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    When the Dead Rise Up
    When the Dead Rise Up
    When the Dead Rise Up
    Ebook145 pages2 hours

    When the Dead Rise Up

    By John Barber

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    About this ebook

    The body of a suspect in a murder enquiry is uncovered during work to the town fountain. He was Ray Radford, killed thirty years previous and thought to have killed his partner John Kennedy. A manhunt at the time involving DCI Winwood who had only recently been appointed as a detective failed to find Radford or identify any suspects. The case had led to accusations of corruption in both the police force and local Council.
    Now that a body had been uncovered the case has to be re-opened and the question answered: if Radford killed Kennedy who killed Radford? The town’s workforce had lived in fear of Radford and even thirty years later few want to discuss the past.
    Winwood has to interview people still alive who remember the case despite the hurt it causes. Winwood fears that his career and that of his superiors could be ended by the failures of the past and his inability to solve then now.
    The investigation is aided by the fact that there is no public identification of Radford as the body in the fountain. The press are more interested in the discovery of a bag of bones in a utility trench which are identified as being those of a soldier in the English Civil War.
    Winwood draws on the help of Christine Grey, Leader of the Council and Brian Stirling, Sergeant Emma Porter’s partner. They are able to access Council records and local tradespeople willing to talk. The trail leads to a suspect by means of advances in modern forensics to establish soil samples that marry up Radford and the Civil War soldier.
    This is a much abridged edition of the first version published in April 2016.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJohn Barber
    Release dateApr 21, 2016
    ISBN9781310207303
    When the Dead Rise Up
    Author

    John Barber

    John Barber was born in London at the height of the UK Post War baby boom. The Education Act of 1944 saw great changes in the way the nation was taught; the main one being that all children stayed at school until the age of 15 (later increased to 16). For the first time working class children were able to reach higher levels of academic study and the opportunity to gain further educational qualifications at University.This explosion in education brought forth a new aspirational middle class; others remained true to their working class roots. The author belongs somewhere between the two. Many of the author’s main characters have their genesis in this educational revolution. Their dialogue though idiosyncratic can normally be understood but like all working class speech it is liberally sprinkled with strange boyhood phrases and a passing nod to cockney rhyming slang.John Barber’s novels are set in fictional English towns where sexual intrigue and political in-fighting is rife beneath a pleasant, small town veneer of respectability.They fall within the cozy, traditional British detective sections of mystery fiction.He has been writing professionally since 1996 when he began to contribute articles to magazines on social and local history. His first published book in 2002 was a non-fiction work entitled The Camden Town Murder which investigated a famous murder mystery of 1907 and names the killer. This is still available in softback and as an ebook, although not available from SmashwordsJohn Barber had careers in Advertising, International Banking and the Wine Industry before becoming Town Centre Manager in his home town of Hertford. He is now retired and lives with his wife and two cats on an island in the middle of Hertford and spends his time between local community projects and writing further novels.

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      Book preview

      When the Dead Rise Up - John Barber

      When The Dead Rise Up

      By

      John Barber

      © April 2016 John Barber

      Revised June 2020

      Revised July 2021

      Smashwords Edition

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      This is a work of fiction.

      Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

      Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

      Chapter One – A Bag of Bones

      Detective Chief Inspector Steve Winwood drove down the eponymously named School Lane. It took drivers out of town, past the Cricket Club, beyond the town boundaries and into the hinterland with its picturesque villages found along unmade village roads. But the first landmark was Rutherford High School

      The road was supposed to be lit by well distanced lighting columns. Unfortunately they seemed to turn themselves on and off on a whim of their own, totally independently of any Highways central control system. As the late evening dissolved into night School Lane was unusually bright.

      The reason for this unusual brightness was that the permanent street lighting had been augmented by temporary lights on tripod legs placed along the hard standing pavement.

      Steve approached an even more luminous white light that was actually a cluster of powerful floodlights illuminating a stretch of road no more than about twenty yards in length. It had been excavated to form a narrow valley and the mud and aggregates on the road by its side were piled high like ancient earthworks.

      Expecting to find the crumpled metal of a crashed car he was unconcerned by the number of police cars, fire appliances and ambulances. There had to be a serious incident at the bottom of this for a Chief Inspector to be called out in the darkening hours before midnight tolled.

      He parked as close to the centre of activity as he could and was met by Sergeant Bill Lyons. The senior uniformed officer was his usual phlegmatic self. There was never much emotion shown on his face apart from an occasional knowing smile which comes with years of service and rarely seeing anything new.

      What have we got Bill?

      Not too sure guv. We’re waiting for the doc.

      It is a body then?

      Sort of guv.

      Why not talk to me in straight understandable plain English. What are the cavalry doing here?

      It was the gas board who called it in. There’s been reports of a strange smell.

      That doesn’t surprise me being so close to the school. Are you sure its not just kids letting off stink bombs?

      Wish it was. Anyway the gas board did a check, confirmed it was a gas leak, traced it down to a cracked pipe here and dug a trench. That’s when it was found.

      What was?

      A bag of bones guv.

      Human?

      Waiting on the doc for that. But there’s a skull, various bones from legs and arms according to the paramedics and other body bits and pieces. All stuffed into a black bin liner and left here.

      So saying Sergeant Lyons led Winwood to the newly established crime scene.

      You should have brought your boots guv. There’s a lot of mud and other nasty wet stuff lying around.

      Thanks for the warning Bill. Whenever I get a call out this time of night I just put on the old suit and shoes.

      Bill had rarely seen Winwood in anything else. The rest of the station would agree. The middle aged Chief Inspector was rarely seen in new suits or polished shoes or wearing a modern tie

      Even when his wife had prevailed upon him to replace old clothes for new it was only a matter of hours before a rivulet of strong coffee missing mouth or a morning sandwich generously treated with brown sauce and held aloft had left an indelible stain on the recently purchased garments.

      That diet had led to his steady gain in weight. He did not like admitting it. However he looked well with a clear skin and few lines in his face. Grey hairs were a minority party on his head.

      There was a long section of open earth in which an equally long stretch of dark orange pipe was laid alongside other smaller pipes. A black plastic sack was placed on the road surface. Winwood looked inside watched by an interested group of gas engineers. It was as Sergeant Lyons had said, a bag of bones.

      Found any more?

      The workmen who lined the roadside on the opposite side to Winwood all shook their heads and mumbled a collection of negative replies. One of their number who Winwood assumed was the foreman added a few words.

      We haven’t found any more. Not in this stretch.

      How much further have you got to dig?

      This is it Inspector. Once we found the leak we would have repaired it and covered in the trench but one of the lads stuck his spade into that black sack.

      Then what?

      We called you lot.

      So the gas is still turned off?

      Yep.

      How long does this trench go?

      All the way up there, the foreman replied by pointing into the darkness of the countryside that lay ahead. And back to the town of course.

      That’s a lot of trench. You haven’t found any other bones?

      We had a quick check but it’s not something you expect to find is it? When can we get back to work? We’re going to get the world and his mother ringing up because the old man can’t get a cup of tea or have a morning shower.

      It’s a crime scene son. Has to stay sterile for the time being. Although between you and me I don’t know whose budget they’d raid if the whole lot had to be dug up.

      All in a days work for us Inspector.

      Who else has pipes down there?

      They all do. There’s ours, electrical power cables of course, then you’ve got water pipes and the TV and phone companies took the easy route and used the existing trench for their own networks. They’re the real villains; they never fill them in properly when they’re done.

      So where’s this black bag come from?

      No idea have I guv. Anyone could have put it down there. A hole is a hole in the ground. We do try and draw attention to the danger by placing a few lights around it to stop some silly arse driving full pelt down it.

      Magic, said Winwood.

      Put it this way guv. We’re on call out, that’s emergency rates so we can hang about all night because who wouldn’t turn down extra bunce. But we’d rather get the job done and go home.

      Me too, replied Winwood. But I don’t get paid extras.

      He called over Sergeant Lyons and walked over to where the fire crew were gathered. The senior fire officer shook his hand and grinned. Not your usual shout is it Steve?

      You’re in charge here Ben. What’s your thoughts?

      There’s no danger to life, gas has been turned off and the scene is secure so we could call it a night.

      I agree. Look Bill, tell the paramedics to push off. Wait for the doc to turn up; he’ll want photos and soil samples and all that sort of stuff. Oh and he can have the bag as well. I’ve got nowhere to store that sort of thing. Once he’s done his bit then they can turn the gas back on and leave it for the morning. We’ll have another look then. Make sure someone stays here.

      Where’s your oppo? I would have thought that this sort of thing would have been good experience for her.

      Young Emma has gone dancing the light fantastic at a Chamber of Commerce Charity Night.

      All right for some of us.

      What would you have been doing then Bill?

      Watching the football on the TV at the nick.

      Nil-nil when I left. Mrs Winwood was pleased to see the back of me; as soon as I shut the door she would have changed channels to watch her favourite detective series. The football’s got extra time and penalties written all over it.

      Thanks for that guv. It will save me watching it when I get home. Eventually.

      You see, saved you from that torment. Tell the doc when you see him that I’ll catch up with him first thing.

      Winwood returned home to watch the penalty shoot out but was back early at the office next morning. Not quite so early was Detective Sergeant Emma Porter.

      Good night Em?

      I think so. Better than I thought.

      The outward Emma was in far better shape than the inner one. The light grey trouser suit with the shadow stripe had only been recently collected from the dry cleaners. It was a good fit around her body. It was her favourite working attire and most of the male officer’s as well. However they maintained a safe distance from her.

      Time had been a good teacher. She was easy on the eye with thick black shoulder length hair that was styled to curve around the line of her cheekbones. The big, brown eyes and a full mouth made her popular with her male colleagues.

      She may have been an approachable and easy to talk to young lady but one you did not touch unless specifically invited and those times were very, very rare, if at all. Emma kept work and leisure in completely different bubbles.

      See anyone we know?

      I recognised a few faces but not so many as you might have done; had you been there.

      Not my scene Em. Whilst you were dining out for free and drinking the finest wine I was stranded out in a country lane.

      It may have been the finest wine and the most expensive brandy along with some very appetising foods in exotic sauces but they make for a dodgy mix after a glass or two of fizzy wine before the event.

      Self inflicted Em, I have little sympathy. You can tell me all about your night out whilst you drive us over to see Doc Mackenzie.

      So it was a serious incident?

      I’m hoping Ian will be able to confirm that.

      Are you not going to tell me then?

      At the moment all we’ve got is a bag of bones, supposedly human and half the town with no gas.

      It was on when I got home.

      In the small wee hours I suppose.

      Not that late guv.

      Good. Let’s go.

      Winwood had finally got used to Emma’s driving. He no longer gripped the sides of the seat with both hands

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