Yvonne Stream did not know which was the most terrible aspect of the whole thing, the shock and the horror of that very first sighting was bad enough but later, the sad contemplation of what must have taken place at some time in the past and before they had purchased the house made her blood run cold in her veins.
It was so frighteningly unexpected, a thing of nightmares.
They had been looking for somewhere somewhat larger than their first small house for some time determined to find a place with just the right feel about it. After all, most books seem to agree that it is vital to bring children up in a healthy environment, which they interpreted as somewhere with plenty of space. So after looking at numerous offerings by the local estate agents they had settled on this decent sized detached home, just right, they thought, for a future family of four. It was freshly decorated and had new furnishings throughout, all very much to their own taste.
It was offered at a price they could afford so they went ahead paid the deposit and it was theirs. Bill Stream, Yvonne’s other half had said that in his opinion, all it needed was a slightly larger kitchen. They discussed this with Spin and Topp a local firm of architects who came over with drawings, tape measures, large sized note pads, and a whole lot of fancy ideas.
The architects had been over the whole house checking everything and were seated at the kitchen table now covered by layers of plans. It was this kitchen which was concerning them.
`I just don’t understand it,’ the elder Mr Topp pointed out looking puzzled and scratching his head. `The inside dimensions do not agree with those of the outside. According to me either there is a hidden space there or the wall is unbelievably thick.’
`Well there is one sure way to find out, we could drill the wall somewhere where a repair would be unlikely to be seen.’ Responded the young Mr Spin.
And so began the work which would eventually expose a shocking secret.
As expected the drill hole revealed that there was a space between the inner and outer walls, but that was just about all they could see.
They held a conference on what to do next.
`Well we can’t leave it like this,’ Bill said the words but they all thought it.
So it was agreed—the unwanted wall must come down!
That fateful day in mid summer, with a sun shining uninterruptedly from a clear blue sky was not a day for a horror which shook all who witnessed it.
What was revealed none of those present would ever forget.
Eager to find out why the unwanted wall was built the Streams and the builders were all assembled in the kitchen and after removing the plaster from an area the size of a couple of bricks the builder’s son young Henry loosened and removed just these two bricks, and taking a torch shone it into the space just revealed.
Suddenly Henry stepped back with a terrible cry, dropped the torch he had been using and sank to his knees covering his face with his hands.
They all moved to help him onto a seat but despite trying to calm him they were unable to get him to say what he had seen. He simply sat there shaking. Then the foreman builder grabbed a very large mallet.
`Stand back everyone.’ He said, and swinging the implement in a grand arc he gave the wall such a blow that a very large piece of it simply fell back into the space revealing the sight which had affected Henry so badly.
Staring out at them from a grey and lifeless face was a pair of wide open eyes.
For a long time no-one spoke, then—
A quiet `Bloody Hell!.’ Came from Old Mr Topp who had never been heard to swear before.
`What do we do now?’ Queried Yvonne, trying to hold back tears.
`We had better not touch anything, and we should call the police.’ A sensible remark from young Spin, who had recovered somewhat.
`Hold your horses,’ said Bill, `if we do that you know what it will mean. PC plods everywhere, and the press, let alone the TV networks. Interviews and all our business gawped at by half the world. Do we want all that? And what if suspicion falls on one of us? What then?’
`Well what else do you suggest?’ Sobbed Yvonne `We can’t just ignore him.’
`Or her.’ someone else added.
`I suppose we could just carry him, or her, out into the garden tonight and bury him, or her?’
The argument went back and forth for quite a while and finally it became obvious to them all that they must advise the police.
Whilst Bill dialled 999 and spoke to someone at the other end, the others retired to the lounge where they could not see the body.
Yvonne recovered enough to make them all tea whilst trying to ignore that awful hole, and it was whilst they were being bolstered by this strong brew there came a knock on the front door, and Bill going to answer it brought in a very young PC looking very nervous. He introduced himself as PC Jennings and he was here he said to investigate the report of a body being found behind a wall.
As he said this he had some difficulty in hiding a grin.
It became clear to them that the police had not taken the report of the walled in corpse seriously and they had sent the newest recruit along for laughs.
Bill swallowed his anger and took the policeman to view the evidence. They heard Bill’s `There you are then what do you make of it?’ Followed by a `Bloody Hell,’ From the recruit.
A shaken and white faced PC Jennings promptly phoned the station whilst Yvonne poured him a cup of strong tea. He was obviously having some difficulty persuading anyone at the other end to take him seriously. But he prevailed.
They all sat round the table in silence. No one wanted to say anything in front of the policeman until someone senior arrived.
Eventually two cars pulled up outside and two officers of the law strode up the drive to be let in by the recruit.
A burly gruff chap introduced himself with a grin as Detective Sergeant Spillings and the other as his boss Detective Inspector Willis. This individual then laid it out as they saw it.
`Now then,’ he began `wasting police time is a serious offence, and if I find that you are trying a joke you will be in serious trouble. Do you understand?’ he added.
`Of course we do.’ said Bill acting as spokesman for them all.
` Right then, show us what it is you have found.’ He winked at his sergeant.
And so they trouped to the hole in the wall where each of the senior policemen took their turn to look into the space. There was then a short silence followed by a whispered `Bloody Hell.’ This from the senior officer.
The Detective Inspector phoned back to the station.
Then turning to Bill said `Of course you have to realise that this is a potential crime scene and it will be sealed off, and I’m afraid you will have to move out until our investigation is complete.’
Before they could object a small battalion of policemen, support staff, and a frail looking forensic specialist complete with a large bag of instruments piled out of a police van and marched purposefully up the drive.
`But we have nowhere to go,’ wailed Yvonne.
`Well we’ve plenty of room in the cells.’ Was the laconic reply
Suddenly there were policemen in suits everywhere.
`By the way you must let us know where we can contact you, try not to leave the village. We will need to talk to each of you.’ This last in a slightly threatening manner.
Whilst Bill was booking them in to the Cow and Calf, Yvonne was putting some things together for a stay of several days.
No one was allowed near the hole in the wall after the police took over and as they left they saw several policemen in overalls busy enlarging the hole so as to better examine the corpse. And an ambulance arrived to transport the dead person to the police mortuary.
Bill with is arm around a distraught Yvonne started down the drive. But before they could escape, several members of the local news sheet arrived, but were immediately put in their place by the inspector who told them there was nothing to see or report, and when there was they would be informed in the usual way.
Word gets around with lightening speed in a close knit village and the find was the main topic of discussion amongst the locals especially at the pub later that day. But the Stream’s table was shrouded in silence. The situation in which they found themselves was unique to them, and they felt that all they could do was to helplessly await events. Matters were now out of their hands.
As it turned out they did not have to wait for very long. As they were relaxing in the lounge sipping after dinner drinks the manager arrived to say that he had had a call from the police and would they both go to the police station.
PC Jorden was outside in a car waiting to ferry them there right now. But it was with some reluctance that they complied.
On arrival at the station they were immediately treated like suspects. They were separated and led to different interview rooms. The questions lasted about an hour, at the end of each session they were given strict instructions not to discuss the case with anyone. But they did leak some information during the interview. They learned that the police were treating the case as murder. They did not as yet know the identity of the dead person. The body, which was removed to the police mortuary, was found to be that of a forty-five year old male who had been alive when he was walled up, possibly sedated. He had recovered after he was bricked in and had smashed his hands trying to get out. The murder had taken place about twelve months previously, about the length of time the house was empty.
The main line of police questions was towards trying to establish who the previous house owners were, and how to contact them. Here they drew a complete blank. They had questioned several knowledgeable people in the village but no one knew who they were, or where they were now.
It was a mystery and was destined to remain so.
Whilst the police were making their enquiries the Streams were not allowed back into the house which itself was the subject of intense examination. The place was torn apart. Floorboards were removed and clever instruments poked into intimate places. The loft was gone over with a fine tooth comb. A dusty box of old photographs was removed amid great excitement as if an important clue had been found—but it turned out to be pictures of royalty which someone had been collecting. The Royal family were not under suspicion so the box was returned.
Then to their disgust the police attention was directed to the garden where every inch was dug over in a fruitless search for other bodies. None were found.
One good thing was that the unwanted wall was completely removed by the plain clothes branch, saving the cost of having the builders do it.
In an attempt to establish the identity of the unfortunate victim, They formally interviewed every single member of the village community as well as several regular visitors.
But no one had seen anyone living in the house before the estimated time of the death of The Man in the Wall as he became popularly known.
* * *
About a week later they were allowed back. And they returned with some reluctance. The police had the foresight to have the builders repair the space which had been a living coffin for the poor individual found in there, and to make good all the damage left by the fervent police action. There was now no sign of past events. But Yvonne and Bill had not as yet decided whether or not to live there. The trouble had left its mark on their memories, especially Yvonne.
`It might be like living in a coffin,’ as she put it.
The still unidentified corpse remained unclaimed in the police mortuary.
One irritating aspect of all this was that the police now intercepted and carried out DNA analysis and other forensic tests on all their correspondence prior to its being delivered.
The village soon became accustomed to being the centre of a murder mystery, and before long everyone had their own view as to what had taken place about a year ago.
Some had it that the unfortunate corpse was of a drug dealing gang member caught with his hand on the stash. But by far the most popular version was that the dead man had been surprised in the arms of the owner’s wife and had drugged him and walled him up to die where the wife could hear the poor man’s pleas.
* * *
It had all been quiet for a year following the finding of the body, and Bill and Yvonne had settled in. The village gossips had found other sleazy stories to occupy them. Even the press had lost interest.
Then one evening Bill answered the door to Detective Inspector Willis.
`May I come in?’ Willis asked politely, and was shown into the lounge where Yvonne was seated in front of a warming log fire.
`Can I get you a drink?’ Bill asked.
`Thank you, no,’ Willis replied, `I am still officially on duty.’
He looked uncomfortable, sat as he was on the edge of his chair looking down on an envelope he was nervously turning in his hands.
`Well, what now?’ Prompted Bill.
`I am very sorry to bring this matter up again when you must still be trying to forget it. But I have here a letter which came with your other mail earlier today. We have examined it and have found traces of the same DNA as the dead man you so tragically found. It is very short so I will read it to you after which we will keep it as it is material evidence.
`It reads—
“Dear occupiers,
We hope you found dear old Uncle Hubert—please give him a decent funeral (money enclosed). We had to do away with him as he was threatening to become a Mason and we did not wish this to befall any family member.
So we walled him up until he changed his mind. He was a bit noisy for a while but soon quietened down.
Really—it was for his own good.
Sorry you have been troubled.” ‘
* * *
JML
7/9/2011