"SIR EDWARD COLEVILLE'S FRENCH HOUSE." [Preview available]

Episode summary:        

"On a wet afternoon in East London in the year 1981 workmen are clearing the basement rooms of a large Victorian Villa; the old house will become a private rest home for some affluent pensioners. But they discover two small skeletons in shallow graves and all work is halted whilst the local police investigate. Local stories and tales about the 'French House' particularly about its owner of a hundred years ago make Jericho travel back to the 188O's in search of lost souls."

 

Episode Warnings: 

Alcohol – Smoking - Strong language – Violence [including sexual assaults] – Very strong sexual references – Mild horror.

 

Author’s notes about this episode: 

[1] This episode contains STRONG SEXUAL REFERENCES, strong language and scenes of sexual assault.

[2] The original Title for this episode was: ‘THE FRENCH HOUSE.’

[3] A ‘Jericho Tibbs’ original story.

[4] Illustration is an original photograph of the house from the 1980 film ‘The Changeling’ which was found in the Public Domain with NO copyright details. If you know anything about this please contact the author via his website: https://stephenjohnwilliams.blogspot.com

 

Episode details:

Concept date: 3rd September 2018

First published: 19th July 2020

Status: COMPLETED & PUBLISHED.

Location: BOOK SERIES 4 – EPISODE 3.

Revisions: 7 [last revised November 2020]

Version: Final.

Published Episode No. 038

Previous episode: “After the last sunset.”

Next episode: “Black Sword.”

Age recommendation: 15+

Average reading time: Approx. 45 Minutes.

Angel-in-charge: Margret 

Team Assigned: Team 74

Human Time: 1981AD-1401AH 

Mission: 5 - 810222 - 9 - 1981 

Episode Preview:

 Doctor Ben Roberts was sweating - badly - because of the portable lights and the heat they generated in this small space. He stood up and stretched and began to scribble notes into his little red notebook. Inspector Thomas March sighed and wiped his face; he glanced at Sergeant Dave Soames and rolled his eyes in mock despair; "When you’re ready doc." He muttered and stared at the two newly exposed small skeletons. "Do I need to summon CID and forensics for this one?" He added, wiping his face again with his gaudy red hankie. 

The doctor looked around and almost smiled; "No Tom, these little bones have been in the ground for at least a hundred years. But i will confirm that with some tests, when they're at the morgue. I can see no signs of physical violence, but I'll know more when Lloyd James [the local pathologist] has taken a look." He snapped his note book shut and picked up his old leather bag that he always carried and headed for the ladder. "You can get them moved now." He added, and climbed up, into the relative cool of the kitchens above.

 The Inspector pushed a fresh stick of chewing gum into his mouth and tapped his sergeants arm; "Come on Dave, there's no mileage in this. Even if they were done in, there's certainly no suspects to arrest, everyone who actually knew who they were, are long dead; along with any killer. Let's get them moved." He gripped the ladder and ascended to the kitchens; the sergeant following closely behind. There were several other uniformed police officers in the spacious kitchen area and also several workmen from the builders, who were refurbishing the big old London villa called the 'French House'.

 Dave brushed some dust from his uniform jacket and told a nearby PC to inform the station; to contact the local morgue and get the bones moved there. "I can't see this getting the bloody royal wedding off the front pages." He spoke quietly to his old friend and colleague PC Paul Marshal, who nodded; "Yeah, that would take a bloody nuclear war or something similar."  They both chuckled and followed the Inspector out into the gardens. They gathered under a large oak tree, out of the persistent drizzle. Dave and Paul lit up cigarettes, whilst the Inspector wrote in his note book.

 They watched as Doctor Benjamin 'Ben' Roberts pulled away in his brand new Metro. Paul chuckled; "You know that Lady Di has one just like it. Not that she'll be doing much driving, once she marries Chas." Dave smoked slowly and nodded, He was glad to be out the cellars; something down there gave him the creeps and it wasn't just the two pathetic small skeletons, lying in the dirt. "You’re from around these parts, any strange and creepy tales about this place?" He asked Paul, who shrugged his shoulders and flicked his ash onto the wet grass.

 "Born just five streets away. My old gran could tell you about this place alright. But she passed away six years ago. Nan always said that the original owner; a certain Lord Coleville was a strange, eccentric young man. Rich as shit apparently. He had the house built to resemble a Paris Villa, but that's not why the local's called it the 'French House' - they knew fuck all about Paris Villa's or what they looked like; the house got the name because of the bloody house maids." Paul finished his cigarette and tossed the butt away.

 Dave was now intrigued and interested; "How do you mean, because of the house maids?" He asked, finishing his cigarette and stamping slowly on the butt. Paul smiled; "Apparently the rich young sod liked women. He paid his house maids a really good wage to dress like proper French maids. You know little black skirts, stockings and frilly pants. Rumour has it; they served his meals topless; an invitation to one of his dinner parties was really sought after!"

 Paul leaned against the big tree and smiled; "Apparently it was quite a scandal in its day. But the dirty sod had lots of powerful friends, even a couple of bloody government ministers came for dinners. Girls were always trying to get work there because he paid good wages. You imagine, if they worked sixty hours in a bloody east end sweatshop, they would earn about two quid. My Nan said girls were making twice that doing just a little housework and parading around in their outfits for him and his guests. There was no shortage of girls willing to do that kind of work for that sort of money."

 "Dirty lucky bastard." Muttered Dave and watched the black, private ambulance arrive at the gates; from the local undertakers. He stared back at the dark, brooding old house and thought about the two little skeletons, lying in the dirt, forgotten for over a hundred years, and now no one would give a toss about what had happened to them. He scratched his chin, well, maybe a local historian or reporter would be interested in their untold story.

 He would make a few telephone calls, when he got back to the nick. The two dour faced undertakers were walking up the path, carrying black holdalls. "Oh, it’s fucking Laurel and Hardy from old man's Shubert's corpse parlour." Paul muttered and straightened his jacket, putting his cap back on.

 "Show them where to go." Inspector March said to him and walked down the gravel path to his car. Dave slapped Paul on the back; "Leave it up to you then, mate." and followed his Inspector down the same path.

"That Inspector is a real strange character and no mistake about that." Paul muttered to himself. No bloody friends at the nick and kept his own counsel. Yep, a real strange one. Paul gestured to the two undertakers to follow him and stared up at the old house. His nan had always said that something sinister, something really evil went on in there and the authorities did nothing. Young Lord Coleville had really powerful friends and his family had money, power and position. Then, of course, there was the mystery of the vanishing lady in white and the dreadful death of Sir Edward's valet. Now that scandal did bring the fun and games, at the French House to an apparent stop. It was rumoured that Sir Edward had to flee the country, ending up France and apparently, dying just before the First World War; still in disgrace and exile.

"Pity my inept colleagues back there, hadn't discovered the little bodies then, the dirty bastard may have been brought to justice." He muttered to himself, showing the undertakers the neat hole made in the floor. The original entrance and stair case to the cellars had been closed up years ago. The Architect, designing the old people's home had decided on a new opening and placement of boilers in the cellars. That simple decision had revealed the tragedy of the bones, hidden away for years.

 He watched the pair descend down into the cellar and squatted down to watch. Suddenly he felt the hair go up on his neck and he actually shivered a little, as they were carefully placing the bones from each skeleton into a separate holdall. He stood up and took a deep breath, he had seen plenty of dead bodies - most a lot worse than this pair - so why the strange, uneasy feeling?

 The old workman standing next to him; filling his small pipe, smiled; "You felt it too?" He whispered and placed the unlit pipe in his mouth. Paul nodded and folded his arms. The old man gestured towards the ceiling. "Me and little 'arry were clearing up the bedrooms and we felt it there too. I would swear on my grand kid’s life, that I could hear people talking above us; up in the bloody attics. To be honest, it sounded like children. So we went up there and nobody was there, just dust and cobwebs. But 'arry found a sketch book behind the wall cabinet, when we pulled it down - rotten it was, the cabinet I mean - but you want to see the bloody sketches. Just tell 'arry I said so. Especially the one of the maid."

He turned and walked into the gardens; to enjoy his pipe. Paul soon found young Harry, sitting on a box in one of the big reception rooms. He told him what the old man had said; that he should have a look at the sketch book. Harry sighed and carefully pulled the faded A4 book from his lunch bag. Paul carefully and gently turned the pages; all young girls and women, mostly naked and posing on furniture. The unknown artist clearly had real talent. Then he saw the one with the French maid, standing by a dinner table, holding a small tray of drinks in one hand. She was topless and almost smiling. She was really beautiful. Paul imagined that the woman must have been quite a stunner in her day.

Harry smiled; "Bet you’re looking at the tart in the maids outfit. I would love to have been there, when the lucky artist drew that. She was a fucking cracker." He carefully took the fragile book and placed it back into his bag, adding; "I'm going to photocopy that one and then see; if any antique shop wants the book. The drawings are real good; they must be worth a few quid."

Paul nodded; the sketch of the maid had been dated July 29th 1881. That made him smile; that's exactly a hundred years ago to the day, to the forthcoming royal wedding. He made his way back downstairs and watched the undertaker's van leave. He would head back to the nick; for a very welcome cup of tea.

End of preview.

"SIR EDWARD COLEVILLE'S FRENCH HOUSE"CONTINUES IN 'TEMPORAL DETECTIVES' BOOK SERIES 4 [EPISODE 3.]

"ALEXANDRA: THE RELUCTANT FRENCH MAID." 

Remember! The "ALEXANDRA" series is rated 18+ Adults ONLY.

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER

“All incidents and dialogue, and all characters with the exception of some well-known historical figures, are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Where real-life historical figures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning those persons are entirely fictional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the entirely fictional nature of the work. In all other respects, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.” 

CAUTION:

“SOME OF THESE EPISODES CONTAIN VERY STRONG LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, HORROR AND SEXUAL REFERENCES. Some are RECOMMENDED suitable for persons aged 15+ years only.”

THE AUTHOR.

Copyright © 2011-2025 Stephen Williams. No reproduction of any part without permission.