Concept date: 6th February, 2019
First published: 21st December 2019.
Status: COMPETED.First published: 21st December 2019.
Version: EXTENDED.
Age Recommendation: 15+
Average Reading Time: Approximately 45 Minutes.
Revisions: 3. [Last Edit: October 2020]
Human Time: 1916AD-1334AH Mission: 481309 - 6 - 7294
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| "THE PRIEST." |
MISSION SUMMARY: "In the Autumn of 1916, the village of North Turning, located in a remote part of Yorkshire, welcomes the new parish priest; Father Peter Meyer, who has been a Padre in the British army and served for two years in Northern France. The young priest quickly proves popular amongst the villagers - especially amongst the many widows and wives of serving soldiers! - But what lies behind this priest, whose favourite saying is; God has little to do with religion! But strange happenings in the village bring Jericho on the scene."
NOTES: This episode contains strong language and strong sexual references.
"This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or actual events is purely coincidental." The Author.
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| 30 Min. |
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| Book series 3. |
"THE PRIEST."
1. INTERVIEW WITH THE BISHOP.
Father Peter Meyer could easily be considered 'handsome'; he was over six feet tall with dark curly hair and dark eyes. Thanks to his love of rugby, he had the physical appearance to match his looks - rugged. Despite only being 28 years old, there was a string of disappointed women in his past - Priests of the Holy Roman Church cannot marry.
The Bishop's Secretary, a weedy little man with glasses and an annoying cough, had shown the young priest into the Bishop's study. The odd little man coughed [again] into his hankie and smiled; "His Grace will be here shorty Father Meyer." The secretary turned to go, but stopped and glanced back at the young man in uniform; a very handsome young man. He wondered about the rumours and gossip concerning this Priest; the women, the drinking, the defying of church doctrine and why he had been returned to civilian service after two years at the front.
The Bishop's Secretary, a weedy little man with glasses and an annoying cough, had shown the young priest into the Bishop's study. The odd little man coughed [again] into his hankie and smiled; "His Grace will be here shorty Father Meyer." The secretary turned to go, but stopped and glanced back at the young man in uniform; a very handsome young man. He wondered about the rumours and gossip concerning this Priest; the women, the drinking, the defying of church doctrine and why he had been returned to civilian service after two years at the front.
He also wondered about the sense in sending such a priest to North Turning, with all those old legends and stories about the place. But that was not his concern. North Turning had been a hotpot of apparent witchcraft and strange happenings for centuries.
"I thought you would be wearing your cassock and not your army uniform?" The little man wiped his face and sweaty hands with his large hankie, then adjusted his glasses. Father Meyer didn't smile; "All my stuff is in storage at the Parish I was at, when drafted into the army padre service in '14. They are sending it onto me at Turning Village." The secretary nodded and said nothing more and motioned the priest to sit, then left the room to organise some tea from the kitchen.
Peter sat quietly smoking; he turned the packet of 'Woodbines' around in his fingers several times. With each little turn, his mind returned to the trenches and the faces of the men with who he had shared the cigarettes with. Each face had a name, each face had a mother, wife or sweetheart. Most of the faces were young and all were now dead.
Father Peter Meyer had defied both Church rules and army discipline on 1st july 1916 - he simply could not let his 'boys' go without him and so on that dreadful morning; Father Peter Meyer went 'over the top' carrying a medical kit and extra water bottles. Every man in the Company that he served with cheered the priest loudly and with much spirit. The very young Lieutenant grinned broadly and slapped Peter's steel helmet with the butt of his pistol; "We can now say, with some honesty, that we go with God!" The sound of whistles drifted down the packed trench and Peter glanced at his watch: 7.30am.
Twenty minutes later, Peter wounded in the leg, was dragging young private Roy Farmer back to the British lines. Farmer had been shot in both legs and chest by machine gun fire. Behind the brave priest lay the rest of 'C Company' - they had not even reached the German wire, never mind the enemy trenches. In fact, Peter had not seen a single German - now 27 men lay dead or wounded in 'No Man's Land' from the 32 that went over the top just twenty minutes ago.
The door opening made him jump slightly and he rose slowly from his comfortable armchair and greeted Bishop Henry Littlewood with a small smile and a handshake. Then kissed the Bishop's ring when offered.
The Bishop, a large man with clumsy tendencies, eased himself behind the large rosewood desk that dominated his study, He quietly drummed his left hand upon the desk and did not smile at Peter. "I'll get straight to the point, the Cardinal is not happy with you Peter and that's why you have been posted to the village of North Turning. Your actions at the front, whilst commendable on many levels, has bought the Church into conflict with His Majesty's Armed Services. That is why your sitting here - the army has dispensed with your services as a Chaplin."
Peter simply nodded and lit another cigarette; two years in the fucking hell hole of the trenches and his reward is 'exile' to a North Yorkshire backwater; the thought may him smile inside - but he didn't show it.
Bishop Henry clasped his hands together and studied the young man sitting opposite; Army High Command had not been kind to the young Chaplin - he should have been awarded medals for his actions on that dreadful morning. Despite being wounded, Father Peter had gone back into 'No-Man's Land': twice more and dragged back two more boys who would have surely died. Then he had stayed in the trenches, administering to the wounded and dying, until ordered to the casualty Clearing Station.
A brave, committed young priest who had put his very life on the line. The Bishop sighed; but he also, had his orders - direct from the Cardinal - and he would carry them out, never mind his own feelings about this case. Father Meyer would get what he deserved - that made the Bishop smile - to himself.
"Just sit out your new assignment for a few years and then we'll think about another parish; a bigger one in the city maybe, when this awful war is over and everyone has settled down." The Bishop did smile and looked to the door as his Secretary entered with a tea tray. The pair drank their tea in silence. Father Peter would accept his punishment in the name of God, not the Church; after all, God had little to do with religion. That thought made Peter smile to himself.
Father Peter stood on the platform and watched the crowds; weeping women saying goodbye to more young soldiers and old men shaking hands with their sons and grandsons, with fixed smiles and much sadness. Peter hated this common sight at Railway Stations and he turned away from it and stared at the war posters that covered the station's walls. Propaganda and total bollocks! He allowed himself a little smile and picked up his battered little suitcase, as the train came to a rolling halt next to him.
A porter pulled open a carriage door for him and smiled; "There you go Father and good luck." Was all the elderly man said and Peter jumped into the packed carriage. He would have to stand; all the seats were taken by soldiers, old men and women with young children. Luckily, the journey to Turning was only about thirty minutes and he gripped the wooden corner of a seat occupied by a tall, skinny and elderly gentleman in a new, bright straw hat. The old man was reading a local paper extolling the 'Victories' of the Somme Battle. That made Peter wince inside and he stared out the window.
The train shuddered a couple of times and pulled slowly from the station. The shrill whistles of the platform staff dragged Peter back to that morning; the smiling young faces, the noise, the screams and shell fire, It flooded his mind and he gripped the seat with some strength. He closed his eyes tightly and prayed to God for help; any bloody help. Then realised that someone was speaking to him; he snapped open his eyes and saw a pretty young woman smiling at him; her lovely mouth was moving, but he couldn't hear what she was saying because of the shellfire in his head.
He wiped his face with his free hand; he couldn't seem to pull his other hand from the edge of the seat. "Are you coming back or going up to the front Father?" The young woman asked again. Peter nodded and almost smiled; she was a slender, pretty little thing with loads of soft brown hair, curled beneath her hat which was adorned with a single white rose. She laughed - quite beautifully - and said; "Is that yes, your going home or yes, your heading for the front?" Peter managed to smile; "Going to my new Parish." was all he said and found that he could release his grip on the seat.
"So, were you there?" She gestured to the headlines on the old man's paper. Peter nodded again. The smile dropped from her face; "My brother David was there, with the Suffolk's. Do you meet anyone from that regiment?" She asked, gripping her little brown leather handbag with both hands. Peter shook his head; "I was with the 3rd Yorkshire. Sorry." His mouth was dry and he desperately needed a drink.
The young woman nodded, with some sadness in her eyes. "I see, I read about a young priest - like yourself - that went out under shellfire and dragged several of our boys in. Did you know him?" Peter managed to swallow, despite his dry throat and mouth. He was staring into those gorgeous, sad brown eyes and couldn't think of any suitable reply. The old man lowered his paper; he had been listening to the brief conversation between the pair. He stared hard at the handsome young Chaplin and nodded to himself. it was him and he knew it.
"Excuse me father, but you ARE Father Peter Meyer; aren't you?" He rested both hands on the newspaper. The priest noticed that several people, around them, all turned their attention to him - including a couple of soldiers. Peter nodded. the old man eased himself up and held out his thin, almost transparent hand. "Would you do me the honour of shaking my hand father?" he said softly and removed his 'straw boater' with the other. The paper fell onto the dirty carriage floor - un-noticed. Father Peter gripped his hand and the old man whispered; "God bless you father."
A young soldier, squeezed next to him, grabbed the priests arm and said loudly; "Thank fuck for you father. My cousin George was there with the Yorks. Your a fucking legend Father."
"Thank you." Was all he managed to say, as several other passengers stood and wanted to shake his hand. "Went out five times despite a leg wound and dragged his boys to safety. A real fucking hero." The young soldier gripped his hand with real affection and he whispered close to the Father's ear; "All the boys know what those bastard 'brass hats' did to you!"
Peter was really glad to see the station for North Turning appear outside the carriage windows. He made his way from the train, with people slapping his back and gripping his free hand - the other carried his small suitcase. He stood on the platform and found the young woman standing next to him.
"My dad Harold can give you a lift to the Parochial House Father. He'll be here in a few minutes. He run's the Black Oak pub on the Village green." She smiled at him and he nodded; "Thank you very much Miss. If its not to much trouble." She grinned; "No trouble Father whatsoever, he'll be honoured to have you ride in his buggy and it's Mrs. Father; my husband Kevin is at the Front - like most young men from the village." She gripped his hand and really did smile - in a strange little way.
The young priest knew exactly what the look she gave him meant - he had seen such an expression quite few times before. "Your from the village then?" He asked quietly, making no effort to remove her hand. She nodded; "Oh yes, and we can show real hospitality to our brave new priest." Peter felt her squeeze his hand and they both smiled..
"Oh what the hell; what could they do to me now - send me back to the Front?" He whispered to himself and watched the single horse buggy approaching down Railway Lane. "Mrs. Cooper - your house keeper, is a friend of mine - her old man, Eric is an officer at the Front and has been for almost a year. But she's use to that; he's always been in the army. I've never met him. But she's really going to fuss over you Father." Victoria stared into his eyes and added - very softly; "Like most of us young ladies in the village."
Father Meyer simply smiled.
2. NORTH TURNING VILLAGE; YORKSHIRE.
Peter stood by the window stretching and pulled the dark curtain back a little; he had to give the cold glass a little rub before peering out into the darkness of the winter sunrise. There was snow everywhere; he guessed it could be quite deep in places, there had been quite a breeze last night and that would have moved the bloody stuff into every corner of the village. He scratched his bare arse and stared at the bed. "Jesus, it looks like a bomb hit it." He muttered and pushed dark hair out of his face.
He smiled; the two women lay sprawled over the bed, a single sheet thrown across them. They were both naked and he could see Lilly's pale arse with several fading hand marks on its big cheeks - his hand marks. He shook her gently, then gave that inviting arse a gentle slap; "Lil, I really need a cup of tea girl and some scrambled eggs. I have Mass at nine." Lilly shifted and opened her eyes; "My bloody bum still hurts. it's been a long time since I had that done to my arse." Was all she said and pulled herself from the bed. She kissed him slowly on the lips and made for the door - still stark naked. Peter actually chuckled at the awkward way she walked this morning.
Vikki [Victoria] stirred and half sat up on the pillows, her breasts lay bare and she ran a hand through her hair. "Lilly's gone to make the tea and some breakfast." Peter said and leaned across and kissed her lips. She swung an arm around her neck and smiled; "We must have time for some more surely?" She said softly and kissed him again. He shook his head; "I have Mass at nine and you should never keep your audience waiting - well, not too long anyway." He grinned and headed for the bathroom.
Vikki flopped back on the bed and said softly; "I need a bloody bath." She pushed a hand through her legs and then wiped it, on the sheet that almost covered her. "I need a bloody bath." She repeated. Peter stopped in the doorway and smiled; "Well, don't waste the bloody hot water. get Lilly to share; she'll probably need one." Vikki just laughed; "You dirty bugger, what do you call that?" She leaned forward, her perk breasts staring at him. Peter shrugged his shoulders; "Greek. They apparently invented it, so that women didn't have a child every year. Its very popular in all Catholic Countries."
He smiled; "Get use to the idea, your cute, pink little bum will experience it first hand tonight." Vikki groaned in mock despair; He knew that she would comply with his strange sexual requests with Lilly's help, of course.
"Oh yeah, and very popular with men of a certain persuasion. Bloody Oscar Wilde comes to mind. Poor Lilly won't walk straight for days." Vikki grunted and sprawled across the bed and snatched the sheet from her naked body, then pulled herself up on the pillows and spread open her legs. She grinned; "Sure you don't have time?" Peter just sighed and headed for the bathroom. "You've the bloody stamina of a bull, you could manage it again." She called after him - quite disappointed. She lay back and ran her hands over her firm breasts, still, she thought; Lilly and her could have some fun sharing a bath. That's when she heard Lilly Cooper shouting up the stairs that tea was ready.
Vikki eased from the bed and picked up her bright red dressing gown and wrapped it around herself. She almost giggled; thinking just how well treated Father Meyer was by his Parochial House-keeper! Then, he was 'well treated' by several young - and not so young - women in the village. Mrs. Joyce Penton, the wife of the village Butcher would be 'popping' in tonight to discus the minutes of the Parish Council Meeting; held yesterday to arrange the village events for Christmas.
Vikki wandered down the stairs and did laugh to herself. The last time Joyce turned up, Lilly opened the front door and she pushed past and went straight into the front reception room, where Peter sat reading the paper. She simply stood in the doorway and let her long fur coat drop; she was stark naked - apart from her boots of course - and he fucked her, there and then, on the floor; without saying a word.
Lilly had joined in and the carnal exertions went on for a couple of hours. Vikki was a little jealous that she missed it, when Lilly told her the same night she shared the priest with her - again. She dropped onto a rough chair and pulled it up against the kitchen table. "His lordship told me I had to share the bath with you. Save hot water and all that." Lilly just nodded and slapped down a china mug full of hot tea in front of her. "Well there is a bloody war on. My bloody bum still hurts, but he certainly enjoyed it." Lilly grunted and eased herself into the chair opposite - she was wearing her long kitchen apron - and nothing else.
Vikki clutched the warm mug with both hands and smiled over the rim at Lilly; "Thanks for that. His lordship has kindly informed me that he's going to ravage my poor bum tonight. Now that's something to look forward to - I don't think." Lilly smiled and sipped her tea; "Yeah, you'll moan about it and play all reluctant, but when he tells you to get you bloody arse in the air and grit your teeth; you'll do it!" Vikki just chuckled and nodded. "Maybe we could persuade him that Mrs. - I'm so bloody high and mighty - Penton would really want it shoved up her bum instead." Lilly did laugh at that - her and Victoria had been friends since Vikki moved to the village, when her father took over the pub in 1913. They were closer than most sisters - especially now they shared the priest.
"Talk of the devil." Vikki muttered as Peter appeared in the doorway - he smiled at the girls and picked up a mug of tea. "The eggs will have to wait or I will be really late and some git will complain to the Bishop yet again." He took a couple of sips and placed his hat on. Lilly sighed and scratched her large left breast that hung out of her apron; "Don't forget you've Mrs. Penton coming over at four and before that Mrs. Mavis Fellows will be here to parade around in that bloody costume you told her to make." Father Peter really did grin; "She made it then?" he asked, sipping more tea quickly. Vikki waved a free hand about; "Yes, she does own the dress shop. Its all black with lots of frills. The skirt is so short, you won't even need to lift it up. Bloody French Maid's outfit; whatever next?"
"She showed Vikki and me yesterday. Copied it from a very naughty French book she had. Apparently she makes all sorts of outfits for some wealthy clients. She told us that the Countess of Hesby's ladies maid, had paid her for two similar costumes last month. One for her ladyship and one for a young footman. Can you believe that!" Lilly giggled and sipped her tea.
Peter just shrugged his shoulders; "It's just some harmless fun . But I'm well pleased that she would go to all that trouble just for me." Lilly shook her head; "Most of the women around here would do a lot more for you - if you fancied them. Just a nod at the right time and most would have their bloody skirts up and drawers down." She almost sighed, only yesterday Mrs. Gordon - the Sub-Postmaster's married daughter had dropped a big hint to Lilly about the priest. Well, it wasn't so much a big hint. Lottie [Mrs. Charlotte Gordon] had asked Lilly if it was alright, to pop round one night and have the priest; 'bloody service her!' was what she exactly said - but very quietly as Lilly purchased some stamps and a money order, a little shocked to say the least.
That little incident had also confirmed her thoughts - no, fears - that most of the women of the village had guessed what was going on in the Parochial House. It had also confirmed that many of them wanted to join that particular little party - desperately.
Mrs. Gordon had been married fourteen years, with no baby in sight and with her husband [he was known locally as 'gormless' Gordon] at the front, time was running out. Lilly did express her sympathy and understanding; she would speak to the father. Lottie had shyly asked what the priest liked. Lilly thought for a minute and then retraining a big grin said softly; "Black stockings and a nice hat - nothing much else." Mrs. Gordon had nodded and served the other customers with quite a smile on her face. Lilly had walked back to the Parochial House with quite a smile herself.
Her and Vikki laughed about it as they shared the bath together, a few minutes after the priest had left for Sunday mass. "I'd swear that our gorgeous young priest would shag anything in a skirt." Lilly splashed water at Vikki, who pushed a sponge around her neck and breasts. "Good job no bloody Scotsmen live in the village then!" Vikki smiled and both women giggled and splashed water over each other. Then Lilly gripped Vikki by the shoulders and pulled her close; their lips came together and squirming tongues explored each others mouth. Vikki said softly; "We'll give his lordship a full account of this before he fucks Mrs. Fellows in her stupid outfit." Lilly grinned and ran a hand down Vikki's stomach and between her slightly open legs.
That's when they heard the shot. They almost froze and Lilly whispered; "Did you hear..." She never finished her sentence. A second shot could be clearly heard and both girls scrambled from the bath, grabbing their bath robes. They made their way downstairs, stopping only to pull their boots on. They ran out into the street and saw the priest lying in the thick snow - face upwards. Vikki just stood screaming and clutching her robe about her naked body. Lilly was running towards the still priest. For some reason, she simply could not scream or shout.
Old Mr. Guest had thrown down the circle of Christmas lights that he was about to adorn his shop front with and ran over to the priest. He knelt over him and shouted at Lilly; "Get Doc Piper, Now, for Christ sake!" He was pulling frantically at the priests clothes. Lilly just stood and stared. He shouted at her again: "For God sake Lilly; get the bloody doctor!" Lilly nodded and ran down the main street, past confused and surprised villagers, emerging from their shops and homes.
She crashed through Doc Piper's front door [no-one locked their doors in the village] now shouting. luckily, Doc was up and dressed - he would have been going to Sunday Mass. He certainly wouldn't now.
3. "THERE ARE FEW REAL CO-INCIDENCES."- Jericho Tibbs.
The morgue was quite busy for a week before Christmas and the team from the Holy Inquisition sat in the corridor outside the morgue office. The place really did smell of disinfectant and frankly; dead bodies. Owen rubbed his face; "Couldn't they fit a few extractor fans in the bloody ceiling or something?" He moaned to Wilson, who sat reading a local paper. "All bloody war news and nothing about this." He jerked his paper towards the morgue doors. "Not really surprising that." He added and closed up the paper.
Jericho folded his arms and sat back against the cold, painted brick wall. "Our police contact is a certain Inspector Fred Portal - great name that; Portal. He's been told to assist us, given the circumstances surrounding the death." Wilson smiled at Alex; "Still Alex, it means you can call yourself Doctor Featherstone again. Besides; if anything terrible happens to you; your soul can be collected properly, this being your ordained Time period." He actually chuckled as Alex discretely stuck up a single finger.
She quickly dropped the finger as the morgue doors swung open and a very tall and skinny man stood rubbing his hands. He wore a dirty white coat and had bright check trousers hanging below it. He adjusted his small black bow tie and smiled; "Father Tibbs I presume?" Jericho rose and held out his hand; "You are Doctor Feelgood - the Pathologist?" he asked and they shook hands. Jericho introduced his team; Mr. Wilson, an associate of the Church from America, Owen Jones, the Bishop's Assistant and finally; Dr. Alexandra Featherstone from Whitechapel Hospital in London.
Dr. Feelgood really smiled at Alex and shook her hand firmly; "So nice to meet a colleague from the smoke. I understand that you assist the Church in such matters. My grand daughter Alice would love to meet you. She's a second year medical student in York. A Doctor is all she's ever wanted to be - since very small." He gestured to the doors; "I trust you all have strong stomach's." He looked at Owen as he said that. Jericho nodded; "The team have seen quite a few dead bodies during the time we have worked together on church business." The old pathologist smiled and they pushed through the doors into the morgue.
For most normal people, the contents of the morgue would have been a ghastly sight, but no-one ran out screaming, fainting or vomiting, which Dr. Feelgood thought was a pretty good start! He took the team over to an open drawer and his assistant - who had bad teeth and very big hands - pulled the tray out. He grinned at Alex - really grinned at her. Dr. Feelgood snatched the sheet up and pulled it right down to the corpse's feet.
"Death was caused by a single insertion of a very fine blade, probably no more that half an inch in width and about six inches in depth or rather, length. Death would have been quite instantaneous. Its what happened before her demise that troubled me; you can see by the marks on the body, what I mean." Dr. Feelgood gestured to the body. Everyone could see the shapes cut into her pale cold flesh - strange symbols and what appeared to be Arabic writing. "They were definitely made before she was murdered. This will interest you Doctor." He indicated for Alex to look closely at the corpse.
"An appendix scar. She had an appendectomy quite recently." Alex nodded her head and the old Doctor smiled; "Quite a new and expensive operation. it may be the big clue to finding her identity - as the police detectives would say." Owen rubbed his face and said quietly; "Symbols of Devil worship and the writing is old Arabic - probably Aramaic." The Pathologist nodded his head and spoke to Jericho; "You have quite a team Father, your young man is spot on. I copied some of the symbols and letters and showed them to Gwen at the Library; That's exactly what she said." He threw the sheet back over the young girl and sighed; "I know that this sounds ridiculous in the 20th century, but I believe she was a ritual human sacrifice, probably to the Devil himself. Quite sad really that some people still believe in such nonsense."
"I take it the authorities have put a really big lid on this one?" Jericho asked Doctor Feelgood who just shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, there's a bloody war on." Muttered Owen.
"When was she found sir?" Wilson asked and the old Doctor folded his arms; "Just two days ago, in a ditch just south of North Turning. The day after that other terrible incident in the same little village." He started to walk to the doors and Wilson asked again; "What other terrible incident was that?" the Pathologist stopped; "You weren't told?" They all shook their heads in silence. He grunted; "I would have thought Inspector Portal would have mentioned that; I mean the victim being a young priest. That's the sort of thing you should know about. Someone shot him - twice - as he walked to early morning Sunday Mass."
Jericho nodded and walked quietly next to the Doctor into the corridor; "I take it his not one of your customers - yet." Jericho asked and the Pathologist grunted - but smiled - He thrust both hands into his jacket pockets. "Thankfully no, apparently who ever shot him was a lousy shot. Caught him in the right thigh and just below the right elbow. He'll live as long as no infections set in." They all shook hands again and said their goodbyes to the happy old Doctor.
"I think we best have words with Inspector Portal; I believe there are few real co-incidences in this life." Jericho muttered and the team left the old building - and its smells - for the clean crisp air of a snowy Yorkshire morning. They climbed slowly in to the big black Vauxhall car - that Supplies had given them - and Owen held up his Mirror; "Well, we know that the victim was Miss Susan Grimwade from Doncaster, aged nineteen and obviously no soul was collected or we certainly wouldn't be here." Alex made herself comfortable next to Owen in the rear seats. "Pity we can't let her family know what has happened to her; they must be worried sick and its especially awful at this time of year."
Wilson sat behind the wheel and chuckled; "I've always said our Alex had a soft spot for the living." Jericho tapped his arm and said quietly; "Lets visit inspector Portal and see what he can tell us about people shooting priests on the Sunday before Christmas." Owen leaned over the seat; "You think the two are connected?" Jericho nodded; "Well, we can try and find out if they are." The big car pulled away - there was very little traffic and Owen asked where the team would be staying. Wilson chuckled; "Support have got us an nice little hotel in Hordon - the next village to here - it's called the Black Ram. Now that's a real co-incidence or someone in Supplies likes a joke!"
"Black Ram? Another bloody devil worship reference." Owen muttered and sat back, staring out the windows; "Why is everybody so bloody miserable. especially with Christmas just around the corner?" He asked no-one in particular. "I doubt there's a family around these parts that haven't lost a son, father, uncle or brother. That's why." Alex said with some sarcasm in her voice. Owen shrugged his shoulders; "I only asked for Christ sake." Was all he said.
The brief interview the team had with Inspector Fred 'piggy' Portal at the local police station wasn't very helpful. They were shown into his office and the big, overweight man was piled behind his desk, reading various brown files. He wore a dull brown suit that strained at every movement and was eating a foul smelling egg & onion sandwich. He stared at Alex and sighed; "And what does the broad do for the Holy Inquisition?" He actually sneered, then saw Wilson. He shook his head; "Blacks and bloody women, what the fuck is the world coming too?" he asked himself. He didn't even get out of his seat to greet them.
He made his position clear; to him, they were useless interfering amateurs who probably couldn't detect a gas leak, even if the local gas main ruptured next to them. He chuckled at his own humour - nobody else did - even his own fellow officers. He said the attempted murder of the young priest had 'bugger all' to do with the girls killing. The priest was know to have been shagging loads of local girls and women. Quite obviously, one of the males had taken deep exception to this and took a Kraut hunting rife to him. He grunted and waved to the door; "Now shut that bugger on the way out." The interview was over and Alex was fuming at their treatment.
They returned to the car and Alex calmed down a little; what she called the fat detective wasn't pleasant or lady like. But Wilson sat quietly and gripped the steering wheel; "Why a hunting rifle, when the place is probably full of 'Lee-Enfield' army rifles? Every soldier home on leave would have one. A German made hunting rifle would be quite unusual around here, during these times. Anything German was avoided like the plague. Even people with German sounding names were set upon, had their shop windows broken. Who would have possession of such a rife in the village?"
Jericho rubbed his face; "Head for the hotel; we'll book in and have something to eat. then I think a visit to North Turning is on the menu." He turned to Alex and smiled; "When you let the steam out of your drawers, you'll be quite useful with so many females to interview." He smiled and Wilson pulled away. After a few minutes, Owen didn't look over his shoulder, but said quietly; "I think we are being followed my friends. That car pulled away when we left the police station and its sitting - discretely - some way back. but following us never the less."
Wilson nodded; "I think your right baby brother. Two big men in hats and coats. Coppers I think. CID probably." Jericho stared into the wing mirror on his side; "Your right. I think Inspector Portal is not as useless or stupid as he makes out. I think he knows the case's could be connected and he's covering his fat arse." Alex snorted; "Now that's a lot of obnoxious lard to cover for anyone." Everyone chuckled at that.
4. THE BLACK RAM HOTEL.
They sat in the car and just stared. Finally Owen shook his head and said in some amazement; "Supplies must be having a fucking laugh!" Wilson turned off the engine and looked up at the hotel; "Its probably a lot nicer inside." Alex pushed open the car door; "I don't care, as long as I can get a hot bath and the beds aren't full of bloody lice."
Jericho stepped out and sighed; "Lets get the luggage and see what rooms they have available." Wilson chuckled; "I bags the room with a really big bed - lice can be optional." The team collected their cases from the boot and made their way inside. It didn't improve - in any way. There were some pretty old - and dingy - Christmas decorations about the place. The 'Christmas' tree' looked like it had died years ago. Even the little angle, impaled on the top, looked sad and forlorn.
The small bar had a badly printed sign hanging above it - 'Reception: ring bell if needed'. it was deserted apart from a very ancient looking old man; hidden in his big coat and dark hat. He didn't even look up. Jericho found a little brass bell on the bar and rattled it vigorously. It made no noise whatsoever. He lifted the bell again and looked underneath; there was no hammer.
Owen jerked a thumb towards a little chalk board sitting on the bar; it read: NO SPIRITS. The 'NO' was underlined; twice. He sighed, thinking, thank heaven; they had four bottle of French Brandy scattered about their luggage. Jericho said loudly; "Hello, Service please!" The old man in the corner looked up, he really was old, but still had bright blue eyes. Everyone noticed that. "Go round the back. Lester's probably cleaning the bog." He said in a firm voice that really didn't match his toothless face. Everyone also noticed that the old man was clutching a half filled whisky glass.
"What do you want?" A little man in a black waistcoat, dirty white shirt and black trousers had popped up behind the bar; that actually made Alex jump a little. Jericho raised his hat; "Good morning Sir, we have rooms reserved." Lester picked his teeth, then grimaced; he remembered he had just cleaned the bloody toilet. he wiped his hand down his waistcoat. "You Father Tibbs?" he asked and Jericho nodded and was about to introduce the others, but Lester stopped him. "I know she's not married to you mate and she certainly wouldn't be married to him." He jabbed a finger at Owen and added; "So it must be the big man at the back." He almost smiled - but didn't.
"No single women are allowed here Father. Me and the Missus run a respectable place. I told that woman of yours, who booked the rooms, that single women are not allowed. She said that the Doctor was married and her husband was with her. I think she said he was a Yank."
Wilson stepped forward - with a real smile on his face and in his best New York ascent, introduced himself; "Mr. Wilson Featherstone and this lady is my wife Alex." He patted an astonished Alex on the arm; "As you Brit's say; the little trouble and strife." Old Lester just nodded and rummaged under the bar. "You'll have to share with the boy, Father and those two can have the only double we got. Both rooms are at the back; its nice and quiet. My Missus can knock you up some sandwiches if you want. We only have cheese or bully beef [corn beef], but her home made pickle should tickle your fancy. Its won prizes." He produced two big keys - each attached to a wooden block the size of half a house brick.
He saw where they looking and shrugged his shoulders; "It stops buggers going off with the keys in their pockets." Lester indicated to the small staircase, that could be seen through the doorway behind him; "This way. There's no hot water until seven tonight and again at seven in the morning because of the war. So don't shout at me or my missus about that."
In total silence the little group followed him up the creaking stair case. There were three doors at the top of the stairs. One door had a really big sign nailed on it; 'PRIVATE'. The others had big brass letters pined on them; 'A' and 'B'. He slapped a key into Jericho's hand; "That's yours. Two beds." He said and turned to Wilson, handing him a key; "A is yours. It has a nice big bed. Just right for a big man like you and your lovely wife."
He started back down the stairs and then turned; "Oh, if you want dinner tonight, it's at seven o'clock and it's Shepherds Pie with carrots and cabbage. there's no soup or a sweet. There's a bloody war on. Tell me or the missus before six o'clock or you don't get nothing. Have a nice stay." He made his way down the stairs and disappeared. There was total silence on the top landing until Owen finally said; "Well, its better than sleeping in the bloody car." Alex thumped his arm - quite hard and dropped her case. She folded her arms; "I'm going to kill that bitch Caroline, in the Operations Centre, she's done this deliberately. I know she has."
Jericho opened the door to his and Owen's room. Everyone stared in. "I've seen bigger telephone boxes." Muttered Owen and threw his case in - it didn't fly far, before landing against the wall opposite. He stared out the window; "There's an outside toilet." he added and ran a hand through his hair. "Where's the toilet and bath room for these rooms?" Alex asked, quite concerned. Owen chuckled and leaned under the nearest small bed; he pulled out a dirty white chamber pot. It didn't smell to good and he pushed it back under the bed - quickly.
Wilson had open his door with some trepidation. Alex peered over his shoulder; the room was dominated by a large double bed. Wilson stepped in and looked about. There was a small sofa, a small table, two chairs and a small single wardrobe. He peered under the bed and chuckled. "Our one is much bigger and looks quite new." Alex stood in the doorway arms folded - she was not a happy Temporal Detective. Wilson held open his arms and smiled.
Alex stared at him; "What the bloody hell are you doing now?" She asked. The big man grinned; "Carry my young bride over the threshold." He ducked just in time, as Alex's case hit the bed and spilled open. Wilson - still grinning- gathered the case up and held up a pair of bright pink French Knickers; right for this time period."Oh darling, you've packed my favourites." Everyone was laughing - except Alex. She pushed in and snatched her knickers back, giving Wilson a hard slap on the arm. That's when they realised, they were not alone on the top staircase.
The door marked 'PRIVATE' was open and Mavis Bullfinch - Lester's 'Missus' - was standing in the doorway; cigarette in mouth and curlers in her hair. She was a big women in every sense of the word. She slowly started to smile - especially at Wilson; "Bloody hell girl, you wear them and he'll never let you alone; you lucky bugger." She laughed and coughed, heaving her huge bosom up with both hands. "If you don't want him, send him over here." She really did smile at that thought. Wilson retreated into the room and pretended to open his case.
Mavis smiled at Alex; "Come on darling, I'll show you where the bathroom is. Normally guests wash up in their bedrooms. You get a big jug of water and a bowl - fresh every morning. but you'll need a bath eh? So you can use ours. Never mind old moaning Lester, I'll have words with him." She took Alex down the stairs and through another small doorway; she unlocked yet another door marked 'PRIVATE' and gestured for Alex to enter.
It was a beautiful, quite modern bathroom for the times, with a clean toilet and large bath. Mavis grinned and winked, slapping Alex's arm gently."You like big dark men eh? Don't we bloody all." She laughed, the cigarette ash dropping down her apron. She tapped the bath; "You need one after keeping a big man like that happy all night. I'll have the glass to the wall tonight. So don't disappoint me!" She laughed and made for the bar. A stunned Alex slowly followed her. "Do you fancy a drop of brandy dear?" Mavis asked, squeezing behind the bar. Alex pointed to the sign. But Mavis just rolled her eyes; "Ignore that darling. It's there to keep the bloody brewery happy. Miserable gits won't send us any. They say our turnover don't justify it, with the war on."
She dished up two huge brandies and sat with Alex at the window table. Her cigarette fell from her mouth and landed exactly in the ashtray. Alex sat in silence and amazement. Mavis pulled out a leather pouch and began to roll another cigarette. "I had a couple of big black fella's when I worked up in Liverpool - before I married Lester - I was a lot thinner and younger then. From France they were....or was it Spain? Never mind that. Jesus, I couldn't walk properly for a couple day after them. So I know, you'll want a bath and you'll have earnt it, I dare say." She laughed and lit her freshy rolled cigarette. "We're like two peas in a pod, eh?" She added and gripped Alex's hand.
Alex could only smile and sip her most welcome brandy. Mavis grinned; "So don't disappoint me our girl. I'll have that glass up to the wall and I know all those wonderful memories will flood back. Don't worry about the bloody bed, its seen some action I can tell you. You just enjoy yourself and if the bugger still wants more when your knackered - send him to me!" She slurped her brandy and sucked on her fag. "Put you and your friends down for dinner shall I?" Alex didn't really know what to say. Mavis patted her hand; "Course I will. There's no other place to eat round here anyway."
Mavis looked up, there was a big, tall man in a new hat standing by the bar, examining the broken bell. She whispered to Alex; "That's Stan Gable - from North Turning - he's in to see Lester. Jesus, you should have heard what he told us, about what that young priest got up to over there. All those bloody women; two or three together - at the same time, would you believe. Must have had the stamina of a bleeding bull." She rose from her seat and slapped 'Stan' on the back. "Do you fancy a quick one darling?" The old man just grinned; "I hope your talking about a beer Mavis or I'll be in trouble with bleeding Lester, wouldn't I?" Mavis just laughed and squeezed behind the bar again.
Alex quietly finished her drink and made for the stairs. Mavis shouted after her; "Dinner's at seven darling." Alex managed to shout back; "Yes thanks." and ran up the stairs and straight into Jericho's room. it was empty. She opened the door to her room and found her three colleagues, laid around, drinking brandy from old tea cups that they had found. Jericho smiled as she closed the door; "What's up Alexandra, you like you tossed for your dinner and lost."
Wilson offered her a cup and filled it with brandy. Alex took a sip and said quietly; "You'll never guess what just happened to me."
5. THE PAROCHIAL HOUSE.
Wilson was a little surprised - and relieved - that the big car made it through the snow without any mishaps; apart from that old man falling off his bike as they passed on the Turning Road. He pulled up outside the Parochial House and turned the engine off. "What have we got on Father Mayer?" He turned and asked Owen, who was staring at his mirror.
"Would have been a bit of a War hero, went out under fire several times and pulled wounded colleagues back to the British Lines - despite being wounded himself - and was basically shafted by the British High Command for disobeying their orders, not to 'go over the top' on the first day of battle. The Church Authorities then 'exiled' him into North Turning, as a sort of punishment I suppose." Owen scratched his face, adding; "There's not much on Record, only son of German Immigrants who arrived in England in the 1870's. Ordained as a priest in 1913. Worked a hard, working class Parish in Manchester until he volunteered for the Army Chaplin Service in 1914. Spent two years in the trenches without a scratch until the opening day of the Battle of the Somme this year."
"Sending him to loads of desperate young women in a remote village, who hadn't seen their men in ages; that's a punishment?" Wilson chuckled and could see the curtains of the front windows moving. "Someone's interested in our arrival." he added. Jericho pushed his own mirror back into his coat and stared at the big house, standing in the grounds of the Church. It had the old churchyard for a neighbour and fronted the villages main street. He had a real uneasy feeling about the place; he would have sworn that he had seen the house before - but not under snow - but when?
"Lets see what his House-keeper has to say." Jericho finally said and the team left the car and trudged through the snow up to the big, blue door. It was pulled open by a very concerned looking Mrs. Lillian Cooper, who clutched her apron with both hands. Jericho quietly introduced himself and his team. Mrs. Cooper just nodded and showed them into the front reception room. She sat on an high back chair in front of the sofa. Jericho and Alex sat on the sofa, whilst Wilson and Owen found a couple of chairs and sat each side of the sofa.
Jericho smiled and asked Lilly about Father Meyer. Quite unexpectedly, the flood gates opened; it appears that Mrs. Lillian Cooper really did need to talk to someone - anyone - and she mainly directed it towards Alex. An hour later - and two servings of tea - the team made its way back to the car. The snow was falling again and the flurries were thick and frequent. Wilson started the engine and wiped snow and ice from the windows. Everyone piled into to the car except Jericho; who stood in the snow - staring at the house. Alex had to pull the window down a little and shout to him. He turned and slowly walked to the car.
Wilson pushed open the door and Jericho eased in and wiped snow from his face. Owen leaned over and tapped his shoulder; "What's up?" Jericho sat hand on chin for a few seconds, then turned to Owen - he looked quite grim; "Owen, run the house through records and see what we have on file."
Wilson pulled away with some difficulty, he said to Jericho; "If it keeps snowing like this, we're going to struggle in this bleeding car." Jericho nodded and looked back at the house.
Owen was muttering under his breath, slouched on the big rear seat with Alex. He suddenly sat up "Bloody hell Jericho, how the hell do you do it?" He exclaimed and held up his mirror; "Listen to this people. The bloody house has been the subject of two temporal Department investigations already. One in 1816 by Dawn Daniels and her team. The place was a bloody witches coven and the nasty fucking group had murdered two young children and sold their souls to the dark side. Then in 1933, Doc Underhill and his team investigated the place for Devil Worship; the priest - a certain Father Clement Gilmore was murdered and his soul stolen. Guess who, he's bloody sergeant was, only..."
Jericho interrupted him; "It was me. I knew I had seen that house before."
The car only reached the Hordon Crossroads, just yards away and basically gave up the ghost; it couldn't cope with the heavy snow now falling. Wilson switched off the engine and sat back. "Well that's that." He said and folded his arms. Owen passed his hip-flask around, which was most welcome.
Jericho watched the snow hitting the windows and ran a hand over his face. "Father Gilmore was sacrificed by a real evil group of Devil worshippers. They carved messages and symbols to their master, on his body whilst still alive. Then drove a thin sacrificial dagger through his heart, They dumped his body in Banston Woods, just three or four miles from here. We got all of them - except their Black Priest - a man who called himself Eric Harris. But when we run it through Human records; he turned out to be a missing soul from 1706 called Richard Wallis and he hadn't aged a day."
Jericho accepted the flask and took a swig, he continued; "If I remember, Inspector Daniels had reported a Warlock, who attended the Witches Coven back in 1816. His name was Eric Marks; but we guessed it was Richard Wallis. The bastard has been hanging around this village in various disguises for over two hundred years apparently." He handed the flask back; "And everything seems to centre around that bloody house. What his connection with the damn place is, we could never figure. The authorities - at the time - covered the dreadful murder up."
"I wonder what our very un-celibate priest's connection is with all this?" Alex mused and took a swig from the hip flask and passed it back to Owen. "Where have we heard the name 'Eric' used around here?" Wilson said quietly and settled back in his seat.
"How many women and girls are on that list and who are their husbands or fathers?" Jericho turned to Alex, who rummaged through her coat pockets and pulled out her little pink notebook. She thumbed through a couple of pages and spoke softly; "Right, we have Mrs. Victoria Helms - her dad Harold runs the 'Black Oak' pub and her husband Kevin is at the Front. Her brother David is also there. Mrs. Joyce Penton, her husband Colin is the village butcher and some thirteen years her senior." She pulled a hankie from a pocket and wiped her mouth.
"We have Mrs. Mavis Fellows- the owner of the dress shop; she's been widowed for some years; her husband was called Reginald. Finally, we have Mrs. Lillian Cooper - the Priest's house keeper, who husband is currently at the front, he's called Eric...." She stopped reading and looked up. "Another Eric in the village." She added quietly and Jericho asked Owen to look up Eric Cooper.
"Well, that's a definite connection with the house - his bloody wife lives there." Wilson said and stared out the windows. "We're onto fucking something people!" Owen said and tapped his mirror. "There is no trace of Eric John Cooper, for this time and place, according to Human Records." Alex tapped her little notebook on the back of Jericho's seat; "Well, Lillian showed me his picture, its standing on the mantle piece and he's certainly in army uniform."
Wilson nodded; "Maybe we need to run a mirror over that picture; find out who Eric John Cooper really is and if, he's actually at the bloody front and not hiding around here, taking pot shots at priests who can't keep their members under their cassocks." Owen chuckled; "That's great. But what the hell do we do about all this?" He gestured out the windows; the snow was coming down in heavy, thick showers. It had already passed the car's running boards.
Alex groaned and half opened the door; "All that bloody tea, I need a piss." Owen shook his head; "Now Mrs. Wilson; that's not very lady like." Wilson chuckled and stared back down the road to the house, then turned back to Alex; "Well, we're bleeding stuck here, unless you fancy a three mile walk back to Hordon in all this snow and ice. You best ask your new friend and confidant, if we can stay here." Jericho nodded his agreement at that. Alex sighed and plunged into the snow, it reached her knees. "It's almost up to my bum!" She yelped.
She slowly made her way back to the big house and knocked loudly; Mrs. Lillian Cooper answered. Alex gestured back to her colleagues; they clearly had a safe haven for the night. Jericho pulled open the car door and stepped out; smiling. "Couldn't have worked out better, now we can have quite a cosy chat with the wife of our possible time travelling devil worshipper. Let's get a mirror over that damn photograph."
Owen slapped Wilson on the back; "Sorry mate, that place is bound to have loads of bedrooms and I bet, your new wife will want to have one on her own." He laughed and jumped from the car. "Oh, bollocks!" was all he said as the snow reached his crotch. Wilson didn't reply, but he did smile at Owen's discomfort.
6. OLD PICTURES & THE MAGIC SHED.
Lilly was really glad to have company tonight - especially Alex's. She made them most welcome and Alex hurried up the staircase to the toilet. But something caught her eye; there were several pictures on the stair wall. Alex carefully read the little plaques attached to each. But nature disturbed her thoughts and she dashed to the bathroom. She would return to the pictures and photographs when she had relieved herself - which was now quite urgent!
Everyone sat in the big reception room and Owen - discretely - warmed his crotch by the fire; much to Wilson's amusement. They all drank tea - again. Lilly disappeared, saying that she would make up the rooms for her stranded guests. She was really happy to have something to do. Jericho found he was looking at a picture of a young man in uniform, on the fireplace's mantle.
Owen ran his mirror over the face; "Yep, that's Richard Wallis - missing from 1706." Jericho stared hard at the photograph and muttered; "I think we're looking at our quarry. I wonder how much Lilly is involved in his evil deeds?"
Wilson nodded and pointed to a painting hanging on the wall opposite; it was the Parochial House painted back in 1871. "Look at the left wing of the house, there's a small brick building - like a long, brick shed or something. There's no building there now." Jericho lowered his mirror and joined Wilson. He nodded; "I think it was there, when I visited in 1933. We obviously searched the place. At the time, I think it was father Gilmore's little workshop; he was a great cycling enthusiast and he fixed bikes there."
Owen rubbed his face; "Excuse me, but how does a building like that be in a painting in 1871 and Jericho's see's it in 1933. But it's not here in 1916?" Wilson folded his arms; "That, baby brother, is a fucking good question." Jericho tapped the picture; "Take a look at the artist?" Wilson and Owen peered closely; "Fuck me, Eric Houseman, another bloody Eric!" Owen muttered and immediately consulted his mirror. He half smiled; "The Parish priest here between 1867 and 1888." He muttered. He stared hard at his mirror; "You'll never believe it; Father Houseman was removed from this parish in 1888 because of indiscretions' with his House-Keeper and her sister!"
"That appears to go with this bloody house." Alex said, standing in the doorway - looking much relieved - and gestured behind her. "The pictures running up the staircase wall are very interesting." She held up her mirror "According to Human records, Father Houseman was Richard Wallis, as was Father David Soames in 1904. He was like Father Meyer, an Army Chaplin in the South African War," Jericho nodded and ran a hand over his face. "Well, he certainly has an attachment to this bloody place and I wonder why?"
Lilly appeared behind Alex; smiling. "I set up the rooms and lit the fires. Father Tibbs is in the big guest room, left, at the top of the stairs and Mr. Jones is the one next door." She straightened her apron and smiled at Alex; "I've put you and your husband next to the bathroom Doctor Featherstone." Alex just stared at her, as Owen actually giggled a little and grinned broadly at Wilson.
"How did you know we're married?" Alex managed to ask - smiling a little. Lilly grinned; "The whole village is talking about it. A nice white Doctor like yourself, married to a big black, American fella, that went around the village like wildfire. They have probably talked about it more than me and Vikki's scandal anyway." Alex still looked puzzled; "But only the Bullfinch's at the 'Black Ram' pub knew and they were only told a few hours ago?"
Lillian just grinned; "Mavis [bullfinch] told Stan Gable all about you and your husband. His wife is Doris, the sub-Post Mistress at Hordon Post Office, she's been on the phone ever since. Which reminds me, I had better ring Mavis and tell her that you'll be staying here." She wandered off again and Alex could only stand and sigh. Owen slapped Wilson on the back; "Hope the bed doesn't creak too much, big man!"
Jericho just chuckled; "Never mind the sleeping arrangements, we need to ask her about that damn magic shed." Wilson tapped his chin; "If there's a bloody phone here; where the hell is it? In this time and era; phones were quite uncommon and nearly always in the hallway - easier to run the wires in. So where is it?" Owen looked puzzled too; "The big man is right. Where's the phone?" Alex grunted and spoke directly to Wilson; "You had better pray that the bedroom has a nice big couch because the bleeding bed is mine." With that she disappeared into the kitchen to find Lilly.
Owen grinned at Wilson; "Never mind big man. I've studied this era and husbands ruled the roost. Just throw Alex over your knee and give her a spanking and demand your conjectural rights. By the laws around here; you have that right - she's not allowed by law to refuse her husband. Wives had to submit, whether they wanted to or not."
Jericho just sighed in some despair; "Firstly, Mr. marriage guidance Councillor, its conjugal rights and secondly; they're not actually bloody married - or had your sharp mind forgotten that? Fucking conjectural rights, whatever next?" Owen muttered; "Oh yes, your right." and went up the stairs and studied the wall pictures. Wilson laughed and he, with Jericho, headed for the garden; they wanted to see if the 'magic shed' was actually still hidden there.
Alex and Lilly sat at the kitchen table and chatted - over yet more tea - the main topic of conversation was Lilly's absent husband. That surprised Lilly; she thought Alex would be more interested in the juicy sex scandal that surrounded her - and the other women of the village. Alex found out that the couple had been married since 1912, the same year that Lilly obtained the position of House-keeper at the Parochial House. The parish Priest at the time was Father John Edwards; an elderly priest coming up to retirement. He had been in position since 1904 after Father Soames had died in the bath. That really caught Alex's attention; Father Soames had suffered a heart attack and died in his bath!
Alex knew that wasn't right - mirrors NEVER get things wrong and certainly not Human Records - Father Soames was Richard Wallis, now Eric Cooper and he certainly wasn't dead. Was he? Mind you, if he was a human out of his ordained time and he actually died; then no soul would be collected and he would be shown as missing - like he was now. The thoughts clouded into Alex's mind and she sipped her tea. But her attention was drawn back to Lilly offering her fruit cake.
Jericho and Wilson stood in the deep snow and stared at the rectangle of brickwork, old burnt wood and broken roof tiles, scattered around the remains of the shed. "It must have been rebuilt by the time I saw it in 1933. Let's get in before my frozen balls fall off." Jericho muttered and they made their way back into the house and shook snow and ice from their trousers and boots. "Why the fuck didn't we think of that, before freezing our nuts off." Moaned Wilson.
Wilson stared out the conservatory window and shook his head; "The snow is getting worse. We would never have made it back to Hordon." Alex stuck her head around the door and smiled; "Lilly's making lunch and have I something to tell you." She closed the door and headed for the big reception room. Jericho and Wilson followed quickly. "Where's the little pervert?" She asked Wilson, who shrugged his shoulders. "Never mind, this place really does have a reputation for strange goings on. Father Soames apparently died in the bath here in 1904, of a heart attack. His condition had obviously gone undiagnosed. Which is quite impossible because he's our time traveller and is now married to Lilly!"
She dropped on the sofa and continued; "Eric Cooper apparently moved to the village in 1912 and quickly courted and married Lilly, who had become the old priests Housekeeper. He retired in 1914 and moved to Australia, to live with his widowed sister. The Parish was vacant until Father Meyer turned up and we know how that turned out. But here's something to chew on; Father Houseman had two children by his House-keeper's sister. After the scandal, she moved to Hordon and married a local farmer, who agreed to raise the children as his own. One of the girls was Lilly. Richard Wallis married his own daughter, when he returned to the village as Eric Cooper!"
"Surely her mother recognised him?" Wilson asked, sitting on the sofa with Alex, who shook her head; "Lilly's mum died in 1908. She never met Lilly's husband." Wilson grunted; "So, we after a time travelling, devil worshipping pervert. Fantastic." Jericho stood by the fire place and scratched his chin; "How did he fake his death in 1904? I mean, they must have buried him and his funeral would be quite popular as the Parish priest. How did he get away with that?"
Alex sighed; "Well, if you have some shovels, we could find out. He's buried in the churchyard here." Jericho chuckled; "There's no need for grave robbing, if we can, come face to face with Wallis. Where's Owen?" He walked to the door and looked out - nothing. He pulled out his mirror and buzzed Owen for about a minute before he answered; he could see that Owen was in a dark room with a single small window. He was whispering and looking about. "Where the hell are you?" Jericho asked.
Owen almost smiled and said softly: "It's not so much where I am. I'm still here, in the house. it's when that matters." He looked about again and spoke closely to his mirror very softly; "I'm in the attic, back in 1816 and the place is full of naked witches and a fucking demon I think." Jericho watched, as he moved slowly towards a badly painted door and whispered; "There's a fucking Jerusalem Mirror, fixed to the wall in here. I found it nosing about, it's linked to the house in June, 1816. I've put a call in for a Guardian. Oscar's on his way."
His colleagues were already halfway up the stairs before he finished talking.
7. THE GREAT RAID ON NORTH TURNING; 1816.
The team gathered in the old attic room and Jericho checked his mirror; it was June 7th, 1816. A bright sunny day had turned into a warm night with plenty of clear moonlight. He quietly closed the door, after he and Wilson had returned from the stairs, following a little reconnoitre. Wilson chuckled and whispered to Alex; "We saw two young women; both stark naked, carrying a tray, covered in a black cloth, down to the ground floor."
Owen looked up from his mirror, he was squatting on the floor. "In 1816, the Parish priest here was a certain Eric Hobbs - yet another bloody Eric." Jericho didn't smile; "Hobbs is a very old name for a minion of the devil."
He pulled an orb from his jacket pocket and watched the little red streaks spinning about its circumference; "A tier two demon. Good, Oscar can handle that." That's when they heard little screams and some real sobbing coming up the stairs. Everyone looked at each other. Alex folded her arms and looked quite concerned; "That's children crying and screaming Jericho. Didn't you say that the bastards murdered two young girls and that prompted the investigation by Dawn Daniels and her team?" He nodded slowly and remembered the date on his mirror; "For Christ sake, we've arrived before that happened!"
Owen wiped his face; "You mean they're about to murder two little girls?" Jericho nodded; "After the Black Priest or Warlock has raped them." He was quite grim. He glanced at Wilson and the pair nodded; "Fuck it." Was all Wilson said and they made for the door. Jericho pulled it open and almost jumped; Oscar the Guardian was standing there; smiling. He gripped his 'Staff of Mosses' and said; "Hello my friends, I think our black hearted, demon loving witches are about to throw a full blown blood party and those two poor little girls are the star attraction."
Jericho gripped his old friends shoulder, but turned to the others; "Regretfully, turn your mirrors to stun only." Then added; "Bloody regulations." The team made their way quietly down the stairs. On the second floor landing, a door opened suddenly, right next to Alex. It was a young witch; naked apart from a devil faced mask. She was gripping a tearful and struggling girl of about seven or eight. The witch opened her mouth to scream for help, but nothing came out because Alex swung a right hook that Muhammad Ali would have been proud of. The witch lay unconscious on the ground; she wouldn't be dancing around the little girl's body now. Alex grabbed the child and held a finger over her lips; "Shhhh, your now with friends. Where's the other girl?"
Owen nudged Wilson; "Your missus is pretty handy. Hope you don't have too many domestic disputes my friend. The money would be on her." Alex cuddled the girl and saw the astonished looks on her colleagues faces; "Didn't have time for the bloody mirror." She explained, then added; "Bloody regulations." The little girl had calmed a lot and pointed a finger to the door opposite. Oscar and Jericho were through the door, before she finished pointing.
The demon; Jesbu was naked apart from a little black and gold loin cloth; he was standing over the other little girl, who was tied and gagged, face down over a chair. The look on his face was priceless as Oscar grinned; "Now try that with me you bastard!" The fight was quick and brutal; the demon ran for it by jumping through the bedroom window and he didn't bother to open it!
Owen and Wilson were already running down the stairs, whilst Jericho freed the child. Alex now had two children gripping her skirts and she cuddled them both like a long lost mother. Wilson found two naked witches hiding in the kitchens; one waved a thin dagger at him and he just folded his arms and stared at her. She dropped the knife and the two witches fell to the floor on their knees; screaming and crying. Owen in the hallway, slowly opened the small door to the cupboard under the staircase. He grinned; "Sorry mate, but the party's over - for good." The naked man crept out and tried to cover himself with his hands.
Owen pulled the devil headdress off him with some force as Jericho and Oscar appeared. "Alex has called James to wipe the children's memories of all this and then she'll get them home.." Jericho stopped speaking and stared at the naked 'Black Priest' cowering on the floor. He waved his mirror over the whimpering man and rubbed his chin; "Well, that's a fucking surprise. Hello Harold Golding; how's Victoria, your daughter doing? Your a long way from the 'Black Oak' pub and exactly a hundred years too early."
"Fuck me, that's not Richard Wallis!" Owen said and examined the devils headdress, then threw it on the floor in contempt. "Not even a real African Voodoo mask." He muttered and was joined by Alex and James - a Knight of God - who jerked a thumb up the stairs. "The children are back with their parents and will wake up tomorrow in their beds and remember nothing whatsoever of all this. Not even a little bad dream." He smiled and peered at the naked man, still grovelling on the floor. "That's some pathetic 'Black Priest', one of the worse I seen in years."
Alex threw a devil's mask onto the floor; "I took that off sleeping beauty upstairs and guess who I found under it?" Jericho just nodded; "Mrs. Victoria Helms, I presume. this fucker's daughter." Alex seemed quite disappointed that she couldn't reveal that; but what did she expect; he was Mister Jericho Tibbs after all. Wilson stuck his head out of the kitchens - he didn't smile; "The masks are off these two ladies - if you can call them that - the one waving the dagger about is our Mrs. Lillian Cooper and the other one I don't know. But she's from around this time; A Mrs. Doris Spooner. Her husband runs the local Bakers."
Jericho sighed and operated his mirror; "I'll call for the clean up team." James peered into the kitchen, both women were sprawled on the floor; clutching each other. "What a right bunch of evil bastards; Well done Jericho and well done team." He said and there was knock at the door!
Owen stepped over the naked publican and opened the door slowly. he smiled broadly and shook Isabella's hand. "That was bloody quick; Jericho only put the call out." Isabella smiled; "You know us Owen; you boys and girls yell for a clean up and we jump in with our brooms and sweep the garbage away."
Jericho looked up from his mirror; "Right, this one and the girl upstairs are from around here and this time. As is, the older woman in the kitchen. The other woman is from 1888 to 1916. But you can confirm that yourself, of course." Isabella wandered in and smiled at Jericho; "I always take your word for it Jericho." She sighed; "So, their from here. Well, its 1816 and there's lots of smallpox about. That's do the job nicely, then Angel Margret can deal with their souls." She looked into the kitchen and consulted her mirror; "That one from 1916 can drown in her bath, whilst drunk. That's always a favourite."
Through the front door came two of the biggest, roughest looking men that the team had seen for some time. "Jesus, they're bigger that bloody Wilson." Owen muttered to Alex, adding; "What do we call them?" Alex shrugged her shoulders; "Sir, will probably do." Then chuckled.
Jericho pointed up the stairs; "Owen and Alex, get rid of that damn Jerusalem mirror please." The pair nodded and headed for the attic. Wilson stood in the doorway of the kitchen, arms folded; "So what the fuck happened to Richard Wallis?" Jericho ran a hand over his face; "Now that's another bloody good question."
8. DIGGING UP THE PAST OR THE FUTURE?
The team made their way through the snow covered graveyard. They were followed by Bernie and George; the two big men from the 'clean-up' team of Isabella's - they were carrying shovels and laughing with each other. Owen spotted the grave, near to a wonderful old oak. He gestured to the big men; "This is it Sir." He said to the nearest; Bernie, and stood aside. Wilson handed Jericho his hip-flask and smiled; "A decent bottle of brandy says that the box is bloody empty."
Jericho accepted the flask and took a sip; "Now, you know I don't bet on certainties." Alex was staring up at the house; she really had a little feeling of sadness, but not sympathy, for Lilly, who currently, was threshing and choking, as she drown in her bath, after consuming nearly half a bottle of whisky. Owen saw where Alex was looking; "You shouldn't really care Alex, you really shouldn't. Over the century, that she moved back and forward in time, she must be implicated in at least five ritual murders and two of them were just children. She really doesn't deserve your sympathy." Alex nodded her agreement - but couldn't help feeling a little sadness about Lilly.
Wilson pointed to Alex's wellington's as she stood, dress pulled up - to keep it out of the snow - and grinned; "I have always loved those bright red wellington's of yours. They are very becoming." Owen chuckled; "Come on Wilson; be like most husbands and never compliment your wife on what she wears - its not the done thing!" He offered Alex his hip-flask and could see that the two big men were making short work about the exhumation of Father David Soames/Father Eric Houseman/Richard Wallis or Eric John bleeding Cooper. "Take your bloody pick." He murmured and leaned over the now open grave, to see the elaborate coffin appearing.
Owen glanced up at the house; "The local authorities will conclude that Lilly committed suicide in a fit of depression and remorse, over her part in the sex scandal. There will be lots of gossip and rumour about it for a few years, but then it will be all forgotten - life goes on. The good bit is that Miss Susan Grimwade will never fall prey to Golding and evil followers and will have the chance of a good life." He accepted his flask back from Alex and took a sip.
"The disappearance of Victoria and her father; Harold Golding will be the talk of this and surrounding villages for some years. But by, say, 1980 they will be forgotten too. The bloody pub Golding ran - the Black Ram - is destroyed by fire in 1963 and where it stands, is a bloody carpark for the new supermarket built there in 1991. Time covers everything." He finished speaking to the quiet Alex and watched closely as the two big men prised the lid open. They pushed it to one side and Jericho knelt by the open coffin and waved his mirror over the remains inside.
"Told you not to bet against him big man." Owen grinned at the disappointed Wilson who shrugged his shoulders and took a gulp of brandy from his hip-flask. "Who the hell is it?" He asked Jericho, who stood up and rubbed his face. "According to my mirror and Human records; it's bloody Father Peter Meyer!" The shock in his voice undisguised. "You are fucking kidding me!" Shouted Owen and he ran his mirror over the remains - it confirmed what Jericho had said!
Alex just stared at the grave and finally said; "How the hell can it be? He's been in the trenches, he only came here in the Autumn of this year [1916] and according to everyone, was only wounded by that mad gunman? He's still alive and sitting in a hospital bed in Hordon Cottage hospital!" Everyone stood quietly and finally Jericho said softly to Bernie and George; "Fill it back in please lads." and started to walk back to the house. The rest of the team followed - in silence.
They sat in the large reception room and Jericho picked up the picture of Eric John Cooper, who was in fact; Richard Wallis and Father David Soames. He sighed loudly; "Lilly used a old photograph, which must have been taken before 1904 of Father David Soames. He's in uniform because he was a Chaplin in the South African war and he died in the bath. Richard Wallis should have been in that coffin. That would make sense, as to why his soul is still missing and why we've heard nothing more of his time travelling adventures. Had he died out of time, his soul would be lost. But I encountered him as young man in 1933. None of this makes sense."
Alex tapped her mirror; "Peter Meyer, the body in the grave, is a missing soul. He should have died in 1900 at the age of sixteen. How did he end up here?"
Wilson leaned back on the sofa; "Do you think we should run an orb over Father Meyer - this stinks of a demon masquerading as a dead man." Owen nodded his agreement with that; "Wilson's right; what if some bloody demon is pretending to be the dead Father Meyer now?" Jericho sighed again; "It still doesn't answer where the hell is Richard Wallis and how the bloody hell did Peter Meyer end up
buried in his coffin in 1904, when he would have been only sixteen years old?"
Alex stood up and stared out the window at the graveyard. "We have been distracted by this house and the going's on over the last century and a half, that concerned it. We were sent to discover what happened to Miss Susan Grimwade and we've cleared that one up. Jericho was quite right about the house being connected to her killing. But he was side tracked by Richard Wallis, who he met back in1933 and yes, he was connected to the house; twice as far as we know, he was the Priest here under various names, and he was implicated in the murder of another. But let's ask ourselves; how was he involved with the original witch Coven here, back in1816? We know now, that Harold Golding and his daughter travelled from that time and set up a new life here - or would have done, if we didn't stop them - back in 1816. So what real evidence have we obtained that Richard Wallis is still around here and actively involved in anything?" She turned back to colleagues and smiled.
"How did all this come about Peter?" Jericho sat on the chair opposite the young priest and held his mirror with both hands. Peter sat in silence for maybe a full minute, then sighed. "My ancestor turned up one day here, I had only been made Parish priest. I knew who he was; Richard was bit of a family legend and he knew all about the sex scandal here in 1916, during the Great War. He proved who he was and what he was capable of by taking me back to Victorian Manchester and Tudor York. I was hooked. He then pleaded for me to help him; being blood and all that. So, he brought me back here to 1904. There was a fucking young dead man in the bath!"
Alex returned with her bag and started to fuss over his leg and he thanked her quietly, Jericho rubbed his face; "How did the boy die in the bath?" He asked and Peter straightened up a little; "My ancestor had accidently killed him during rough homosexual sex in the bath, apparently the boy slipped on the floor and cracked his head open. Well, that what Richard said."
Owen lowered his mirror; "The original Peter Meyer was born in1884 and worked as a 'Rent Boy'. He was still sixteen when he died in 1904. That means he was four years out of his ordained time period, because he should have died in 1900 of influenza. Richard must have picked the boy up in Victorian Manchester. That's why we didn't know; no soul would have been collected in 1904. Dispatches must have fucked up; no collector was sent and so, no Temporal Detectives were assigned the case of a body with no soul." He offered Peter his flask.
Peter, accepted Owen's flask and took another swig. "I helped him. God knows why, but I did. The local Bishop; Henry Littlewood covered the whole thing up, on the strict understanding that Richard fucked off quick and the Church wasn't involved. The local authorities also didn't want the scandal and a lot of the prominent people were all devout Catholics. So the boys body was placed in the coffin intended for Richard [Father Soames]. it was a sealed funeral - the body was never put on display. Even the bloody local Undertaker's was in on it."
Peter lay back on the sofa and touched his leg; "You've done a good job on that Doc." He smiled Alex, who just nodded. Peter Dundas was a very good looking young man and quite charming; little wonder the desperate village women went after him. "How come you stayed and ended up in that bloody awful war - that you knew was coming - when you could have just gone back to the safety of 2004?" Wilson had to ask, now a little intrigued by what motivated Peter Dundas to stay in Edwardian Times and suffer a horrendous War.
Peter looked up at the ceiling and sighed; "The reason is dead in the bath." Jericho was now intrigued; "Lilly Cooper?" He said quietly and Peter nodded. "She was a girl of sixteen then and really pretty, fantastic sense of humour and a real character. Her mother was the House-keeper here and had been for some years. I was hooked and I recalled the sex scandal that would engulf her and this house in just a few years time. I decided to do something about it."
Owen chuckled; "So you took over young Peter's identity and became a priest; even though you were already ordained. Well, you could easily pass the Seminary, then. But what about the Bishop; he knew you weren't Peter Meyer?"
Peter actually smiled; "Henry had been involved in the homosexual ring that Richard operated. I had actually forgotten that back then [1904] that being a practising homosexual was a serious crime. So, I easily manipulated him and he didn't like it. So, when the opportunity arose, he sent me back here. In his strange mind; as a punishment of sorts. I pretended that would be the worse place I could be sent and so he placed me here. I thought I could save young Lilly." He groaned a little and touched his leg. Alex told him to lay as still as possible. He nodded and continued; "I had no idea that Lilly had become what she had; a witch. Her and the other women wouldn't leave me alone and I'm not very proud to say that I succumbed quickly to them. I realise that Victoria was on that train quite deliberately to hook me - and it worked."
Jericho folded his arms; "I'm afraid to say that Victoria and her father were killed in a smallpox outbreak back in 1816. They won't be coming back here - ever." Peter just grunted; "I think Victoria was the real culprit here; along with her father and my bloody ancestor. Lilly had found the picture of Father Soames [Richard] and used it to pretend she was married to an army officer, who was never at home. No-one who saw the picture, realised that it was bloody Father Soames, who had apparently died in 1904. Being a married women, the Bishop could appoint her as House-keeper here - all legitimate and above board."
Peter actually chuckled; "I should have caught on when my ancestor told me the boys name; Peter Meyer. It was the name of the priest involved in the sex scandal back in 1916, I had read about it in confidential documents, in the cardinal's Archive in York. I was one of his assistants for a while in 2001. I didn't bloody realise at the time, that the damn priest would be me!"
Jericho nodded his head; "Peter, how did you ancestor manipulate time? How was he able to travel back and forth through it?" Peter wiped his face and groaned a little; "He had a book, a very old medieval book. The title was in Latin, but translated it said; 'The Devil's Pathways.' He only had to read out loud a certain paragraph on a certain page, whilst clutching an object from the time he wanted to jump to and he was off. He told me an amusing story, that he held a dinosaur bone and jumped back 66 million years. It nearly killed him. He couldn't breath the air then. He just made it back."
Wilson leaned forward; "Did he say where he was heading - after his demise - in 1904?" Peter nodded; "He had a real thing about the Norman Invasion of England and he wanted to see what really happened, so I think he headed back to 1066. Whilst I'm now stuck here; unless he returns for some reason."
Jericho rose from his seat and smiled; "What happened to Father Peter Meyer after the sex scandal here, I mean you read the archives; it must have said what happened to him." Peter wiped his face - again; "Yes, I do and that's what frightens me." He looked back up at the ceiling and sighed again. "What happened to him Peter?" Jericho repeated his question and Peter stared at the ceiling. "He left the priesthood and re-enlisted in the army. According to church records, I saw a letter from his Commanding Officer; written in June 1918 that he had been killed. He had no family and so it was sent to Bishop Littlewood. That must have made him very happy."
"Well, you are about to get an offer few humans get; a real second chance." Jericho folded his arms and grinned; "If you stay here and are subsequently killed, your soul will be lost and that's not good. So, you can jump with me back to your own time; 2004 and start your life over from then. All this will just be history, fascinating for local historians and the subject of local urban legends. What do you say to that? You can have your life back."
Peter nodded and whispered; "Thank you." Alex patted his arm; "There's also a bonus; you won't have two bullet holes in you either!" Even Peter chuckled at that. Owen and Wilson helped the young man up and Alex said quietly; “Oh, and I must just pop to the Operations Centre and have words with ‘I’m a laugh a minute’ Caroline.” Wilson shook his head; “No right hooks now my dear. I expect my wife to behave her self and not act like a drunken docker on a Saturday night out.” He grinned at her and Owen laughed outright. Jericho just sighed.
Father Peter Dundas returned to life in 2004 and served as Parish Priest at several Church's until his death from cancer in 2037. His funeral was unusual for a catholic Priest; not only, because it was mostly women that were the prominent mourners, but it was also attended, by at least five of his children! His disappearance in 1916 [as Father Peter Meyer] was assigned to the sex scandal that had engulfed him and the subsequent suicide of his House-keeper. His soul was collected and processed. Peter now works as a Collector.
Peter Meyer was just sixteen when he died at North Turning Parochial House in 1904. He had been picked up on the streets of Manchester in 1900 by Father Soames [Richard Wallis etc] Peter was a 'Rent Boy' and died during rough homosexual sex. His soul is still missing.
Bishop Henry Littlewood remained Bishop until his was involved in yet another homosexual scandal [for the times] and was quietly send to South America in 1926. He died of fever in a small township in Brazil in 1929. His soul was collected and processed.
Private Roy Farmer [3rd Yorkshires] was one of the young soldiers that 'Father Peter Meyer' dragged back to the trenches and thereby saved his life - he should have died - but the time line wasn't affected, because Roy succumbed to his wounds just days later at Casualty Clearing Station No.21. As fate would have it, Jericho Tibbs and his team were there, investigating the very Doctor treating him! [see episode: Dr. Alexander Harris and his battle with God] Roy's soul was collected and processed - just a little later than expected.
Mrs. Victoria Helms [nee Golding] - Vikki died in the smallpox outbreak that swept the local villages in 1816. Many blamed it on the returning soldiers from the Napoleonic Wars and was buried, with many others, in a pit on the outskirts of the village. There are no records available of the people's names that are buried there. She is only remembered, as the daughter who vanished with her father in 1916. Her husband Kevin Helms was killed in February 1917 on the Western Front and never knew about the sex scandal or her time travelling witchcraft. Her soul was collected and placed in quarantine until 2460.
Harold Golding {Publican: Black Oak Tavern - North Turning] also died in the same smallpox outbreak that killed his daughter Victoria in 1816. He was a 'Black Priest' and Warlock for the witches Coven that infested the area. He was know to have murdered at least three young children - as sacrifices to Satan - and so he soul was collected and quarantined until 2800. He has a passing mention in the history of the village, as the local publican, who vanished with his daughter in 1916. The pair remain an intriguing mystery for local historians.
Mrs. Lillian Cooper [nee Houseman] Lilly was a practising witch, who used the Jerusalem Mirror - in the Parochial House's attic - to travel back to 1816 and attend her Witches Coven there. She was the daughter of Richard Wallis [when he was the Parish priest there in 1888 as Father Houseman]. He abused the young Lillian as father Soames in the early 20th century- until he had to fake his own death in 1904. Lilly had tried to commit suicide before at Easter 1914 and only just failed. She was an abused child and adult, who fell easily under the influence of the hard core witch that was Victoria Helms/Golding. Her soul was collected and quarantined until 2380.
Mrs. Joyce Penton [Butchers wife - North Turning] had other affairs during her time in the village and was caught by her enraged husband in bed with two Canadian soldiers in March 1918. He beat her so badly, that she died of her injuries just a few days later. Her husband was hanged at York prison for her murder in July 1918. Her soul was collected and processed.
Mrs. Mavis Turner - Previously Mrs. Fellows [Dress shop owner - North Turning] never did get to show Father Peter her 'French Maid' creation, but she treated John Turner [a local farmer] to it and ended up marrying him in 1918. They lived quite happily until her death in 1929. Her soul was collected and processed.
Mrs. Gladys Gordon [Sub-Post Mistress - North Turning] never made her liaison with Father Peter and became a window just after Christmas day 1916. Her husband had been killed on the Western Front. His death, rather surprisingly to most villagers, did affect her deeply. She never remarried and died a childless widow in 1931. She was remembered with great fondness in the village for her kindness to the poor and fatherless children there. Her soul was collected and processed.
Doctor Alec Piper [Village Doctor - North Turning] could never remember why he found himself standing outside the Parochial House, in bitter snow and cold, the day Lilly killed herself in the bath and Father Peter disappeared. He still had no explanation for it, when asked at the time or years later. He retired in 1922 and moved to Blackpool. He died in 1939, on the eve of the Second World War. His soul was collected and processed.
John Guest [Shop keeper - North Turning] is credited with saving Peter's life in the snow that morning; he was old soldier from the Boer war [of 1899-1902] and had applied pressure to the gunshot wounds. He died in 1929 from undiagnosed Type 1 Diabetes and his soul was collected and processed.
Doctor Gerald Feelgood [Pathologist - Hordon Morgue] continued to explore the causes of death, of many more people who were brought to Hordon Morgue. He died in 1922, but did manage to see his granddaughter Alice qualify as a doctor. He was terribly proud of her. He even mentioned it the Collector who attended his 'dispatch'. His soul was collected and processed.
Miss Susan Grimwade [Doncaster sacrifice victim] obviously never suffered at the hands of Harold Golding and was quite unaware about the close shave she had with a horrific death. She married a local Railway Clerk in 1921. Susan had four children and died in 1941. Her soul was collected and processed.
Inspector Frederick 'Piggy' Portal [Yorkshire Constabulary] obviously never had Susan's horrific death to investigate and he certainly drew a blank over who shot the Priest, near Christmas 1916. Both the suspect and the victim disappeared that year - never to be seen or heard of again. He retried from the Police Service in 1926 and basically, ate and drank himself to death. He had no real friends and had never married. He was found dead in his dingy flat in Doncaster in 1930. The only people who attended the funeral, was the local vicar - who didn't know him - and the two gravediggers. No one from his old Police Service days bothered to turn up. His soul was collected and processed.
Lester Bullfinch [Publican - Black ram Hotel - Hordon] lost his licence in 1919 and had to move from the village - he was caught selling liquors and spirits that the brewery had not supplied. He struggled to find work during the great depression [a really big world wide recession] that followed the first World War. He hung himself in 1922 - in a railway station toilet - and his soul was collected and processed.
Mrs. Mavis Bullfinch [Black Ram Hotel - Hordon] had to leave the village with her husband Lester in 1919. She worked lots of different, low paid jobs to keep the pair afloat after Lester struggled to find work - any work. After his death in 1922, she finally ended up in Blackpool, selling sweets and novelties at a seafront stall. She became a very popular and much loved character around the area and when she died in 1935, her funeral was packed with mourners - including a certain Dr. Featherstone! - Her soul was collected and processed.
Richard Wallis/Eric John Cooper/Father houseman/Father Soames; this mysterious time traveller from 1706 has still not been apprehended, but has been reported in other time periods. His soul remains missing to this day.
Father John Edwards [Parish Priest, North Turning 1904 to 1914] retired in 1914 and moved to Australia, to live with his widowed sister; Edith. He was quite a popular figure in the local catholic Community in Perth, Western Australia. He died in 1924 and his soul was collected and processed.
Father Robert Gilmore [Parish Priest, North Turning 1917 - 1933] was murdered in a savage black magic ritual in 1933, by Richard Wallis and the matter was investigated by Inspector Doc Underhill and his team. [which included Jericho at the time; he was Doc's sergeant] They rounded up all the culprits, but Wallis escaped. Father Gilmore's soul was never recovered as his file is marked; LTDA. [Lost To Demonic Activity].
Jesbu [the demon - 1816] returned to his master, after his defeat by Oscar the Guardian in 1816 and was to cross paths with Jericho and his team again. His current whereabouts are unknown.
Mrs. Doris Spooner [Baker's wife, North Turning 1816] was a witch in the North Turning Coven of 1816. She was implicated in the deaths of at least two young children during black magic rituals. She died in the smallpox epidemic that swept the area that year. No soul was collected and is subject of an investigation by Inspector Dawn Daniels and Team 62. There is currently no resolution.
Miss Alice & Miss Emma Walters [child victims of the witches - 1816] woke in their bed and remembered nothing of the incident with the witches - James, a Knight of God, had wiped their memories of the horrific ordeal. Both girls later married and enjoyed quiet lives as farmer's wives and mothers of several children. Alice died in 1831 and Emma in 1848. Both their souls were collected and processed at the relevant times.
Wilson pushed open the door and Jericho eased in and wiped snow from his face. Owen leaned over and tapped his shoulder; "What's up?" Jericho sat hand on chin for a few seconds, then turned to Owen - he looked quite grim; "Owen, run the house through records and see what we have on file."
Wilson pulled away with some difficulty, he said to Jericho; "If it keeps snowing like this, we're going to struggle in this bleeding car." Jericho nodded and looked back at the house.
Owen was muttering under his breath, slouched on the big rear seat with Alex. He suddenly sat up "Bloody hell Jericho, how the hell do you do it?" He exclaimed and held up his mirror; "Listen to this people. The bloody house has been the subject of two temporal Department investigations already. One in 1816 by Dawn Daniels and her team. The place was a bloody witches coven and the nasty fucking group had murdered two young children and sold their souls to the dark side. Then in 1933, Doc Underhill and his team investigated the place for Devil Worship; the priest - a certain Father Clement Gilmore was murdered and his soul stolen. Guess who, he's bloody sergeant was, only..."
Jericho interrupted him; "It was me. I knew I had seen that house before."
The car only reached the Hordon Crossroads, just yards away and basically gave up the ghost; it couldn't cope with the heavy snow now falling. Wilson switched off the engine and sat back. "Well that's that." He said and folded his arms. Owen passed his hip-flask around, which was most welcome.
Jericho watched the snow hitting the windows and ran a hand over his face. "Father Gilmore was sacrificed by a real evil group of Devil worshippers. They carved messages and symbols to their master, on his body whilst still alive. Then drove a thin sacrificial dagger through his heart, They dumped his body in Banston Woods, just three or four miles from here. We got all of them - except their Black Priest - a man who called himself Eric Harris. But when we run it through Human records; he turned out to be a missing soul from 1706 called Richard Wallis and he hadn't aged a day."
Jericho accepted the flask and took a swig, he continued; "If I remember, Inspector Daniels had reported a Warlock, who attended the Witches Coven back in 1816. His name was Eric Marks; but we guessed it was Richard Wallis. The bastard has been hanging around this village in various disguises for over two hundred years apparently." He handed the flask back; "And everything seems to centre around that bloody house. What his connection with the damn place is, we could never figure. The authorities - at the time - covered the dreadful murder up."
"I wonder what our very un-celibate priest's connection is with all this?" Alex mused and took a swig from the hip flask and passed it back to Owen. "Where have we heard the name 'Eric' used around here?" Wilson said quietly and settled back in his seat.
"How many women and girls are on that list and who are their husbands or fathers?" Jericho turned to Alex, who rummaged through her coat pockets and pulled out her little pink notebook. She thumbed through a couple of pages and spoke softly; "Right, we have Mrs. Victoria Helms - her dad Harold runs the 'Black Oak' pub and her husband Kevin is at the Front. Her brother David is also there. Mrs. Joyce Penton, her husband Colin is the village butcher and some thirteen years her senior." She pulled a hankie from a pocket and wiped her mouth.
"We have Mrs. Mavis Fellows- the owner of the dress shop; she's been widowed for some years; her husband was called Reginald. Finally, we have Mrs. Lillian Cooper - the Priest's house keeper, who husband is currently at the front, he's called Eric...." She stopped reading and looked up. "Another Eric in the village." She added quietly and Jericho asked Owen to look up Eric Cooper.
"Well, that's a definite connection with the house - his bloody wife lives there." Wilson said and stared out the windows. "We're onto fucking something people!" Owen said and tapped his mirror. "There is no trace of Eric John Cooper, for this time and place, according to Human Records." Alex tapped her little notebook on the back of Jericho's seat; "Well, Lillian showed me his picture, its standing on the mantle piece and he's certainly in army uniform."
Wilson nodded; "Maybe we need to run a mirror over that picture; find out who Eric John Cooper really is and if, he's actually at the bloody front and not hiding around here, taking pot shots at priests who can't keep their members under their cassocks." Owen chuckled; "That's great. But what the hell do we do about all this?" He gestured out the windows; the snow was coming down in heavy, thick showers. It had already passed the car's running boards.
Alex groaned and half opened the door; "All that bloody tea, I need a piss." Owen shook his head; "Now Mrs. Wilson; that's not very lady like." Wilson chuckled and stared back down the road to the house, then turned back to Alex; "Well, we're bleeding stuck here, unless you fancy a three mile walk back to Hordon in all this snow and ice. You best ask your new friend and confidant, if we can stay here." Jericho nodded his agreement at that. Alex sighed and plunged into the snow, it reached her knees. "It's almost up to my bum!" She yelped.
She slowly made her way back to the big house and knocked loudly; Mrs. Lillian Cooper answered. Alex gestured back to her colleagues; they clearly had a safe haven for the night. Jericho pulled open the car door and stepped out; smiling. "Couldn't have worked out better, now we can have quite a cosy chat with the wife of our possible time travelling devil worshipper. Let's get a mirror over that damn photograph."
Owen slapped Wilson on the back; "Sorry mate, that place is bound to have loads of bedrooms and I bet, your new wife will want to have one on her own." He laughed and jumped from the car. "Oh, bollocks!" was all he said as the snow reached his crotch. Wilson didn't reply, but he did smile at Owen's discomfort.
6. OLD PICTURES & THE MAGIC SHED.
Lilly was really glad to have company tonight - especially Alex's. She made them most welcome and Alex hurried up the staircase to the toilet. But something caught her eye; there were several pictures on the stair wall. Alex carefully read the little plaques attached to each. But nature disturbed her thoughts and she dashed to the bathroom. She would return to the pictures and photographs when she had relieved herself - which was now quite urgent!
Everyone sat in the big reception room and Owen - discretely - warmed his crotch by the fire; much to Wilson's amusement. They all drank tea - again. Lilly disappeared, saying that she would make up the rooms for her stranded guests. She was really happy to have something to do. Jericho found he was looking at a picture of a young man in uniform, on the fireplace's mantle.
Owen ran his mirror over the face; "Yep, that's Richard Wallis - missing from 1706." Jericho stared hard at the photograph and muttered; "I think we're looking at our quarry. I wonder how much Lilly is involved in his evil deeds?"
Wilson nodded and pointed to a painting hanging on the wall opposite; it was the Parochial House painted back in 1871. "Look at the left wing of the house, there's a small brick building - like a long, brick shed or something. There's no building there now." Jericho lowered his mirror and joined Wilson. He nodded; "I think it was there, when I visited in 1933. We obviously searched the place. At the time, I think it was father Gilmore's little workshop; he was a great cycling enthusiast and he fixed bikes there."
Owen rubbed his face; "Excuse me, but how does a building like that be in a painting in 1871 and Jericho's see's it in 1933. But it's not here in 1916?" Wilson folded his arms; "That, baby brother, is a fucking good question." Jericho tapped the picture; "Take a look at the artist?" Wilson and Owen peered closely; "Fuck me, Eric Houseman, another bloody Eric!" Owen muttered and immediately consulted his mirror. He half smiled; "The Parish priest here between 1867 and 1888." He muttered. He stared hard at his mirror; "You'll never believe it; Father Houseman was removed from this parish in 1888 because of indiscretions' with his House-Keeper and her sister!"
"That appears to go with this bloody house." Alex said, standing in the doorway - looking much relieved - and gestured behind her. "The pictures running up the staircase wall are very interesting." She held up her mirror "According to Human records, Father Houseman was Richard Wallis, as was Father David Soames in 1904. He was like Father Meyer, an Army Chaplin in the South African War," Jericho nodded and ran a hand over his face. "Well, he certainly has an attachment to this bloody place and I wonder why?"
Lilly appeared behind Alex; smiling. "I set up the rooms and lit the fires. Father Tibbs is in the big guest room, left, at the top of the stairs and Mr. Jones is the one next door." She straightened her apron and smiled at Alex; "I've put you and your husband next to the bathroom Doctor Featherstone." Alex just stared at her, as Owen actually giggled a little and grinned broadly at Wilson.
"How did you know we're married?" Alex managed to ask - smiling a little. Lilly grinned; "The whole village is talking about it. A nice white Doctor like yourself, married to a big black, American fella, that went around the village like wildfire. They have probably talked about it more than me and Vikki's scandal anyway." Alex still looked puzzled; "But only the Bullfinch's at the 'Black Ram' pub knew and they were only told a few hours ago?"
Lillian just grinned; "Mavis [bullfinch] told Stan Gable all about you and your husband. His wife is Doris, the sub-Post Mistress at Hordon Post Office, she's been on the phone ever since. Which reminds me, I had better ring Mavis and tell her that you'll be staying here." She wandered off again and Alex could only stand and sigh. Owen slapped Wilson on the back; "Hope the bed doesn't creak too much, big man!"
Jericho just chuckled; "Never mind the sleeping arrangements, we need to ask her about that damn magic shed." Wilson tapped his chin; "If there's a bloody phone here; where the hell is it? In this time and era; phones were quite uncommon and nearly always in the hallway - easier to run the wires in. So where is it?" Owen looked puzzled too; "The big man is right. Where's the phone?" Alex grunted and spoke directly to Wilson; "You had better pray that the bedroom has a nice big couch because the bleeding bed is mine." With that she disappeared into the kitchen to find Lilly.
Owen grinned at Wilson; "Never mind big man. I've studied this era and husbands ruled the roost. Just throw Alex over your knee and give her a spanking and demand your conjectural rights. By the laws around here; you have that right - she's not allowed by law to refuse her husband. Wives had to submit, whether they wanted to or not."
Jericho just sighed in some despair; "Firstly, Mr. marriage guidance Councillor, its conjugal rights and secondly; they're not actually bloody married - or had your sharp mind forgotten that? Fucking conjectural rights, whatever next?" Owen muttered; "Oh yes, your right." and went up the stairs and studied the wall pictures. Wilson laughed and he, with Jericho, headed for the garden; they wanted to see if the 'magic shed' was actually still hidden there.
Alex and Lilly sat at the kitchen table and chatted - over yet more tea - the main topic of conversation was Lilly's absent husband. That surprised Lilly; she thought Alex would be more interested in the juicy sex scandal that surrounded her - and the other women of the village. Alex found out that the couple had been married since 1912, the same year that Lilly obtained the position of House-keeper at the Parochial House. The parish Priest at the time was Father John Edwards; an elderly priest coming up to retirement. He had been in position since 1904 after Father Soames had died in the bath. That really caught Alex's attention; Father Soames had suffered a heart attack and died in his bath!
Alex knew that wasn't right - mirrors NEVER get things wrong and certainly not Human Records - Father Soames was Richard Wallis, now Eric Cooper and he certainly wasn't dead. Was he? Mind you, if he was a human out of his ordained time and he actually died; then no soul would be collected and he would be shown as missing - like he was now. The thoughts clouded into Alex's mind and she sipped her tea. But her attention was drawn back to Lilly offering her fruit cake.
Jericho and Wilson stood in the deep snow and stared at the rectangle of brickwork, old burnt wood and broken roof tiles, scattered around the remains of the shed. "It must have been rebuilt by the time I saw it in 1933. Let's get in before my frozen balls fall off." Jericho muttered and they made their way back into the house and shook snow and ice from their trousers and boots. "Why the fuck didn't we think of that, before freezing our nuts off." Moaned Wilson.
Wilson stared out the conservatory window and shook his head; "The snow is getting worse. We would never have made it back to Hordon." Alex stuck her head around the door and smiled; "Lilly's making lunch and have I something to tell you." She closed the door and headed for the big reception room. Jericho and Wilson followed quickly. "Where's the little pervert?" She asked Wilson, who shrugged his shoulders. "Never mind, this place really does have a reputation for strange goings on. Father Soames apparently died in the bath here in 1904, of a heart attack. His condition had obviously gone undiagnosed. Which is quite impossible because he's our time traveller and is now married to Lilly!"
She dropped on the sofa and continued; "Eric Cooper apparently moved to the village in 1912 and quickly courted and married Lilly, who had become the old priests Housekeeper. He retired in 1914 and moved to Australia, to live with his widowed sister. The Parish was vacant until Father Meyer turned up and we know how that turned out. But here's something to chew on; Father Houseman had two children by his House-keeper's sister. After the scandal, she moved to Hordon and married a local farmer, who agreed to raise the children as his own. One of the girls was Lilly. Richard Wallis married his own daughter, when he returned to the village as Eric Cooper!"
"Surely her mother recognised him?" Wilson asked, sitting on the sofa with Alex, who shook her head; "Lilly's mum died in 1908. She never met Lilly's husband." Wilson grunted; "So, we after a time travelling, devil worshipping pervert. Fantastic." Jericho stood by the fire place and scratched his chin; "How did he fake his death in 1904? I mean, they must have buried him and his funeral would be quite popular as the Parish priest. How did he get away with that?"
Alex sighed; "Well, if you have some shovels, we could find out. He's buried in the churchyard here." Jericho chuckled; "There's no need for grave robbing, if we can, come face to face with Wallis. Where's Owen?" He walked to the door and looked out - nothing. He pulled out his mirror and buzzed Owen for about a minute before he answered; he could see that Owen was in a dark room with a single small window. He was whispering and looking about. "Where the hell are you?" Jericho asked.
Owen almost smiled and said softly: "It's not so much where I am. I'm still here, in the house. it's when that matters." He looked about again and spoke closely to his mirror very softly; "I'm in the attic, back in 1816 and the place is full of naked witches and a fucking demon I think." Jericho watched, as he moved slowly towards a badly painted door and whispered; "There's a fucking Jerusalem Mirror, fixed to the wall in here. I found it nosing about, it's linked to the house in June, 1816. I've put a call in for a Guardian. Oscar's on his way."
His colleagues were already halfway up the stairs before he finished talking.
7. THE GREAT RAID ON NORTH TURNING; 1816.
The team gathered in the old attic room and Jericho checked his mirror; it was June 7th, 1816. A bright sunny day had turned into a warm night with plenty of clear moonlight. He quietly closed the door, after he and Wilson had returned from the stairs, following a little reconnoitre. Wilson chuckled and whispered to Alex; "We saw two young women; both stark naked, carrying a tray, covered in a black cloth, down to the ground floor."
Owen looked up from his mirror, he was squatting on the floor. "In 1816, the Parish priest here was a certain Eric Hobbs - yet another bloody Eric." Jericho didn't smile; "Hobbs is a very old name for a minion of the devil."
He pulled an orb from his jacket pocket and watched the little red streaks spinning about its circumference; "A tier two demon. Good, Oscar can handle that." That's when they heard little screams and some real sobbing coming up the stairs. Everyone looked at each other. Alex folded her arms and looked quite concerned; "That's children crying and screaming Jericho. Didn't you say that the bastards murdered two young girls and that prompted the investigation by Dawn Daniels and her team?" He nodded slowly and remembered the date on his mirror; "For Christ sake, we've arrived before that happened!"
Owen wiped his face; "You mean they're about to murder two little girls?" Jericho nodded; "After the Black Priest or Warlock has raped them." He was quite grim. He glanced at Wilson and the pair nodded; "Fuck it." Was all Wilson said and they made for the door. Jericho pulled it open and almost jumped; Oscar the Guardian was standing there; smiling. He gripped his 'Staff of Mosses' and said; "Hello my friends, I think our black hearted, demon loving witches are about to throw a full blown blood party and those two poor little girls are the star attraction."
Jericho gripped his old friends shoulder, but turned to the others; "Regretfully, turn your mirrors to stun only." Then added; "Bloody regulations." The team made their way quietly down the stairs. On the second floor landing, a door opened suddenly, right next to Alex. It was a young witch; naked apart from a devil faced mask. She was gripping a tearful and struggling girl of about seven or eight. The witch opened her mouth to scream for help, but nothing came out because Alex swung a right hook that Muhammad Ali would have been proud of. The witch lay unconscious on the ground; she wouldn't be dancing around the little girl's body now. Alex grabbed the child and held a finger over her lips; "Shhhh, your now with friends. Where's the other girl?"
Owen nudged Wilson; "Your missus is pretty handy. Hope you don't have too many domestic disputes my friend. The money would be on her." Alex cuddled the girl and saw the astonished looks on her colleagues faces; "Didn't have time for the bloody mirror." She explained, then added; "Bloody regulations." The little girl had calmed a lot and pointed a finger to the door opposite. Oscar and Jericho were through the door, before she finished pointing.
The demon; Jesbu was naked apart from a little black and gold loin cloth; he was standing over the other little girl, who was tied and gagged, face down over a chair. The look on his face was priceless as Oscar grinned; "Now try that with me you bastard!" The fight was quick and brutal; the demon ran for it by jumping through the bedroom window and he didn't bother to open it!
Owen and Wilson were already running down the stairs, whilst Jericho freed the child. Alex now had two children gripping her skirts and she cuddled them both like a long lost mother. Wilson found two naked witches hiding in the kitchens; one waved a thin dagger at him and he just folded his arms and stared at her. She dropped the knife and the two witches fell to the floor on their knees; screaming and crying. Owen in the hallway, slowly opened the small door to the cupboard under the staircase. He grinned; "Sorry mate, but the party's over - for good." The naked man crept out and tried to cover himself with his hands.
Owen pulled the devil headdress off him with some force as Jericho and Oscar appeared. "Alex has called James to wipe the children's memories of all this and then she'll get them home.." Jericho stopped speaking and stared at the naked 'Black Priest' cowering on the floor. He waved his mirror over the whimpering man and rubbed his chin; "Well, that's a fucking surprise. Hello Harold Golding; how's Victoria, your daughter doing? Your a long way from the 'Black Oak' pub and exactly a hundred years too early."
"Fuck me, that's not Richard Wallis!" Owen said and examined the devils headdress, then threw it on the floor in contempt. "Not even a real African Voodoo mask." He muttered and was joined by Alex and James - a Knight of God - who jerked a thumb up the stairs. "The children are back with their parents and will wake up tomorrow in their beds and remember nothing whatsoever of all this. Not even a little bad dream." He smiled and peered at the naked man, still grovelling on the floor. "That's some pathetic 'Black Priest', one of the worse I seen in years."
Alex threw a devil's mask onto the floor; "I took that off sleeping beauty upstairs and guess who I found under it?" Jericho just nodded; "Mrs. Victoria Helms, I presume. this fucker's daughter." Alex seemed quite disappointed that she couldn't reveal that; but what did she expect; he was Mister Jericho Tibbs after all. Wilson stuck his head out of the kitchens - he didn't smile; "The masks are off these two ladies - if you can call them that - the one waving the dagger about is our Mrs. Lillian Cooper and the other one I don't know. But she's from around this time; A Mrs. Doris Spooner. Her husband runs the local Bakers."
Jericho sighed and operated his mirror; "I'll call for the clean up team." James peered into the kitchen, both women were sprawled on the floor; clutching each other. "What a right bunch of evil bastards; Well done Jericho and well done team." He said and there was knock at the door!
Owen stepped over the naked publican and opened the door slowly. he smiled broadly and shook Isabella's hand. "That was bloody quick; Jericho only put the call out." Isabella smiled; "You know us Owen; you boys and girls yell for a clean up and we jump in with our brooms and sweep the garbage away."
Jericho looked up from his mirror; "Right, this one and the girl upstairs are from around here and this time. As is, the older woman in the kitchen. The other woman is from 1888 to 1916. But you can confirm that yourself, of course." Isabella wandered in and smiled at Jericho; "I always take your word for it Jericho." She sighed; "So, their from here. Well, its 1816 and there's lots of smallpox about. That's do the job nicely, then Angel Margret can deal with their souls." She looked into the kitchen and consulted her mirror; "That one from 1916 can drown in her bath, whilst drunk. That's always a favourite."
Through the front door came two of the biggest, roughest looking men that the team had seen for some time. "Jesus, they're bigger that bloody Wilson." Owen muttered to Alex, adding; "What do we call them?" Alex shrugged her shoulders; "Sir, will probably do." Then chuckled.
Jericho pointed up the stairs; "Owen and Alex, get rid of that damn Jerusalem mirror please." The pair nodded and headed for the attic. Wilson stood in the doorway of the kitchen, arms folded; "So what the fuck happened to Richard Wallis?" Jericho ran a hand over his face; "Now that's another bloody good question."
8. DIGGING UP THE PAST OR THE FUTURE?
The team made their way through the snow covered graveyard. They were followed by Bernie and George; the two big men from the 'clean-up' team of Isabella's - they were carrying shovels and laughing with each other. Owen spotted the grave, near to a wonderful old oak. He gestured to the big men; "This is it Sir." He said to the nearest; Bernie, and stood aside. Wilson handed Jericho his hip-flask and smiled; "A decent bottle of brandy says that the box is bloody empty."
Jericho accepted the flask and took a sip; "Now, you know I don't bet on certainties." Alex was staring up at the house; she really had a little feeling of sadness, but not sympathy, for Lilly, who currently, was threshing and choking, as she drown in her bath, after consuming nearly half a bottle of whisky. Owen saw where Alex was looking; "You shouldn't really care Alex, you really shouldn't. Over the century, that she moved back and forward in time, she must be implicated in at least five ritual murders and two of them were just children. She really doesn't deserve your sympathy." Alex nodded her agreement - but couldn't help feeling a little sadness about Lilly.
Wilson pointed to Alex's wellington's as she stood, dress pulled up - to keep it out of the snow - and grinned; "I have always loved those bright red wellington's of yours. They are very becoming." Owen chuckled; "Come on Wilson; be like most husbands and never compliment your wife on what she wears - its not the done thing!" He offered Alex his hip-flask and could see that the two big men were making short work about the exhumation of Father David Soames/Father Eric Houseman/Richard Wallis or Eric John bleeding Cooper. "Take your bloody pick." He murmured and leaned over the now open grave, to see the elaborate coffin appearing.
Owen glanced up at the house; "The local authorities will conclude that Lilly committed suicide in a fit of depression and remorse, over her part in the sex scandal. There will be lots of gossip and rumour about it for a few years, but then it will be all forgotten - life goes on. The good bit is that Miss Susan Grimwade will never fall prey to Golding and evil followers and will have the chance of a good life." He accepted his flask back from Alex and took a sip.
"The disappearance of Victoria and her father; Harold Golding will be the talk of this and surrounding villages for some years. But by, say, 1980 they will be forgotten too. The bloody pub Golding ran - the Black Ram - is destroyed by fire in 1963 and where it stands, is a bloody carpark for the new supermarket built there in 1991. Time covers everything." He finished speaking to the quiet Alex and watched closely as the two big men prised the lid open. They pushed it to one side and Jericho knelt by the open coffin and waved his mirror over the remains inside.
"Told you not to bet against him big man." Owen grinned at the disappointed Wilson who shrugged his shoulders and took a gulp of brandy from his hip-flask. "Who the hell is it?" He asked Jericho, who stood up and rubbed his face. "According to my mirror and Human records; it's bloody Father Peter Meyer!" The shock in his voice undisguised. "You are fucking kidding me!" Shouted Owen and he ran his mirror over the remains - it confirmed what Jericho had said!
Alex just stared at the grave and finally said; "How the hell can it be? He's been in the trenches, he only came here in the Autumn of this year [1916] and according to everyone, was only wounded by that mad gunman? He's still alive and sitting in a hospital bed in Hordon Cottage hospital!" Everyone stood quietly and finally Jericho said softly to Bernie and George; "Fill it back in please lads." and started to walk back to the house. The rest of the team followed - in silence.
They sat in the large reception room and Jericho picked up the picture of Eric John Cooper, who was in fact; Richard Wallis and Father David Soames. He sighed loudly; "Lilly used a old photograph, which must have been taken before 1904 of Father David Soames. He's in uniform because he was a Chaplin in the South African war and he died in the bath. Richard Wallis should have been in that coffin. That would make sense, as to why his soul is still missing and why we've heard nothing more of his time travelling adventures. Had he died out of time, his soul would be lost. But I encountered him as young man in 1933. None of this makes sense."
Alex tapped her mirror; "Peter Meyer, the body in the grave, is a missing soul. He should have died in 1900 at the age of sixteen. How did he end up here?"
Wilson leaned back on the sofa; "Do you think we should run an orb over Father Meyer - this stinks of a demon masquerading as a dead man." Owen nodded his agreement with that; "Wilson's right; what if some bloody demon is pretending to be the dead Father Meyer now?" Jericho sighed again; "It still doesn't answer where the hell is Richard Wallis and how the bloody hell did Peter Meyer end up
buried in his coffin in 1904, when he would have been only sixteen years old?"
Alex stood up and stared out the window at the graveyard. "We have been distracted by this house and the going's on over the last century and a half, that concerned it. We were sent to discover what happened to Miss Susan Grimwade and we've cleared that one up. Jericho was quite right about the house being connected to her killing. But he was side tracked by Richard Wallis, who he met back in1933 and yes, he was connected to the house; twice as far as we know, he was the Priest here under various names, and he was implicated in the murder of another. But let's ask ourselves; how was he involved with the original witch Coven here, back in1816? We know now, that Harold Golding and his daughter travelled from that time and set up a new life here - or would have done, if we didn't stop them - back in 1816. So what real evidence have we obtained that Richard Wallis is still around here and actively involved in anything?" She turned back to colleagues and smiled.
"Peter Meyer died in 1904 aged 16 years old and was buried in the grave intended for Richard Wallis or Father Soames, as he was then. We have two solutions: Father Meyer is currently a demon who has possessed a dead man's identity - we know that is common; remember the demon who masqueraded as that professor back in Edwardian times? [The mission Alex is talking about was; The Impossible Films of Miss stockyard Canning]. The second is; what was the connection between this house and the young Peter Meyer and who the hell took over his identity and joined the Priesthood, and ultimately, returned to this house in 1916?" Alex sat back down and her colleagues could only agree with her brilliant summing up.
Jericho slapped his hands together; "Right; let's find out who the current Peter Meyer really is. let's go and pay a visit to the hospital." That's when they heard the front door open and Jericho immediately operated his mirror and the team were cloaked from human eyes. They heard voices and some man shouting for Lilly. "Shit!, she's fucking laying dead in the bath upstairs." Whispered Owen.
They heard footsteps in the kitchens, then up the stairs. Jericho gestured to his team to follow and he opened the door and peered up the stairs. He stopped time and the team spilled out into the hallway. They could see two men standing on the stairs. One was a young priest, the other, a much older man with a Gladstone bag. Wilson ran his mirror over the pair; "The old man is a Doctor Alec Piper; he's the village Doctor here. The other is..." He stared at his mirror and almost smiled; "Well, our young priest is no demon. He's real name is Peter Dundas and he's from 2004. Another fucking time traveller!"
Alex spoke really quietly; "What's he doing out of hospital so quickly, his arm is still in bandages and his leg is strapped up, yet he's struggling up the stairs with a doctor in tow; on the very day Lilly kills herself and almost the right time to stop it?" Jericho did smile and lowered his mirror; "Peter Dundas lives in this very house in 2004, with his younger brother Robert. He's the Parish Priest here at that time. Now that is no co-incidence!"
Owen tapped his mirror; "According to Human Records, Father Peter Dundas simply vanished from the Human Time Line in 2004 from this very house and crossed over to 1904, to York. He's shown as a missing soul; obviously. There are no connections shown with the dark side, except..." Owen stopped and shook his head in disbelief and said softly: "You'll never guess who the fuck his ancestor is?" Jericho smiled; "Richard Wallis, by any chance?" Owen nodded.
Wilson shook his head; "So Peter Dundas travelled back to 1904 - probably with his ancestors help - and assumed the identity of a young Peter Meyer, who wasn't even in the Priesthood then. We know both Meyer's parents were dead and he had no siblings, no uncles or aunts. He was perfect to be replaced by a very similar young man. Dundas's Ancestor [Richard Wallis] probably lured the young Meyer's here and they killed him in the bath, so that the swap could take place. Both would have known about the sex scandal here, coming from the future, if they had done their research. It would have been perfect, except the two women Dundas became involved with were both bloody witches!"
"That's good big man, but how did they get the authorities to accept a young man's body as Father Soames? Now that's a big stumbling block." Wilson grunted and stared back at the two men on the stairs. Alex folded her arms and sighed; "Wouldn't it be easier just to bloody ask him?" Jericho chuckled at that and released Father Peter Dundas from time isolation - the doctor remained frozen in time.
9. A TIME TRAVELLERS TALE.
Peter stared down the stairs at the group of people gathered in his hallway and lowered his head. He tapped Doctor Piper and nodded. He gripped his aching leg and slowly eased himself down upon the stair. he looked back up the stairs and shook his head. "She's gone Peter. Her soul was collected some minutes ago." Jericho walked to the foot of the stairs and leaned on the bannister.
"It was the bloody snow; I hadn't counted for it being so deep. Old Doc Piper's car only just made it. But I didn't." Peter said and sat with hands over his face for a few seconds. Then stared back up the stairs.
"It was the bloody snow; I hadn't counted for it being so deep. Old Doc Piper's car only just made it. But I didn't." Peter said and sat with hands over his face for a few seconds. Then stared back up the stairs.
"Do you know who we are Peter?" Jericho asked and gestured for Alex and Owen to help Peter back down the stairs. "Alex and Owen will help you down and we'll have a little chat in the lounge room." Peter nodded and slumped back on the staircase. "Your Jericho Tibbs; my ancestor Richard told me all about you. I was suppose to avoid you like the plague. Another part of my plan that went tits up."
Owen and Alex took hold under his arms and he limped down the stairs into the big reception room. Alex was concerned about his leg; there were tiny patches of blood seeping through his trousers. They lowered him gently onto the big sofa and Alex disappeared to fetch her Doctor's bag from the upstairs bedroom. Owen handed the young man his hip flask and Peter took a big swig. He thanked Owen and touched his leg, wincing in some discomfort and pain. "I also didn't account for old man Goulding bloody shooting me, for sleeping with his daughter without his say so."
Owen and Alex took hold under his arms and he limped down the stairs into the big reception room. Alex was concerned about his leg; there were tiny patches of blood seeping through his trousers. They lowered him gently onto the big sofa and Alex disappeared to fetch her Doctor's bag from the upstairs bedroom. Owen handed the young man his hip flask and Peter took a big swig. He thanked Owen and touched his leg, wincing in some discomfort and pain. "I also didn't account for old man Goulding bloody shooting me, for sleeping with his daughter without his say so."
"How did all this come about Peter?" Jericho sat on the chair opposite the young priest and held his mirror with both hands. Peter sat in silence for maybe a full minute, then sighed. "My ancestor turned up one day here, I had only been made Parish priest. I knew who he was; Richard was bit of a family legend and he knew all about the sex scandal here in 1916, during the Great War. He proved who he was and what he was capable of by taking me back to Victorian Manchester and Tudor York. I was hooked. He then pleaded for me to help him; being blood and all that. So, he brought me back here to 1904. There was a fucking young dead man in the bath!"
Alex returned with her bag and started to fuss over his leg and he thanked her quietly, Jericho rubbed his face; "How did the boy die in the bath?" He asked and Peter straightened up a little; "My ancestor had accidently killed him during rough homosexual sex in the bath, apparently the boy slipped on the floor and cracked his head open. Well, that what Richard said."
Owen lowered his mirror; "The original Peter Meyer was born in1884 and worked as a 'Rent Boy'. He was still sixteen when he died in 1904. That means he was four years out of his ordained time period, because he should have died in 1900 of influenza. Richard must have picked the boy up in Victorian Manchester. That's why we didn't know; no soul would have been collected in 1904. Dispatches must have fucked up; no collector was sent and so, no Temporal Detectives were assigned the case of a body with no soul." He offered Peter his flask.
Peter, accepted Owen's flask and took another swig. "I helped him. God knows why, but I did. The local Bishop; Henry Littlewood covered the whole thing up, on the strict understanding that Richard fucked off quick and the Church wasn't involved. The local authorities also didn't want the scandal and a lot of the prominent people were all devout Catholics. So the boys body was placed in the coffin intended for Richard [Father Soames]. it was a sealed funeral - the body was never put on display. Even the bloody local Undertaker's was in on it."
Peter lay back on the sofa and touched his leg; "You've done a good job on that Doc." He smiled Alex, who just nodded. Peter Dundas was a very good looking young man and quite charming; little wonder the desperate village women went after him. "How come you stayed and ended up in that bloody awful war - that you knew was coming - when you could have just gone back to the safety of 2004?" Wilson had to ask, now a little intrigued by what motivated Peter Dundas to stay in Edwardian Times and suffer a horrendous War.
Peter looked up at the ceiling and sighed; "The reason is dead in the bath." Jericho was now intrigued; "Lilly Cooper?" He said quietly and Peter nodded. "She was a girl of sixteen then and really pretty, fantastic sense of humour and a real character. Her mother was the House-keeper here and had been for some years. I was hooked and I recalled the sex scandal that would engulf her and this house in just a few years time. I decided to do something about it."
Owen chuckled; "So you took over young Peter's identity and became a priest; even though you were already ordained. Well, you could easily pass the Seminary, then. But what about the Bishop; he knew you weren't Peter Meyer?"
Peter actually smiled; "Henry had been involved in the homosexual ring that Richard operated. I had actually forgotten that back then [1904] that being a practising homosexual was a serious crime. So, I easily manipulated him and he didn't like it. So, when the opportunity arose, he sent me back here. In his strange mind; as a punishment of sorts. I pretended that would be the worse place I could be sent and so he placed me here. I thought I could save young Lilly." He groaned a little and touched his leg. Alex told him to lay as still as possible. He nodded and continued; "I had no idea that Lilly had become what she had; a witch. Her and the other women wouldn't leave me alone and I'm not very proud to say that I succumbed quickly to them. I realise that Victoria was on that train quite deliberately to hook me - and it worked."
Jericho folded his arms; "I'm afraid to say that Victoria and her father were killed in a smallpox outbreak back in 1816. They won't be coming back here - ever." Peter just grunted; "I think Victoria was the real culprit here; along with her father and my bloody ancestor. Lilly had found the picture of Father Soames [Richard] and used it to pretend she was married to an army officer, who was never at home. No-one who saw the picture, realised that it was bloody Father Soames, who had apparently died in 1904. Being a married women, the Bishop could appoint her as House-keeper here - all legitimate and above board."
Peter actually chuckled; "I should have caught on when my ancestor told me the boys name; Peter Meyer. It was the name of the priest involved in the sex scandal back in 1916, I had read about it in confidential documents, in the cardinal's Archive in York. I was one of his assistants for a while in 2001. I didn't bloody realise at the time, that the damn priest would be me!"
Jericho nodded his head; "Peter, how did you ancestor manipulate time? How was he able to travel back and forth through it?" Peter wiped his face and groaned a little; "He had a book, a very old medieval book. The title was in Latin, but translated it said; 'The Devil's Pathways.' He only had to read out loud a certain paragraph on a certain page, whilst clutching an object from the time he wanted to jump to and he was off. He told me an amusing story, that he held a dinosaur bone and jumped back 66 million years. It nearly killed him. He couldn't breath the air then. He just made it back."
Wilson leaned forward; "Did he say where he was heading - after his demise - in 1904?" Peter nodded; "He had a real thing about the Norman Invasion of England and he wanted to see what really happened, so I think he headed back to 1066. Whilst I'm now stuck here; unless he returns for some reason."
Jericho rose from his seat and smiled; "What happened to Father Peter Meyer after the sex scandal here, I mean you read the archives; it must have said what happened to him." Peter wiped his face - again; "Yes, I do and that's what frightens me." He looked back up at the ceiling and sighed again. "What happened to him Peter?" Jericho repeated his question and Peter stared at the ceiling. "He left the priesthood and re-enlisted in the army. According to church records, I saw a letter from his Commanding Officer; written in June 1918 that he had been killed. He had no family and so it was sent to Bishop Littlewood. That must have made him very happy."
Peter nodded and whispered; "Thank you." Alex patted his arm; "There's also a bonus; you won't have two bullet holes in you either!" Even Peter chuckled at that. Owen and Wilson helped the young man up and Alex said quietly; “Oh, and I must just pop to the Operations Centre and have words with ‘I’m a laugh a minute’ Caroline.” Wilson shook his head; “No right hooks now my dear. I expect my wife to behave her self and not act like a drunken docker on a Saturday night out.” He grinned at her and Owen laughed outright. Jericho just sighed.
EPILOGUE:
"Despite the loss of some souls, the mission was deemed a success. Two 'Time Portals' had been discovered and closed. Alexandra sorted out her 'little problem' with Caroline in the Operations Centre; well, without too much violence!"
W.A.S.
CHARACTERS:
"Despite the loss of some souls, the mission was deemed a success. Two 'Time Portals' had been discovered and closed. Alexandra sorted out her 'little problem' with Caroline in the Operations Centre; well, without too much violence!"
W.A.S.
Father Peter Dundas returned to life in 2004 and served as Parish Priest at several Church's until his death from cancer in 2037. His funeral was unusual for a catholic Priest; not only, because it was mostly women that were the prominent mourners, but it was also attended, by at least five of his children! His disappearance in 1916 [as Father Peter Meyer] was assigned to the sex scandal that had engulfed him and the subsequent suicide of his House-keeper. His soul was collected and processed. Peter now works as a Collector.
Peter Meyer was just sixteen when he died at North Turning Parochial House in 1904. He had been picked up on the streets of Manchester in 1900 by Father Soames [Richard Wallis etc] Peter was a 'Rent Boy' and died during rough homosexual sex. His soul is still missing.
Bishop Henry Littlewood remained Bishop until his was involved in yet another homosexual scandal [for the times] and was quietly send to South America in 1926. He died of fever in a small township in Brazil in 1929. His soul was collected and processed.
Private Roy Farmer [3rd Yorkshires] was one of the young soldiers that 'Father Peter Meyer' dragged back to the trenches and thereby saved his life - he should have died - but the time line wasn't affected, because Roy succumbed to his wounds just days later at Casualty Clearing Station No.21. As fate would have it, Jericho Tibbs and his team were there, investigating the very Doctor treating him! [see episode: Dr. Alexander Harris and his battle with God] Roy's soul was collected and processed - just a little later than expected.
Mrs. Victoria Helms [nee Golding] - Vikki died in the smallpox outbreak that swept the local villages in 1816. Many blamed it on the returning soldiers from the Napoleonic Wars and was buried, with many others, in a pit on the outskirts of the village. There are no records available of the people's names that are buried there. She is only remembered, as the daughter who vanished with her father in 1916. Her husband Kevin Helms was killed in February 1917 on the Western Front and never knew about the sex scandal or her time travelling witchcraft. Her soul was collected and placed in quarantine until 2460.
Harold Golding {Publican: Black Oak Tavern - North Turning] also died in the same smallpox outbreak that killed his daughter Victoria in 1816. He was a 'Black Priest' and Warlock for the witches Coven that infested the area. He was know to have murdered at least three young children - as sacrifices to Satan - and so he soul was collected and quarantined until 2800. He has a passing mention in the history of the village, as the local publican, who vanished with his daughter in 1916. The pair remain an intriguing mystery for local historians.
Mrs. Lillian Cooper [nee Houseman] Lilly was a practising witch, who used the Jerusalem Mirror - in the Parochial House's attic - to travel back to 1816 and attend her Witches Coven there. She was the daughter of Richard Wallis [when he was the Parish priest there in 1888 as Father Houseman]. He abused the young Lillian as father Soames in the early 20th century- until he had to fake his own death in 1904. Lilly had tried to commit suicide before at Easter 1914 and only just failed. She was an abused child and adult, who fell easily under the influence of the hard core witch that was Victoria Helms/Golding. Her soul was collected and quarantined until 2380.
Mrs. Joyce Penton [Butchers wife - North Turning] had other affairs during her time in the village and was caught by her enraged husband in bed with two Canadian soldiers in March 1918. He beat her so badly, that she died of her injuries just a few days later. Her husband was hanged at York prison for her murder in July 1918. Her soul was collected and processed.
Mrs. Mavis Turner - Previously Mrs. Fellows [Dress shop owner - North Turning] never did get to show Father Peter her 'French Maid' creation, but she treated John Turner [a local farmer] to it and ended up marrying him in 1918. They lived quite happily until her death in 1929. Her soul was collected and processed.
Mrs. Gladys Gordon [Sub-Post Mistress - North Turning] never made her liaison with Father Peter and became a window just after Christmas day 1916. Her husband had been killed on the Western Front. His death, rather surprisingly to most villagers, did affect her deeply. She never remarried and died a childless widow in 1931. She was remembered with great fondness in the village for her kindness to the poor and fatherless children there. Her soul was collected and processed.
Doctor Alec Piper [Village Doctor - North Turning] could never remember why he found himself standing outside the Parochial House, in bitter snow and cold, the day Lilly killed herself in the bath and Father Peter disappeared. He still had no explanation for it, when asked at the time or years later. He retired in 1922 and moved to Blackpool. He died in 1939, on the eve of the Second World War. His soul was collected and processed.
John Guest [Shop keeper - North Turning] is credited with saving Peter's life in the snow that morning; he was old soldier from the Boer war [of 1899-1902] and had applied pressure to the gunshot wounds. He died in 1929 from undiagnosed Type 1 Diabetes and his soul was collected and processed.
Doctor Gerald Feelgood [Pathologist - Hordon Morgue] continued to explore the causes of death, of many more people who were brought to Hordon Morgue. He died in 1922, but did manage to see his granddaughter Alice qualify as a doctor. He was terribly proud of her. He even mentioned it the Collector who attended his 'dispatch'. His soul was collected and processed.
Miss Susan Grimwade [Doncaster sacrifice victim] obviously never suffered at the hands of Harold Golding and was quite unaware about the close shave she had with a horrific death. She married a local Railway Clerk in 1921. Susan had four children and died in 1941. Her soul was collected and processed.
Inspector Frederick 'Piggy' Portal [Yorkshire Constabulary] obviously never had Susan's horrific death to investigate and he certainly drew a blank over who shot the Priest, near Christmas 1916. Both the suspect and the victim disappeared that year - never to be seen or heard of again. He retried from the Police Service in 1926 and basically, ate and drank himself to death. He had no real friends and had never married. He was found dead in his dingy flat in Doncaster in 1930. The only people who attended the funeral, was the local vicar - who didn't know him - and the two gravediggers. No one from his old Police Service days bothered to turn up. His soul was collected and processed.
Lester Bullfinch [Publican - Black ram Hotel - Hordon] lost his licence in 1919 and had to move from the village - he was caught selling liquors and spirits that the brewery had not supplied. He struggled to find work during the great depression [a really big world wide recession] that followed the first World War. He hung himself in 1922 - in a railway station toilet - and his soul was collected and processed.
Mrs. Mavis Bullfinch [Black Ram Hotel - Hordon] had to leave the village with her husband Lester in 1919. She worked lots of different, low paid jobs to keep the pair afloat after Lester struggled to find work - any work. After his death in 1922, she finally ended up in Blackpool, selling sweets and novelties at a seafront stall. She became a very popular and much loved character around the area and when she died in 1935, her funeral was packed with mourners - including a certain Dr. Featherstone! - Her soul was collected and processed.
Richard Wallis/Eric John Cooper/Father houseman/Father Soames; this mysterious time traveller from 1706 has still not been apprehended, but has been reported in other time periods. His soul remains missing to this day.
Father John Edwards [Parish Priest, North Turning 1904 to 1914] retired in 1914 and moved to Australia, to live with his widowed sister; Edith. He was quite a popular figure in the local catholic Community in Perth, Western Australia. He died in 1924 and his soul was collected and processed.
Father Robert Gilmore [Parish Priest, North Turning 1917 - 1933] was murdered in a savage black magic ritual in 1933, by Richard Wallis and the matter was investigated by Inspector Doc Underhill and his team. [which included Jericho at the time; he was Doc's sergeant] They rounded up all the culprits, but Wallis escaped. Father Gilmore's soul was never recovered as his file is marked; LTDA. [Lost To Demonic Activity].
Jesbu [the demon - 1816] returned to his master, after his defeat by Oscar the Guardian in 1816 and was to cross paths with Jericho and his team again. His current whereabouts are unknown.
Mrs. Doris Spooner [Baker's wife, North Turning 1816] was a witch in the North Turning Coven of 1816. She was implicated in the deaths of at least two young children during black magic rituals. She died in the smallpox epidemic that swept the area that year. No soul was collected and is subject of an investigation by Inspector Dawn Daniels and Team 62. There is currently no resolution.
Miss Alice & Miss Emma Walters [child victims of the witches - 1816] woke in their bed and remembered nothing of the incident with the witches - James, a Knight of God, had wiped their memories of the horrific ordeal. Both girls later married and enjoyed quiet lives as farmer's wives and mothers of several children. Alice died in 1831 and Emma in 1848. Both their souls were collected and processed at the relevant times.
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