Elfrid’s Hole: An Anglo-Saxon Ghost Story by John Broughton

Author:John Broughton [Broughton, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-03-11T00:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

PICKERING AND LITTLE DRIFFIELD, YORKSHIRE

At Pickering police station, a pleasant modern building, Jake was disappointed not to have the reassuring presence of the sergeant at his interview. Instead, consigned to a young, brisk-mannered officer, he immediately felt himself on the defensive. The inspector, a dark-haired swarthy character with a sizeable mole on his right cheek, by his own admission had been in contact with the York police. The thought of what D.I. Shaw might have planted in his brain made Jake edgy. His apprehension didn’t escape the policeman, and the air of suspicion and incredulity this generated increased a vicious circle of unease.

Barely stopping short of an outright accusation, D. I. Smethhurst grilled him about his movements, alibis and motivations. Most of which, unfortunately for Jake, were either absent or unconvincing. The inscrutable brown eyes of the inspector considered the suspect before he settled for an honest assessment of the situation.

“I’m going to be frank with you, Mr Conley, no self-respecting police officer in the land would base a murder investigation on the non-scientific nonsense that you’re trying to put across. To my knowledge, in the history of policing since the force came into being, there hasn’t been a single murder attributed to supernatural forces. Behind cases of so-called black magic, there’s always the hand of a flesh-and-blood criminal.”

He had delivered his speech with the intention of provoking a reaction. When it came, it disappointed him. Instead of some unhinged rant, he received an apathetic sigh, resignation.

“I know. It’ll be worse trying to convince a judge and a jury. That’s why I came back to Ebberston. You must see, if I’m innocent – which I am – I have to bring the ghost out in public and have it splashed across the media. Otherwise, how am I going to clear my name?”

Smethhurst grunted, paying undue attention to the pen in his hand.

“By letting the police do their job,” he murmured.

“With all due respect,” Jake said, “how can you do your job properly if you close your mind to the truth?”

“If you want my opinion, Mr Conley, I think Ebberston is the last place on earth you should be. I think you have more substantial dangers than your ethereal ghost to deal with. By all accounts, you’re lucky to have survived your visit unscathed. You might not be so fortunate next time. Our manpower is far too stretched to guarantee your protection. Consider this, you could lose teeth or even an eye in another assault, or worse, you could end up in a vegetative state for the rest of your life.”

The policeman sat back and surveyed the effect of his words with bleak satisfaction. Jake hadn’t really thought it through deeply enough, but the officer was right. There was no point in exposing himself to further physical punishment. He must leave Ebberston at once. But how could he if he hadn’t found a way to prove his innocence?

As if reading his mind, D.I. Smethhurst reassured him.

“You don’t strike me as a villain, Mr Conley.

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