2.
Red Ridge out to the edge of Devonshire is a small village by the seaside fronting the Bristol Channel. The county was named from Dumnonia, home to the Dumnonii Brittonic Celts. The county was once part of the Kingdom of Wessex and in 936 became a part of the Kingdom of England. Red Ridge was on the north with the scenic cliffs and sandy shores and inlets or bays which housed some of the seaside resorts. Unlike those, Red Ridge was to be a part of that and remained a lonely seaside village. It was hidden from the main population by its hilly range and the bays held more wild life than settlers.
“I loved the sea breeze.” Sherlock beamed his joy towards the moody Doctor who was still covered in the double shawls and thick coat. They have traveled with the Inspector in what may be described as a ‘paddy wagon’; the converted wagon with the square wooden enclosure in the rear with the barred window at the rear door. The wagon was drawn by two horses driven by the single driver. The wagon they had made do was the better choice to the bicycle favour by the local ‘bobbies’.
“I do hope we have better tidings after this.” Watson having stepped off the wagon was shuffling his legs to get the numbness off.
“The paddy wagon; named after the authorities felt its residence riders were mostly the Irish drunks may be more comfortable than the medical wagon you had at the Frontier.” Sherlock remarked to the Doctor. “I…”
“Discriminatory words, my dear Holmes.” Watson reminded the sleuth. “We shall not bear upon them with such remarks when we ourselves have faults as well.”
“True words, my dear Watson. I don’t know what overcame me there.” Sherlock looked to the village that was laid before him then. It was not really a fishing alcove for the sea was a distance away, while the village looked more like one that you may had seen passing in the ride on the countryside. There was the tavern; two to be exact, three grocers, two butchers and two bakers, with a few others that are lined up on the single street that ran across the village. A church could be seen at the other end with its pointed top facing the sea. There appeared to be a school next to the Church; Roman Catholic by design but it may house only the younger students.
“The number is about five hundred in population here and another hundred or so in the farms.” Lestrade voiced out. “The fishing port is a mile away and held a smaller community with some boats plying the channel.”
“Where is the station?’ Sherlock asked.
“It’s by the fishing port. They moved up here some centuries ago due to the bad weather then but the station remained there. An old army embarkment which they re-build into the station. There is an Inspector and his three bobbies to assist him.” Lestrade replied. They then saw the elderly gentleman approaching them. He was dressed in the thick suit with the inner vest and thick overcoat.
“Matt Brady, Village Head.” The gentleman was a shorter man with the fine cut from the countryside living and long walks. “May I know whom I am to speak to?”
“Pardon me, Mr Brady. This is Sherlock Holmes, and Doctor Watson from London.” Lestrade made the introductory. “They are here to…”
“To take a holiday from the London fog. I have to admit the air is already making my breathing less laborious.” Sherlock snapped in. “Doctor Watson was kind to drag me here, and I am a true believer to it now.”
“Welcome, Sirs. I am afraid besides our fresh air, we have little to offer.” The Village Head looked to Lestrade then. “Inspector, if I may. Could we speak in private?”
Lestrade excused himself and left the duo there. Watson stepped up to Sherlock but the later was already moving towards the village. The Doctor lengthens his stride to catch up. The sleuth popped into the tavern. It was named the Red Mane. The sleuth expression was of amusement; he once had a case at Sussex where he was on holiday; the rare ones where he took the rare holiday. He discovered the murderer in the case was a Lion’s Mane Jellyfish; an encounter could cause pain and localized redness. He solved the case then.
“Red Mane? Truly a coincidence.” Sherlock walked in and saw the place was no different from the many others; the long bar, the rolls of liquor and the line up of mugs. There were the tables with the chairs and there was the huge fish hung there as the trophy of the place. There was the staircase leading to the next level and next to it was the doorway to the kitchen. He could smell the mutton cooked there. The doctor was not with him and probably whisked himself to another place of interest.
“You want a drink, guvnor.” Sherlock saw the invite by the bartender. He approached the long bar and ordered the drink.
“Quiet day, sir.” Sherlock held the drink he ordered. “Do…”
“We don’t have many outsiders. Here in the town, we relied on the locals.” The bartender replied curtly. “Pardon my manners but this is how I speak here.”
“Mannerism? I am impressed. I had seen worse in the city. In some places, they are only tolerant of you if you hold enough coins for the next drink or its street you will be tossed out.”
The bartender ignored Sherlock and proceeded with his tending of the glasses. The sleuth took in the scene there; the place was then taken up by two figures who sat at the tables and the bartender served them their drinks.
“Regulars?” Sherlock asked of the bartender. It was then he observed the bartender was huge with broad-shoulders frame. The man was bald headed and heavily tattooed on the arms. It was the design of some huge fish with the eyes marked in red.
“Yea, fishermen and they just came in from the sea.” The bartender replied before going back to the glasses. Sherlock looked at the two men that were dressed in the casual jacket and shirt beneath with the waist-high pants and Wellington Boots. He saw they were also heavily tattooed too. He saw them glaring at him for looking and then shifted his sight towards the wall. He saw the few frames thereof the village and there were some of the fishermen. He looked them over and then stepped out to the cold air outside.
“Holmes, I was with Mr. Brady on the case. He was to show us the place where the guy went missing.” Watson approached Sherlock with Inspector Lestrade standing behind with the Village Head.
“Yes, let us go there. It’s a lovely day to walk.” Sherlock took a glance of the shops and then walked towards the Inspector. He then reached out for Mr. Brady.
“Have we met?”
“Yes, just now but you rushed off into the tavern.” Mr. Brady smiled at Sherlock. He was a wiry tall figure in the similar dressing as the other two men. When shaking the hands, Sherlock noticed the other had also a number of tattoos on the arms and the designs were of the fishes with the red shade for the eyes.
“It’s a short walk there, gentlemen.” Mr. Brady explained and then took the pace there. Sherlock saw then the villagers have joined in to see them. He counted a dozen of them and all were dressed in similar casual clothes. Another observation of his was the shade red was well displayed on the roofing and parts of the walls.
“Uniforms perhaps.” Sherlock muttered to himself. “Red by itself.”
“Pardon me, Holmes. Did you say something?” Watson asked.
“No, it must be the wind. They do carry voices.” Sherlock smiled and then took his dandy strides to catch up with Mr. Brady. They were followed by Watson and then Inspector Lestrade at the flank.
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