Lost Lad (19 page)

            And yet, on that occasion, nothing was proved against Mr Wormall.  Indeed he had a good reputation in the old mill town, a reputation for quaint company and 'olde worlde' hospitality.  John and Derek had been welcomed and enjoyed freshly 'mashed' tea from well water and delicious home made cakes from a medieval oven, perhaps even - cracker biscuits!

Graciously, Detective Inspector Derek Russell accepted Dr Hardman's  kind invitation to lunch which, by necessity, had to be quick.  They needed to get to Belper, it was imperative to find out as much as possible about Jasper Wormall: it was also imperative to interview Simon Tonks.

            The 34 year old Simon Tonks was easier to deal with than his former self, eleven years before.  Both men admired his ability to have staved off the cruel effects of time which appeared to have no power over him.  Physically, he had hardly changed, but for a small advancement - improved social skills.  The ever irritating enigmatic smile of the well remembered 'Simple Simon' of past years soon faded into an expression, more in keeping with the seriousness of the current situation.  He seemed keen to help.  He seemed genuinely concerned for the stricken Mr and Mrs Forrester.  He was, as Hardman had said, distressed at the tragic loss of his late mistress.  Over the previous eight years, Simon (faults and all) had become (almost) one of the family.  As the interview progressed with carefully couched questions, the odd little servant became mindful of the burden of suspicion which fell upon his Master and colleague at The Lodge - not least himself.  Showing loyalty, he fielded the questions put to him with an air of honest candour.  Detective Sergeant John Winter was inclined to believe him but his boss, was a little more cautious, recalling the words of his former teacher Miss Florence Calder who once said -

           
"Simon may look a fool, play the fool and is often foolish but, make no mistake, Derek, do not be deceived - Simon is no fool!"
  

The big surprise came from the responses to the questions about Jasper Wormall.  Simon had absolutely no idea of how, or why Mr Wormall would have the bicycle of Brian Forrester in his possession.  The news came as a shock. 

           
"A didn't think 'e were interested in little lads!"

           
"Was he interested in big lads?"
returned Detective Sergeant John Winter bluntly.  Both detectives were now leaning several inches further forward.

           
"Well ... "

           
"Well what?"
persisted John.

           
"Well 'e does massage - dunt 'e."

           
"Does he! 
Massage?
.... "
  

The next ten minutes were very revealing indeed.  It came to light that the strange and reclusive Belper Goblin had, in the autumn of his life, late autumn at that, discovered latent talents of body massage.  So keen was he to deliver a full service to as many as possible that he advertised his skills on hand written postcards distributed to local post offices far and wide.

           
"Ashbourne."

           
"Ashbourne!"

           
"Dolly saw it.  It said 'Satisfaction guar-an-teed'.  A saw one in Bakewell ... err ... Matlock as well.  Thee all over!  'E told me 'e wants ta share 'is precious gift we all a mankind."

           
"You mean any kind of man will do?"
said John facetiously.

This last provoked a sharp look from Derek who was fearful that another collapse into a fit of giggles in front of a comedian like Simon Tonks would precipitate a total farce, but, Simon responded seriously -

           
"No - 'e's sel-ec-tive.  'E likes rugby players an footballers - an gets 'em!  'E does well."

           
"How much does he charge for his professional services?"
  asked Derek.

           
"A don't know.  Nowt a think.  Dolly said Jasper pays them!"

John Winter was astounded and horrified that any self-respecting body, at any price, could bear to be touched by those hideous little gnarled fingers.  Derek Russell, affected differently, was struggling to suppress an avalanche of guffaws.  He visualised a tiny, rough, candle lit bedroom, a drooling slash of toothless mouth, with gloating goggle eyes leering over a recumbent torso - about to be anointed with baby oil.  A falsetto effeminate squeak -

           
"Dat all right?  Shall ya 'ave any extras?  Does dat want a massage?"
  

The next few questions sought to establish how well Wormall, Coggan and Tonks knew each other.  Clearly any friendship between Wormall and Tonks ended with the letter of complaint sent to his employer -

           
"No.  It ended before that."      

           
"When ... and why?"

           
"Well it were in t' Flyin' 'Orse.  Dolly calls it 'Airborne Dobbin'.  Ya know in Nottingham?"

           
"We've been hearing about it.  Did Jasper go there?"

           
"Oh no.  Too old.  Jasper goes ta places for 'is postcards an ... some other visits ta different lavatories in different towns ya know.  'E sits in 'em fa hours an hours!  'E does Derby, Matlock, Ripley, 'Eanor, Ilkeston ... "

           
"All right, Simon, just get on with it," 
said Winter impatiently.
 

           
"Well ya know me, a like ta 'ave a laugh and did me 'Jasper' imitation we 'is little 'ammer an chisel ... "
 

At this point Simon became hunched, one eye closed and the other wide and leering at some invisible object inches from his face.  He mimed the action of a small imaginary hammer and chisel with quick little knocks, as he explained, creating a hole between one WC cubicle and another and ended with -
"Meh!  Gettin' bigger."
an impression of the old man's cackley voice.    

           
"And I suppose he was outraged when your impromptu performance was reported back to Mr Wormall?" 
said Russell.

           
"Well!  'E as so many visitors these days an 'e can't tek a joke."

It was learned that Coggan occasionally offered Tonks a lift into Derby, Nottingham or Manchester for 'social activities', beyond that, they went their separate ways being colleagues more than friends and certainly not close friends.  They were certainly disposed to be a couple of jokers sharing a sense of the ridiculous and very much enjoyed retailing comic anecdotes, most of which were at Mr Wormall's expense.  Simon said that Dolly was a regular visitor to the Shire Oakes cottage until, one fateful day when, suddenly, he yielded to a great temptation.  He picked up Jasper's false teeth which were reposing on his crude kitchen table -

           
"Well 'e used em as castanets, chattin' em together an danced a fandango singin' 'Lady of Spain'!  Well ... "

           
"Well?"
replied John who, at this point, could barely articulate being on the very edge of convulsed laughter.

           
"Well, Jasper weren't am-oo-sed.  'E were rate mad!  'E kicked Dolly out.  'Bugga off ya ignorant little fat queen' 'e said, 'An dunna ya come back!'  Ooo 'e were furious."
    

A clearer picture was emerging and all very entertaining, but this petty tittle-tattle fell somewhat short of solving the mystery of the lost lad. The pressing priority was to interview Jasper Wormall, as soon as possible, before he could fabricate a plausible explanation for trying to hide Brian Forrester's bicycle.   

The search of the little rough cottage up Shire Oakes had been thorough but yielded nothing.  All nooks and crannies and any likely secret repositories for pornography had been checked.  There was nothing but a cupboard full of local papers, mostly the Belper News and The Derby Evening Telegraph some of them dating back to the previous century.  Russell had given orders that his men should check the adjacent thicket of trees for any freshly dug earth.  The garden, bonfire and out buildings which included the earth lavatory and wood shed were also carefully examined.  

The dwelling itself, without the benefit of running water, gas or electricity was pre-Victorian.  This was the same small home which had housed the Wormall family when the brothers of Jasper's grandfather had been footmen, coachmen, grooms and gardeners to the then Lord of Belper, George Benson Strutt in 1825.  This one time 'bucket banger', as nightsoil men were sometimes referred to, was the very last of a large family.  In his present precarious situation, Jasper was feeling very much alone.      

After such a careful combing of the property there seemed to be no good reason to further detain the agitated Mr Wormall at the police station.  Already riled, he scornfully refused the offer of a ride up Ashbourne Road and back home in a police motor-car.  Indeed, the fit wiry Jasper Wormall, who had spent a lifetime tramping up and down the hills of Belper, was probably in better physical condition than most people half his age. 

It was an angry and resentful goblin who opened the old creaking door to Russell and Winter when they finally arrived at the crumbling cottage in the late afternoon.  As expected, after eleven years the hideous effect was just the same.  Again, Derek was looking directly into the unforgettable leering eyes of the old crone who offered Snow White a poisoned apple -

           
"Can we have a chat Mr Wormall?"
  No response but, to let them enter, the old man shuffled backwards into the dingy room with its smell of oil lamps. 
"This has not been easy for you, and we sincerely regret the necessity to rifle through your home: not a pleasant experience for anybody, but you must admit the circumstances left us with very little choice."
  

The ancient rustic fell into his armchair by the fireplace and slowly shook his head with an air of hopeless desperation.  There was a strong contrast between the feelings of the junior and senior officers.  The latter was prepared to entertain the theory that, for some unknown reason, someone had planted Brian Forrester's bicycle next to Jasper's woodshed.  Derek felt sorry for the shabby crumpled old fellow before him and felt a little guilty that his privacy had been violated.  Such an odd repulsive character must have had a difficult life: a long life suppressing and repressing unacceptable and illegal urges which would have isolated him from general society, which in turn caused him to be even more quirky in his manner. 

After petulant protests that he had already given a detailed explanation of his conduct, the suspect was politely persuaded to re-tell his story.  He had found the mysterious bicycle leaning at the back of his woodshed at about 7.30 that morning.  He heard nothing during the night.  The sudden appearance of a boy's bike frightened him.  Kids had played tricks on him in the past.  The suggestion of reporting the matter to the police horrified him, getting mixed up with 'the law' was the last thing he wanted - let the Swimming Bath Attendant report a bicycle which had been abandoned.  Let
him
sit inside the police station and let
him
have his words written down by a copper and be summoned to a court of law to give evidence.  Such was the attitude of Jasper Wormall, who claimed to be ignorant of the massive police search for a teenager which, to be fair, had yet to be reported in the media. 

On the subject of massage, the old man stiffened with fear.  Derek took the view that diplomacy and gentle probing would release more information and put his witness at ease.  Cheerfully he said -

           
"We all have our little side-lines, Mr Wormall.  Detective Sergeant Winter here has a few chickens and sells the eggs now and again.  I'm sure the Tax Man won't fuss about the odd shilling or two you get from relieving aches and pains."

This last, masterfully succeeded in putting the masseur in the relatively comfortable position where his activities might be considered of more interest to the Internal Revenue Service, rather than the vice department of the CID.  Seizing the advantage, Derek subtly and tactfully suggested that some of Mr Wormall's 'clients' might just have a taste for teenage boys and might be in a position to know the location of Brian Forrester since, after all, his bicycle had been found on the premises. 

            To John the defensive, rambling and evasive answer was annoying but, to Derek - it had the ring of truth.  Jasper knew very little of his visitors, some of whom arrived in cars and all cars looked the same to Jasper.  A few walked up and a few cycled up.  They never stayed very long [it did not take long] and they rarely disclosed any personal information.  Most gave Christian names only and he judged that most of those were false.