Chapter Three – Open For Business

Bernie Scripps whistled happily as he strode out from the garage to man the pumps. The rain had stopped and the afternoon sun was breaking through the cloudy sky. It smelled of wet grass and asphalt, a combination he connected to summer. It wouldn't be long now before the chilly morning breeze in the late spring would be replaced by the warm winds of an early summer. Feeling renewed energy flowing through his system he took a deep breath to fill his lungs with the fresh air and nearly choked as a strong, pungent smell of dung caught in his nostrils.

At the same time Vernon Scripps pulled up the red lorry just outside and pulled in the reverse. He went around the corner and killed the engine before jumping, ungraciously, out of the vehicle. A wide grin spread across his face as his brother strode up to him, coming from the front side of the building.

"Vernon, what…" Bernie began accusingly.

His half-brother held up his hand to stave off any further protests. "Calm down brother dear, this is going to be the greatest affair we've done in weeks," Vernon said casting a sideway glance at his helper, David Stockwell.

"Really?" Bernie countered sarcastically. "Is that why you've just parked a lorry loaded with dung on my backyard?"

"You're so sensitive," Vernon replied calmly. "I can't believe no one's thought of this before," he added slightly amazed.

"Actually, Mr. Greengrass…" David began but was cut short.

"Probably because whatever you're planning isn't as easy as you think," Bernie muttered as he placed his hands on his hips.

Vernon shook his head. "Negative as usual," he quipped. "And that's even before you've heard me out."

The burial entrepreneur and garage owner frowned, crossing his hands over his chest, waiting for Vernon to continue.

"Very well. This is cow dung, easy to get, every farmer wants to get rid of it," he explained and then pointed across the road to one of Gina's large pots. "That is a flower pot," he deduced.

Bernie rolled his eyes.

"Every year half the neighborhood spends a lot of money on fertilizers and they buy soil, they top-dress their lawns," Vernon patiently explained. "Think about it."

"I do and I still don't see what you're getting at," Bernie replied, not the least amused.

"Well, maybe that's why your business isn't gaining any ground," Vernon muttered. "Anyway, we mix this with soil and sell it as fertilizer."

"Last month it was stones of all kinds, sizes and shapes," Bernie complained. "To decorate the garden with and look how that went."

"Mr. Vernon and I did build the garden wall at Mr. Baker's like it said in the brochure," David said in their defense. "It wasn't our fault it destabilized."

"Exactly David," Vernon concurred.

"You think everything is so easy, that's not how it works, Vernon," Bernie said, trying to reason with his half-brother. "And now you have studied something else for a couple of minutes and believe you're going to get money from it."

"You have no faith in me, Bernie. You'll see," he said confidently.

"Take the lorry and go somewhere else, before the whole place stinks like a midden," Bernie said wearily.

OOOOOO

PC Phil Bellamy sighed and glanced at his wristwatch. In an hour his shift would be over and he was no closer to the truth about the poor man who lost his life than he was when his shift started.

Apparently Steve seemed to believe that he'd arrived by train although the railway master had been very doubtful. As it was it still seemed to be the most likely way he had arrived.

Phil walked into the last renting agency in Ashfordly, having already been around to Strensford, Pickering and even Whitby, in order to try and find out if any rental cars were missing or expected back by someone coming close to the description of their John Doe.

A young man dressed in a suite came walking toward him. "Can I help you Constable?" He asked politely.

"I was hoping you could," Phil replied and reached deep into his pocket to retrieve a photo of the unfamiliar man. "I was wondering if you'd seen this man."

The salesman took the photo in his hand and studied it closely for a moment. "No, can't say I've seen him," he said.

Phil made a face and accepted the photo back. "Tell me, do you have any connection with other rental agencies?" he asked, grasping at straws.

"We do have some contact with East London and Middleborough," he let on. "Otherwise we like to keep to ourselves."

"Could you ask them if they've seen this man?" Phil asked hopefully.

"A lot of people rent cars, he might easily slip in and out without anyone paying too much attention to detail," the salesman said.

"I'm willing to give it a try," the young constable said. "Please give me a ring in the morning."

OOOOOO

"Is that him?" Oscar asked as he glanced over Gina's shoulder to look at the Ashfordly Gazette.

"Yeah, I thought you had seen the police photograph earlier?" she said confused.

"Didn't really get a good look at it," he explained. "Besides, it wasn't really much to see."

Gina frowned. "I'm not so sure this says so much either," she returned, stepping aside to clean off the beer pumps.

Oscar sighed, looking almost frustrated, as he studied the man.

His colleague looked up at him. "Okay, Oscar, out with it," Gina said.

He glanced up at her. "I have seen this man before," he said cryptically.

"Really?" Gina asked, her eyebrows raising in question. "Has he been to the pub?"

"No, he bears a resemblance to a young boy that I saw a long time ago," he let on.

"Now, bearing a resemblance to someone doesn't mean it's the same man," Gina cautioned.

OOOOOO

Jenny looked up from where she was sitting alone in the comfy armchair, in the living room, as the door opened revealing her missing husband. She cast a quick glance at the watch and read nine p.m.

"There you are," she said. "I was starting to get worried."

"No need," Dennis replied sternly as he shrugged out of his coat.

"I was expecting you hours ago. I don't think the food is eatable," Jenny said dejectedly.

"I'm sorry, you know how it is," he reasoned.

Jenny huffed. "Yes, I do. You always place me second - always," she returned sourly.

"Jenny, please, don't be like that. You know I have to sort out things at work. It's been a murder here for heaven's sake," Dennis returned, slightly annoyed.

"And if it isn't a murder it's something else," Jenny muttered as she got out of the chair.

"I've never placed you second to anything," Dennis hollered after his wife as she walked into the kitchen. "It's not like I can chose to go to work just for the fun of it."

"I'm tired, Dennis, I don't feel like arguing about it right know," Jenny said in a subdued voice as he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

Dennis sighed, looking at the lit candles having burned halfway down and the cold food on the fancy plates of porcelain she had prepared. He felt like a jerk, seeing how she'd tried to make it a perfect evening and he'd just spoiled it.

He walked up to her and snaked his arms around her. "I'm so sorry, Jenny," he whispered.

"I know," she said as she let her head come to rest on his shoulder.

Dennis gently detached himself from his wife and took her by hand, starting to lead her out in the hallway, toward the door.

"Dennis, what are you doing?" She wondered aloud with a careful sly grin.

"I'm taking you out to a restaurant for some late snacks," he said.

OOOOOO

It was early morning when Ben Norton and his lordship walked quietly down the old dirt road at the outskirts of the Estate going through possible improvements, talking about the possibility of arranging a golf court along the green hills when his lordship suddenly stopped in his tracks and began to fumble with the binoculars.

Ben followed his gaze and saw something that resembled a large tent between the trees down south.

"I don't believe it!" Lord Ashfordly exclaimed angrily as he lowered the binoculars.

Ben Norton's upper lip curved slightly upward but otherwise he managed to keep a neutral face as he looked through his own pair of binoculars seeing a happy bunch of campers in the outskirts of the lordship's land.

"That they dare. Don't they know this is private property?" Ashfordly thundered, not the least amused. "I don't need any more headlines and I certainly don't want any more strange people on my land."

"Leave it to me, my lordship, I'll see to it that they pack up and leave," Ben assured him confidently.

OOOOOO

Bernie Scripps was in a happy mood in the quiet morning as he got himself a cup of tea and sat down behind his desk. He stretched out his legs at the end of the desk filled with various orders on car service and petrol credit lists. The radio was on, playing in the background, just loud enough to hear any news of importance. With a deep sigh he picked up the newspaper, took a clunk of his tea and nearly choked on it as he spotted an advertisement made by his brother.

"Scripps Fertilizing Shop," he read out loud. "Trouble with your plants, lawn or other large grass areas? Scripps Fertilizers does the trick for you. We have the right solution for everything. We guarantee…" Bernie trailed off wanting to read no further.

"Hello?" A woman's voice called causing him to temporarily forget about the advertisement.

"Yes," he said politely as he got up to meet the well-clad woman in her fifties who made her way into his garage.

"Are you Mr. Scripps?" she asked.

"Yes," he acknowledged, wiping his hand on his pant leg before shaking her outstretched hand. "What kind of service do you require?"

"I understand you sell fertilizers?" she said happily.

Bernie swallowed. "Well, actually, that would be my brother. I'm a car service man or an undertaker if you want," he returned.

"Okay," she replied, her happiness somewhat subdued. "My chauffeur is taking good care of the car and my husband, thank heavens, is away on a business trip."

"Oh," Bernie chuckled sheepishly. "I meant no offence. Anyway, if it isn't too much of a bother perhaps I could have my brother to phone you later or if you would like to come by later on?"

"I would appreciate if you could have him phoning me. I'm otherwise engaged in the afternoon. I work with a local charity event in Strensford," she explained.

Bernie smiled as he went to retrieve a pen and a paper. "Who should he call?"

OOOOOO

To be continued

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