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 DETECTIVE ON THE MOOR

The mystery of a lockdown party murder

Ric Brady
 Published by

THE BOOK FOLKS

London, 2023

© Ric Brady
 Polite note to the reader
This book is written in British English except where fidelity to other
languages or accents is appropriate.
You are invited to visit www.thebookfolks.com and sign up to our
mailing list to hear about new releases, free book promotions and
other special offers.
We hope you enjoy the book.
DETECTIVE ON THE MOOR is the fourth standalone mystery in The
Yorkshire detective mystery series by Ric Brady. The full list of titles,
in order of publication, is as follows:
MURDER ON A YORKSHIRE MOOR
BUTCHER ON THE MOOR
MISSING ON ILKLEY MOOR
DETECTIVE ON THE MOOR

More details can be found at the back of this book.

Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One

Also in this series

Other titles of interest
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Prologue
It was a fun party.
Gabriel had been a pain in the arse, but what else was new?
Which made her wonder why he’d been such a pain.
Then the idea struck her.
Had he heard her and Tom in the bathroom together?
An overwhelming sense of shame dispersed fiery sensations
through her body. She hoped Gabriel hadn’t found out. That would
make things difficult for them.
But thinking about it, she vaguely remembered seeing the door
handle turn to close while she and Tom made love.
And that’s what she did with Tom. Made love. Nothing like what
she had with Gabriel.
Gabriel was a creep.
She should listen to everybody and get out of there. They were
right, she could do better.
She could have Tom.
Her body swayed from side to side, and she tried to recall where
she was. She remembered the party and having a laugh in Tom’s
bedroom.
Voices shouted at her from a distance, like she was deep inside a
dark cave; their words echoing off the rock formations.
Once, she’d gone potholing in the Dales on a school trip. She’d
hated it. At one point, the instructor made them stand in the
deepest, darkest cavern and told them to turn their torches off. In
the darkness, he asked them to put their hands in front of their
faces. The ten sixteen-year-olds obeyed as the pitch-black dampness
surrounded them.
She put her hand before her eyes, and nothing stirred in the
darkness. Nothing but pure gloom. After a few seconds, she felt a
grasping fear claw at her back.
She almost had the same sensation now. Looking straight ahead,
she couldn’t see a thing. Only blackness. Not even her hand.
Where was she? Was she still at the party? Had she gone home?
 Ice-cold water suddenly splashed her, causing her to gasp. It
was a shock to her system. But the blackness still remained.
Was she in a cave? Was she back on her school trip? Was she
surrounded by the limestone stalactites with their long spindly alien
fingers; their points as sharp as razor blades and dripping with
freezing water?
She sucked in more breaths as the coldness seeped into her
body. Her joints and her hands ached. She’d swear her heart had
turned to ice.
The darkness in her eyes dispersed and blessed light returned to
her vision. She made out a bathroom through the haze and realised
she was lying in a tub and wasn’t in a cave at all.
She felt some relief until she noticed the tall man kneeling at her
side. Was it Gabriel? She couldn’t be sure.
The man loomed over her and pressed down on her forehead.
Suddenly, the cold water filled her eyes, her nose, and mouth.
She tried to fight him off, but her limbs were already numbed by
the cold.
All she could do was stare upwards at the man and beg for the
blackness to take her again. Because, from the look in his eyes, she
knew there was no point in begging him to let her live.
Chapter One
Henry Ward walked along the gravel path that cut between the lush
trees and bushes. Mayflies and bluebottles whipped past his head,
and he felt the warmth of the day creep over him. He regretted
layering up before he set out for his daily walk; he should have
dressed for summer. Instead, he had put on a T-shirt under his red
and blue shirt. He’d also brought a red fleece with him, which now
hung over his shoulder.
That was the issue with May, he thought. He never knew how to
dress in it.
He squinted as the sun poked through a gap in the canopy
above him and shone into his eyes. He didn’t want to lose track of
Tessa, his wire fox terrier, as she was fast when she wanted to be.
She was ahead of him, sniffing around a bunch of nettles and
goosegrass. She was also short of stature and could easily get lost in
the ferns and bushes within the forest.
Tessa’s behaviour of late could be best described as ‘playing up’.
She seemed to enjoy winding Henry up by doing the opposite of
what he said. Not that she understood everything he said, but he
felt she got the gist of most of it.
At that moment, she’d moved past the nettles and was sniffing a
pool of water, which had collected within the roots of a chestnut
tree. She remained within five metres of Henry and moved away
whenever he got too close.
He felt like putting her back on the lead, as he didn’t fancy
chasing her if she decided to make a run for it. He wasn’t as quick
as normal as his hip had been replaced six weeks prior. The arthritic
one had finally been swapped out for a new metal one.
The operation had gone well. He’d paid to have it done privately,
as the waiting list at the local NHS hospital seemed to be never-
ending. And he hadn’t regretted the decision. Well, it had cost him
an arm and a leg, and he had used some savings he’d been keeping
on the side.
 His rainy-day fund was now almost depleted, but he was
expecting to hear back from the West Yorkshire Police any day now
about his application to rejoin. He was sure they’d agree to it, and
he’d be able to replenish his savings with whatever salary they felt
fit to pay him.
God forbid a large expense had to be met in the meantime, like
the roof on his cottage needing repairing or his Skoda Octavia giving
out. In fact, the lifespan of his car had been worrying him. It was
coming up for its MOT and the last one had been expensive. There
were issues with its exhaust and suspension.
He waved away his potential money problems and focused on
the forest. It was good to get out and about. He’d spent the last few
weeks cooped up in his cottage as if the COVID lockdowns were
back in full swing.
He’d only been in the hospital for a day and a half. Well, it wasn’t
really a hospital. He’d gone to a private clinic in the centre of Leeds,
so it felt more like a fancy hotel with nurses and IV drips.
His surgeon gave him strict instructions when he was discharged
to walk on his new hip as quickly as possible. And Henry had done
so. He’d also restarted his physiotherapy sessions.
Jean Whitehead, his next-door neighbour, had come over every
day and brought him enough food to feed a family of five, despite
Henry living on his own. And she seemed put out when he didn’t
finish what she’d brought, but he didn’t know anyone who could
have. Besides, his consultant had told him to watch his weight from
now on. “Otherwise you’ll put too much stress on the other hip, and
that’ll need doing,” he’d said.
Henry hoped not. He’d nearly spent everything on the first one.
He didn’t have anything left for the second.
Anyway, despite the issues around the quantity of food, Jean
had helped him. Without her, the whole experience would’ve been
worse. He had received a text or two from his son, Dean, but he
hadn’t come to visit.
Not that Henry could blame him completely as their relationship
had been strained over the years. But he did selfishly wish Dean had
popped over one afternoon with the grandkids. If major surgery
wouldn’t trigger a visit, he didn’t know what would.
He’d heard from DI Kate Barnes, a detective inspector he’d
worked with on a few of the cases he’d been involved with recently.
Even she managed to call on him, stopping by for a quick cup of tea
during the fourth week. She’d been busy working several
investigations, all of them too depressing for her to want to talk
about, and Henry suspected they were domestic murders and
suspicious child deaths.
Henry hadn’t wanted to ask Barnes about his application to
rejoin the police, as she’d never been enthusiastic about it. However,
he had sent it off nearly three months ago and still hadn’t heard
anything beyond the acknowledgement letter. He didn’t know if that
was a good sign or not.
His left foot stepped onto a large rock at an angle, and pain shot
up his leg and around the new joint. He winced and let out a garbled
cry. Doubling over, he tried to regain his composure as he stared at
the gravel path.
There was no one around him, so if he hurt himself, he wasn’t
sure what he could do about it. Tessa wasn’t the type of dog to ‘do a
Lassie’ and run off to fetch help. She would no doubt hang around
until she got bored and then wander off to find someone else to
feed her.
Notwithstanding, the brown and white dog crept towards him,
head bowed as if knowing he was in pain.
He waved her away. “It’s alright, chuck. Just a bad step.” He
didn’t know if it was a bad step or just carelessness on his part.
Both, most likely.
He looked around at the trees and bushes. Ahead of him, a
carpet of tired bluebells shimmered on the surface of some tall
grass. The pain in his hip was dying down. It was just a sharp shock.
He’d be alright, he told himself. It happened when he walked too
fast or didn’t pay attention when he walked downstairs. He hadn’t
heard the implant squeak yet. Apparently, it made a noise if one
bent down too low. Thankfully, he avoided bending over at all if he
could.
 He listened to the birds that tweeted above him, and the insects
that zipped past, but he couldn’t hear anyone coming along the
path.
Tessa whined a little as she glanced worriedly at him. He stood
straight and put weight on his operated leg. It was alright. It didn’t
hurt anymore. He took a few tentative steps, and when he didn’t
feel another jab of pain, he continued walking along the path.
Tessa was happy with this, and she ran off ahead with her paws
scraping against the gravel. Henry didn’t bother to keep up. Instead,
he continued at a slow pace.
He was on Otley Chevin, heading uphill. It was a large forest on
a steep incline above the town of Otley, and on top of the hill was
Leeds Bradford Airport. Henry was far from his stomping ground,
Addingham, being nearly ten miles away, but he’d come over here to
meet someone.
An old acquaintance had asked him out for lunch at a vegan
bakery on the hill opposite the car park. As Henry had doctor’s
orders to watch his weight, he thought it would be wise to get in an
hour’s walk beforehand. He rethought that wisdom, however, as he
hobbled along the footpath.
The acquaintance was a local landowner, Mrs Wentworth-Scott.
Henry was surprised to have received her call and request for lunch,
as he’d not spoken to her for well over a decade. Not since their
paths had crossed briefly when he helped her with a robbery at one
of her properties on the nearby moors.
She was married to a local solicitor, and both were in their late
sixties. Anyone who spoke to a farmer in the area would hear of the
Wentworth-Scott clan, as the family had dominated Wharfedale for
over a century. Despite their heritage and wealth, they kept a low
profile. Mr and Mrs weren’t a flashy couple who drove around in
fancy four-by-fours. But Henry had heard things about their children
that suggested things had changed.
Henry had asked what it was all about when he spoke to
Mrs Wentworth-Scott on the phone before the weekend. She had a
clipped accent with hints of Yorkshire in the vowels, but it was fairly
indistinguishable from a southern accent. Despite his request for
more information, she hadn’t answered. “Best we discuss this in
person, Detective Chief Inspector Ward.”
Henry hadn’t liked the way she used his former police title as if it
was the only part of him that had value. He felt she could have been
talking to any old detective chief inspector. It didn’t matter to her
which one.
Luckily for Mrs Wentworth-Scott, Henry hadn’t done much lately.
Apart from the case he had worked on in February and the hip
replacement in March, he’d just watched TV and taken Tessa for
walks. So, he had accepted her offer for lunch without much
consideration.
Besides, she had that high-pitched tone of voice which
suggested to him something was wrong, and she needed help.
Chapter Two
Henry hadn’t wanted to take Tessa into the bakery, as she was dirty
and smelly. He’d considered leaving her on his Skoda Octavia’s back
seats. But with it being a hot day in May, he didn’t want to risk her
getting heatstroke, even if the car was shaded under a tree.
On top of that, she hated being stuck in the car on her own, and
Henry didn’t want to face her revenge later on that day.
He assumed the vegan bakery welcomed dogs, with it being so
close to a hiking trail, and it did. There was a small chalkboard sign
expressing the fact above a large bowl of water. He let Tessa drink
from it and then pulled her along on her lead.
The bakery operated out of an old farmhouse and barn on the
side of the road. It had a large seating area in its former farmyard.
The building’s old stones had grown moss over the decades, and it
appeared to have been close to ruin until it was renovated.
Colourful metal tables in the courtyard faced the heather-
speckled hills. They were all occupied with fellow ramblers. Some
had dogs, which Tessa wanted to investigate. The majority of the
human punters were dressed for high summer in T-shirts and shorts.
Henry noticed all the tables were full, and a stressed waitress
approached him and asked if he had a reservation.
He was in the process of saying Mrs Wentworth-Scott’s name
when he saw her sitting alone at an orange-coloured table in the
corner. He made his way towards her.
She hadn’t changed much over the years. She wore an elegant
navy-blue business jacket over a light-blue shirt, and her long grey
hair was brushed back over her shoulders. Her skin was tanned
enough to suggest she spent most of her time abroad, and she
didn’t look her age, which he guessed was greater than his own.
Henry approached, feeling underdressed in the tatty jeans that
he reserved for hiking in, his old hiking boots, and a red and blue
shirt worn over an old T-shirt. He was grateful they were sitting
outside, as he thought he’d start sweating if they weren’t.
 She glanced up from a laminated menu and narrowed her eyes.
Her thick-rimmed glasses were modern and fashionable. “Detective
Chief Inspector?”
Henry nodded at hearing his old title and pulled out the metal
chair opposite her. “Former Detective Chief Inspector Ward.” He
called Tessa to him, as she’d wandered dangerously close to a
Labrador at the neighbouring table.
Mrs Wentworth-Scott smiled, and Henry noticed her teeth were
perfectly straight and white. A Hollywood smile, he thought. Then he
wondered if they were dentures, veneers, or real.
“So glad you could come and meet me,” she said, laying the
menu on the table before him. “Please order what you like. I think I
shall have a salad.”
Henry glanced at the menu. He fancied an omelette as he
thought he’d seen a waitress carrying one, but then he questioned if
vegans ate eggs. Scanning the menu, he got his answer. “Yeah, I’ll
get a salad as well.”
The waitress came over and took their orders, then headed off
through an arched door into the old farmhouse.
“Nice place,” Henry said, looking around the farmyard at the
other tables.
“It’s okay.” She didn’t say anything for a moment, and Henry
glanced at her. She was staring at the orange tabletop, rubbing her
thin tanned hands together.
“Is everything alright?” he asked.
She forced another Hollywood smile. “Yes. Let’s wait for the
coffees to arrive before we get down to business?”
Henry did as she said, and thankfully they didn’t have to wait
long, as the waitress quickly arrived with their drinks. After checking
the other tables, he got the impression that they were receiving
quicker service.
She sipped her black Americano and looked off into the distant
hill.
Henry didn’t dare touching his as it was steaming hot. “So,
Mrs Wentworth-Scott–”
“Call me Agnes.”
 He hadn’t remembered her first name, but Agnes seemed too
old for her. “Right, Agnes. Can I ask what it is that brought you to
contact me?”
She kept her eyes on her piping hot coffee. “You helped me in
the past, I remember.”
“Well, some of your stolen possessions were found during an
investigation, and I had them returned to you.”
“Yes. I remember. Didn’t the thief later go on to kill someone?”
Henry never liked discussing his cases, but this was an old one
and most of its details were made public in the trial. “Yes. Lee Briggs
and his mate broke into a lot of properties around the area. And
then one night, when they’d both been taking drugs, they argued
over a girl, and Lee killed both his mate and the girl.” He sighed at
having to remember such senseless loss of life.
Agnes stared at him, and her pale blue eye lit up. “Terrible.
Just…” She shook her head.
“So, this issue you’re having?”
She took in a deep breath and looked back at the hills behind
Henry. “I have a private matter that needs a special kind of…
handling.”
“Right,” he said, glancing at the neighbouring diners to make
sure they couldn’t overhear. He then realised their table was
sufficiently removed from the others, allowing them to speak without
anyone eavesdropping.
“My son…” She sighed, obviously finding it a difficult subject.
“He’s having issues.”
“What kind?”
She inhaled again. “We’ve given our children the very best. The
best schools, best teachers, best universities.” She shook her head
as if it’d all been a waste. “But still, they disappoint you.”
He blew on his coffee and attempted a sip. “Isn’t that just life?”
She didn’t find his comment mildly amusing. “Not in this family.
We have a lot to give them, but they have to earn it.”
The steeliness with which she said the statement made him sure
Agnes had repeated it several times. Most likely to her children.
 “So, how can I help with this matter?” Henry said, pulling Tessa
away from a bumblebee that’d landed underneath the table.
Agnes straightened up and looked him in the eyes. “Can I rely
on you?”
He thought it was an odd question to receive from someone he
barely knew. “Aye. I suppose so.”
She brought her tanned hand to her lips and then cleared her
throat. “My son is having issues.”
“You’ve mentioned that. Issues with the police?”
She shook her head. “Not yet, but it could well be heading that
way.”
Henry couldn’t see why Agnes had wanted to talk to him. He
was a retired police detective and, yes, he had solved a few crimes
recently, but his spheres of influence were limited now, even if he
did plan to rejoin the police on a part-time basis. Ideally, he’d be too
busy with real cases to deal with spoilt rich kids. “I’m not sure what
it is you have in mind, Mrs–”
“Agnes. It’ll save you from repeating my inanely long surname.”
Henry nodded at her instruction. “I’m not quite sure what I can
do for you. I am a retired detective.”
“I’ve hired retired detectives several times.”
Henry chuckled. “I’m not for hire, Agnes.” He knew a lot of his
former colleagues worked as private security and bouncers after
they retired, but it was never something he had considered. For him,
it was only something the desperate for money did.
She frowned. “I read in the papers that you were solving crimes
with the police. Weren’t you hired for any of those?”
He shook his head and stifled another chuckle. “Not at all. My
involvement in most of them came about through sheer coincidence.
And as the police were too busy to investigate them, I took on the
lion’s share.”
Agnes appeared very confused, like she was trying to work out a
mathematical formula without having all the necessary variables.
“You worked for free?” she asked.
He cleared his throat, as he did when his own motivations were
questioned. “Well. I get a police pension.”
 “But you’re owed that, right? So, any further work you do is
unpaid.”
He couldn’t argue with that and tried to change the subject.
“Listen, I’m not sure I could help, anyway. I’ve applied to rejoin the
police, and if I do, which is likely, I couldn’t really be involved in
helping private individuals. There might be a conflict of interest.” He
didn’t know if that was the case for sure, but he didn’t like the idea
of being entangled with a wealthy family while they went through
problems.
“Well, that is a shame. I was hoping you would help me.”
“I wish I could, Agnes. But the rules about getting involved in
other people’s affairs are–”
“This is a very important issue, though, Detective Chief
Inspector.”
He could see she wasn’t going to let it go. She’d set her mind on
him helping her, and she wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“I’m not doubting its importance. I am just unable to assist,” he
said. “Can’t you ask one of these other detectives you’ve hired in the
past to help?”
“No. Two have completely retired, and the other has already
been involved but doesn’t want to do anything further.”
If he needed another red flag, he’d just seen it. “Well, perhaps
the real police could get involved?”
She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. My husband is
friendly with some of the higher-ups.”
Henry wasn’t surprised to hear that.
“And he’s spoken to a superintendent. It was him who
mentioned your name.”
“Superintendent Murphy?”
She nodded innocently. “That’s him.”
Murphy had suggested his name, Henry thought. Why had he
done that? Murphy was one of the senior officers who would
approve his application to rejoin. Was it a sign that his application
wasn’t going anywhere?
“What did Murphy say?”
 She shrugged. “My husband spoke to him. Apparently, you were
the best man for the job.”
He stared down at his coffee and then took a sip. This was all
very odd. He didn’t like his name being passed to people, and he
also didn’t like the fact Murphy was involved.
“What is this ‘job’ you mentioned?” he asked.
She sighed, and for an instant, looked closer to her true age.
“My son’s in trouble.”
“What kind?”
“He’s been accused of murder.”
Chapter Three
Henry sat back on the metal chair and felt Tessa tug on the lead that
was tied to the armrest. She’d strayed off towards the Labrador at
the neighbouring table, who’d walked towards her. Their noses
almost touched.
Henry pulled her back and shook his head when she glanced up
at him.
He returned to meet Agnes’s stare. “So, your son’s been accused
of murder? Has he been questioned by the police or charged with
anything?”
“Nothing like that. It’s just a malicious rumour.”
“Being accused of killing someone is as malicious as rumours
get,” Henry said.
Agnes raised an eyebrow, which suggested she was already
aware of this.
“Where’s this accusation coming from?” Henry asked.
“A former friend of my son.”
Henry tried to remember how many children the Wentworth-
Scotts had. “Which son are we talking about?”
“Thomas. The youngest. I have another son and a daughter.”
“How old is he?”
“Thirty-five.”
“Alright. And who’s accusing him of murder?”
She exhaled like she was summoning the energy to talk about it,
as if the whole topic was beneath her, which Henry thought was
probably the truth. “He has an old friend called Gabriel,” she
eventually said.
Henry made a mental note of the name. “Right?”
“Gabriel was with Thomas at a party three years ago.”
“Where was the party?”
“My son has a house around here, on the top of Otley Chevin,
which belongs to the family. It’s a converted barn he moved into a
few years ago.”
 They gifted him a house, Henry thought. Giving a child a
property seemed like something only a certain class thought was
normal. He sipped his coffee and listened.
“There was a party, and someone died. A young woman – Freya
Harrison.”
“And this party happened three years ago; so in 2020?” Henry
thought back to the time and remembered lockdowns and COVID-19
restrictions. “When did they have this party?”
Agnes cleared her throat as if she was embarrassed. “It was in
May, during one of the lockdowns.”
“Right,” Henry said. “I guess it wasn’t just 10 Downing Street
that was having ‘alleged’ parties.”
Agnes hunched her shoulders, clearly uncomfortable with the
fact.
“So, did this Gabriel accuse your son of murdering Freya at the
time?”
Agnes shook her head. “It only happened within the last few
months. A business deal between the two fell through, and Gabriel
threatened to make the accusations public if my son didn’t pay him a
hefty amount of money.”
“Blackmail?”
She nodded. “It’s not unusual for a family like mine to receive
such threats. That’s why we have a team of solicitors.”
“Right. But your lawyers didn’t really help much here, did they?
So, your son didn’t pay off Gabriel, and was accused of being a
murderer?”
Agnes nodded. “Gabriel went to the local papers and some
national ones, but we managed to keep them quiet.” She gave a
faint smile that suggested she found hushing tabloids a fun hobby.
“But we were unable to stop the rumours on social media, and the
word spread.”
Henry wafted away a wasp that’d got too close to their table. He
was fighting the temptation to ask more questions, as his brain
would want to get involved just to know what had happened.
Agnes’s eyes gleamed as if she were aware of this, and she took
the opportunity to add more information. “Freya was in a
relationship with Gabriel, but apparently she slept with Thomas a
few times before the party.”
Henry watched Agnes as she spoke about her son’s sex life,
which she seemed comfortable discussing, almost as if the topic was
a stallion at stud.
“How did she die?” Henry asked.
“She was found dead in a bath. She’d drowned.”
“At a party?”
Agnes nodded. “She was fully clothed. The police said there
were no signs of foul play and concluded it was a suicide.”
Henry thought that sounded odd. Forcing oneself to drown in a
bathtub must’ve taken an enormous amount of willpower. “Had she
been taking drugs?”
Agnes’s eyes flickered, and she stared down at her cup. The
topic of drugs was a touchy one. “Well. I couldn’t say… There wasn’t
an autopsy done.”
Henry nearly spat out his tongue. The waitress came to the table
with two plates of salad and placed them down, so he waited before
asking further questions. After she had left, he leant over his plate
and asked, “How wasn’t there an autopsy done?”
Agnes started eating her salad. “The coroner’s office deemed it
unnecessary.”
“On what grounds?”
“It was evidently suicide. The woman had a history of mental
health issues, and…” She shrugged. “It just didn’t seem to warrant
one.”
Henry repeated her words in his mind, it just didn’t seem to
warrant one. A lot about this case was off. The party had happened
during a COVID lockdown when all parties were forbidden. A young
woman, who appeared to be in a love triangle, was found dead in a
bath. And no autopsy was done.
The whole event had also slipped past the attention of the press,
but Henry remembered Agnes’s smile as she talked about
suppressing news stories.
“Well, this is all very irregular,” he said.
Agnes didn’t respond. She was too busy eating her lunch.
 Henry picked up his cutlery and dug into his salad. Tessa was
next to his chair, looking up and licking her snout, but he didn’t think
she’d like anything on his plate.
He pushed around a tomato with his fork and ran through the
details he’d learnt. Then he leant back in his chair. “What is it you’d
want a detective to do?”
Agnes finished chewing some rocket salad and swallowed.
“We’re suing this Gabriel for libel, and we’d like someone to
investigate this suicide to help our case.”
Suicide? Agnes said it with such surety, Henry almost believed
her. He couldn’t help but feel intrigued by the whole affair, but he
didn’t want to wade into the personal matters of a powerful family
embroiled in controversy. Then he recalled Agnes had already hired
an old detective. “You mentioned one of the other retired officers
had looked into the matter?”
Her eyes flickered in slight annoyance. “Yes. He felt he couldn’t
make much headway, and we have a deadline the legal team has
imposed on us.”
“What’s the deadline?”
“We have around five days until we take Gabriel to court, but
we’d need the investigation to be concluded in three to allow the
team to build up their case.”
“You want some mug to find out what happened in three days so
you can sue this fella for spreading rumours?” Henry shook his head
and returned to eating his salad.
Agnes stiffened up in her chair. “You think the timescale is
unrealistic?”
Henry sniggered. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
She stared at him through her thick-rimmed glasses while
pouting. “I thought you handled all your cases quickly? Most of them
were over in a day or two, I read.”
Henry hadn’t really thought of it like that, but most of his recent
cases had to be solved quickly to ensure the culprits were
apprehended. “Well, possibly…”
“That’s why I felt you might be the best person for the job.”
 Henry shook his head again. Not only was the whole case an
oddity, but he also didn’t like being hired by a rich family that only
wanted him to do what they told him. Besides, what if he
investigated the case and found the son did kill the girl? What would
the Wentworth-Scott clan do to him? Would they ruin him? Would
they put in a bad word with Murphy, giving him an excuse to deny
his application to rejoin the police?
Henry bit his lower lip and heaved a sigh. Agnes carried on
eating her salad, feigning an air of innocence, but Henry suspected
the whole thing had been arranged so that he had no choice but to
accept.
The family was too powerful, and they already had decided
Henry would help them, and if he didn’t do as they said or didn’t
satisfy them, they’d cause problems for him.
He peered down at Tessa on her lead, who was sitting on a
stone slab in the sun. Was he anything more to the family than a
trusty terrier, hired to sniff out trouble instead of foxes?
Agnes finished her salad, and after she’d stopped chewing,
looked at Henry. “So, Detective Chief Inspector? What is your
answer to be?” she asked.
Henry’s head slumped lower, and he put the cutlery on the table
next to his half-eaten salad. “What do you think it is?”
She smiled. “I’m very glad you’ve agreed to help. My legal team
will be in touch shortly with the details, and they will discuss
payments with you–”
Henry waved his hand in the air. “No payment. I just want to
know the truth about this girl’s death.”
Agnes tilted her head, confused. “I insist you be paid.”
Henry bet she did. That was how she controlled people. “No. It’s
alright,” he said.
She shrugged as if the matter would be resolved later on to her
satisfaction. “Jonathon Radcliffe will be in touch within the hour.”
She collected her small handbag from the ground and pushed
her metal chair back. “It was so good to meet you, and I do hope
you can resolve this matter.” As she stood up, she gestured to the
plates. “Don’t worry about the bill, it’s all been taken care of.” She
checked her large, sparkly watch. “Unfortunately, I have another
meeting to get to, so, Chief Inspector, it’s been a pleasure.”
She left the table and hastened towards the courtyard’s gate,
then disappeared.
Henry slumped back in the metal chair and peered down at
Tessa. “Why’ve I got the feeling I’m being played?” he asked her, but
she didn’t reply. Instead, she stared up at his plate as if wondering
why he hadn’t offered her anything.
Chapter Four
The call from Agnes’s solicitor came through when Henry arrived
back at his cottage. The sun was bearing down on the flagstones in
his backyard, and Tessa was lapping up water from a large clay dish
that Henry had just filled. She then strutted off into the backyard to
find shade under a large potted fern.
Henry’s smartphone rang in his pocket, and he was going to
answer the call there and then but heard Jean Whitehead in her yard
next door. She was talking loudly to someone, and Henry wondered
if her grandson, Robbie, was over.
Henry knew Jean had the ears of a bat and took the call inside
his kitchen with the back door closed.
The kettle had just boiled, and he poured some water into a cup
and added a teabag when his phone started buzzing in his pocket.
Henry didn’t bother answering, guessing the solicitor would ring
back later. And he guessed right, his phone buzzed a second time
almost immediately.
Henry plumped down at the circular kitchen table covered in
piles of unopened mail and medicine boxes, and eventually
answered the call, after letting out a deep sigh.
“Henry Ward, speaking.”
“Detective Chief Inspector?” The voice belonged to a man
younger than Henry had expected. When he’d heard the name
Jonathon Radcliffe, a solicitor who ran the Wentworth-Scott family’s
legal team, he imagined a man in his fifties or sixties.
“Yes,” Henry said. “Well, I’m not officially a detective chief
inspector. And you must be Jonathon?”
“Good detective skills already. I’m sure you’ll help us no end.”
“There weren’t any detective skills involved there. No one rings
me apart from my neighbour, and I can hear her talking to someone
else right now.” Henry looked through the window in his back door
at his yard outside and sipped his tea. “So, what is it that needs to
be done?”
 “I’d just like to say, first, that I’m glad to have you assisting us
with this investigation.”
Henry grunted as if he didn’t accept the compliment, despite
Jonathon sounding genuine.
“We’ve had some assistance already. I’m not sure if
Mrs Wentworth-Scott told you?”
“Yes. Agnes mentioned another detective had been involved.”
“Right.” Jonathon stopped for a moment as if assessing what
Henry’s use of his boss’s first name implied. “Well, let’s get down to
business, shall we?”
“Aye.” Henry pulled an envelope from a pile next to him, which
looked to be from his electricity company, and snatched at an old
pen. “I’ve got the names of the principles. The son, Thomas; his
friend, Gabriel, who’s making the allegations against him; and the
deceased, Freya Harrison.”
“That’s correct. Did Mrs Wentworth-Scott mention the time
constraint?”
“She did. I’ve got three days?”
“That’s the very maximum we have, I’m afraid. We need two
days to compile everything, and then we’re in court on Friday.”
“So, what you’re actually saying is I need to get everything to
you by the end of play on Wednesday?”
“That’s correct.”
It was now mid-afternoon on Monday, so Henry had less than
three days to get to the bottom of these murder allegations.
Annoyance fizzled in his limbs, and he hissed in frustration. “Right!”
He shook his head, trying to calm himself down. It wasn’t Jonathon’s
fault he had agreed to take on this case. Not that he had entirely
agreed voluntarily. “And what is it you actually need from me?”
“Ideally, we want you to investigate what happened, speak to
the people involved, and verify that the official investigation didn’t
miss anything.”
“Alright. I guess there’s a coroner’s report?”
“There is, but it’s scant on info. The death occurred during a
lockdown, and not many people at the party wanted to share
evidence, as they didn’t want to admit to being present.”
 Would any of the people at the party want to talk to Henry now?
Probably not, he concluded. Besides, he had no authority to make
them speak to him. He shook his head again. What had he agreed to
get involved in?
Henry pressed his fingers into his forehead as he felt a headache
coming on. “These allegations against the son. What are they?”
“Well.” Jonathon cleared his throat. “Gabriel claims he heard
Thomas in the bathroom with Freya on the night of the party, and
that he tried to get inside, but they wouldn’t unlock the door. He
heard the sound of splashing water, and then Freya was later found
dead.”
“And did Gabriel mention this to the police at the time?”
“No, he didn’t. The allegations came to light when their business
venture collapsed two months ago.”
The timing suggested it could be a vexatious claim, but Henry
wondered if the police had done anything recently. “Have the police
re-examined the case?”
“No,” Jonathon said, in a tone of voice that suggested he didn’t
think such a thing was required. “The allegation has no merit.”
“Really?”
“Thomas claims he barely saw Freya that night, and he was
witnessed being in a different part of the house at the time Gabriel
claims he heard him in the bathroom with Freya.”
Henry thought that was interesting. “What did Gabriel say he
heard inside the bathroom?”
“I’m…” Jonathon uttered. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll find out myself.”
“Listen, Detective Chief Inspector. Don’t forget you’re being paid
to clarify what happened in order to help our libel case? Nothing
else.”
“Well, don’t you forget, Jonathon, that, first, I’m retired, so stop
using the titles. And second, I’m not being paid. So, I’ll be coming to
this case with an open mind.”
Jonathon was silent for a moment. “You’re not being paid?” he
asked.
 Henry sniggered to himself. Of the things he’d said, that was the
one which had stood out. “Aye. I’ve told Agnes I shan’t be paid, but
I’ll let her sort it out with you.”
“Right…” Jonathon didn’t sound convinced. Henry heard him
scribble something down.
“Listen,” Henry said, breaking the silence. “Let me have the
coroner’s report and anything else you have. I’ll need addresses and
phone numbers for Thomas and Gabriel.”
“Ah. That’ll be tricky. Thomas is happy to speak to you, but
Gabriel isn’t.”
Henry wasn’t too surprised to hear that. Gabriel probably
thought that as Henry was being employed by the Wentworth-
Scotts, he wasn’t to be trusted. Henry would have to disabuse him
of the idea.
If Henry was going to get embroiled in this mess, he’d do so as
an independent operator in search of the truth, no matter where it
took him.
“I’ll try speaking to Gabriel,” Henry said.
“That might not be such a good idea,” Jonathon replied.
“No, I think it’s necessary. And Freya’s family and friends, I’ll
have to speak to them?”
“I’m not sure that’s…” he mumbled down the phone.
“If I think it’s necessary, then it is.”
“Hmm.” Jonathon went quiet again, then said, “Listen, Detective
Chief Inspector, there seems to have been a misunderstanding.
You’ve been brought on to confirm the coroner’s report so the family
can be satisfied nothing else happened.”
“Aye. And I shall do that by speaking to the people involved.”
Henry bit his tongue to prevent him from venting, but he thought to
hell with it. “Listen, Jonathon, this case is very irregular. A woman
dies in a bath during a large party when such gatherings were
banned. Someone waits several years until a financial deal breaks
down, and then they make these allegations–”
“These allegations are without merit,” Jonathon repeated.
“That’s your view, and you might be correct. But I don’t know.
What I’d like is the chance to investigate what happened before I
draw any conclusions.”
Jonathon went quiet on the other end of the line.
“Of course, if you’re sure these allegations are false, then you
shouldn’t have anything to be worried about in court.”
“Fine,” Jonathon said. “Let’s see what the other individuals
involved have to say for themselves. But I very much doubt they’ll
talk to you.”
“Well, let’s not assume things straight away.”
Henry gave his email address to Jonathon so he could send over
the documents he had. Then he ended the call, reclined in the
wooden chair and finished his cup of tea.
He knew what Jonathon and the family wanted him to do.
Namely, confirm the official story so they could tell themselves and
the community their son wasn’t involved in murder. But the fact an
autopsy hadn’t been done, and that the police had treated the death
as a suicide and not a homicide, made Henry wonder if the official
verdict was accurate.
He remembered those panicky days three years earlier, when the
pandemic was running rife through the country, and everyone was
forced to stay in their homes. Henry didn’t doubt the fact that this
could have disrupted an investigation into a suspected suicide.
That led Henry to wonder who had been involved in it. He picked
up his mobile, found DI Barnes’s number and dialled it.
She picked up after a few rings. “How are you doing?”
“Not bad, thanks. The hip’s doing better. I managed a walk on
Otley Chevin this morning.”
“Good for you,” Barnes replied. It sounded like she was in a car,
talking to Henry on loudspeaker.
“How’s your day going?”
She exhaled in frustration and tiredness. “Not too bad, I
suppose.”
“Good. Listen, I’m calling about a suicide that happened in
2020.”
“Why are you calling me about a three-year-old suicide?”
Henry took his turn to exhale. “I’ve been asked to investigate
something.”
 “By who?”
“Ever heard of the Wentworth-Scott family?”
Barnes went quiet as she tried to place the name. “I don’t think I
have,” she said, not sounding convinced with herself.
“They’re a wealthy family in the area. Anyway, the son’s being
accused of murdering some lass three years ago.”
“During the COVID lockdowns?”
“Yep. The son had a big party, and the lass was linked to him
romantically. The official verdict was suicide, but now the son’s mate
has come out and accused him of murder.”
Barnes went quiet. Henry assumed she was processing the
information. After a moment, she asked, “What does this family
want you to do?”
“Check what happened. Speak to people. Well, speak to their
son at least. They want me to verify the coroner’s report so they can
sue this friend for libel.”
“Hang on. Was it a young woman? Found in a house on the
moor near Otley?”
Henry sat up in his chair. “Aye.”
“She’d drowned in the bath?”
“You do know it, then?”
“I went to the scene, but I wasn’t the lead investigator. I was
taken off and placed onto something else.” She didn’t say anything
for a moment, and then added, “I’d nearly forgotten about that
case.”
“Who was the lead investigator?”
“I’ll double-check, but I’m pretty sure it was DC Hargreaves.”
Chapter Five
This was all getting odder and odder, thought Henry. DC Hargreaves,
who couldn’t have been on the force for that long, had been in
charge of a suicide investigation?
Henry repeated the thought aloud, hoping DI Barnes would
correct him. “A detective constable was in charge of a suicide
investigation?”
“Yes. I guess it doesn’t sound good when you look back on it.
Murphy was involved as he knew the family, and then he passed it to
Hargreaves.”
Henry didn’t like the matter-of-fact tone in which Barnes talked
about it. “You do know it’s very irregular for a DC to lead an
investigation?”
“Yes. In normal times. But can you remember what it was like
then? I think we had half of the detectives off sick, or they’d been
pinged and were self-isolating. We were strapped for officers, and
then there was that increase in domestic abuse, which took up most
of my time.”
Henry could imagine how the situation had come about, but he
wasn’t sure he wanted to hear any more about it. In his day,
everything had been hierarchical, and odd decisions like that
would’ve been questioned. He also knew Hargreaves was close to
Murphy, and that Murphy knew the Wentworth-Scott family. And,
according to Agnes, Murphy had recommended him for their private
investigation.
Henry started to feel queasy.
“Are you alright?” Barnes asked after a few seconds.
“Aye. Just thinking things through.”
“From what I remember, Hargreaves handled it well. But I’ll need
to check the file. Listen, I have to go, but I’ll call you when I get
back to the station. Might not be until late, though.”
“That’d be great. Thanks, Barnes.”
She rang off, leaving Henry to stew in his kitchen. His first
thought was to bow out from the arrangement he’d struck with
Agnes Wentworth-Scott. Tell her his hip was playing up, and he
didn’t need the aggro.
But she would tell Murphy, who was the key to him getting back
in the police.
Was that the game Murphy was playing? Had he only given the
Wentworth-Scotts Henry’s name so they had Henry by the balls?
Murphy could torpedo his application whenever he wanted.
Henry would be forced to confirm the coroner’s report on a case
that stunk of cronyism – if not corruption. Had Henry just become a
pawn in a corrupt little plot to save face and protect a potential
murderer?
He shook his head at it all. His headache had come back with a
vengeance, and he grabbed one of the boxes of pills next to him,
looking for a painkiller. He took two tablets with the dregs of his cold
tea and went to the back door.
He stepped outside and breathed in the fresh air. His yard was
colourful for late May. Purple and yellow pansies bloomed out of in
several pots on the wall under the high fence. And next to them
were the pink geraniums he’d planted last year. A scarlet snapdragon
waved at him in the light breeze from the corner.
Tessa was lying on her back under the shade of the fern. Her
eyes were closed. Henry wished he could follow suit and take a nap
himself, but he had a job to do. He had two and a half days to find
what the police had missed while investigating Freya Harrison’s
death.
There was no hope he’d find any forensic evidence, so all he
could do was find the truth of what happened to her. Hopefully
that’d provide her family some solace, which he suspected they
needed.
The best-case scenario would be he uncovered enough proof for
the police to reopen the investigation and make sure anyone
accountable for her death faced justice.
A high-pitched whine came from Jean’s backyard. It sounded like
a giant hornet beating its massive wings. Henry looked up at the
high fence that separated their two yards and saw a small, black
drone hover in the air.
 It must be Robbie, Henry thought. He remembered Jean’s
grandson helping him with a case the previous year. However, it
hadn’t gone very well for young Robbie; he’d ended up in hospital
with a head injury.
The drone flew over the fence and hung in the air above Henry.
Its sleek, black body dropped slowly down until it buzzed less than a
metre away from his head. Its small camera turned to watch him,
and then he heard Robbie’s voice, which sounded robotic. “Hi there,
Henry.”
Henry frowned at the drone, unsure if he should talk to it or find
Robbie and speak to him instead. The drone hovered in the air,
watching him.
“Hi,” Henry eventually shouted.
“How’ve you been? Gran said you had your hip done.”
Henry tapped his left hip, as he normally did when he talked
about it. “Aye. It’s fine, lad. How’s your head?”
“What? Oh, yeah.” He laughed. “It’s fine. Yeah, I’d nearly
forgotten about that mad guy.”
Henry glanced at the fence, wondering out if Robbie was
standing on the other side so they could have a normal
conversation.
“Where are you?” Henry asked.
“Inside. I’m testing this drone. Apparently, it has a two-hundred-
metre control range, but I’ve not tried it yet. I’m going to fly it to the
park.”
Henry tilted his head as he stared at the drone. “How the hell
are you talking to me if you’re inside?”
“It’s got a speaker. Can you hear me alright?”
Henry nodded, and then said, “It’s fine. Where’s your grandma?”
“In the kitchen.”
“Right. Shall I pop round?” he said, feeling uncomfortable talking
to a flying robot.
“Yeah, why not? She thought you’d come over earlier.”
Henry nodded and went to his back door. The drone remained in
the air and then took off over the back wall.
 Henry left Tessa resting under the fern. The yard had high
fences, so she couldn’t get out.
He knocked on Jean’s latte-coloured front door, and she opened
it, holding a red and white tartan tea towel. She wore a white top
dotted with blue and yellow flowers, and she appeared more tired
than usual. Henry suspected it had something to do with keeping
her eighteen-year-old grandson occupied.
She smiled when she saw Henry. The breeze rustled her blonde
wavy hair. “How’s your hip?” she asked.
“Fine, I’ve been on Otley Chevin this morning.”
“Good for you. Didn’t you have lunch out today?”
He nodded. He hadn’t told her whom he had his lunch with, as
he didn’t want her to bombard him with questions. “Robbie’s staying
over, then,” Henry said. “I heard his drone.”
She glanced at her front door and then shook her head. “He’s
not flying that bloody machine, is he?”
“He flew it over my fence. He plans to send it into the park.”
She huffed. “I bloody told him about that.” She folded the tea
towel in her hands. “I suppose he is off to uni to do information
technology in September, so I’ll let him off. But he bloody shouldn’t
be flying that thing around Addingham. I mean, is it legal?”
He shrugged. “Probably not. But I doubt anyone will say
anything.”
Jean rolled her eyes. “Are you coming in for a cuppa?”
He shook his head. “I can’t.”
Jean frowned. “Why not? You don’t have any appointments
today.” Since Henry’s operation, Jean had taken on the role of
managing his diary, which included ringing up for appointments and
driving him to check-ups. Henry hadn’t asked her to do this,
obviously. She’d volunteered and insisted.
“No. I don’t.” He waited a moment, wondering how he’d tell her.
“But I’ve been asked to look into something.”
She approached him to stand on the doorstep. “Look into what?”
“A possible… murder.”
She huffed and then flapped the tea towel in the air, nearly
hitting him in the face. “What the hell are you doing? Another case?
You’re recovering from major surgery.”
He stepped backwards, moving out of striking distance. “It’s
been six weeks. And I’m okay to drive now.”
“Aye, you’re fit enough to drive to Tesco to do your shopping,
but not to run around chasing after killers. You ended up on the hills
in a gunfight last time.”
He cleared his throat. “Well… I stayed in the car through most of
it.”
“Yes. Until they started shooting at it. Isn’t that what you told
me?”
Henry leant against the wall next to him for support.
“I can’t believe it.” She shook her head and then glanced inside
her house. “And I can’t come out and help. I’ve got my grandson
here. And no way is he getting involved in this.”
He winced as she brought up the idea of Robbie being involved
in cases. He would never live that one down. “Listen, it’s just a small
inquiry. There shouldn’t be any shooting or fighting. I’m just looking
into a favour for someone.”
“For who?” she demanded.
“The Wentworth-Scotts.”
“From Otley?” When Henry nodded, Jean folded her arms and
raised an eyebrow. “How do you know them?”
“I helped them when I was a DCI, and now they want me to
assist them with something.”
“I can’t believe you’re getting involved with them, especially
when you’re in ill health.” She shook her head while wearing an
expression of faint disappointment.
“Ill health? I only had my hip replaced.”
“You’re sixty-four but still think you’re forty.”
It was Henry’s turn to fold his arms and shake his head. “I’m
fine,” he said.
Jean folded the tartan tea towel again and stewed in her
frustration. She tutted to herself. “The Wentworth-Scotts.”
She said the name with such distaste, Henry thought she was
going to spit on her own doorstep.
“What about them?” he asked.
 “They were involved with Peter’s businesses.”
Peter was Jean’s late husband, who passed away before she
moved to the village. From what Henry knew of him, he ran several
companies in Harrogate, one of which was a large art gallery that
was still there.
“Which business?”
“The gallery and the printing company. He’s a monster is the
husband, Brian. He ran Peter ragged. And she, the wife, is a
complete bitch.”
Henry felt his cheeks redden. He rarely heard Jean swear, let
alone with such intensity. “Why? What did she do?”
“What didn’t she do? She was known for stealing husbands and
dumping them, causing all sorts of hell for the families. She flirted to
get whatever she wanted.”
Henry recalled Agnes’s striking looks when he’d had lunch with
her earlier on. He also remembered her being attractive when he
came into contact with her over a decade earlier. She’d never been
overtly flirty with him, but he could imagine her using charm to get
what she wanted.
“Is that how she ended up with her rich husband?”
Jean shook her head. “She’s the Wentworth, and he’s the Scott.”
“Come again?”
“She’s the one from the old family who owns loads of land
around here. He was just a dishy solicitor from Harrogate, and, from
what I heard, he’s not so dishy anymore.”
“So, that explains that long surname?”
“She insisted on keeping hers, and he wanted to use his.”
“How well did you know them?”
She huffed like the idea of it was a funny thing. “I didn’t know
them personally until Peter got involved with them.” Then, after
staring at a flagstone in her front yard, she locked her eyes on
Henry. “What is it you’re investigating?” she asked.
Henry sighed as he didn’t want to tell her but also didn’t fancy
the aggro of not telling her. She was clearly already in a mood.
“Their son’s been accused of murder.”
 “Murder?” Her eyes narrowed. “Well, if you ask me, from what
I’ve heard of them, he probably did it.”
Chapter Six
A double-decker bus rolled past Jean’s front yard, pumping out
fumes. Henry wafted the air in front of him as he watched Jean, who
was staring at a pot containing lavender. The purple heads stood tall
to reach the sun, but their sweet smell hadn’t kicked in yet.
Jean shook her head as if trying to rid herself of the negative
thoughts that mention of the Wentworth-Scotts had stirred up.
Henry noticed this. “What was the family’s link to your Peter?” he
asked.
She stared off into Main Street, not focussing on anything in
particular. “They made investments. Well, they pretty much bullied
Peter into taking their money. And then, at the end, after Peter had
passed away, they were impossibly nasty about everything. Making
sure they got what they were owed, plus extra.”
“Isn’t the art gallery still going?” Henry asked carefully, as he
knew Jean didn’t like talking about her late husband.
She nodded. “They kept it. Brian, the husband, was always
holding events there and thought it was a money-earner.”
Jean was clearly getting worked up by the topic, so Henry
stopped asking questions about it. “Right. Well, they’ve got me
helping them. And it wasn’t exactly my choice.”
“Sounds like their modus operandi.”
“And their son, Thomas? You think he’s suspicious?”
“I’ve not seen him for nearly ten years, but when I last did, he
wasn’t a pleasant chap. He seemed to have taken the worst parts of
his parents.” She hesitated. “The eldest, Charlotte, is nice. She’s the
only sensible one. Everyone calls her Lottie.”
“There’s another son, isn’t there? Aren’t there three children?”
“Aye. Benjamin. He lives in Rome.” Her eyes narrowed as she
thought about it. “I think he was into shooting or something. He did
competitions.” She shrugged as if it wasn’t worth the effort of
remembering. “Anyway, he lives over there. I don’t know what he
does now. By all accounts, he’s just as hopeless as his brother.”
 Henry processed what Jean had said. “Do you think this
Charlotte, the sensible one, would be worth talking to?”
She shrugged. “As best you’ll find with that lot.”
“Where does she live?”
She shook her head as if in doubt. “I think on the hills above
Otley. She married a local farmer, who seemed fairly decent as well.
But I’m not sure where she is.”
Henry thought it might be worth him talking to this Charlotte. He
glanced at his watch and saw the afternoon was hurrying towards
3 p.m. “Well, I’ll keep you updated.”
He was at her gate when she called out, “Be careful with that
lot, Henry. I wouldn’t trust them as far as I could throw them.”
Henry nodded. He understood what she was getting at. From
what he’d learnt about the case so far, it was all very irregular.
He entered his cottage and welcomed the coolness inside his
home’s thick stone walls. Tessa had come in from the backyard and
was sitting in her spot on the sofa opposite the television. Henry
tutted at her as she gave him a lazy look. He went into the kitchen
and shut the back door.
He returned to the living room, after getting a large glass of
water, and took a seat in his armchair. He switched on his iPad, and
saw that the email from Jonathon Radcliffe had come through. It
had seven documents attached.
Henry sighed as he contemplated the amount of reading he’d
have to do, and then opened the coroner’s report first. The PDF
document was several pages long.
He skimmed the document and, as he’d thought, it lacked detail
and precision. The coroner had concluded Freya Harrison met her
end by forcing herself to drown in a half-full bathtub.
Henry shook his head at the verdict and scrolled through the
pages to see if anyone had actually questioned whether it was
possible. A human’s instinctive reaction, when their face was
underwater, was to push upwards and break the surface. Unless they
were unconscious.
Henry stared at his iPad and bit his thumbnail. What would the
verdict have been if it was proven Freya had been asleep when she’d
drowned? The coroner would have then been compelled to conclude
her death as misadventure or accidental.
Henry refocused on the report and wondered why a verdict of
suicide had been reached. Surely, it was more likely that, at a party,
someone would drown in a bath if they’d been drinking or taking
drugs.
He then saw statements from Freya’s friends and family that all
had the same theme: the deceased had been depressed and upset
in the days prior to her death. He noticed Gabriel had made a
statement as her boyfriend and claimed she’d been moody and
difficult to talk to before the party.
That would all suggest Freya had taken her own life. But Henry
thought it didn’t add up.
He then considered that a verdict of death by misadventure
would have resulted in more questions being asked. Had Freya been
taking drugs at the party? Which drugs had she taken and where
had she obtained them? Who else was taking them? Was Thomas
Wentworth-Scott involved in drugs?
If the deceased had killed herself, there wouldn’t be as many
questions about drugs. It would be a case of ascertaining Freya’s
state of mind at the party and the days preceding it, which Henry
had in the statements from her friends and family. The fact there
had been no post-mortem or blood tests done on the victim
suggested there was an attempt to keep things contained.
So, who had decided Freya Harrison had died by suicide? A
senior investigator must have decided which line of inquiry to follow,
ignoring the possibility that she might have been unconscious when
she’d died – or that she’d been murdered, as Gabriel was now
claiming.
Henry remembered his phone conversation with Barnes. “Murphy
was involved as he knew the family,” she had said.
He felt an icy cold lump shift around his gut. Had Murphy pushed
the investigation in one direction to spare the Wentworth-Scotts
humiliation and to avoid difficult questions?
Henry exhaled and wished he’d never met Agnes for lunch. This
whole thing was turning into a nightmare.
 He opened the second document and saw it was a statement
from Thomas Wentworth-Scott, which had been taken recently. Most
likely the solicitors had questioned him, or the other retired detective
the family had hired.
Henry read the two pages, which were well-constructed and
made Thomas sound articulate. The statement gave a coherent
account of him being at the party, which he accepted was ‘a bad
move considering the rules of social distancing in place at the time’.
Thomas said that he had been in the dining hall for most of the
party and hadn’t spoken to Gabriel or Freya. At around 4 a.m., some
partygoers alerted him to the fact Freya was dead in a bathroom
upstairs.
The statement was signed and dated several weeks previously.
There was a countersignature from Chris Nelson. Henry faintly
remembered a detective inspector in Bradford who had the same
name and wondered if this was the detective the family had hired
before him.
He’d have to have a chat with Chris Nelson to see what he
thought of all this.
Henry glanced through the remaining documents until he found
a sheet with a name of the key players and their numbers and
addresses. Thomas Wentworth-Scott was first, and his address was
the same one as Henry had found on the coroner’s report. He
guessed it was a fancy farmhouse on the hills above Otley. It must
be big, he thought, if it had a ‘dining hall’.
Gabriel Silverstone lived on the outskirts of Leeds. There was a
sentence in brackets next to Gabriel’s address, which read: ‘avoid
contacting’. Henry chuckled at the idea and decided he’d visit him
first. He also noted he hadn’t received the details of Gabriel’s
allegations from the solicitor.
Opening the map application on his iPad, Henry planned his
route so he could speak to Gabriel in Horsforth, visit the parents of
Freya Harrison in Guiseley, and then arrive at Thomas’s farmhouse.
Hopefully, he could be done with the interviews and be back home
before dinner.
 The clock on his mantelpiece over the empty wood-burning stove
stated the time was nearly 4 p.m. Henry would have to get a move
on.
He got up out of his chair while typing Gabriel’s number into his
phone. He better see if the accuser would speak to him first, as a
drive to Horsforth would take an hour.
After dialling the number, a delicate voice answered. “Yes?”
“Is that Gabriel Silverstone?”
“Speaking.” The voice was defensive and weary.
“I’m former Detective Chief Inspector Henry Ward.”
There was a pause. “Yes?”
“I’d like to know if I can pay you a visit to discuss your
allegations against Thomas Wentworth–”
“Oh. Are you their new lackey?” Gabriel asked, interrupting him.
“Their new washed-up detective?”
“I can assure you, I’m no one’s lackey and neither am I washed-
up.”
“Whatever. I’m not interested in talking to you.”
Henry could appreciate Gabriel’s apprehension, but he needed to
get a clear idea of the allegations. “Why won’t you talk to me?
You’ve made some very serious accusations against Thomas, and I’d
like to know what they are.”
“Wouldn’t everyone, but I told the papers and the local TV, and
not a word’s been published.”
“Complaints against the press lie with the Independent Press
Standards Organisation, not former police detectives.”
“Huh? Yes. I suppose that’s correct.”
“Listen, Mr Silverstone. I see my role in this as a way of finding
out what happened to Freya Harrison, so that we can all be sure of
the truth.”
“Truth? You’re working for them. You don’t want the truth; you
want the very opposite.”
“I am not receiving payment from the family. They are not my
superiors. They have asked me as an independent investigator to
look into the matters surrounding Freya Harrison’s death.”
“Christ. I bet they’re happy about that.”
 “Well,” Henry said, losing his stride. “They don’t fully understand
the arrangement they’ve reached with me.”
Gabriel paused. “What is it you want from me, then?”
“I want only the truth, Mr Silverstone.”
Gabriel exhaled down the phone. Henry could almost hear the
wheels in his head turning. “Alright. When can you be here, as I
have to head out at six?”
“I’ll be there in the hour.”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
(32.) Asmoday.—The Thirty-second Spirit is Asmoday, or Asmodai.
He is a Great King, Strong, and Powerful. He appeareth with Three
Heads, whereof the first is like a Bull, the second like a Man, and the
third like a Ram; he hath also the tail of a Serpent, and from his
mouth issue Flames of Fire. His Feet are webbed like those of a
Goose. He sitteth upon an Infernal Dragon, and beareth in his hand
a Lance with a Banner. He is first and choicest under the Power of
Amaymon, he goeth before all other. When the Exorcist hath a mind
to call him, let it be abroad, and let him stand on his feet all the time
of action, with his Cap or Head-dress off; for if it be on, Amaymon will
deceive him and call all his actions to be bewrayed. But as soon as
the Exorcist seeth Asmoday in the shape aforesaid, he shall call him
by his Name, saying: “Art thou Asmoday?” and he will not deny it,
and by-and-by he will bow down unto the ground. He giveth the Ring
of Virtues; he teacheth the Arts of Arithmetic, Astronomy, Geometry,
and all handicrafts absolutely. He giveth true and full answers unto
thy demands. He maketh one Invincible. He showeth the place
where Treasures lie, and guardeth it. He, amongst the Legions of
Amaymon governeth 72 Legions of Spirits Inferior. His Seal is this
which thou must wear as a Lamen upon thy breast, etc.
(33.) Gaap.—The Thirty-third Spirit is Gäap. He is a Great President
and a Mighty Prince. He appeareth when the Sun is in some of the
Southern Signs, in a Human Shape, going before Four Great and
Mighty Kings, as if he were a Guide to conduct them along on their
way. His Office is to make men Insensible or Ignorant; as also in
Philosophy to make them Knowing, and in all the Liberal Sciences.
He can cause Love or Hatred, also he can teach thee to consecrate
those things that belong to the Dominion of Amaymon his King. He
can deliver Familiars out of the Custody of other Magicians, and
answereth truly and perfectly of things Past, Present, and to Come.
He can carry and re-carry men very speedily from one Kingdom to
another, at the Will and Pleasure of the Exorcist. He ruleth over 66
Legions of Spirits, and he was of the Order of Potentates. His Seal is
this to be made and to be worn as aforesaid, etc.
(34.) Furfur.—The Thirty-fourth Spirit is Furfur. He is a Great and
Mighty Earl, appearing in the Form of an Hart with a Fiery Tail. He
never speaketh truth unless he be compelled, or brought up within a
triangle, △. Being therein, he will take upon himself the Form of an
Angel. Being bidden, he speaketh with a hoarse voice. Also he will
wittingly urge Love between Man and Woman. He can raise
Lightnings and Thunders, Blasts, and Great Tempestuous Storms.
And he giveth True Answers both of Things Secret and Divine, if
commanded. He ruleth over 26 Legions of Spirits. And his Seal is
this, etc.
(35.) Marchosias.—The Thirty-fifth Spirit is Marchosias. He is a
Great and Mighty Marquis, appearing at first in the Form of a Wolf[20]
having Gryphon’s Wings, and a Serpent’s Tail, and Vomiting Fire out
of his mouth. But after a time, at the command of the Exorcist he
putteth on the Shape of a Man. And he is a strong fighter. He was of
the Order of Dominations. He governeth 30 Legions of Spirits. He
told his Chief, who was Solomon, that after 1,200 years he had
hopes to return unto the Seventh Throne. And his Seal is this, to be
made and worn as a Lamen, etc.
(36.) Stolas, or Stolos.—The Thirty-sixth Spirit is Stolas, or
Stolos. He is a Great and Powerful Prince, appearing in the Shape of
a Mighty Raven at first before the Exorcist; but after he taketh the
image of a Man. He teacheth the Art of Astronomy, and the Virtues of
Herbs and Precious Stones. He governeth 26 Legions of Spirits; and
his Seal is this, which is, etc.
(37.) Phenex.—The Thirty-Seventh Spirit is Phenex (or Pheynix). He
is a great Marquis, and appeareth like the Bird Phœnix, having the
Voice of a Child. He singeth many sweet notes before the Exorcist,
which he must not regard, but by-and-by he must bid him put on
Human Shape. Then he will speak marvellously of all wonderful
Sciences if required. He is a Poet, good and excellent. And he will be
willing to perform thy requests. He hath hopes also to return to the
Seventh Throne after 1,200 years more, as he said unto Solomon.
He governeth 20 Legions of Spirits. And his Seal is this, which wear
thou, etc.
(38.) Halphas, or Malthus.—The Thirty-eighth Spirit is Halphas, or
Malthous (or Malthas). He is a Great Earl, and appeareth in the Form
of a Stock-Dove. He speaketh with a hoarse Voice. His Office is to
build up Towers, and to furnish them with Ammunition and Weapons,
and to send Men-of-War[21] to places appointed. He ruleth over 26
Legions of Spirits, and his Seal is this, etc.
(39.) Malphas.—The Thirty-ninth Spirit is Malphas. He appeareth at
first like a Crow, but after he will put on Human Shape at the request
of the Exorcist, and speak with a hoarse Voice. He is a Mighty
President and Powerful. He can build Houses and High Towers, and
can bring to thy Knowledge Enemies’ Desires and Thoughts, and
that which they have done. He giveth Good Familiars. If thou makest
a Sacrifice unto him he will receive it kindly and willingly, but he will
deceive him that doth it. He governeth 40 Legions of Spirits, and his
Seal is this, etc.
(40.) Raum.—The Fortieth Spirit is Räum. He is a Great Earl; and
appeareth at first in the Form of a Crow, but after the Command of
the Exorcist he putteth on Human Shape. His office is to steal
Treasures out King’s Houses, and to carry it whither he is
commanded, and to destroy Cities and Dignities of Men, and to tell
all things, Past, and What Is, and what Will Be; and to cause Love
between Friends and Foes. He was of the Order of Thrones. He
governeth 30 Legions of Spirits; and his Seal is this, which wear thou
as aforesaid.
(41.) Focalor.—The Forty-first Spirit is Focalor, or Forcalor, or
Furcalor. He is a Mighty Duke and Strong. He appeareth in the Form
of a Man with Gryphon’s Wings. His office is to slay Men, and to
drown them in the Waters, and to overthrow Ships of War, for he
hath Power over both Winds and Seas; but he will not hurt any man
or thing if he be commanded to the contrary by the Exorcist. He also
hath hopes to return to the Seventh Throne after 1,000 years. He
governeth 30 Legions of Spirits, and his Seal is this, etc.
(42.) Vepar.—The Forty-second Spirit is Vepar, or Vephar. He is a
Duke Great and Strong and appeareth like a Mermaid. His office is
to govern the Waters, and to guide Ships laden with Arms, Armour,
and Ammunition, etc., thereon. And at the request of the Exorcist he
can cause the seas to be right stormy and to appear full of ships.
Also he maketh men to die in Three Days by Putrefying Wounds or
Sores, and causing Worms to breed in them. He governeth 29
Legions of Spirits, and his Seal is this, etc.
(43.) Sabnock.—The Forty-third Spirit, as King Solomon
commanded them into the Vessel of Brass, is called Sabnock, or
Savnok. He is a Marquis, Mighty, Great and Strong, appearing in the
Form of an Armed Soldier with a Lion’s Head, riding on a pale-
coloured horse. His office is to build high Towers, Castles and Cities,
and to furnish them with Armour, etc. Also he can afflict Men for
many days with Wounds and with Sores rotten and full of Worms. He
giveth Good Familiars at the request of the Exorcist. He
commandeth 50 Legions of Spirits; and his Seal is this, etc.
(44.) Shax.—The Forty-fourth Spirit is Shax, or Shaz (or Shass). He
is a Great Marquis and appeareth in the Form of a Stock-Dove,
speaking with a voice hoarse, but yet subtle. His Office is to take
away the Sight, Hearing, or Understanding of any Man or Woman at
the command of the Exorcist; and to steal money out of the houses
of Kings, and to carry it again in 1,200 years. If commanded he will
fetch Horses at the request of the Exorcist, or any other thing. But he
must first be commanded into a Triangle, △, or else he will deceive
him, and tell him many Lies. He can discover all things that are
Hidden, and not kept by Wicked Spirits. He giveth good Familiars,
sometimes. He governeth 30 Legions of Spirits, and his Seal is this,
etc.
(45.) Viné.—The Forty-fifth Spirit is Viné, or Vinea. He is a Great
King, and an Earl; and appeareth in the Form of a Lion,[22] riding
upon a Black Horse, and bearing a Viper in his hand. His Office is to
discover Things Hidden, Witches, Wizards, and Things Present,
Past, and to Come. He, at the command of the Exorcist will build
Towers, overthrow Great Stone Walls, and make the Waters rough
with Storms. He governeth 36 Legions of Spirits. And his Seal is this,
which wear thou, as aforesaid, etc.
(46.) Bifrons.—The Forty-sixth Spirit is called Bifrons, or Bifröus, or
Bifrovs. He is an Earl, and appeareth in the Form of a Monster; but
after a while, at the Command of the Exorcist, he putteth on the
shape of a Man. His Office is to make one knowing in Astrology,
Geometry, and other Arts and Sciences. He teacheth the Virtues of
Precious Stones and Woods. He changeth Dead Bodies, and putteth
them in another place; also he lighteth seeming Candles upon the
Graves of the Dead. He hath under his Command 6 Legions of
Spirits. His Seal is this, which he will own and submit unto, etc.
(47.) Uvall, Vual, or Voval.—The Forty-seventh Spirit is Uvall, or
Vual, or Voval. He is a Duke, Great, Mighty, and Strong; and
appeareth in the Form of a Mighty Dromedary at the first, but after a
while at the Command of the Exorcist he putteth on Human Shape,
and speaketh the Egyptian Tongue, but not perfectly.[23] His Office is
to procure the Love of Woman, and to tell Things Past, Present, and
to Come. He also procureth Friendship between Friends and Foes.
He was of the Order of Potestates or Powers. He governeth 37
Legions of Spirits, and his Seal is this, to be made and worn before
thee, etc.
(48.) Haagenti.—The Forty-eighth Spirit is Haagenti. He is a
President, appearing in the Form of a Mighty Bull with Gryphon’s
Wings. This is at first, but after, at the Command of the Exorcist he
putteth on Human Shape. His Office is to make Men wise, and to
instruct them in divers things; also to Transmute all Metals into Gold;
and to change Wine into Water, and Water into Wine. He governeth
33 Legions of Spirits, and his Seal is this, etc.
(49.) Crocell.—The Forty-ninth Spirit is Crocell, or Crokel. He
appeareth in the Form of an Angel. He is a Duke Great and Strong,
speaking something Mystically of Hidden Things. He teacheth the Art
of Geometry and the Liberal Sciences. He, at the Command of the
Exorcist, will produce Great Noises like the Rushings of many
Waters, although there be none. He warmeth Waters, and
discovereth Baths. He was of the Order of Potestates, or Powers,
before his fall, as he declared unto the King Solomon. He governeth
48 Legions of Spirits. His Seal is this, the which wear thou as
aforesaid.
(50.) Furcas.—The Fiftieth Spirit is Furcas. He is a Knight, and
appeareth in the Form of a Cruel Old Man with a long Beard and a
hoary Head, riding upon a pale-coloured Horse, with a Sharp
Weapon in his hand. His Office is to teach the Arts of Philosophy,
Astrology, Rhetoric, Logic, Cheiromancy, and Pyromancy, in all their
parts, and perfectly. He hath under his Power 20 Legions of Spirits.
His Seal, or Mark, is thus made, etc.
(51.) Balam.—The Fifty-first Spirit is Balam or Balaam. He is a
Terrible, Great, and Powerful King. He appeareth with three Heads:
the first is like that of a Bull; the second is like that of a Man; the third
is like that of a Ram. He hath the Tail of a Serpent, and Flaming
Eyes. He rideth upon a furious Bear, and carrieth a Boshawk upon
his Fist. He speaketh with a hoarse Voice, giving True Answers of
Things Past, Present, and to Come. He maketh men to go Invisible,
and also to be Witty. He governeth 40 Legions of Spirits. His Seal is
this, etc.
(52.) Alloces.—The Fifty-second Spirit is Alloces, or Alocas. He is a
Duke, Great, Mighty, and Strong, appearing in the Form of a
Soldier[24] riding upon a Great Horse. His Face is like that of a Lion,
very Red, and having Flaming Eyes. His Speech is hoarse and very
big.[25] His Office is to teach the Art of Astronomy, and all the Liberal
Sciences. He bringeth unto thee Good Familiars; also he ruleth over
36 Legions of Spirits. His Seal is this, which, etc.
(53.) Camio or Caim.—The Fifty-third Spirit is Camio, or Caim. He is
a Great President, and appeareth in the Form of the Bird called a
Thrush at first, but afterwards he putteth on the Shape of a Man
carrying in his Hand a Sharp Sword. He seemeth to answer in
Burning Ashes, or in Coals of Fire. He is a Good Disputer. His Office
is to give unto Men the Understanding of all Birds, Lowing of
Bullocks, Barking of Dogs, and other Creatures; and also of the
Voice of the Waters. He giveth True Answers of Things to Come. He
was of the Order of Angels, but now ruleth over 30 Legions of Spirits
Infernal. His Seal is this, which wear thou, etc.
(54.) Murmur, or Murmus.—The Fifty-fourth Spirit is called Murmur,
or Murmus, or Murmux. He is a Great Duke, and an Earl; and
appeareth in the Form of a Warrior riding upon a Gryphon, with a
Ducal Crown upon his Head. There do go before him those his
Ministers with great Trumpets sounding. His Office is to teach
Philosophy perfectly, and to constrain Souls Deceased to come
before the Exorcist to answer those questions which he may wish to
put to them, if desired. He was partly of the Order of Thrones, and
partly of that of Angels. He now ruleth 30 Legions of Spirits. And his
Seal is this, etc.
(55.) Orobas.—The Fifty-fifth Spirit is Orobas. He is a great and
Mighty Prince, appearing at first like a Horse; but after the command
of the Exorcist he putteth on the Image of a Man. His Office is to
discover all things Past, Present, and to Come; also to give Dignities,
and Prelacies, and the Favour of Friends and of Foes. He giveth
True Answers of Divinity, and of the Creation of the World. He is very
faithful unto the Exorcist, and will not suffer him to be tempted of any
Spirit. He governeth 20 Legions of Spirits. His Seal is this, etc.
(56.) Gremory, or Gamori.—The Fifty-sixth Spirit is Gremory, or
Gamori. He is a Duke Strong and Powerful, and appeareth in the
Form of a Beautiful Woman, with a Duchess’s Crown tied about her
waist, and riding on a Great Camel. His Office is to tell of all Things
Past, Present, and to Come; and of Treasures Hid, and what they lie
in; and to procure the Love of Women both Young and Old. He
governeth 26 Legions of Spirits, and his Seal is this, etc.
(57.) Osé, or Voso.—The Fifty-seventh Spirit is Oso, Osé, or Voso.
He is a Great President, and appeareth like a Leopard at the first,
but after a little time he putteth on the Shape of a Man. His Office is
to make one cunning in the Liberal Sciences, and to give True
Answers of Divine and Secret Things; also to change a Man into any
Shape that the Exorcist pleaseth, so that he that is so changed will
not think any other thing than that he is in verity that Creature or
Thing he is changed into. He governeth 30[26] Legions of Spirits, and
this is his Seal, etc.
(58.) Amy, or Avnas.—The Fifty-eighth Spirit is Amy, or Avnas. He is
a Great President, and appeareth at first in the Form of a Flaming
Fire; but after a while he putteth on the Shape of a Man. His office is
to make one Wonderful Knowing[27] in Astrology and all the Liberal
Sciences. He giveth Good Familiars, and can bewray Treasure that
is kept by Spirits. He governeth 36 Legions of Spirits, and his Seal is
this, etc.
(59.) Oriax, or Orias.—The Fifty-ninth Spirit is Oriax, or Orias. He is
a Great Marquis, and appeareth in the Form of a Lion,[28] riding upon
a Horse Mighty and Strong, with a Serpent’s Tail;[29] and he holdeth
in his Right Hand two Great Serpents hissing. His Office is to teach
the Virtues of the Stars, and to know the Mansions of the Planets,
and how to understand their Virtues. He also transformeth Men, and
he giveth Dignities, Prelacies, and Confirmation thereof; also Favour
with Friends and with Foes. He doth govern 30 Legions of Spirits;
and his Seal is this, etc.
(60.) Vapula, or Naphula.—The Sixtieth Spirit is Vapula, or
Naphula. He is a Duke Great, Mighty, and Strong; appearing in the
Form of a Lion with Gryphon’s Wings. His Office is to make Men
Knowing in all Handcrafts and Professions, also in Philosophy, and
other Sciences. He governeth 36 Legions of Spirits, and his Seal or
Character is thus made, and thou shalt wear it as aforesaid, etc.
(61.) Zagan.—The Sixty-first Spirit is Zagan. He is a Great King and
President, appearing at first in the Form of a Bull with Gryphon’s
Wings; but after a while he putteth on Human Shape. He maketh
Men Witty. He can turn Wine into Water, and Blood into Wine, also
Water into Wine. He can turn all Metals into Coin of the Dominion
that Metal is of. He can even make Fools wise. He governeth 33
Legions of Spirits, and his Seal is this, etc.
(62.) Volac, or Valak, or Valu, or Ualac.—The Sixty-second Spirit
is Volac, or Valak, or Valu. He is a President Mighty and Great, and
appeareth like a Child with Angel’s Wings, riding on a Two-headed
Dragon. His Office is to give True Answers of Hidden Treasures, and
to tell where Serpents may be seen. The which he will bring unto the
Exorciser without any Force or Strength being by him employed. He
governeth 38 Legions of Spirits, and his Seal is thus.
(63.) Andras.—The Sixty-third Spirit is Andras. He is a Great
Marquis, appearing in the Form of an Angel with a Head like a Black
Night Raven, riding upon a strong Black Wolf, and having a Sharp
and Bright Sword flourished aloft in his hand. His Office is to sow
Discords. If the Exorcist have not a care, he will slay both him and
his fellows. He governeth 30 Legions of Spirits, and this is his Seal,
etc.
(64.) Haures, or Hauras, or Havres, or Flauros.—The Sixty-
fourth Spirit is Haures, or Hauras, or Havres, or Flauros. He is a
Great Duke, and appeareth at first like a Leopard, Mighty, Terrible,
and Strong, but after a while, at the Command of the Exorcist, he
putteth on Human Shape with Eyes Flaming and Fiery, and a most
Terrible Countenance. He giveth True Answers of all things, Present,
Past, and to Come. But if he be not commanded into a Triangle, △,
he will Lie in all these Things, and deceive and beguile the Exorcist
in these things, or in such and such business. He will, lastly, talk of
the Creation of the World, and of Divinity, and of how he and other
Spirits fell. He destroyeth and burneth up those who be the Enemies
of the Exorcist should he so desire it; also he will not suffer him to be
tempted by any other Spirit or otherwise. He governeth 36 Legions of
Spirits, and his Seal is this, to be worn as a Lamen, etc.
(65.) Andrealphus.—The Sixty-fifth Spirit is Andrealphus. He is a
Mighty Marquis, appearing at first in the form of a Peacock, with
great Noises. But after a time he putteth on Human shape. He can
teach Geometry perfectly. He maketh Men very subtle therein; and in
all Things pertaining unto Mensuration or Astronomy. He can
transform a Man into the Likeness of a Bird. He governeth 30
Legions of Infernal Spirits, and his Seal is this, etc.
(66.) Cimejes, or Cimeies, or Kimaris.—The Sixty-sixth Spirit is
Cimejes, or Cimeies, or Kimaris. He is a Marquis, Mighty, Great,
Strong and Powerful, appearing like a Valiant Warrior riding upon a
goodly Black Horse. He ruleth over all Spirits in the parts of Africa.
His Office is to teach perfectly Grammar, Logic, Rhetoric, and to
discover things Lost or Hidden, and Treasures. He governeth 20
Legions of Infernals; and his Seal is this, etc.
(67.) Amdusias, or Amdukias.—The Sixty-seventh Spirit is
Amdusias, or Amdukias. He is a Duke Great and Strong, appearing
at first like a Unicorn, but at the request of the Exorcist he standeth
before him in Human Shape, causing Trumpets, and all manner of
Musical Instruments to be heard, but not soon or immediately. Also
he can cause Trees to bend and incline according to the Exorcist’s
Will. He giveth Excellent Familiars. He governeth 29 Legions of
Spirits. And his Seal is this, etc.
(68.) Belial.—The Sixty-eighth Spirit is Belial. He is a Mighty and a
Powerful King, and was created next after Lucifer. He appeareth in
the Form of Two Beautiful Angels sitting in a Chariot of Fire. He
speaketh with a Comely Voice, and declareth that he fell first from
among the worthier sort, that were before Michael, and other
Heavenly Angels. His Office is to distribute Presentations and
Senatorships, etc.; and to cause favour of Friends and of Foes. He
giveth excellent Familiars, and governeth 50 Legions of Spirits. Note
well that this King Belial must have Offerings, Sacrifices and Gifts
presented unto him by the Exorcist, or else he will not give True
Answers unto his Demands. But then he tarrieth not one hour in the
Truth, unless he be constrained by Divine Power. And his Seal is
this, which is to be worn as aforesaid, etc.
(69.) Decarabia.—The Sixty-ninth Spirit is Decarabia. He appeareth
in the Form of a Star in a Pentacle, at first; but after, at the command
of the Exorcist, he putteth on the image of a Man. His Office is to
discover the Virtues of Birds and Precious Stones, and to make the
Similitude of all kinds of Birds to fly before the Exorcist, singing and
drinking as natural Birds do. He governeth 30 Legions of Spirits,
being himself a Great Marquis. And this is his Seal, which is to be
worn, etc.
(70.) Seere, Sear, or Seir.—The Seventieth Spirit is Seere, Sear,
or Seir. He is a Mighty Prince, and Powerful, under Amaymon, King
of the East. He appeareth in the Form of a Beautiful Man, riding
upon a Winged Horse. His Office is to go and come; and to bring
abundance of things to pass on a sudden, and to carry or recarry
anything whither thou wouldest have it to go, or whence thou
wouldest have it from. He can pass over the whole Earth in the
twinkling of an Eye. He giveth a True relation of all sorts of Theft, and
of Treasure hid, and of many other things. He is of an indifferent
Good Nature, and is willing to do anything which the Exorcist
desireth. He governeth 26 Legions of Spirits. And this his Seal is to
be worn, etc.
(71.) Dantalion.—The Seventy-first Spirit is Dantalion. He is a Duke
Great and Mighty, appearing in the Form of a Man with many
Countenances, all Men’s and Women’s Faces; and he hath a Book
in his right hand. His Office is to teach all Arts and Sciences unto
any; and to declare the Secret Counsel of any one; for he knoweth
the Thoughts of all Men and Women, and can change them at his
Will. He can cause Love, and show the Similitude of any person, and
show the same by a Vision, let them be in what part of the World
they Will. He governeth 36 Legions of Spirits; and this is his Seal,
which wear thou, etc.
(72.) Andromalius.—The Seventy-second Spirit in Order is named
Andromalius. He is an Earl, Great and Mighty, appearing in the Form
of a Man holding a Great Serpent in his Hand. His Office is to bring
back both a Thief, and the Goods which be stolen; and to discover
all Wickedness, and Underhand Dealing; and to punish all Thieves
and other Wicked People and also to discover Treasures that be Hid.
He ruleth over 36 Legions of Spirits. His Seal is this, the which wear
thou as aforesaid, etc.
These be the 72 Mighty Kings and Princes which King Solomon
Commanded into a Vessel of Brass, together with their Legions. Of
whom Belial, Bileth, Asmoday, and Gaap, were Chief. And it is to
be noted that Solomon did this because of their pride, for he never
declared other reason why he thus bound them. And when he had
thus bound them up and sealed the Vessel, he by Divine Power did
chase them all into a deep Lake or Hole in Babylon. And they of
Babylon, wondering to see such a thing, they did then go wholly into
the Lake, to break the Vessel open, expecting to find great store of
Treasure therein. But when they had broken it open, out flew the
Chief Spirits immediately, with their Legions following them; and they
were all restored to their former places except Belial, who entered
into a certain Image, and thence gave answers unto those who did
offer Sacrifices unto him, and did worship the Image as their God,
etc.
 OBSERVATIONS.

First, thou shalt know and observe the Moon’s Age for thy working.
The best days be when the Moon Luna is 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, or 14
days old, as Solomon saith; and no other days be profitable. The
Seals of the 72 Kings are to be made in Metals. The Chief Kings’ in
Sol (Gold); Marquises’ in Luna (Silver); Dukes’ in Venus (Copper);
Prelacies’ in Jupiter (Tin); Knights’ in Saturn (Lead); Presidents’ in
Mercury (Mercury); Earls’ in Venus (Copper), and Luna (Silver), alike
equal, etc.
These 72 Kings be under the Power of Amaymon, Corson, Zimimay
or Ziminair, and Göap, who are the Four Great Kings ruling in the
Four Quarters, or Cardinal Points,[30] viz.: East, West, North, and
South, and are not to be called forth except it be upon Great
Occasions; but are to be Invocated and Commanded to send such or
such a Spirit that is under their Power and Rule, as is shown in the
following Invocations or Conjurations. And the Chief Kings may be
bound from 9 till 12 o’clock at Noon, and from 3 till Sunset;
Marquises may be bound from 3 in the afternoon till 9 at Night, and
from 9 at Night till Sunrise; Dukes may be bound from Sunrise till
Noonday in Clear Weather; Prelates may be bound any hour of the
Day; Knights may from Dawning of Day till Sunrise, or from 4 o’clock
till Sunset; Presidents may be bound any time, excepting Twilight, at
Night, unless the King whom they are under be Invocated; and
Counties or Earls any hour of the Day, so it be in Woods, or in any
other places whither men resort not, or where no noise is, etc.
 CLASSIFIED LIST OF THE 72 CHIEF SPIRITS OF
THE GOETIA, ACCORDING TO RESPECTIVE
RANK.

(Seal in Gold.) Kings.—(1.) Bael; (9.) Paimon; (13.) Beleth; (20.)

Purson; (32.) Asmoday; (45.) Viné; (51.) Balam; (61.) Zagan; (68.)
Belial.
(Seal in Copper.) Dukes.—(2.) Agares; (6.) Valefor; (8.) Barbatos;
(11.) Gusion; (15.) Eligos; (16.) Zepar; (18.) Bathim; (19.) Sallos;
(23.) Aim; (26.) Buné; (28.) Berith; (29.) Astaroth; (41.) Focalor; (42.)
Vepar; (47.) Vual; (49.) Crocell; (52.) Alloces; (54.) Murmur; (56.)
Gremory; (60.) Vapula; (64.) Haures; (67.) Amdusias; (71.)
Dantalion.
(Seal in Tin.) Princes and Prelates.—(3.) Vassago; (12.) Sitri;
(22.) Ipos; (33.) Gäap; (36.) Stolas; (55.) Orobas; (70.) Seere.
(Seal in Silver.) Marquises.—(4.) Samigina; (7.) Amon; (14.) Lerajé;
(24.) Naberius; (27.) Ronové; (30.) Forneus; (35.) Marchosias; (37.)
Phenex; (43.) Sabnock; (44.) Shax; (59.) Orias; (63.) Andras; (65.)
Andrealphus; (66.) Cimeies; (69.) Decarabia.
(Seal in Mercury.) Presidents.—(5.) Marbas; (10.) Buer; (17.) Botis;
(21.) Marax; (25.) Glasya-Labolas; (31.) Foras; (33.) Gäap; (39.)
Malphas; (48.) Häagenti; (53.) Caïm; (57.) Ose; (58.) Amy; (61.)
Zagan; (62.) Valac.
(Seal in Copper and Silver alike equal.) Earls, or Counts.—(17.)
Botis; (21.) Marax; (25.) Glasya-Labolas; (27.) Ronové; (34.) Furfur;
(38.) Halphas; (40.) Räum; (45.) Viné; (46.) Bifrons; (72.)
Andromalius.
(Seal in Lead.) Knights.—(50.) Furcas.
Note.—It will be remarked that several among the above Spirits
possess two titles of different ranks; e.g., (45.) Viné is both King and
Earl; (25.) Glasya-Labolas is both President and Earl, etc. “Prince”
and “Prelate” are apparently used as interchangeable terms.
Probably the Seals of Earls should be made of Iron, and those of
Presidents in mixture either of Copper and Silver, or of Silver and
Mercury; as otherwise the Metal of one Planet, Mars, is excluded
from the List; the Metals attributed to the Seven Planets being: to
Saturn, Lead; to Jupiter, Tin; to Mars, Iron; to the Sun, Gold; to
Venus, Copper; to Mercury, Mercury and mixtures of Metals, and to
Luna, Silver.
In a manuscript codex by Dr. Rudd, which is in the British Museum,
Hebrew names of these 72 Spirits are given; but it appears to me
that many are manifestly incorrect in orthography. The codex in
question, though beautifully written, also contains many other errors,
particularly in the Sigils. Such as they are, these names in the
Hebrew of Dr. Rudd are here shown. (See Figures 81 to 152
inclusive.)
 THE MAGICAL CIRCLE.

This is the Form of the Magical Circle of King Solomon, the which he
made that he might preserve himself therein from the malice of these
Evil Spirits. (See Frontispiece, Figure 153.) This Magical Circle is to
be made 9 feet across, and the Divine Names are to be written
around it, beginning at EHYEH, and ending at LEVANAH, Luna.
(Colours.—The space between the outer and inner circles, where the
serpent is coiled, with the Hebrew names written along his body, is
bright deep yellow. The square in the centre of the circle, where the
word “Master” is written, is filled in with red. All names and letters are
in black. In the Hexagrams the outer triangles where the letters A, D,
O, N, A, I, appear are filled in with bright yellow, the centres, where
the T-shaped crosses are, blue or green. In the Pentagrams outside
the circle, the outer triangles where “Te, tra, gram, ma, ton,” is
written, are filled in bright yellow, and the centres with the T crosses
written therein are red.[31])
 THE MAGICAL TRIANGLE OF SOLOMON.

This is the Form of the Magical Triangle, into the which Solomon did
command the Evil Spirits. It is to be made at 2 feet distance from the
Magical Circle and it is 3 feet across. (See Frontispiece Figure 154.)
Note that this triangle is to be placed toward that quarter whereunto
the Spirit belongeth. And the base of the triangle is to be nearest
unto the Circle, the apex pointing in the direction of the quarter of the
Spirit. Observe thou also the Moon in thy working, as aforesaid, etc.
Anaphaxeton is sometimes written Anepheneton.
(Colours.—Triangle outlined in black; name of Michael black on
white ground; the three Names without the triangle written in red;
circle in centre entirely filled in in dark green.)
 THE HEXAGRAM OF SOLOMON.

This is the Form of the Hexagram of Solomon, the figure whereof is

to be made on parchment of a calf’s skin, and worn at the skirt of thy
white vestment, and covered with a cloth of fine linen white and pure,
the which is to be shown unto the Spirits when they do appear, so
that they be compelled to take human shape upon them and be
obedient.
(Colours.—Circle, Hexagon, and T cross in centre outlined in black,
Maltese crosses black; the five exterior triangles of the Hexagram
where Te, tra, gram, ma, ton, is written, are filled in with bright
yellow; the T cross in centre is red, with the three little squares
therein in black. The lower exterior triangle, where the Sigil is drawn
in black, is left white. The words “Tetragrammaton” and “Tau” are in
black letters; and AGLA with Alpha and Omega in red letters.)
 THE PENTAGRAM OF SOLOMON.

This is the Form of Pentagram of Solomon, the figure whereof is to

be made in Sol or Luna (Gold or Silver), and worn upon thy breast;
having the Seal of the Spirit required upon the other side thereof. It is
to preserve thee from danger, and also to command the Spirits by.
(Colours.—Circle and pentagram outlined in black. Names and Sigils
within Pentagram black also. “Tetragrammaton” in red letters.
Ground of centre of Pentagram, where “Soluzen” is written, green.
External angles of Pentagram where “Abdia,” “Ballaton,” “Halliza,”
etc., are written, blue.)
 THE MAGIC RING OR DISC OF SOLOMON.

This is the Form of the Magic Ring, or rather Disc, of Solomon, the
figure whereof is to be made in gold or silver. It is to be held before
the face of the exorcist to preserve him from the stinking sulphurous
fumes and flaming breath of the Evil Spirits.
(Colour.—Bright yellow. Letters, black.)
 THE VESSEL OF BRASS.

This is the Form of the Vessel of Brass wherein King Solomon did
shut up the Evil Spirits, etc. (See Figures 158 and 159.) (Somewhat
different forms are given in the various codices. The seal in Figure
160 was made in brass to cover this vessel with at the top. This
history of the genii shut up in the brazen vessel by King Solomon
recalls the story of “The Fisherman and the Jinni” in “The Arabian
Nights.” In this tale, however, there was only one jinni shut up in a
vessel of yellow brass the which was covered at the top with a
leaden seal. This jinni tells the fisherman that his name is Sakhr, or
Sacar.)
(Colour.—Bronze. Letters.—Black on a red band.)