birthday last February. He is well over six feet tall, slim build with a good head of white hair. He might describe himself as a farmer or agricultural engineer.’
‘Is he under arrest, sir?’ returned the voice. ‘Not yet,’ said Detective Inspector Pluke.
Chapter Six
‘Hold the line, sir, the local search won’t take many moments.’
Pluke waited and then, after a lull of some two minutes, the voice returned. ‘Your Eric Burholme, Mr Pluke. He’s not in our records. We’ve checked on the computer among the names of suspected criminals too – but nothing’s known. He’s as clean as a whistle. There are no Burholmes of any age, old or young, male or female, in our local criminal or traffic offence records and I have checked the alternative spellings. Sorry I can’t be more helpful.’
‘Can you do likewise in the national records? I appreciate it will take longer.’
‘No problem, Mr Pluke. I’ll call you the moment I have news.’
Meanwhile, in spite of the fellow’s philanthropic behaviour and his particular gift of the shoggling sticks to the community of Crickledale, Pluke knew he must carefully research the background of Eric Burholme. His lonely life did lend an air of mystery to him, but Pluke and his teams should be able to unearth a good deal about his background. Pluke then returned to the incident room and saw that both Detective Sergeant Tabler, the officer in charge of the Scenes of Crime department, and Inspector Newton in charge of the Task Force had arrived with the results of their searches at the burial scene.
‘Well done,’ Pluke greeted both. ‘Let’s start with you, Inspector Newton. You’d better each hear what the other has to say, and I would like Sergeant Wain to be present.’
He called to a secretary and asked her to send Wain into his office; when he arrived, Pluke asked Inspector Newton to proceed.
‘It’s a case of many negatives, Mr Pluke.’ Newton checked from a pad in his hands. ‘We examined all the combine harvesters and other machines in the quarry. They’ve not been used for months, not since last autumn in fact. The dust and cobwebs confirm no one has moved them or interfered with them recently. One of our officers is experienced in agricultural machinery and he found no reason to think any component part had been removed or in any way involved in the woman’s death. That applies only to the machines in the quarry, however. We have not yet examined those within the farm buildings, but spiked components of the kind we are seeking are rarely, if ever, used.’
‘Spiders’ webs are very good for stemming bleeding in an emergency, gentlemen,’ Pluke reminded them, having heard the reference to spiders’ webs. ‘Not that I think one was used in the case of our victim. But go on, Inspector Newton.’
‘We examined the plastic covering of the bales along the edge of the quarry. These plastic wrappers are fitted precisely by machine, Mr Pluke, rather like those plastic-covered joints of meat you get from supermarkets, and none had been opened or cut in any way. They were fitted prior to the woman’s death. I wondered if either the murder weapon or the grave-digging tools might have been concealed there. But the answer is no in both cases.’
‘Good, so we can eliminate that possibility.’
‘Yes. Next, my team of eight officers, men and women, searched the ground area of the quarry, a fingertip search. We did find various objects which may or may not be relevant – I have handed these to Sergeant Tabler for scientific examination but my gut feeling is none can be linked to the death. There are used condoms, a man’s black plastic comb, a pair of sun-glasses, a pair of women’s knickers and a bra, both black, one or two coins, several empty beer and lager cans, and three bottles of cheap German plonk – empty.’
‘Nothing can be ruled out at this stage so have the items examined,’ cautioned Pluke. ‘Although our victim’s
‘Is he under arrest, sir?’ returned the voice. ‘Not yet,’ said Detective Inspector Pluke.
Chapter Six
‘Hold the line, sir, the local search won’t take many moments.’
Pluke waited and then, after a lull of some two minutes, the voice returned. ‘Your Eric Burholme, Mr Pluke. He’s not in our records. We’ve checked on the computer among the names of suspected criminals too – but nothing’s known. He’s as clean as a whistle. There are no Burholmes of any age, old or young, male or female, in our local criminal or traffic offence records and I have checked the alternative spellings. Sorry I can’t be more helpful.’
‘Can you do likewise in the national records? I appreciate it will take longer.’
‘No problem, Mr Pluke. I’ll call you the moment I have news.’
Meanwhile, in spite of the fellow’s philanthropic behaviour and his particular gift of the shoggling sticks to the community of Crickledale, Pluke knew he must carefully research the background of Eric Burholme. His lonely life did lend an air of mystery to him, but Pluke and his teams should be able to unearth a good deal about his background. Pluke then returned to the incident room and saw that both Detective Sergeant Tabler, the officer in charge of the Scenes of Crime department, and Inspector Newton in charge of the Task Force had arrived with the results of their searches at the burial scene.
‘Well done,’ Pluke greeted both. ‘Let’s start with you, Inspector Newton. You’d better each hear what the other has to say, and I would like Sergeant Wain to be present.’
He called to a secretary and asked her to send Wain into his office; when he arrived, Pluke asked Inspector Newton to proceed.
‘It’s a case of many negatives, Mr Pluke.’ Newton checked from a pad in his hands. ‘We examined all the combine harvesters and other machines in the quarry. They’ve not been used for months, not since last autumn in fact. The dust and cobwebs confirm no one has moved them or interfered with them recently. One of our officers is experienced in agricultural machinery and he found no reason to think any component part had been removed or in any way involved in the woman’s death. That applies only to the machines in the quarry, however. We have not yet examined those within the farm buildings, but spiked components of the kind we are seeking are rarely, if ever, used.’
‘Spiders’ webs are very good for stemming bleeding in an emergency, gentlemen,’ Pluke reminded them, having heard the reference to spiders’ webs. ‘Not that I think one was used in the case of our victim. But go on, Inspector Newton.’
‘We examined the plastic covering of the bales along the edge of the quarry. These plastic wrappers are fitted precisely by machine, Mr Pluke, rather like those plastic-covered joints of meat you get from supermarkets, and none had been opened or cut in any way. They were fitted prior to the woman’s death. I wondered if either the murder weapon or the grave-digging tools might have been concealed there. But the answer is no in both cases.’
‘Good, so we can eliminate that possibility.’
‘Yes. Next, my team of eight officers, men and women, searched the ground area of the quarry, a fingertip search. We did find various objects which may or may not be relevant – I have handed these to Sergeant Tabler for scientific examination but my gut feeling is none can be linked to the death. There are used condoms, a man’s black plastic comb, a pair of sun-glasses, a pair of women’s knickers and a bra, both black, one or two coins, several empty beer and lager cans, and three bottles of cheap German plonk – empty.’
‘Nothing can be ruled out at this stage so have the items examined,’ cautioned Pluke. ‘Although our victim’s
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