Mydworth Mysteries - False Witness (eBook)

Matthew Costello, Neil Richards (Autoren)

eBook Download: EPUB

2024 | 1. Aufl. 2024
164 Seiten
Bastei Entertainment (Verlag)
978-3-7517-7346-1 (ISBN)

Infos

When a man is murdered in a back lane of Mydworth, the police are surprised to discover that the victim had supposedly died months before: Harry and Kat agree to investigate on behalf of the man's frightened and confused wife, and soon discover that to find the killer they must solve not one, but two mysterious deaths ...

Co-authors Neil Richards (based in the UK) and Matthew Costello (based in the US), have been writing together since the mid-90s, creating innovative content and working on major projects for the BBC, Disney Channel, Sony, ABC, Eidos, and Nintendo to name but a few. Their transatlantic collaboration has underpinned scores of TV drama scripts, computer games, radio shows, and the best-selling mystery series Cherringham. Their latest series project is called Mydworth Mysteries.

<p>Matthew Costello (US-based) is the author of many successful novels published around the globe, including Vacation (2011, in development for film), Home (2014) and Beneath Still Waters (1989), which was adapted by Lionsgate as a major motion picture. He has written for The Disney Channel, BBC, SyFy and has also designed dozens of bestselling games including the critically acclaimed The 7th Guest, Doom 3, Rage, Pirates of the Caribbean, and, with Neil Richards, Planet of the Apes: Last Frontier.</p>

Textauszug

1. Trouble Ahead
   

Arthur Wells, guard on the 08:05 Portsmouth to London service, stepped down from his compartment in the train’s brake van, the sun already low in the sky and the day’s warmth fading quickly.

He looked up and down the station platform, the last passengers just boarding the train, still ten minutes before departure.

This service was always a quiet run on a summer Friday evening – not much call for a trip up to London at so late an hour.

Well – wasn’t his cup of tea either! But that was the schedule, and, afterwards, he could look forward to the weekend – glorious weather predicted – to enjoy his garden, deal with that blackfly on his roses, perhaps plant some autumn bulbs.

Might even coax poor old Mother out into the sunshine – get her out of that dreary bedroom for once!

He looked down past the line of carriages to the loco, the great engine huffing clouds of steam and smoke into the air as if chomping at the proverbial bit. Ready to race its way up to London and then – with some other unfortunate crew – come back at the crack of dawn.

Arthur took out his pocket watch, a reward from last summer for his twenty years of service. Not much of a fanfare, but the new Railway Company was only a few years old and clearly wasn’t going to allow sentiment to get in the way of “modern” business efficiency!

Still, a most excellent timepiece. He checked it against the big station clock: spot on, to the very second.

And now, as they were just minutes away from getting the train rolling, he saw a couple of last-minute passengers racing to climb aboard. Perhaps their last opportunity to get back to the capital this very day.

Glancing the other way, up at the loco, he saw Jim Collins the fireman, standing on the platform in conversation with Len Skinner, the driver. A good and solid team, he knew; one that often shared the same shifts as Arthur himself. Collins gave him a wave, as if needing a word.

Hmm, he thought, aware of the impending departure, minutes away, this is most irregular. Something up?

He checked his watch again. If he was quick, there was just time to see what the fellow wanted.

He hurried down the platform, out of habit, glancing into each carriage as he went. As expected, there was still barely a handful of passengers this evening, most of the compartments empty.

As he approached Collins and Skinner, he took in the powerful engine – the “Zephyr” as the beautiful loco was named. Like a huffing beast, the great black and green machine was, in Arthur’s opinion, one of the wonders of this modern era.

Collins, the younger of the two, turned to him with a broad, warm smile.

Skinner though, lingered for a moment, avoided meeting his eye.

Leaving Arthur to think: Definitely something “off” here.

*

The fireman was quick to greet Wells.

“Arthur, good evening.”

“Jim,” said Arthur. Then, knowing that the driver was a stickler for being addressed properly, he said, “And a very good evening to you, Mr Skinner.”

Collins looked to Skinner as if waiting for the driver, the de facto commander of the train, to respond.

But that did not happen.

Collins filled the gap. “Being Friday night and all that, Len and me were wondering if you’d be joining us for a pint after we’re all cleaned up? Quick one, mind...”

Arthur looked from the fireman to the driver. Had they got him all the way up here just to ask him that?

“Well, um, most kind of you, but as you know, I prefer to get straight home after a late turn. My mother, you know. Quite infirm...”

“Of course,” said Jim, patting Arthur on the shoulder and grinning. “Home to the family. Good man.”

“Mustn’t annoy mother, eh, Wells?” said Skinner finally, turning to Arthur now, his face in a slight smirk, his voice flat.

Arthur looked at Skinner, wondering where this sudden animosity was coming from.

And then he noticed it. A telltale sign.

Skinner had – surely – already been drinking. A hint of it, right there with those words. Not that the driver was in stumbling-down mode, but clearly he had enjoyed a few drinks before showing up for this run. Arthur caught the smell lingering on Skinner’s breath.

Not the weak beer that sadly was common enough these days, even here on the footplate, no, this was the smell of something much harder.

Whisky.

And that was alarming.

He turned to Collins. The fireman’s engaging smile had lost some of its ease: in its place, a knowing look.

Skinner took the dirty rag that hung from his overalls and wiped the sweat from his forehead, before grabbing hold of the step up to the cab.

“So, Wells, all good back there then?” he said, the bite gone from his voice, back to business as usual.

“Why certainly, Mr Skinner. All ship shape and in order.”

“Good man,” Skinner said. “Looks like—” again, that tiny hint of a slur, “—we’re on time. Just how we like it, eh?”

Skinner pulled himself up, showing no problem with the steps or the railing, but still leaving Wells thinking: Should I be saying something? Reporting this?

Arthur knew it was certainly his duty if he suspected the driver to be incapacitated in any way.

But as soon as Skinner was up on the footplate, into the loco, out of earshot, steam hissing, Collins stepped close.

“Er, look, Arthur. I know, well, perhaps you might suspect—”

Arthur finished the thought. “That our Mr Skinner here has had more than a pint or two?”

Collins looked serious. “’Fraid it does appear that way.”

“And not just beer, I believe, Jim,” said Arthur.

He saw Collins look up to the cab as if to check Skinner wasn’t listening, then he frowned.

“Look, old chap, don’t you worry. I’ll be right here, keeping a sharp eye on things.” He put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Just as I always do. You tend to the passengers, and we’ll be just fine.”

And with that, Arthur saw Collins check his pocket watch. Sleeves rolled up, revealing arms sinewy and strong from all the years feeding the steam engine’s hungry firebox.

“So then – best we get ’er started, yes?” he said. “Oh, one more thing. Trust you saw there’s a TSP again, few miles north of Mydworth?”

A temporary speed restriction, Arthur knew. Spotted and noted.

“Saw it on the board in the shed,” he said.

“Speed all the way down to twenty at Hickman’s Curve,” said Collins.

Arthur nodded. He knew Hickman’s Curve well – a section of track high above a picturesque gully popular with walkers.

But also a notoriously steep embankment that, with weather often taking its toll, required constant maintenance. He guessed, with the recent summer rains, the trackmen would be working on it through the weekend.

Now he watched as Collins stepped up into the cab.

“We’ll lose a few minutes but we should be able to make it up later,” said the fireman, with a grin.

Then he grabbed his shovel, picked up a full load of coal and hurled it into the red-hot firebox, keeping up a head of steam.

Being honest with himself, despite Collins’s assurances, he still felt a deep unease about Skinner and however much he had imbibed.

But then, with Collins saying he was on top of all that, perhaps it was nothing to be worried about?

To be sure, the last thing he wanted was to get a fellow worker the sack. Perhaps it would be best to address the problem next week? Quietly. Confidentially, somehow.

Arthur turned and headed back towards the rear of the train, where he would give the platform one more glance before entering the brake van and his compartment.

Then, a wave to the front with the green flag where Skinner would be awaiting his “all-clear” signal to depart.

After which, the train would begin its speedy summer evening journey from the coast, through the leafy hills of Sussex, and on into the great city of London itself.

*

Twenty minutes later, as they pulled out of Mydworth station, Arthur took a welcome sip of his tea from his chipped and battered metal mug.

Not quite as hot as he liked, but still, pleasant enough, as the rolling green fields darkened and the sky above turned a deep, rich purple.

He checked the schedule out of habit, though in truth he knew it off by heart. They’d left Mydworth – last of the local stops – bang on time. It was now thirty minutes before their next stop on the line, with the train racing at a good clip, probably forty, maybe fifty, miles an hour.

Remarkable, he thought. This era of modern travel, today’s steam engine, was a marvel of British engineering. His mind wandered briefly to the talk he had been asked to give at next year’s meeting of the Mydworth Historical Society.

Something on Steam and Empire, perhaps?

He stared out of the window at the rich farmland with...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 1.12.2024
• Sprache: englisch
• Original-Titel: Mydworth Mysteries
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Historische Romane
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror ► Krimi / Thriller
• Schlagworte: Bunburry • cherringham • COSY • Cozy • Crime • detective • Downton Abbey • Historical • Krimis • Lady • Lord • Miss Fisher • Murder • Mystery • mystery novel
• ISBN-10: 3-7517-7346-0 / 3751773460
• ISBN-13: 978-3-7517-7346-1 / 9783751773461