Chief Inspector Rory has asked me to write a blog post about a crime.
See his post here:
The Crime is to involve the following bloggers:
So here is my tale:
Arriving back from his Easter Break was always tough. You just had time to relax and forget about work, when before you knew it you were back in the office staring at the computer screen. Inspector Kristian had made the most of the beautiful weather they’d had and taken a trip to the seaside. There was something about sitting on a windy beach and eating sandwiches with real sand in them, that really made him feel happy. Dipping his toes in the sea and seeing how long he could keep them there before frostbite set in was a fun game too.
The Chief poked his head around the side of his cubicle wall, plastered with pictures of his pet chickens, and jovially said “Did you enjoy the beach? Well if you’re yearning for the sea, you’ll enjoy this next assignment then.”
“No rest for the wicked,” thought Kristian to himself.
He grabbed his coat and ran out of the door in a hurry.
It took quite a while to get to the scene of the crime. He had to drive down to the coast, which took about thirty minutes but then had to wait for a ferry to take him over to Crab Island.
The island was a popular spot for holidays, with two beaches one on the sheltered side that had a family holiday park on it, complete with caravans and a swimming pool. The other beach was a bit wilder, facing the open sea. This was a popular nudist beach in the height of summer, but this time of year, there was a chilly wind that was not at all kind to exposed areas.
He was surprised that anyone would be around that part of the island to wind up dead at all.
Finally, he arrived at the Cove to be greeted by a local constable, Constable Carruthers.
“The Body’s down here, Sir, on the beach.”
“Was it a suicide, Constable?”
“Well, it could have been, but I’d say it was more likely Murder. It’s a nasty sight, Sir, Brace yourself”.
They had to carefully negotiate their way down the steep path and the narrow concrete steps to the secluded Cyranny’s Cove and there on the beach lay the naked body of a man, half buried in the sand. A Tenor saxophone lay discarded by his feet and a plastic bag was tied around his head.
From the deep gouges made in the sand by his feet and the sand under his fingernails, it was clear that the man had put up a struggle.
Combing the beach, the Inspector found an empty pizza box, A box of matches and a revolver.
Above the beach was a Café called the Cornucopia and a small cosy looking cottage. There were several pairs of footsteps crossing the sand that must have been made fairly recently. The tide came in almost to the cliff edge and would have wiped out any footsteps made more than six hours ago.
“Constable who lives in these buildings?”
Constable Carruthers looked up from removing the plastic bag from the victim’s head.
“The café’s only open in season from the beginning of May to the end of September. The owner lives in the village on the other side of the island. Cosy Cottage is lived in by a lovely lady who moved here for some peace and quiet about a year ago. She keeps to herself mostly.”
“While forensics come and take the body away, we’ll best go and ask the lady some questions.”
The forensics team were coming down the narrow steps, Inspector Kristian walked over to take one last look at the victim’s body, before the autopsy. The face was grossly swollen and purple from blood and a terrible welt was around its neck where the bag had been tied on tightly.
“Nasty” though the Inspector.
Knocking on the door of Cosy Cottage, it wasn’t long before a lady answered it, wearing a loose-fitting fisherman’s smock embroidered with flowers and a daisy in her hair.
She introduced herself as Clare and invited them into her front parlour that overlooked the sea. The sound of the waves gently bumping onto the beach was very calming and relaxing. The room was decorated with seashells and pieces of driftwood tied with string. Inspector Kristian enjoyed folk art and commented favourably on them.
“Oh, I made them myself. It’s part of my therapy. It’s why I came here. I’m sorry to say, I had a bit of a mental breakdown a few years ago. The noise of the city would get on my nerves and I’m a very light sleeper, I need silence and calm about me. That is what my Therapist, Carol Anne of Therapy bits, recommended for me. Total rest and relaxation by the beach.”
“I see, Clare. Could you please help us with our enquiry? A man has been found dead on the beach outside, did you hear anything?”
“Oh, no, I’m afraid I didn’t hear a thing. I slept like a log last night. I had some chamomile tea and that always makes me sleep deeply.”
The Inspector had a good knowledge of herbs himself, he often suffered from anxiety attacks brought on by the sight of so many gruesome bodies. He took St Johns Wort and also occasionally Chamomile to help him sleep. However, as he looked around the cottage, he found several herbs but no chamomile at all.
“Excuse me, Clare, but clearly your bed has not been slept in, and there is no chamomile here. You already said you were a light sleeper and so I can’t believe that a man could be murdered outside your front door and you didn’t hear a thing.”
A change came over Clare’s lovely face. It became twisted and she twitched awkwardly. Suddenly she burst out “I HATE JAZZ! I HATE IT!” She shouted.
“Carol Anne, my therapist, said I had to have complete peace and quiet and that man came down to the beach every night to play his blasted Saxophone. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I asked him quite nicely to stop. I even took him out some cigarettes and my novelty lighter in the shape of a revolver. He smoked the cigarettes then laughed in my face. He just kept playing that Jazz music. I just snapped. I found a plastic bag that had washed up on the beach and I sneaked up on him while he played Take Five. It was mental cruelty!”
Inspector Kristian and Constable Carruthers read Clare her rights and took her into custody.
The inspector shook his head, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for Clare. Here was another brutal crime caused by Jazz.
Who is the victim?
Who is the murderer?
Clare of dreams and adventures of cosy cottage
Who is the location?
Cyranny of Cyranny’s Cove
Who is the murder weapon?
Cheryl of The Bag Lady
Who is the motive?
Carol Anne of Therapy Bits
I hope that no one has taken any offence by this story. 🙂
I have also included the following word prompts:
Today’s prompt: pizza, daisy, revolver