Servants’ Entrance which is close to the entrance of the gym, but the door to that is always closed, external fans almost always running. They watch, the early-risers, if they are so inclined, as he jogs away to the Blackdown/Marley Loop or the Gibbet Hill route, both being 10k, though few females at the house know about them. Sometimes a female or two may catch sight of him making black coffee, no sugar, in the large kitchen, when he is always polite and gentle towards them. Other than on those occasions, very little is seen of him. More is seen of him when Suzi and Janey visit; females from the charity, universally loved by all those the charity helps; including those who have gone on to build new lives; be it in Haslemere or London or wherever else they choose. During those visits, he is introduced to the current residents by either Suzi and Janey; it has been noticed that he seems exceptionally close to the two females when they visit. Often, they stand hand-in-hand, the females occasionally brushing his cheek with their lips. When he appears with them, he brings warmth with his handsomeness and easy male, almost female, charm.

Of the females who resides at the house, almost all of them admire him in one way or another. None are either frightened of him, even the traumatised ones, or of knocking on his apartment door. He always answers promptly, is always gentle both in word and action, he is never threatening, unless the home has a smuggled male within it; those few who have witnessed such an altercation are often amazed at the dazzling speed of his movement.

He has a more solid presence at the wine-bar in London, sitting at a table alone in the covered courtyard, female members being friendly towards him, some kissing the cheeks of his handsome face, several hugging him, many knowing him. When he visits the wine-bar he often stays overnight, or longer, at the apartment of Suzanne Bevan and Jayne Harris, two confirmed lesbians.

When he stays, he often sleeps with both of them at the same time; that is the joyful arrangement they have made between themselves and, because he is the only male the females ever sleep with, and never alone, Suzanne and Jayne are more than happy in identifying as lesbians. Adams, in their opinion, is most feminine in everything he does, except during those times when they do not wish him to be. The arrangement is no longer spoken about amongst their female friends. The females, Suzanne and Jayne, remain busy in their professional lives; Suzi as an S.E.O. in the Home Office; Janey being a serving Detective Inspector of the Metropolitan Police; Adams, as far anyone is concerned, seems to have no gainful employment. In fact, at the age of almost thirty-three, he is still a trainee.

He was recruited by the Security Services over a year previously. For some months, he had no idea