The Door is Still Ajar Read online

  “I believe you Mister Baker. What day was it and can you remember the exact time?”

  “Sunday morning and about ten minutes to seven, give or take a few minutes.”

  They walked forward to the exact point of the abduction and Blumer immediately noticed that the bush that the abductor had been hiding behind was situated slightly forward from the rest. But more interestingly there was a gap between the bushes that ran up to the top of the cliff. The abductor had known exactly where he was going to strike. Police tape was still draped all around the area, so Blumer decided to try something out a few feet along. Mister Baker interupted his thoughts.

  “Ive gotta’ go now Mister Blumer. I need to take Bonnie for a walk, but nowhere near here. If you need anything else, just let me know. I feel a lot better for meeting you and I hope I’ve been able to help.”

  “Thank for your time you Mister Baker. And I’ll let you know if anything turns up.”

  After Mister Baker left Blumer entered the bushes slightly further along and began to climb up the cliff. And after clambering and negotiating the dense bushes, made his way to the top of the cliff; and it was hard work. When he had reached the top he had established that the cliff was of about a forty five degree angle and the fencing at the top was about four feet high. The fence had not been broken at the top, so the abductor had easily lifted the girl over the top of it. Blumer although puffed out felt a surge of adrenaline in his solar-plexus; the plot thickens.

  The path that ran along the cliff-top was wide and to Blumers surprise the greensward was very wide and so was the road. He crossed the greensward and then the road. The closest road that led into Marina Parade was Lancaster Gardens. Lancaster Gardens was lined with expensive houses that where set back from the road and had walls, trees and hedges that slightly obscured them. A very quiet residential area, with hardly any people, or traffic. The abductor could have easily parked a vehicle here and caried the girl to the vehicle. Without doubt the abduction was very well planned and executed. Ten minutes to seven on Sunday morning, there would have been nobody about. But what had struck Blumer the hardest was the sheer audacity of it.

  CHAPTER 12

  Mister Marshall had also been in contact with the cafetería where the girl had worked and had told the Manageress that Blumer would pay them a visit. The Picador cafe was situated directly across the road from the main bus station. Blumer took note of this and wondered if many people using the buses, also used the cafetería as a stop off place, while waiting for a bus. It was just after ten o’clock in the morning when he enterred the café and he approached a middle aged woman dressed in a blue uniform, who was in the process of clearing tables.

  “Excuse me, Madam. I would like to speak to the manageress.”

  The woman looked at him and judging by her lack of surprise, she must have assumed who he was. She had pleasing smile and a cordial manner.

  “That’s me. And I think I know who you may be. I’ve been very eager to meet you Mr Blumer. And please call me Shirley.”

  “Well Shirley I hope I’m not inconveniencing you. You know that I have come to ask you a few questions about Sian Ellis. I believe Mister Marshall has given you the details of my visit.”

  She then spoke to a waitress who was also clearing tables and the to another one who was serving some customers. Luckily the cafetería was relatively empty.

  “Linda, Melanie.Take over for a while I have do something. Please sit down Mister Blumer.”

  Blumer sat down at a table and the manageress sat down opposite to him.

  “Would you like a tea, or coffee.”

  “No thank you. I’m trying to establish the last movements of Sian, before she was abducted. Is there anything that you can remember that was out of the ordinary; for example, had she been getting undue attention from a customer? Or did anybody unfamaliar start frequenting here that you had any reason to be suspicious of?”

  “No, nothing. I know most of the regulars and they know I would not tolerate any nonsense. I try to look after my staff. Poor Sian. Who on earth could have abducted her and why? She had been working on the Saturday. She had been her usual self; bright and breezy and quite happy. I can’t believe what has happened, Mister Blumer. Neither can Linda and Melanie. And all of them would have come straight to me if they had any problems. We work like a team.”

  Blumer thanked the manageress for her help and left. The last visit Blumer instinctively knew would be the hardest one. And when he rang the doorbell in Wellesly Road he was feeling a mix of trepidation and anxiety. An elderly lady answered the door. She was very smart and was somedody who obviously paid great attention to ther personal appearance. Blumer introduced himself, but just like the manageress of the cafetería she had been expecting him. Another smartly attired woman appeared behind her and Blumer introduced himself.

  “Good afternoon. My name is John Blumer and I would like to speak with Mrs Burns.”

  “Good afternoon Mister Blumer. I’m Edith Burns and this is my sister Delia. Mister Marshall has told me all about you. I must say I really have been anxious to meet you. Mister Marsall told me that he had given you as much information as he could about Sian. I can only tell you what I know. Poor Sian, she was like a daughter to me. What can I tell you?”

  “As much as you can Mrs Burns. And please take your time, I’m in no rush.”

  “Well, she had been living here just over a year. She was from Swansea and had no family. She had been brought up in childrens homes. And she would not talk too much about that. She always paid her rent early and worked hard for her money. She knew that I had a fondness for dogs and she bought me a yorkshire terrier for my birthday. She loved that dog as well and gladly took her on early morning walks. Beatrice was pampered by both of us. I know that she was happy in her job and she became attached to Shirley the manageress, and the other girls at work. Come with me and I’ll show you her room.”

  When they climbed the stairs and entered the room Blumer knew he was in a room of a typical young girl. There was a big poster of David Cassidy on the wall, with a red heart drawn at the bottom, with the names Sian and David written inside. There were two pairs of platform shoes in the bottom of the open wardrobe. One pair had a broken heal. There was a wide brimmed floral hat. A few pairs of brightly coloured trousers. Several short skirts and an assortment of perfumes, eye shadows and lip-sticks on the dressing table. The bed was neatly made with a gigantic teddy bear propped up against the headboard. It was all too much for Mrs Burns and she broke down and wept openly.

  “Mister Blumer. Please tell me that she has only been abducted and will be found alive and well. Please tell us you are going to find her and bring her home to us.”

  Delia took her sisters arm and led her from the room. When Delia returned she spoke to him in a pained and emotional voice.

  “She loved that girl, Mister Blumer. She could not have children of her own. Sian came into her life like bright sunshine. I’ve never seen my sister so happy over the past year. If there’s any chance of you finding out what happened to her, I’ll be very grateful to you.”

  Delia then left the room to attend Edith. Blumer looked around the room. The poster of David Cassidy, with the heart at the bottom. The broken platform shoe. The floral hat. The dressing table, with the assortment of young womens make-up. It was then that he had his moment of self actualization, his apiphany, his eureka moment. He was looking at the world of a young girl, who had been cheated out of her life, before she had even the chance to find her feet. John Blumer now knew exactly who was. He now knew why he did what he did. There were no grey areas now. He had been born to track down evil, twisted killers. He looked around the room once again and muttered ‘Just give me a lead Sian.Just give me a hook’.

  He would get his lead, his hook the next day. And he knew from the bottom of his heart that he had been right all along. Leon Boyd did have an accomplice. And that
accomplice was close by. And that accomplice had some attachment to this town. But he would have to go back and go over the final moments of Leon Boyd’s life. He had to try to interview the head cleaner Brenda Horton, the cleaner Pat Thackery and hopefully the other two cleaners, Modesta Pons and Hilda Goddard.He had been thrown off the case before he had a chance to interview Modesta Pons and Hilda Goddard. But from what he knew, all of their statements matched very accurately, by what the detectives who had interviewed Pons and Goddard had told him. Leon Boyd seemed to have the ability to appear out of nowhere, before he attacked. He had been seen in Dirty Dick’s, which was just across the road from Woodin Shades; when finally a witness had seen him at the scene of his last but one crime. He must of somehow sighted, or was alerted about the drunken girl leaving Woodin Shades. But how did he know how and when to target her? Because he had been working in concert with an inelligent and patient accomplice.

  CHAPTER 13

  Blumer had been due to catch the train back to London the next day. He had to tell Mister Marshall that he had not found any clues to hint at anything about the disappearance of Sian Ellis. He had decided to take a walk along the pier and get some fresh air. He took a casual stroll to the end of the pier. It was early in the season and there were few people about. It was on the way back that he noticed it and he had to stop dead in his tracks. Across the water about a mile away stood a solitary Martello Tower. And he immediately knew where he had seen it before. He kept walking slowly, without taking his eyes off of the Martello Tower. Then he stopped abruptly and mutttered to himself, ‘Here, just here’. He then did a quick search of his memory. ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ he said out loud.

  When he had been walking around the building where Leon Boyd and Susan Marshall had met there demise, he had come down from all five floors, checking each emergency fire exit door on every floor. Every one had opened with ease, when the bar was pushed. Only the ground floor door was difficult to open. The bar was stiff and the springs on the door were a lot stronger than the others. And when the door was released it would slam shut, with force. He had just released the ground floor door emergency fire fire exit door, when he saw it. Amongst the rubbish around the foot the door, under some sweet paper wrappings, empty cigarette packets and screwed up old newspapers was a post card. He had picked it out from the rubbish and had looked at it. It was an old postcard taken in black and white. And it was the same scene that he was now looking at. The same Martello tower. The back was yellow with age and the name Claude was written in faded blue ink on it. And that was all.

  He kept walking and then he noticed at the foot of the Steel Stella a plaque. He read the inscription on the plaque and felt as though he had been punched in the solar-plexus. IN MEMORY OF CLAUDE KINSKI. A GOOD AND NOBLE MAN 1969.Blumer had finally got his first clue and he almost capered around on the spot. He composed himself and muttered, ‘You bastard, you’ve come home. Did you deliberately leave a clue, or what?’ He had kept the postcard and he had never even thought why. And then it came to him with great clarity. The postcard had a slight crease down the middle. It had been used to keep the fire door ajar. Somebody had let Leon Boyd in through that door. And that same person must have somehow left the fifth floor exit door ajar, where Susan Marshall had been working. Why had he not taken stock of this at the time. He had to get back to London and report to Mister Marshall about his findings. But first he must find out who Claude was and what had happened to him. He went around to the people who were operating the Steel Stella. They were youngsters and probably didn’t know. One of them pointed out an older man that was taking tickets at the Helter Skelter and told him.

  “Ask old Tom over there, on the Helter Skelter. He’s worked here for years.”

  Blumer walked over to the man and introduced himself and the man immediately became visibly alert by Blumer’s question.

  “I have noticed the plaque on the Steel Stella. Who was Claude. If you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Course not. Claude was one of the nicest geezers that I’ve ever met in my life. He used to work on the maintainance on the Stella, until the terrible accident. He was working late, right at the top and must of slipped, or tripped. His safety harness just snapped. All I can tell you that it was blowing a real hooley that day, gale force and he should not have been up there. But he was so conscientious that he wanted to catch up with some repairs that had been put off for a few days, due to the high winds. He must have cleared the railings and fell into the sea. His body was found the next day, washed up on the beach, in front of the Martello Tower. His boss Eddie had told him and Albert not to go up there under any circumstances until the wind dropped.”

  “Is Eddie still about and who was Albert? Anyway I can get in contact with them?”

  “Sure, Eddie retired a few years ago, but I still have a few pints with him at the weekend, down the Osborne. He still lives up Arnold Road. Albert was the other bloke, who worked with Claude. He’s dead. Died a few years ago, cause’ he was a helpless alcoholic. And for some reason he hated Claude. I dunno’ why.”

  “Do you have Eddie’s phone number, by any chance?”

  “No, but he’s in the phone book. Edward Buckley, Arnold Road.”

  Blumer thanked him and tried to find the nearest phone box. He found one in the town centre and thumbed through the phone book until he found the telephone number of Edward Buckley. He had already thought up a ploy and he hoped that Mister Buckley would take the bait. The phone rang several times before it was answered.

  “Hello Eddie Buckley. Can I help you?”

  “Good morning Mister Buckley, perhaps you can. My name is John Blumer. I’m a private investigator and I believe you used to be the boss of Claude Kinski, when he worked on the pier. I’ve been hired by a Mister Richard Marshall. It’s only a case of an old friend that he had lost contact with. I’m afraid I’m going to have the tell Mister Marshall about the death of Mister Kinski. Mister Marshall is a businessman and it’s only recently that he has retired completely.”

  Buckley thought for a while, to give himself time to digest what Blumer had said.

  “Who told you about me? I don’t get many phone calls these days.”

  “Tom, on the pier. He told me that you were the only one who had the most details of what happened to Mister Kinski. He was very helpful.”

  “Old Tom, I think he loved Claude as much as I did. Tell you what. Meet me at the Osborne Hotel about seven tonight. And I’ll tell you about a bloke that was a diamond, as far as people go.”

  When Blumer entered the Osborne’s bar just before seven, Eddie Buckley was already waiting for him at the bar, alone. Blumer guessed correctly who he was and approached him.

  “Mister Buckley I pressume?”

  Although quite elderly himself, Eddie Buckley had the appearance of a man who had worked hard all of his life. His frame was slim, but strong. His hands were gnarled and strong, when he shook Blumer’s hand.

  “Glad to meet you Mister Blumer.Would you like a pint?”

  “The drinks are on me, and please call me John.”

  He ordered two pints of Ben Truman and they went to sit down at a table. Eddie was the first to speak. And he had an air of melancholy of about him as he did so.

  “Well what would Mister Marshall like to know about Claude, other than he’s dead?”

  “Please give me your opinion, as somebody who had been close to him.”

  “He was an all round decent geezer. Great big bloke, six foot and fifteen stone.”

  “Did he ever speak about his past to you at all?”

  “Very rarely. He was Polish and he and his wife Eva were displaced persons at the end of the war, when the allies were fighting the Germans. All I can tell you is that he loved this country, but towards the end he had become dispondant and depressed.”

  “Why was that?”

  “For many reasons. One of them I could do somethin
g about. His private stuff he kept to himself. But I knew some of it from my wife, who was on friendly terms with Eva. But I had enough to contend with anyway. Albert, my other worker hated Claude, only because he was a displaced person. Albert had been in the army and had seen and a lot of action during the Normandy landings. He had been in the front line, in all the carnage and bloodshed. He had been badly concussed by a shell that had exploded close by, killing most of his mates.

  “Albert drank too much and I had come close to firing him a couple of times. I told him that he must not drink while he’s working, under any circumstances. But when he was sober he did work very hard. The sarcastic remarks from Albert hurt Claude, but he took them well. Claude’s pain and suffering were more to do with Eva and their son Freddy. Eva died a few years ago.

  “Freddy got into criminal activities and ended up in prison. He got involved with a petty crook called Hammond and they committed a series of burglaries that ended in disaster. My wife gave me the address of their neighbour, Mrs Burgess. Mrs Burgess became very close with them and she would know a lot more than my wife would. You know women can go places with other women where men can’t. Claude would spend a lot of time at work. I think because he dreaded going home and he would do any overtime that I could give him. The day he got killed I was off and I had forbade him and Albert to even think of going up there. My wife tells me that the main cause of friction between Claude and Eva was there son Freddy. He simply would not work and ponced off of them. I think Freddy was only six years old when they came to England.

  “The final straw for Claude was when the police arrived at their house looking for Freddy. I believe the last job they did Hammond got caught and he grassed Freddy up, probably hoping he’d get a lighter sentence. What a disgusting character Hammond was. Eva told my wife that Hammond was also a bloody pervert. I only saw him once when he had the gall to come and ask Claude where Freddy was. Probably something to do with an upcoming job he had planned. He was a big horrible looking bastard, with a face like a pig. An arrogant, loud mouthed and bombastic thug. I took an instant disliking to him.”