Cidered in Sidmouth Read online

  Frank and Ella were powerless to stop the torrent of words emanating from Amelia’s befuddled brain.

  “Perhaps I should get the life insurance as well. I could take Agnes for a walk up Salcombe Hill when I find her. I could demand the money from her. If she refuses me, then, I could take all of it! By fair means or foul! The cliffs are very high up there.”

  Ella recovered the power of speech. “Amelia, you’re not making any sense. Have you been drinking?”

  “Huh, very soon there may well be two deaths in the family.”

  Amelia spat on the ground at Ella’s feet and turned and waddled away from them in a hasty but haphazard fashion. She turned her head back towards them and screamed, “I’m going for a walk up Salcombe Hill with Agnes…‌ so I can throw her off the cliff!”

  Without hesitation, she darted across the road, narrowly avoiding being flattened by a passing car. A screeching of tyres and the decibelistic sound of the car horn caused most of the promenade to gaze in her direction to see what caused the cacophony.

  Amelia glared menacingly at the driver. The driver appealed to the heavens above and slapped his hands on his steering wheel. Non‌-‌verbal communication ensued between the two of them as Amelia continued on her zig‌-‌zagging way.

  Ella, meanwhile, was flushed and flustered. “That woman is the rudest and most baffling creature in the whole Sid Valley. She’s my chief suspect!”

  “I’m not so sure. At least, she told us some more information.” Frank took Ella’s hand as he turned to face her. “There is a will and the money is going to Agnes, and the house is going to her!”

  “Lucky them!”

  “Do you think, she’s really going for that walk?”

  “I don’t think she would get halfway up the hill before collapsing. I do think, however, that she’s cracking up under the strain of it all. It could get rather messy!”

  Chapter Seven

  It’s Heaven in Devon

  Solvitur ambulando 1

  Frank and Ella sat at home drinking coffee and staring out over Mutter’s Moor. The early morning cloud had cleared away and the whole length of the tree‌-‌lined hillside was crisply visible. The breeze had died down. Yet again, there was hardly a cloud in the sky.

  “You know, Frank, it’s a beautiful morning. We need to get away from this detective work. My mind is buzzing with a multitude of theories!”

  “Clear our heads?”

  “Exactly! What about a walk? Let’s go somewhere on the Coast Path and just blow away the cobwebs, forget all about our problems and enjoy this glorious autumn weather.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “Somewhere around here.”

  Frank went to his laptop, opened his Firefox browser and quickly found the South West Coast Path website. He typed Sidmouth into the walk finder. Twenty walks appeared on the Walk Finder page. He dismissed the seven easy and three challenging walks. Ten moderate walks remained.

  Frank scrolled down the list. “Salcombe Hill? Otterton Mill? The Donkey Sanctuary Walk?”

  “No, all too far away.”

  “Mutter’s Moor and Peak Hill?”

  “That’s more like it.”

  Ella come over and looked over his shoulder at the walk description.

  “It’s not the Coast Path, but we’ve never walked up on Mutter’s Moor.”

  She went and sat back down in her favourite chair facing out of the window towards their very own Mutter’s Moor view.

  “How far is this walk?”

  “Just over three miles. We’ll take the car to the Mutter’s Moor car park.”

  “What does it say about the route?”

  Frank read from the walk description.

  “A walk through prehistory, following ancient tracks through an area thought to be densely populated in the Stone Age. There are breathtaking views in every direction and an abundance of wildlife in the colourful heathland. Children will love the freedom of the open space, as well as the tales of smugglers and cavemen. A good walk for autumn, when birds raid the bushes for berries and the heath is bright with heather and gorse.”

  “Well, we haven’t got our children with us anymore but it is still autumn so it sounds perfect. Take your phone and we can check for directions if we get lost!”

  “The route looks straightforward and level! It goes along the heathland to just above Newton Poppleford. Then we take a brief circle and retrace our steps back to the car park.”

  “We could walk and then pop down to the Connaught Gardens. We could stop at the Clock Tower cafe for lunch.”

  “Great idea. We leave in 15 minutes!”

  “Aye‌-‌aye, Captain!”

  ***

  The morning was perfect. The car park was surprisingly half full. They avoided as many of the bumps and ruts as they could and parked under the swaying branches of a conifer tree. They laced up their walking boots. According to the weather forecast, wet weather gear was not needed. Frank locked the car and off they set.

  They headed inland away from the sea. The track was wide and flat, evergreen trees on one side and heathland bracken on the other. A variety of birds added their extensive range of tuneful melody.

  “What a lovely place,” Ella was already convinced they had made the correct choice to walk on Mutter’s Moor.

  The web browser on Frank’s phone was open at the Mutter’s Moor walk page on the South West Coast Path website. Frank had saved the walk description so that it was readable in offline mode. Every now and again, without Ella’s awareness, Frank would innocently drop in some morsel of relevant knowledge.

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I’m a good reader!” Frank held up the phone and laughed.

  “Did you know that we’re walking on one of Europe’s oldest and largest pebble‌-‌bed heaths?”

  “So knowledgeable!”

  “It’s owned by Clinton Devon Estates. In 1930, Lord Clinton opened it up to the general public for air and exercise!”

  “That, O great mastermind, was an excellent decision!”

  “It was once seven separate commons.”

  “One for every day of the week.”

  At regular intervals dogs with and without their owners passed them by. A cheery “Good Morning!” from the owners was met with genuine smiles and words of reply.

  One thing both Frank and Ella noticed when moving into the area was how people would actually take the time to talk to you. No heads were buried in a phone or counting the cracks in the pavement. Up here it helped that there were no pavements and intermittent mobile phone reception, but still, people talked to you!

  Frank continued to prove his reading ability was not diminished by his advancing age. “Did you know the Baron of Clinton was a title bestowed in 1299, the second oldest barony in Britain.”

  “Barony, what sort of a word is that? Do you mean baloney?”

  Frank’s voice was full of magisterial authority. “Barony is a very high ranking word!”

  “Yes, and a baron ranks above all knighthoods. You address a baron as Sir!”

  “Have you got your phone open as well?”

  “No, some of us retain information in our brains, not our mobiles!”

  ***

  The heathland’s bracken, its heather and the mounds of rough grass were home to insects, moths, butterflies and lizards‌-‌ even the shy adder. Frank and Ella saw none of these, even at this time of year. They did spot a buzzard flying lazily and gracefully high above them on the lookout for suitable prey.

  They were in no hurry and they often stopped to take in the stunning views over towards the South Devon coast. At certain stages of the walk they were able to enjoy the southern end of the Otter Valley stretching down to Budleigh Salterton and then beyond to the Exe Valley estuary at Exmouth and Dawlish Warren. Their eyes could follow the coastline past Teignmouth and down towards Torbay. Even Berry Head beyond Brixham was clearly visible.

  “It’s heaven in Devon,” Ella
sighed.

  Eventually, the walk curved around and they made their way back to the car park. There, they crossed the road and wandered over the rough grassland to the cliff edge of Peak Hill. From here the South West Coast Path headed downhill eastwards towards Sidmouth and westwards to Ladram Bay and its famous sea‌-‌stacks. They sat on the shorter grass by the path and once more enjoyed the glorious views towards Berry Head. Dartmoor was visible on the horizon on the other side of the Exe Valley. Even at this time of the year, walkers both casual and long distance passed them by. A large percentage of them taking the time to stop and admire the view before venturing downhill.

  What wind there was blew in from the sea. They followed the paths of a few fishing boats making their way slowly parallel to the coast. A helicopter flew low overhead as it followed the coastline from Exmouth. It disappeared into the distance as it headed for Seaton and Lyme Regis. Seagulls, refugees from Sidmouth, occasionally appeared from below the clifftop as they flew upwards on the air currents before soaring above the red cliffs.

  All good things come to an end and in just over two hours after the start of their walk they were back at the car, refreshed, revitalised and ready to enjoy some lunch down in Sidmouth at the Connaught Gardens.

  Chapter Eight

  Nothing too risky but nothing too legal

  Every man at the bottom of his heart believes that he is a born detective.

  Lunch at the Clock Tower Cafe in the Connaught Gardens was superb as usual. The sound of the sea hitting the rocks below Jacob’s Ladder, the ever present squawking of the seagulls, the clink of cups and saucers and the soft murmur of subdued conversation added to the ambient delight.

  Frank and Ella’s Ploughman’s were finally and fully devoured. Ella broached the topic that neither really wanted to discuss.

  “Well, do we continue or just walk away?”

  “A bit late if you’re meaning the meal? We’ve both just finished!”

  “You know exactly what I mean! Our investigation, if that’s what it is, into Cidered of Sidmouth.”

  “Very good phrase! Well, WPC Knowle told us to mind our own business but I’m quite interested to find out as much as we can. We can always pass on our findings to her at the appropriate time!”

  “I was so hoping you’d say that! We both read so many detective books that it would be a shame to just walk away when we have a real live murder opening up before our very eyes!”

  “I don’t think you can have a real live murder?”

  “Oxymoron?”

  “Definitely maybe!”

  A smirk appeared on Frank’s face. “Right, if we’re going to investigate we need a plan of action.”

  “In Death in Paradise, they always write everything up on a whiteboard.”

  “We haven’t got a whiteboard,”Frank chuckled.

  “We’ve got a corkboard in the garage. We could cover that with stiff paper!”

  “We’ll list our suspects, their motives and then find a way to meet with them and find out as much as we can in a cautious and discrete manner.”

  “If we both put one of those dictaphone recording apps on our phones then we can record any conversations. We may even be able to use them as evidence.”

  “Isn’t that some breach of the law?”

  “It takes a thief to catch a thief! The detective and his criminal wear versions of the same mask.”

  “Good quote.”

  “Jane Roberts. Now she was a very strange personality. She was an American who channelled this person called Seth.”

  “Wasn’t she the one who said “You create your own reality”?”

  “Absolutely!” beamed Ella.

  “That was a real new age phrase that the mass media loved!”

  They both sat there drinking in the gentle surroundings. The flower beds were just being dug over, ready for their winter hibernation. The grass was still a bright and lively green. The crazy paving pathways were devoid of weeds and moss. They could hear the birds in the nearby trees to their left and the gentle swish of the sea on their right.

  “We couldn’t do this if we were still working?”

  Ella thought that there may be something in this retirement after all.

  “Let’s get home, put up the whiteboard, create our own reality and solve a murder!”

  ***

  The whiteboard was quickly constructed. Frank wrote Suspect, Motive, Alibi and Notes across the top of the paper leaving lots of space for the latter heading. He then drew lines down the paper dividing the headings into columns. The Notes column was four times the width of each of the other three.

  Ella took over and spaced out down the left‌-‌hand side the names of the suspects.

  “Amelia has to be the first name!” She immediately wrote in that name.

  “Fair enough, but then add Agnes straight underneath.”

  “Then there’s Gabriel Metcombe at the Mariners pub.”

  Ella tried to keep the handwriting both legible and neat. All these names were on there for the long run.

  Frank remembered, “The Zummerset Zyder Mafia?”

  “Yes, not very likely but sometimes the most unlikely end up being our murderers.”

  Silence filled the room. Serious thinking time.

  Ella dredged up from somewhere, “Steer clear of ‘arry!”

  “Pardon?”

  “That’s what they said. Steer clear of ‘arry.”

  “Yes, you’re right. I remember the Mafia said that in the cafe.”

  “Who’s ‘Arry?”

  I don’t know yet but put him or her down as well.”

  Ella finished writing. “That’s five suspects that we know about.”

  They both thought for a while.

  “Wait a minute,” Ella continued, “What about where Billy worked? Sowden Valley Cider Farm up near Clyst St Lawrence, you said.”

  “Yes, what if he had enemies in his workplace? He wouldn’t be the first.”

  “There could be any number of suspects there. I’m putting them down as well.” She wrote “Unknown fellow workers.”

  “And then there’s A.N.Other! It could be somebody we know nothing about. A random burglar. A person out of his past.”

  “Wow, the list is growing ever longer by the minute.”

  Frank nodded, “I think we need to speak to all of them, bit by bit, one by one.

  “All the ones we can speak to! A.N.Other might be hard to find!”“

  “True, then we share our thoughts with WPC Knowle and see if she has any other suspects on the horizon.”

  After a brief moment of contemplation, Ella said, “We need to find out more about Billy’s life. Who were his friends? What did he do at work? What did he do out of work?”

  “The more we find out about him the better our chances of discovering how and why he died.”

  Companionable silence filled the room once more. Then finally, Frank took the whiteboard pen and wrote Money in the Motive column alongside Agnes’ name.

  “Absolutely! Ditto for Amelia.” Ella said. She considered that for a moment before adding, “They both could have easily killed for the money. But, shouldn’t you add in love as well? Either of them may well have been jealous. It could have been a crime of passion.”

  “True, the front room and the bedroom certainly looked a mess.”

  Frank wrote in the motive column Jealousy and then Love alongside both their names.

  “Next?”

  “The Mafia are meant to be after business in the Sid Valley. Perhaps they wanted to let everyone know what would happen if they didn’t come on board the Zummerset Zyder train!”

  Frank laughed. “You’ve been watching the Godfather again.”

  “Let’s not get personal. What about the pub landlord?”

  “Perhaps he had a business deal with him and it went wrong or maybe the landlord had an affair with Billy’s ex‌-‌wife. They lived next door.”

  Ella nodded as Frank added the words Business Deal
and Affair into the motive column. She looked down the list of suspects. “Fellow‌-‌workers?”

  “Jealousy? Blackmail? Revenge? Hatred?”

  Frank wrote further words into the motive column and then put down the pen.

  “Enough talking. We need to put our ideas into action. Let’s see if Gabriel Metcombe at the Mariner’s has finished his conversation with the Zummerset Zyder Mafia yet.”

  ***

  Gabriel was in the Mariner’s Pub when Frank and Ella walked into the saloon bar. No‌-‌one else was there. Gabriel was sat slumped in a window seat behind a fake antique table, staring sullenly out of the window. He looked about sixty, maybe even slightly older. There was no way he could be described as the George Clooney of Sidmouth. Unkempt hair thinning on top, unkempt clothes, a jersey with a distinct hole in one sleeve. Trousers that were beer stained and an ugly shade of grey. However, in spite of that, something was troubling him. Both Frank and Ella had a pretty good guess what it might be.

  He rose as they moved towards him. He struggled for a smile which he just about achieved. “Good afternoon my lovelies, what can I get you?”

  “Some cider, please. Do you sell Sowden Valley here?”

  “No, we don’t. I don’t think I’ve ever ‘eard of it.”

  Ella raised an eyebrow expressing her disbelief in his answer. “Really, that’s not what we’ve been told.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you know Billy Bowd? Your next door neighbour?”

  “Now that were a terrible business. Terrible. I thought it would bring lots of extra customers through my doors. You know people are always drawn to the scene of a death. But, as you can see, it seems to have ‘ad opposite effect.”

  He waved his hand at the empty room.

  “Quite. However, we know about you and Billy and your little game, Mr Metcombe.”

  Gabriel’s face dissolved in shock.

  “How d’yer find out?” he blustered. His troubled demeanour quickly came back to the surface, “I thought we were discrete.”

  “Not discrete enough.”

  “No, you’re probably right.”

  There was an embarrassed pause in the conversation. Gabriel didn’t seem to want to try too hard to conceal the truth. He looked resigned to his fate. Ella was sure she could see tears in the old man’s eyes.