Naked Villainy — Part 2
Murder and Lies: One Wronged Man, One Librarian Sleuth, One Buried Truth — A Cosy Mystery Short Story
The story so far: Pernickety local librarian, Elizabeth Crump, makes the gruesome discovery of Reginald Appleby’s body washed up on the beach. When suspicion unjustly falls on Isaac Dalrymple, a newcomer navigating the complexities of both Asperger’s and a new country, Elizabeth’s librarian’s instinct for detail becomes a determined quest for justice. Fuelled by an unwavering belief in Isaac’s innocence, Elizabeth delves into a web of small town secrets, determined to unearth the truth before the next chapter is written in blood…
“I’m telling you Sergeant Gummidge, you’ve got the wrong man!”
His sniffles now a fully-fledged head-cold, Peter Gummidge surveyed the woman sitting before him.
Miss Elizabeth Crump’s eyes glittered behind her wire-rimmed spectacles. Her greying hair was bunched into a knot at the top of her head and she wore a long, hand-knitted cardigan buttoned to the neck and a voluminous floral skirt that skimmed her ankles revealing a pair of black lace-up brogues.
The Sergeant’s throat felt like sandpaper and his head throbbed. Earlier that day he’d had to placate an irate Lavinia Snape who’d discovered the escaped wombat, Bumble, burrowing into her prize rock melons.
Elizabeth had arrived just as he was making headway with his report for Inspector Barr.
“And what makes you think we’ve arrested the wrong man Miss Crump?” he asked weakly.
Elizabeth snorted. “It’s as plain as that great big red nose on your face! I know Isaac Dalrymple. He’s a regular in the library… I’m helping him research his family history. He’s no more capable of killing Reginald Appleby than you or me! You do know he has Asperger’s Syndrome, don’t you?”
Peter shook his head, too exhausted to argue.
“His refusal to look you in the face, his fear of loud noises, his literal interpretation of everything you say… it’s a dead giveaway. The only reason that poor man confessed was so you would leave him alone and stop pestering him with accusations!”
Sergeant Gummidge wondered for the millionth time what vengeful god he must have offended to get stuck with this insufferable woman. If it wasn’t her complaints about school kids leaving litter on the library steps, it was her telephone calls to Esther complaining about the neighbour’s dogs copulating in her front yard. Only two night’s since, she’d rung to report an abandoned baby crying in the bushland behind her house! He should have arrested her for wasting police time!
Now the woman was looking at him through narrowed eyes. Cripes! What had he done now? He gave an explosive sneeze.
Elizabeth reached inside her handbag and handed him a handkerchief smelling of eucalyptus. “I’ve always liked you, Sergeant Gummidge,” she said. “I think you’re a fair man… and a decent one and I don’t think arresting Isaac Dalrymple rests well with you.”
Now the blasted woman was a mind reader. But he kept his peace and listened.
“The question is,” she continued, “if Isaac is innocent — which he is — who killed Reginald Appleby?”
Peter shrugged.
“Sergeant Gummidge, you know as well as I do about the goings on in this town.” Elizabeth tapped the side of her nose. “You’d be surprised what I hear working in the library.”
“I don’t think anything would surprise me, Miss Crump.”
Elizabeth rounded on him. “You know what those men get up to behind their wives’ backs… it’s disgusting!”
“It might be immoral Miss Crump but it’s not against the law,” Gummidge replied.
“But murder? Now that’s a capital crime the last I checked.”
Gummidge sat straighter in his chair. “What are you trying to say, Elizabeth?”
“Come with me, Sergeant Gummidge. You’re going to release Isaac Dalrymple and help me find Reginald Appleby’s real killer!”
Gummidge blinked, unable to believe his eyes. Appleby’s house had been turned upside down.
“Reginald Appleby obviously had something the killer wanted,” Elizabeth said, a thoughtful look on her face. “And when he refused to hand it over, he was tortured and killed.”
“Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” Gummidge said dolefully.
Elizabeth turned to the big black man standing beside her. “Isaac… remember when you told me about Mr Appleby sacking you from your gardening job?”
Isaac nodded.
“What was he doing when you found him?”
“He said he was feeding the ducks.”
“That’s strange… I haven’t seen any ducks at the Centennial Park pond for weeks now. Show me where you spoke to him.”
Peter and Elizabeth followed Isaac through thick shrubbery towards the back of Reginald Appleby’s untidy, overgrown yard.
“Where was he standing, Isaac?” asked Gummidge.
“Over there.” Isaac pointed to a large, green plastic tub. “That’s where he keeps the duck food,” he explained.
A grin spread across Gummidge’s face. “What’s the bet Appleby knew he was in danger and had to find another hiding place quickly… so he dumped whatever it was they wanted here, planning to come back later and retrieve it?”
Without waiting for an answer, the Sergeant thrust both hands into the feed bin and rummaged through the pellets. Within seconds, his fingers fastened upon a thick, plastic envelope.
“Maybe this is what our killer was looking for!”
Sergeant Gummidge opened the envelope, his eyes widening as he removed the contents. Inside there were technicolour photographs of furiously fornicating knots of men and women; of tangled, naked limbs in every sexual position imaginable.
“Cor lummy!” breathed Gummidge. “Appleby must have had a hidden camera to get all these.” He peered at one of the photographs. “It’s Mayor Gray… and here’s Councillor Symons… there’s even old Bottomly the publican with some floozy!”
“Give them to me!” Elizabeth snatched the photographs from his hand and hid them beneath her coat.
“What the — ?”
Elizabeth jerked her head in Isaac’s direction.
The Sergeant nodded. Good old Elizabeth, her first thought to spare Isaac’s innocent eyes. They saw him a way off trying to tempt a suspicious magpie with a duck pellet and heaved a collective sigh of relief.
Sergeant Gummidge’s mobile telephone rang. He listened then replaced it in his pocket.
“They’ve just found him.” His voice was barely a whisper.
“Who?” Elizabeth asked crossly.
“Mayor Gray… hanging from the back of his office door by his belt.”
Inspector Barr closed the report and pushed it back across the desk to Gummidge, shaking his head.
“Myrna Gray, the Mayor’s wife, heh? So bloody hoity-toity that butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth… then she takes to Appleby in a frenzy with the secateurs and snips off all his fingers — unbelievable! When did you realise she was the killer?”
“It wasn’t me,” Gummidge admitted. “All credit has to go to Elizabeth Crump.”
“Our librarian detective?” Barr was incredulous.
“I’ve got to hand it to her Sir. She confronted Mrs Gray with her suspicions and the woman confessed almost immediately. It seems Appleby was trying to blackmail her husband for fifty thousand dollars. He threatened to publish the photographs if they didn’t pay up. Myrna Gray knew they didn’t have the money. Apparently their son’s been in trouble with the law and their legal fees cleaned them out.”
“So she decided to take matters into her own hands, was that it?”
“It was her car that the witness, Valma Anstey, saw that day. Myrna must have killed Appleby that afternoon and waited until Mrs Anstey left before she removed the body. The woman’s strong as an ox.”
“But didn’t Valma swear that she heard voices much later that night when she returned from her shift?”
Sergeant Gummidge gave a wry smile. “Yes… but they weren’t human voices.”
The Inspector blinked. “Come again?”
“So this is where it gets interesting, Sir. Isaac Dalrymple visited Appleby earlier that day then returned to the house at ten o’clock in the evening to beg for his job back. Valma Anstey heard him hammering at the door and assumed that Reginald Appleby opened the door and Isaac killed him in a rage. That’s why we arrested Dalrymple.”
“Go on,” instructed Inspector Barr.
“Well, the problem was, she only heard Isaac, she didn’t actually see him. Unbeknownst to our witness, when Appleby didn’t answer the door, Isaac left. Ten minutes later when she heard the voices arguing, she just assumed it was Isaac. She had no way of knowing that Reginald Appleby couldn’t open the door to Isaac because he was already dead! Myrna Gray had killed him earlier and removed his body when she knew Mrs Anstey wouldn’t be around.”
The Inspector’s eyes narrowed. “So if it wasn’t Appleby or Isaac, who was it doing the arguing at ten o’clock at night?”
“It was Larry the lyrebird! He’s a brilliant mimic — and he escaped from the sanctuary a week ago! A few nights back, Elizabeth rang the station to report a baby crying in the bushes behind her cottage thinking it must be abandoned because no babies live in her street. When I told her about the missing lyrebird, she put two and two together. Larry the Lyrebird must have heard the argument between Appleby and Mrs Gray earlier that day. Later that night, he returned for a feed from Appleby’s duck food bin — ”
“I still don’t understand — ”
“It was Larry — not Isaac — who Mrs Anstey heard at ten minutes past ten. Larry the Lyrebird was mimicking what he’d heard earlier that day!” Sergeant Gummidge finished with a flourish.
The gruff Inspector allowed himself a smile. “Well, I’ll be damned!”
The storms had disappeared and Port Ellingham was once again blessed with sunny days and gentle breezes. The summer tourists had arrived and local shopkeepers were smiling, the cafés enjoying a roaring trade.
On the cliff path, an unlikely trio walked arm in arm. Sergeant Peter Gummidge had decided to take a well-deserved day off and, when Elizabeth invited him to accompany her and Isaac on a walk, he didn’t like to say No.
“Now Elizabeth, old girl,” Gummidge said with mock sternness. “You might be a damned fine detective but I must warn you against interfering in police business in the future.”
Elizabeth saluted like a drill sergeant. “Aye Aye Sir! I give you my solemn promise to never again meddle in matters that don’t concern me.”
“And pigs might fly,” joked Peter.
Isaac immediately looked upwards. Then, hearing his companions’ chuckles, he decided to laugh too.
The End
