The blazing log fire of the High Dales brought warmth to the locals who had ventured out in the appalling weather. The cosy ambience and good beer as well as the appetising meals were what brought the local community into the pub. George Reynolds had been the landlord there for about fifteen years and had adapted his business to suit the locals. During one harsh winter some years ago when the Old Dale Road was blocked by snow, George let the locals stay in the warm pub while supplying them all with plenty of food and drink.
Archie’s cottage was just over a mile away from the High Dales and was reached by negotiating a long winding muddy track which meant that at certain times of the year his humble abode was almost inaccessible. The cottage had various outbuildings attached to it which gave Archie the space and opportunity to indulge his many hobbies. He had almost rebuilt an Austin Cambridge, renovated his motorcycle and had created what can only be described as a micro brewery.
Walking along the edge of the Old Dales Road was a precarious venture at the best of times, but during the long dark winter evenings it was positively suicidal. The frequent snow or freezing rain gave the road many pot-holes and cracks as well as deep and boggy ditches which ran alongside the tarmacadam. It was during one of Archie’s solo treks to the High Dales one evening that he encountered a hole in the road with striped boarding and flashing beacons around it. He began to think that the hole may be a practical place to deposit a body or even part of one. After sitting on a stool at his usual place at the end of the bar, Archie supped his pint which had been hand drawn from the barrel and mulled over his murderous thoughts. By this time, waitresses were busy serving dinners of flame grille sirloin steaks or succulent roast chicken in the busy restaurant which at weekends was the hub of the farming community whatever the weather. However, several diners opted for meals served in the bar as the heat of the roaring log fire was very welcoming.
Archie and Jim had just begun his second pint when Dave Garrett entered the bar and removed his drenched overcoat. “Pint of the usual George, please. That damn rain is now just about horizontal. Oh! And have one yourself.” Archie, Jim and Dave settled down to in-depth discussions on everything from car and tractor maintenance right through to diseases in sheep including Feedlot Rectal Prolapse! The log fire crackled and glowed in the corner as the hours passed until the landlord shouted last orders and Archie ordered, “One for the road, George.”
Outside the High Dales pub the rain had stopped but the wind was blowing with a vengeance when Archie and Jim began walking their separate ways home. After a few minutes Archie again came upon the set of road works whose warning barricades and lamps had now blown over, whereupon he looked into the gaping hole and thought to himself, ‘Aye, one for the road.’ Macabre though it seemed to be, Archie still favoured using the hole to bury the body parts although he knew that he would have to plan it properly so that he wouldn’t be suspected. Old Bert was a retired farmer and who lived in a remote part of the surrounding moor was his most likely victim. Bert, was in his seventies and known to be cantankerous would not pose too much of a problem, his disappearance would be easily explained by suggesting that he may have gone over to stay with his daughter on the other side of Stallbeck. In fact, Archie didn’t envisage many problems at all; he was known to visit farms all round the dales carrying out maintenance which would explain why he was in certain areas at certain times.
By the time Archie had reached his cottage, he had formulated his plan for the following day. Old Bert wouldn’t know what was coming. Although it was late, Archie made himself a coffee and sat at the large wooden table in his kitchen, with only a small light on the cooker canopy illuminated; the rest of his cottage was in darkness. Having finished his coffee he went to the hall cupboard and extracted a long length of rope which he would need for the next day. The only thing that worried him was that the rain had left the ground muddy and that would mean that it would be possible to identify the tyre tracks as that of the Austin Cambridge. Switching off the light, Archie took himself off to bed but couldn’t resist smiling at his deviousness.
The following morning was dry although the wind was keen over the moors. Archie had more to do before paying old Bert a visit. Walking over to one of his sheds, he considered whether he should change the car’s tyres before or after seeing Bert. In the end he decided that since the tyres were just still legal and that the police wouldn’t be visiting him that quickly anyway, he would change them afterwards. As the hours passed, Archie knew that he had one person to see before he saw old Bert, this was a friend of his called Tom Crowther. Tommy, as his friends called him, had a few days before agreed to repair Archie’s portable jet wash, which would be necessary to remove as much dirt and evidence as possible. As expected, the jetwash was repaired and ready for collection. At the same time Tommy lent his friend a powerful vacuum cleaner to remove any trace of everything; even body hairs. Archie thought that even the forensic scientists would be impressed. After returning home, Archie knew that he had a few hours before visiting Old Bert so he tidied up a few things before going for a drink at the High Dales Inn to steady his nerves.
There weren’t many drinkers in the pub, including just a few of the lunchtime regulars and a few strangers. George didn’t say much as he poured Archie’s favourite brew. Archie couldn’t stand the suspense any longer, “What’s up George, has there been a death?” he enquired sarcastically. “Yes!” replied George, “Old Bert’s been murdered!” Archie put down his pint, “Bloody hell!”
”Sombre faces of the bar regulars looked at each other. “Who the hell would do over old Bert, even though he was a miserable old bugger?” A few minutes later a tall muscular stranger carefully manoeuvred himself onto one of the bar stools and ordered a double whisky.
Just then the two police officers entered the High Dales pub. “We’re looking for Archie Paton.” Archie swung around on his bar stool, “That’s me!” The two officers approached and arrested Archie for the murder of Bert Simmonds. As Archie was being led out of the bar, he noticed the middle-aged stranger at the bar who was preparing to leave. “One for the road?” enquired George. “Aye!” replied the stranger, smiling, before sitting back down upon his bar stool. “One for the road!”
Later at the police station it became evident that Archie was in a whole load of trouble. Not only had he been in possession of Bert Simmond’s car, but also he had thoroughly cleaned it, outside and in, after what the pathologist had given as the approximate time of death. Not only that, Archie still had to try and explain why a length of rope had been found in the car after Old Bert had been strangled. Furthermore, it did seem strange that a car jack was found lying beside four reasonably new tyres in Archie’s workshop giving the impression that he had wanted to change the tyres so that the tyre tracks in the mud were different from those on the Austin Cambridge. Perhaps though, the most incriminating piece of evidence was the fact that Bert Simmond’s mobile phone was found by the police hidden under the passenger seat of the Austin Cambridge.
This last fact troubled Chris Hudson as he couldn’t fathom out how Archie could have cleaned the car so thoroughly and yet had failed to retrieve the phone. “Careless, very very careless!” DI Hudson’s voice drawled. Even Archie had to concede that it didn’t look too good. As the twin tapes whirred away on the recorder, the DI at Brogside police station sat back in his chair opposite Archie, while blowing out his cheeks in frustration. “You’re going to have to do better than that!” in reply to Archie’s unconvincing explanation. Archie then told DI Hudson that the Austin Cambridge had been owned by Bert Simmonds, but that he had spent weeks repairing it and had felt excited about surprising Old Bert by returning it almost rebuilt and clean. Archie’s solicitor requested a private word with his client.
Just then there was a knock at the door and the desk sergeant appeared. “Interview terminated 14.26” DI Christopher Hudson then left the interview suite to speak privately with his sergeant. “This better be good!” The desk sergeant couldn’t help but reply, “Depends what way you look at it, Sir; There’s been another one. Shepherd by the name of Jim Breesley, found hanging in one of his sheds, but the local vet who was driving along the farm track on his way to Breesley’s when he had to pull hard over when a four by four squeezed past him before accelerating like a bat out of hell. DI Hudson returned to the interview room, sitting down in front of Archie, “Well now, seems you’ve been telling me the truth! You are free to go but we may need to speak again.” With that, Archie left the building with his solicitor before they parted and went their separate ways.
The following morning was bright but very cold with a dusting of snow on the ground. DI Hudson had just arrived at his office and poured himself a coffee from the machine as there was a knock on his door. “Come in!” Hudson bellowed. Hudson’s deputy, Detective Cruikshank, stood in front of him, “Just got a phone call from the road diggers up on Stallbeck Hill.”
”Oh Aye, What’s that about?”
“When they cleared the snow from the site this morning about 8am and began digging, they found a body in it that wasn’t there when they finished work last night!’
“Shit. Any idea who it is?”
“Archie Paton, who was in here yesterday.”
“Grab your coat, we’re going up to Archie’s place now for a look round.” The car wound round the twisted and turning roads which still had a light dusting of snow on them but it wasn’t long before the car turned into Archie’s yard. Detective Cruikshank was often referred to as Crooky or just plain Cruikshank managed to gain entry to Archie’s property by the back door.
“Have you ever seen such a place?
“No, I guess I’ve been fortunate!” The two detectives began searching the building for any clues which might lead to why someone would want to bump off Archie. “There’s a pile of letters here addressed to him, some of them opened, some not.
“There’s one here from a book publishing company. Seems our Archie was a fiction writer with quite an imagination, who just had his recent work accepted for publication.”
“So all that gubbins about changing the tyres and jet washing Bert Simmonds car was probably played out as part of a plot for his novels?”
“Aye, seems to be. By the way, what’s the title of his book that’s going to be published?”
Cruikshank, read through the letter. “One for the Road!” Hudson couldn’t help but notice the irony, “Poor old Archie was half buried under type 2 aggregate!”
“Aye, quite so!” The two detectives renewed their search around Archie’s humble home.
The ringtone blasted out of Hudson’s phone, “Billings here, I have a Godfrey Davidson on the phone, says it’s urgent that he needs to speak to you. He says he has some information about Stallbeck which may interest you. He’s up at the High Dales Inn and just heard about the investigation.”
“Thanks, tell him we’ll be there in about half an hour.” Then he turned to Cruikshank and asked, “You find anything of interest?”
“ Nothing, just a pile of old musty books and junk as far as the eye can see.”
The road to the High Dales was winding and torturous but eventually the pub came into sight. As Hudson opened the door of the pub, he was greeted by a warm ambience, many diners and drinkers and a huge heartening log fire. A well-built man in a tweed suit stood up from his seat and beckoned to the new arrivals.
“I’m Godfrey Davidson, local historian and beer connoisseur, you must be Detective Inspector Hudson.”
“Correct, and this is right hand man Detective Cruikshank. I believe you have something of interest for me?”
“Yes, I think so. You see, I’ve researched this area in depth and the two places where the deaths occurred hold special significance in local history.”
“In what way?” asked Cruikshank.
“The shed in which Jim Breesley was found stands on ground which at one time was the location of a gallows.”
Hudson crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. He wasn’t buying it, “You mean that you don’t think there is a logical answer to this.”
“I’m saying there might not be. Furthermore, the location of the roadworks where Archie Paton was found used to be the local burial site.”
Just then, Hudson’s ringtone rang out. “Excuse me, while I take this.” DI Hudson stood up and crossed over to the panoramic windows and looked out over the snow covered dales. “Hello, can I help you?”
“Rachael at the Path Lab here. There are features on both bodies which are identical.”
“Like what?”
“Both victims appear to have a single burn mark consistent with a red hot branding iron!”
“Oh my God, that’s horrific!” The diva of the path lab added, “I’ll send you some pics.”
“Thanks Rachael, bye.” DI Hudson relayed this new information to Crooky and Godfrey, but the historian didn’t appear to be surprised. Within a few minutes, DI Hudson’s phone beeped and he opened the horrific photos. He showed them to Godfrey who then extracted a folded piece of parchment paper from his jacket pocket.
The parchment paper showed an old drawing of a branding iron mark which was identical to the photos on the screen. The branding iron mark was known as the Devil’s mark. No sooner had they realised the significance of this when Hudson’s phone once again burst into life. He remained seated and listened to the voice on the other end. It was rare that Hudson showed any emotion but he was visibly shaken when he turned and looked at the two men.
Cruikshank was the first to ask. “What is it?”
“I’ve just been told that the road crew from the site when Archie's body was found, all left in a van and had only gone a couple of miles when it skidded on the road and crashed through the barrier at Devil’s Corner. It plummeted down into the gorge. There were no survivors.”
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