Basham by Robert F. Clifton (types of ebook readers .TXT) 📕

Chapter One

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Basham

by

Robert F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Basham by Robert F. Clifton

Copyright 2015

All rights reserved. No part of this book

may be reproduced in any form or by any

means without written permission from

the author.

 

 

 

 

The reader is advised that this is a work of

fiction. Any similarity to persons, places and/or events is

purely coincidental. R. F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At four pm on Saturday, September 7, 1940the first of three hundred and forty six Luftwaffe HE 1700 bombers appeared in the sky over London, England. This

attack lasted until six pm. The second attack came at eight pm

and lasted until four thirty the next morning. That night a

one thousand pound bomb intended to hit the docks in north, London missed the target and instead struck Haven Manor, a mental hospital.

Several patients and staff members will killed.

Many of the missing were thought to have been vaporized in the explosion. In the red-orange and yellow glow given off by the burning flames one person walked out of the piles of destroyed

brick and lumber. After it did it moved across the road and

entered the woods.

A month later the Metropolitan Police were forced to investigate the murders of elderly women. Later, with

no success the police reluctantly call upon a renown criminologist, Alistair Basham.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Table Of Contents

 

Chapter One.....The Blitz

Chapter Two.....Birkbeck

Chapter Three..Volunteers

Chapter Four....Criminology One Zero One

Chapter Five....The Librarian

Chapter Six......Profile

Chapter Seven...The Flat

Chapter Eight..A Real Looker

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Credits: Sociology.................Wikipedia

The Historical Development of Criminology-Journal Of Criminal Law & Criminology- Clarence Jeffrey summer 1959

Female Face....Vector Art

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

The Blitz

 

Alistair Basham sat at his desk in his study. Using a magnifying glass he examined the fine print of a potential insurance policy he was considering purchasing from Lloyds Of London. “Bloody bastards hide all the things in their favor in the fine print, should anyone need to make a claim”, he thought to himself. His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of the air raid sirens blaring over and over attempting to reach and warn the residents of Harrow, a borough of London. “What now?”, he said aloud annoyed by being interrupted by the continuing cacophony of the alarm.

“Is it an air raid or just a drill?”, asked Marjorie Helms the housekeeper as she entered the study nervously wringing the hem of her apron.

“Who in bloody hell knows? Look at the time. Ten past four. The damn Huns are coming now at tea time. Barbaric bastards! I suggest that we make our way to the cellar just in case this is not a drill. I assume that tea is ready?”, he asked.

“Yes professor.”

“Good, now get along. I'll bring the tray with the pot, cups and biscuits. I'll not let the Luftwaffe do away with my tea time.

“Do you think that the Germans will actually bomb

London?”, asked Mrs. Helms as she descended the steps that led to the cellar.

“I'm afraid so Mrs. Helms. It happened in the last war. The government has been expecting it to happen sooner or later. Well, now it's happening”, he said as they walked down the steps.”Take a seat in that upholstered chair and just relax. We'll be safe here.”

“Oh. I couldn't sir. That use to be one of your favorite chairs. I remember when you purchased it.'

“Woman, will you do what I ask? Sit in the damn chair. I intend to sit here on this high back wooden chair. That way I can balance the tray and drink my tea in comfort. Now, after you sit, hold out your cup and I'll pour.”

“Oh, thank you professor. I don't mean to upset you sir.”

“No matter. You are just stressed by those confounded, blaring sirens. However, the truth is it's much better than the sounds of exploding bombs.”

Marjorie Helm, a graying, slightly portly woman in her mid fifties and a widow had to set her cup of tea on the floor due to her shaking hands. From her seat in the cellar she heard what sounded like thunder as the anti-aircraft guns began firing at the German bombers. “Sounds like our lads are answering back and it's about time, I say”, said Alistair.

Marjorie attempted to smile but the fear she was experiencing kept her from doing so. Basham watched her. Marjorie Helm had been his live in house keeper for the last five years and during that time they had come to know each other very well. She knew what meals he liked and what clothes he preferred to wear on certain days. At the same time Alistair knew that her daily duties ended after she did the dishes following the evening meal. She was also off from Saturday afternoons and all day Sunday. She was a dedicated Episcopalian. When not attending to him or the house she enjoyed listening to the BBC on the radio in her room. Other times she liked to go to the picture shows or to read.

The only thing he objected to was that she constantly referred to him as,”Professor”. True, he was a member of the faculty at London University but lacked the doctorate degree required for a full professorship. Instead, with a masters degree in sociology he lectured from time to time on the subject of criminology and its purpose in society. From a meager salary from the university, combined with lecture fees from other colleges and universities he was able to keep a modest home even to the point of having a full time house keeper. In addition he received royalties from two books of his that had been published.

Basham was born in Nottingham shire on July 15, 1882.

Now, at age fifty eight he was set in his ways, a bachelor, but content. As an only child born to a physician father and a doting mother his need for a proper education was constantly emphasized. His father wanted Alistair to follow in his footsteps and study medicine. His mother hoped that her son would join the clergy. However when it came time to attend university, Alistair Basham in the year 1900 chose Birkbeck University in London. He chose psychology as his field of study. At the same time it also created a chance to be away from his family. Alistair wanted to be on his own. At the age of twenty four he was called up for service at the outbreak of World War One. He was rejected due to poor eye sight. Nonetheless, in the year 1916 the British needing manpower on the Western front called for re-examinations of those previously rejected. This time the army decided that Alistair and those like him could load or unload lorries or be stretcher bearers. It was while performing that duty at the battle of the Somme that a piece of German shrapnel pierced the right hip of Private Alistair Basham, leaving him with a constant, noticeable limp. Basham was sent back to a hospital just outside of London to recuperate. While there the German Zeppelin Raids had begun. He lay in his hospital bed and listened to the anti-aircraft guns firing in the distance and the different sound of exploding aerial bombs that fell from the night sky. Now, years later he and the people of England were going through air raids again. This time however, strategic bombers with bomb sights had replaced the Zeppelins and

replaced hap hazard ways of dropping explosives.

When deep in thought Alistair had a habit of stroking the hairs of his goatee, added facial hair to compensate for his increasing balding head. He stroked his chin as the sounds of explosions continued, some even seemed to be closer. “Blast it all to hell. In the haste to get down here in the cellar I managed to forget my walking stick,” he said.

“I'll go and fetch it professor”, said Marjorie Helm.

“You'll do no such thing. You stay here. I'll get it myself,”

Basham replied as he got up off of the wooden chair and made his way to the cellar steps. He had to take his time. Years of living a sedentary life style had cause him to create a pot belly. At the same time the muscles in his legs had weaken adding to the discomfort of his hip wound. Still, at five feet nine inches tall and weighing twelve stone in his opinion he was fit. True, there was gray at his temples and he walked with a cane, but he had been doing that ever since the Battle of the Somme. Besides, one doesn't study or do research standing up all of the time. He recalled those days of study.

Returning to university in 1919 Alistair changed his course of study from physiology to sociology. Knowing that sociology was the study of the behavior of society and seeing the aftermath of war he had a strong desire at the time to study and learn the origins, development, organizations and institutions of society. Basically he wanted to understand why men fought and killed each other on the battle fields of Belgium and France. As a result he learned that the dynamics of war, conflict, resolution, peace movements were in actuality what is referred to as Military Sociology.

As he delved deeper into the subject of sociology his studies then included criminology. At first he considered the subject a required topic of study. However, the more he read he made and developed his own ideas and opinions. He finally admitted that criminology would be his field of endeavor.

Finally, he received his masters degree. Hopefully, in time, he would receive his doctorate degree and a position on the faculty of a university. For that doctorate degree he wrote two books for his thesis, “Crime and Punishment In The British Empire” and later “Crime And Punishment During The American Revolution”.Although published, neither book was accepted for his desired degree. Instead he was offered a position as adjunct professor at London University. The post provided two things, a living wage and the ability to continue in his chosen field.

Entering the parlor he suddenly became aware of the quiet. The sirens had stopped as did the explosions of bombs and the firing anti aircraft guns. He stood, not moving, wanting to be sure. Then, he heard one of the air raid wardens in the street yelling, “All clear! All clear!”.

Alistair walked back to the cellar door and speaking loudly said, “Marjorie, you can come up now. The raid is over”.

When Marjorie Helm reached to parlor floor she said,

“Supper will be a little late professor. I still have to prepare the potatoes. I was doing that when the Germans came.”

“No problem Marjorie. May I ask what you are making?

He asked.

“Shepherds pie”.

“Quite nice,” he replied.

“Well you better enjoy it while you can. No one knows what we'll be able to purchase now with rationing. The butcher shops will only give eight ounces of bacon with the ration card.”

“I have complete faith and trust in your judgment Marjorie.”

At five minutes to eight that evening Marjorie Helm and Alistair Basham sat down at the table ready to eat the evening meal. At exactly eight pm the air raid sirens in Harrow began to wail again. Alistair saw Marjorie began to tremble. “Get hold of yourself woman”, he said as he got up from the table and walked to the front windows of his home. He stood for a moment. Then, the lights went out as the power company shut down because of the bombing attack. As he stood he looked out through the window pane and turned his head paying attention to the search lights illuminating the sky over London. Then he heard the sound of exploding bombs. He slowly closed the black drapes that covered the windows. He turned to see Marjorie lighting candles. “Come sit down and eat Professor, before your supper gets cold”, she said.

After dinner they made there way to the cellar again. Alistair led the way holding and using a torch (flashlight). Once in the basement they took