Afterdeath

Book one in the series

A Barnikel and Fearnaught Occult Detectives Thriller

 

A passenger boards a country bus, but when it arrives he is no longer on board. Only his bus pass can be found, and nobody remembers seeing him get off the bus.

A passenger boards a small commuter aircraft but when it arrives he is no longer on board. Only his briefcase can be found and he couldn’t have got off.

The only thing in common is they both died some hours before they were seen boarding the bus and the commuter aircraft.

The last thing newly-appointed Vicar, Bahati Barnikel, expected was to find herself confronting the Powers of Darkness in a quiet Hampshire village. The Church knew that something was wrong, that some diabolical plan was in the wind, and chose their champion with care. Now its up to her to save the village and its inhabitants, but the enemy is closer at hand than she imagines.

One

Ten in the morning on a bright, early spring day, on a rural bus route. The driver was ahead of time and so drove slowly, meandering along the winding, narrow road. He glanced at the open fields and rolling hills, some a lush green and some, planted with rape seed, almost glittered in the sunlight— a vivid yellow splash of colour.

Approaching the next village, he advanced the ticket machine to show the correct stop. It was always quiet on this route, at this time of day, and he carried no passengers. He thought he’d probably pick up Lenny at this stop, and then maybe one or two others along the way before the bus got into the town. The stop was on a blind bend and could not be seen from the road. The road swung sharply round to the right and the bus turned left, into the pull-in. Sure enough, Lenny was waiting alongside the shelter. The driver pulled up and opened the doors. Lenny was dressed as he usually was. Once smart but now worn light brown suit, a red waistcoat; no hat, no tie; clean but not polished brown brogues. Maybe in his late sixties, maybe in his early seventies. Difficult to tell, but at any rate he was retired and had a retirees bus pass, which allowed him free travel. He would generally pass the time of day with the drivers whilst the ticket machine registered his pass. With time to spare today, the driver thought he might chat a bit and learn more about him. He’d driven this route for several months now, and Lenny generally went into town every weekday at this time, spent a few hours doing something or other, then returned on the three-thirty bus. Sometimes he’d obviously been in a town pub and had a pint or two, but he was never loud and the only way you knew he’d been in the pub was his breath.

Lenny boarded. The driver said mornin’, as he usually did. Lenny said nothing. He laid his pass on the ticket machine, which beeped. Lenny smiled and nodded his characteristic backward nod in greeting, then made his way to the back of the bus. The driver shrugged and looked at the ticket machine GPS clock. Three minutes ahead of schedule. He switched off the engine and was about to tell Lenny they were going to stay put for a couple of minutes when he glanced in the internal mirror. Lenny was engrossed in something and didn’t appear to want a conversation. Fair enough. The driver checked his emails on his phone, strictly against company policy but was Lenny going to complain? And then it was time to get going again.

As anticipated, there were only a few pickups. One regular, a mousy woman in her late thirties who worked at a sheltered housing complex on the outskirts of town, waved at Lenny and said hello as she took her customary seat at the front of the bus. No response except for the backward nod, which was unusual. Never garrulous, he would always acknowledge a greeting, if only to say, ‘good morning’ . On leaving the bus, he invariably thanked the driver for the ride and might comment on the weather or the antics of the cars encountered on the narrow roads. The customary glance in the interior mirror showed the passengers were all seated, and the driver pulled away from the stop.

“Lenny’s quiet this morning.” Said the mousy woman.

“Maybe something on his mind.” Said the driver.

The sheltered housing complex was between two stops, but most drivers stopped outside it anyway. The bus company constantly harped on about customer service and on rural routes gave the drivers a certain amount of freedom to stop as requested. Mousy woman stood up in anticipation.

“Cheer-o, Lenny.” She called out as the doors opened.

No response. She looked at the driver and shrugged. Entering the town, more passengers got on. Most were familiar faces and knew each other by sight, if not name. It was a small, county town and people hadn’t learnt to be insular. The driver eased the bus into the terminus. He opened the doors and switched off the engine, not being due out for another five minutes. The bus company was keen to have drivers reduce emissions whenever possible, and not keep the engines idling. Supervisors prowled the stands to make sure that drivers complied, and that there were no problems.

The passengers filed out, most saying, ‘thank you, driver’ as they passed the cab. The last one off was a younger woman.

“Where did that old boy get off, then?”

“He didn’t.” The driver leaned out of his seat and looked down the bus. No Lenny. He frowned and got out of his seat.

“Well, he’s not there, now.” Said the woman.

“Maybe when we picked up those people outside the garage. Most didn’t have passes, so I was busy issuing tickets and counting change. I probably missed him.”

“I wasn’t issuing tickets and he would have had to walk right past me.”

A supervisor stood at the door.

“Ok?” He asked.

“Missing passenger.” The driver started to walk towards the back of the bus.

The supervisor got onboard.

“We’ll deal with this.” He said to the woman.

The driver was now looking under seats. A bus pass.

“Lenny’s pass, but no Lenny.” He said over his shoulder.

“Check the emergency exit.”

The driver opened it and the warning buzzer went off in the cab.

“He didn’t get out that way, then. Strange, I never saw him get off and anyway, he always gets off here.”

A queue was forming. Passengers for the next service.

“Not here now though, is he? Better get set up for the next run.” Said the supervisor.

“He was definitely onboard and he never got off en route.”

“Must have done.”

“Yeah. But even if I missed him, what about that woman?”

“Busy yacking on her phone. He’ll turn up. Probably went to a different pub. You doing the three-thirty run?”

The driver nodded.

“I’ll leave the pass in the office and a note explaining what happened, for the afternoon supervisors.”

Two

The bus pulled into the station a couple of minutes early, at 4:58 in the afternoon. A hi-vis jacketed supervisor and another driver walked over to the stand and waited whilst the passengers filed off. There were not many of them. The two boarded the bus. The supervisor saying to waiting passengers,

“Won’t be a minute, folks, we’re changing drivers.”

He closed the doors.

“No sign of Lenny.” Said the driver.

“I know. Sean’s taking over from you. The Police are in the office; they want a statement off you.”

The business of logging-off the ticket machine, signing the vehicle defects sheet and exchanging the brief, customary pleasantries with the new driver took a minute or so.Without any comment, the supervisor replaced the ticket machine.

“Nothing wrong with the machine.” Said the driver.

“I was told to take this one out and run a check to see if Lenny’s pass registered this morning.”

“Somebody reported him missing?” Asked the driver.

“I’ve just been told it’s a routine enquiry.” Was the reply.

“Buy me a coffee afterwards and I’ll tell you what it was all about. John’s office?”

“Me, buy you a coffee, that’d be right! Yeah, John’s office. I’ll find you something else to do once the cops have finished with you.”

“Do I get a blindfold and a last ciggie?” Asked the driver.

“You don’t smoke.”

“Might as well start, if I’m going to be shot at dawn.”

The driver walked through the public waiting area and used his electronic pass card to get into the private area. He knocked on the main office door and through the glass centre saw the controller beckon him in. At the far end of the room, the door to the Operations Manager’s office was open and he could see John sitting behind his desk, and a uniformed police officer. He went in, and gestured with his thumb towards the door.

“Better keep this private for the moment.” John said.

The driver shut the door and sat in a vacant chair.

“A real policeman, not a Community Policeman. Must be serious.” He said.

The Operations Manager shot him a warning glance.

“A couple of questions.” The policeman said.

“Shoot.”

“OK, I’ll take your details in a moment, but I understand you were driving the number five service this morning, and you left the bus station at nine-thirty?”

“That’s correct. Just one more on-time departure.”

John the Operations Manager smiled, thinly.

“You arrived at the Lower Wonston stop at what time?”

“A couple of minutes early. Hang on, it’ll be on the route timing sheet—yeah, I was due to arrive at ten oh nine, but I was at least two, no, three minutes early. I waited at the stop. We can’t be early, you see. Late is OK but early is definitely verboten. I would have arrived about ten oh six. What’s this all about?”

“Just one more question. You are positive that it was Lenny Caldwell who boarded the bus at the Lower Wonston stop?”

“I didn’t know his name is Caldwell, but yeah. It was Lenny OK. I picked up another regular passenger later and she recognised him as well. Anyway, he dropped his bus pass, so it must have been him, mustn’t it? Before you ask, no I don’t know her name but she works at the sheltered housing place, Meadow View.”

“Excuse me a moment, I’ll just call that in.” He clicked the lapel mike of his radio and established contact with his control room.

“Where did you pick her up from?”

“The second stop in Long Barrow, just by Church Lane.”

The information was relayed.

“Right. If I could just ask you to give me a formal statement. I’ll need your name and address.”

“Sure. Look, what’s happened?”

“Statement first please, then I’ll explain.”

Statement made and signed, the police officer placed it in his case.

“It’s a real mystery. A neighbour was hanging out her washing and noticed that Mister Caldwell wasn’t at the bus stop as usual. Just before lunch, she noticed that the curtains were still drawn at his cottage, which was unusual. Her husband, a farm labourer, came home for lunch and she asked him to go round and see if everything was OK. He knocked on the door and shouted, but there was no answer so he returned for his lunch. They talked about it and both went back, after they’d eaten. She had a spare key, and they found Mister Caldwell face down in the kitchen. The para-medics arrived but the poor sod had obviously been dead for quite some time. Obviously I can’t go into details, but let’s just say we aren’t looking for anybody in connection with his death.”

“But he boarded my bus at just gone ten.”

“He couldn’t have done. My information is that the preliminary estimate gives the time of death at around seven-thirty this morning. Are you absolutely certain that it was him?”

“Yes. Look, I found the pass. It was handed in to the office.”

“I know, I’ve got it. Like I said, a real mystery.”

“Officer, if it’s any help I arranged for the ticket machine to be removed from the bus before it went out on the next route. It’ll show whether the pass was used this morning.” The operations manager said.

“There’s no biometric information on it, is there?”

“No, I’m afraid not. We can only ascertain that the pass was swiped on the machine.” Said the Operations Manager.

“But you have at least two people who can swear he was on the bus,” the driver said.

“Who thought that a passenger on the bus was the late Lenny Caldwell, except of course it couldn’t have been, because the poor bugger died earlier in the morning, at his home. I’d keep this quiet, if I were you. If the local press get wind of it, you won’t be able to move around here. Mind, it’ll get out one way or another, it always does, Social Media and the like.”