Hello listeners, and welcome to Underwood and Flinch Season five, Episode ten,
Saga episode ninety four, which is to say, perhaps obviously, that this
is the ninety fourth episode in the saga as a whole, you know,
the ninety fourth official season episode, So it doesn't include bonus episodes or the
odd short story here and there. It's just the season episodes. I'm going
to include the saga episode number at the start of every Underwooden Flinch podcast from
now on, so that when we get to the one hundredth episode, we
can all, I don't know, have a party sort of, you know,
we can wear hats and plastic fangs. I don't know. I mean,
I've got no idea how we might do that. In fact, it's
probably a completely stupid idea, because I can't imagine for a moment that you
would do something like that. I know I certainly wouldn't if I was listen
to a podcast. But maybe there is something we can do, you know,
something practical. I don't know what. You'd probably be a better person
to ask than me, because you probably listen to more sort of podcasts like
this than I do. So what do other people do? You know?
When they want to celebrate something. If you could let me know, I'd
be grateful. I kind of fell off the speeding train of podcast technology in
about two thousand and eight. The last development I became aware of was streaming.
So yeah, old fool anyway, that's that. So yeah, do
let me know if you can think of something that we might do. You
can leave a comment either at Spotify or Facebook, Instagram threads, you know
those sort of things, and I will read your ideas out on the show
and maybe eventually we could do a poll or something to decide. I don't
know. Just just let me know if you've got some good ideas, because
I've got none. Okay, So that said, then let's move on and
get to our story. I'll shut up now and hand over to my twenty
eighteen self for the recap. Over to you, younger, Mike. Oh
good, look at you there, you youngster. Where are we and what's
going on in our tale? This episode carries on straight after the last one.
Remember Underwood and Finch decided to go to speak to Ronnie Bishop about Collridge
and his highly suspected involvement with the Vampire Slag Occult Crimes Unit of Scotland yard.
Well, that's where we begin. This the fortieth episode of Underwood and
Finch Underground. Let's sit back, dim the lights of your mental theater,
and let the curtain rise on Underwood and Flinch Season five in Tanner Bress.
Written and performed for podcast by Mike Bennett. This podcast is intended for an
adult audience. Listener discretion is advised. Episode ten Ronnie Bishop lived in a
small nineteen seventies apartment block hemmed in left and right by horse chestnut trees.
There was a parking space directly in front of the block, and Elizabeth deftly
slotted her car into it. Underwood and Flinch got out, chatting quietly about
how they were going to proceed. Neither of them expected Elizabeth to get out
too. She met Underwood's surprised expression with a pleasant smile. Underwood closed his
door with the minimum of noise. That'll be all for now, Elizabeth.
You could just wait for us here, my lord, if it's not too
much to ask, may I come along too? It's just that what you're
going to do to this man to fascinate him, well, I've never seen
such a thing. I've heard about it, read about it, but never
actually witnessed it first hand. Oh. Underwood smiled, and David could see
that he was flattered by her interest in his abilities. Well, it's sir,
it's all right by me. Chap'll be under before he even knows you're
there. He turned to David. I take it, you've no objections.
Flinch. David shrugged. It was starting to feel like a group outing,
but he didn't doubt Underwood would have Ronnie under his spell before the journalist could
object. Sure, why not. A straight concrete path led up to the
front door, flanked on both sides by neatly mown rectangles of lawn. Underwood
held out a hand for David to lead the way after you flinch, since
you're the one doing the talking. At the door, the names or flat
numbers of the tenants were listed on an electronic entry system. David checked Ronnie's
door number with Elizabeth before he pressed the appropriate buzzer. They waited. There
was no reply. David frowned and looked at Underwood, who nodded for him
to do it again. He did so, though again there was no response
to Elizabeth. Underwood whispered, it was definitely number six, absolutely, said
Elizabeth. That's what I heard, didn't you? I thought so? Yes,
Maybe he's gone to the loo, said David, pressing the buzzer a
third time. Underwood looked up at the windows of the building. They were
all dark but for one on the third top floor, where a light burned
behind heavy curtains. That must be his flat there, he murmured. So
he's still up, said David, unless he's fallen asleep on the job.
Laddy's his eyes still on the window. Underwood shook his head. The door
bell would have awoken him. What can ring him again? David took out
Kendall's phone. Now something queer as afoot. Underwood went to the front door
and pushed it, feeling for points of resistance. Then he took the door
handle in one hand and placed the flat of his other against the door where
he had felt the lock bite. We'll let ourselves in. He pushed the
door hard. There was a muffled crack as the wood split on the other
side, but Underwood's grip on the handle prevented the door from flying open and
crashing into whatever was on the other side. He turned to Elizabeth and smiled,
who needs a key? Eh? David suppressed an eye roll o k
said, Underwood, follow me and don't make a sound. He was about
to enter when he saw Elizabeth reach into her bag and take out a small
automatic pistol. I hardly think that'll be necessary. I'm sure you're right,
my lord, but it won't hurt to have it handy just in case.
Very well, but keep the safety on and don't use it unless I expressly
tell you to. Yes, my lord. They went inside the hallway,
who was short and wide. Two apartment doors faced each other. At the
far end, on either side of a lift. To the right of the
front door was a staircase, and Underwood started up it. As they ascended,
David could hear the vampire sniffing the air. He did the same,
but all he could detect was the lingering ghost of a curry. The top
floor was the same layout as the ground floor, with two apartment doors on
either side of the lift. One of the doors had a thin strip of
light shining beneath and in the gloom, David made out a black number six
on the door. Underwood pressed his ear to the door and listened. After
a moment, his nostrils flared and he frowned. He moved his nose close
to the edge of the door and sniffed. Damn. He hissed, what
is it? Whispered David blood Blood. Underwood took the door handle and pushed
it as he had the front door of the building. Again came the sound
of wood splintering on the other side. Underwood held the door firm, controlling
its impetus, and then opened it slowly. Inside was a short haul.
The last door on the right was opened wide and the light was on.
Underwood stepped cautiously inside, and David and Elizabeth followed. Then Underwood whispered to
David call to him, keeping his voice down but loud enough to be heard.
David called Ronnie. Silence, Then the whisper of the front door brushing
over the carpet. As Elizabeth eased the door closed behind her, David looked
underward, his eyes wide and questioning. Underwood raised a finger to his lips
and whispered, we may not be alone, but your friend is almost certainly
dead. Dead. David whispered, but Underwood held up a hand to silence
him. He's in the room ahead there. The killer could still be here,
though I can't smell him, Elizabeth. He turned to her and held
out his hand. Your gun, please. Elizabeth handed the gun to him,
and he flicked off the safety. He raised it before him and stepped
into the doorway of the room. On seeing no one, he went inside.
A moment later he called back, it's okay, you can come in.
David followed, but stopped in the doorway at the sight that greeted him.
Jesus Ronnie against the wall, the body of Ronnie Bishop sat at a
dining table. He was slumped with his chin on his chest and his arms
dangling at his sides. Blood still dripped from his fingertips onto the huge,
dark and glistening stain on the carpet. David ran forward to help, but
Underwood stepped between him and the body. Don't flinch. This is a crime
scene. The last thing we want is you tramping your size nines into that
pool of blood. But he's dead as a doornail. How do you know
he could still? He's not you think after three hundred years of blood letting
on a nightly basis, I don't have a corpse when I see one.
But David looked at Ronnie at the deep slashes scored vertically into the flesh on
his wrists and the slow drip of blood. That spoke of a heart that
has beaten its last. And he knew Underwood was right. There was a
small kitchen knife beneath his chair. He did this to himself. But you
said the killer, the killer could still be here. He is not.
But it looks like suicide. Yes, well, it's supposed to oldest trick
and vampire's book Vampires. What you think a vampire did this? I'd bet
my bottom dollar on it. How do you know? And this is a
common cover up for a vampire who's had a drop to drink flinch. I
do it myself all the time. Only a damn sight better than this.
And then, of course you can add to that the matter of the window.
Window. David looked at the window. The curtains undulated gently with the
night breeze. What about it? It's open, remember when we looked at
it from outside? Shit, it was shut. Underwood went to the window
and moved the curtain aside. We very likely disturbed him in the act.
He heard us down at the door, waited till we were inside, and
then made his escape. While we were coming up here, he hunkered down,
checking the window frame and carpet for signs of ash. There were none.
Okay, what that's one theory, but what about a post? But
it is human and he's still here. I'll check, said Elizabeth, by
all means, said Underwood. He handed her the gun. You won't need
it, I assure you. But still look around and see if you can
find any clues, and try not to touch anything. Elizabeth went out,
and David said, how can you be so sure he's gone? I would
have smelt his fear when we came inside. It comes out in the sweat,
don't you know? Maybe he wasn't afraid. It'd have to have been
a very cool fish to murder someone like this and not break a sweat,
knowing the three of us were coming upstairs, or maybe he was. Underwood
sighed, flinch. It may come as a shock to you, careful bather,
as you generally are, but I can smell you. I can smell
Elizabeth too. Unsettled by this news, David put a nose to his armpit
and sniffed. He smelt better, but it wasn't what he would call b
oh. Underwood grew, I'm not talking about your current with or your choice
of the odorant. I mean your own personal scent. Everyone has one.
I a sniff you out of a dozen people, even if I were blindfolded.
Oh is that a good thing? It must be kind of smelly for
you. Oh, you get used to it. Most of the time,
my senses filter it out, just as your ears filter out on important sounds
around you. But whenever I'm hunting or like to night trying to detect if
someone's hiding near by, it comes in very handy. And that is how
I know for a fact that our bird has flown as if on cue.
Elizabeth entered and announced nothing. He lived alone. No one else here there,
you see, said Underwood. David shrugged and folded his arms to close
off his armpits. Changing the subject, he turned to Ronnie Christ, poor
bastard. Remember earlier on the phone when we heard the doorbell. There must
have been the killer. We heard him arrive. And what was that fifteen
minutes ago twenty at most, said Elizabeth. That'll be where he killed him
here and not in the bath tub. Does that matter me, lord,
asked Elizabeth, from the point of view of creating a credible suicide scene.
Yes, Usually when people cut their wrists, they tend to do it in
a bath of hot water. It helps to numb the pain. My guess
is that the killer heard Ronnie talking to Flinch on the phone through the door,
so when he came in and put him under his spell, he asked
who it was he'd been speaking to. Ronnie told him said he was expecting
Flinch. And so the killer worked fast, no time for baths or suicide
note, just got straight to it, and then we arrived, not one
person, but three, too many to handle quietly. He waited till we
were in inside the building and then took flight from the window. Must have
transformed outside, as there's no ash in here. But why not just do
it in the bathroom? Then it's only ever there. It's actually nearer to
the front door. He was after his laptop, said David. He pointed
at the table in front of Ronnie, where a power cable, a computer
mouse, and a us B lead lay uncoupled around an empty space the size
of a laptop computer. Beneath the power lead was a book and an empty
whiskey tumbler. Ronnie was working on a laptop, but it's been taken the
story he was writing, said Elizabeth. The killer obviously didn't want it found.
David nodded. Yeah, and maybe it a pictures too, see the
us B lead. Maybe that was connected to his camera. Did he use
a camera? Some journalists just use their blackberries? BlackBerry, David almost laughed.
Ronnie wasn't that guarded journalist. It was old school, a notebook and
camera kind of guy. I'm sorry, but you've completely lost me, said
Underwood, USB's blackberries. I know the world has come on a great deal
in the last fifty years, but really, I can't believe people are using
small fruit to take photographs. Oh sorry, my lord. A BlackBerry is
a combination phone and a personal computer, said Elizabeth, Similar to your iPhone.
But most journalists choose them I see. But not this fellow, you
say Flynch. No, my Lord, Ronnie would almost certainly have used the
camera, a digital camera if he was going to email the pictures into the
paper tonight, digital meaning not film like in the phones. Yeah. Well,
then we'll need to check the body. Even though it's almost certain that
the killer's pinched it, we can't take a chance that it might still be
in his pocket. But my lord, said Elizabeth, how can we search
the body and not leave footprints in the blood and then everywhere else. I've
got an idea, said David. There were two cushions on the sofa.
He picked them up and tossed them down onto the blood sopping carpet between him
and Ronnie stepping stones. No footprints, Well done, flinch. Be sure
to pull your sleeves down over your hands before you touch him or anything else.
There's a good fellow. David stepped across the cushions to Ronnie's side.
The late journalist's jacket was draped over the back of his chair. David patted
down Ronnie's trouser pockets and jacket, but the only bulky shape he encountered was
a pen. He shook his head. No, nothing, what's the book
on the table, said Underwood. David looked and saw it was an Athera's
Z of London. It lay face down the map of the London Underground on
the back facing up. It's just an AT's Z. What's that? It's
a book of maps of London, the whole city. Then, amidst the
matrix of colored lines that made up the map, David noticed a bloody mark.
There was so much blood spattered around the area that he almost didn't notice
it. But there was nothing accidental about the mark. It wasn't random spatter,
it was deliberate. Wait a minute, he leaned over for a closer
look. It was a fingerprint. It smudged downwards to the edge of the
book, as though Ronnie's finger had slipped away from it as the life ebbed
out of him. What is it? Asked Underwood. I don't know,
but I think he might have left me a message, a note. No,
no, just I think he was pointing something out, something on the
map. What what I can't see in this lighter. I'll have to move
it. Well, move it then bring it here. We'll take it with
us. David picked up the book and retraced his steps back across the cushions
to dry carpet. Once clear, he flipped them over with his toes so
the surfaces he had trodden on would become sodden. Then, with Underwood and
Elizabeth, he stood directly beneath the ceiling light. The bloody fingerprint was on
Hoban's station, Oben said, David said it. Elizabeth took the book and
inspected it. Interesting, it's an old edition. It's almost yellow with age,
so that sounds just like Ronnie. He didn't strike me as a kind
of guy to buy a new one of anything if the old one still worked,
but not at a Z guide. Surely the city changes. David shrugged.
Ronnie knew his way around, he probably didn't even need anate, and
said, I imagine this was the first and last one he ever bought.
Elizabeth looked again at the bloody mark on the map and noticed the edges had
coagulated thicker and darker, obscuring what was beneath. She wiped her thumb across
the stain, smearing it away to reveal another detail on the map. Right
next to Hoban, at the end of a short stub of blue line was
another station, Oldwitch. Oldwitch. She looked up at Underwood. Why isn't
that the station where your, I mean, lady Underwood lived. They closed
it over twenty years ago, closed it, said Underwood. So that's why
Ronnie had this edition of the eight Z out, said David. Oldwitch.
Rose. Shit, it's right there, right next to Hoburn. Underwood frowned
at David. You know about Rose, About our about Oldwitch. Yeah.
When I was released from jail, I went back to the house. I
listened to the tapes that you and Arthur made in nineteen forty. How could
you have done? They were removed, along with the diaries and everything else.
Well, because John, my brother, he made digital copies, that
is, he recorded them using his computer. I listened to them on that.
I guess Senor han Undez rightly didn't think that John's computer qualified as your
staff from her Lord Underwood's face darkened, David shrugged. Look, sorry,
I didn't meant a pry or anything, but you were dead. Remember that
doesn't give you the right to go poking your nose into my private affairs.
Flinch, how dare you and how dare that brother of yours go making copies
of things that are none of his bloody business? Well, he was only
educating himself, my Lord, learning his history so he could be a better
informed guardian to you. It wouldn't have been any worse than reading the Flinch
diaries, which actually I'd say are technically a Flinch family heilom and not yours
either, technically. Be damned, you had no right, my Lord,
said Elizabeth, Please not so loud the neighbors. We can't afford to wake
anyone. Underwood took the ator z from Elizabeth and looked at the map without
raising his face. He said, quietly, the partner has told me her
ladyship wasn't a problem. No one's seen had nor hair of her for thirty
odd years. Correct, my Lord, said Elizabeth, Lady Underwood is well,
no one knows, to be honest, we sometimes wonder if she's even
there at all. Certainly she has nothing to do with us, and we
respect her distance. You mean you steer well clear of her. Well,
I can't say I blame you for that. Last time I saw her,
she was He sighed irritably and thrust the book back at her. Never mind,
Then he jabbed a finger at David. But it's not her. If
that's what you're thinking, flinch. She is not your London vampire. Why
didn't say I thought she was? My Lord? To be honest, I
kin'd have forgotten all about her. I remember when I was listening to the
tapes that I read about the station, about the blitz and all that.
But god, it was so long ago. Why would anyone want to stay
alone in a place like that for what sixty nearly seventy years? I guess
I just assume she must have gone back to Germany. Yes, as you
would, and as I hoped to David, Elizabeth said, my grandfather and
his partner informed Lady Underwood that his lordship was missing, presumed dead during the
war. She turned to Underwood a ruse, I believe, my Lord.
Of course, it was a bloody ruse. I left the house and plenty
of money in a will we made up. Specially the place was her so
she didn't have to stay there. She could have sold up and got on
with her life, gone anywhere she wanted, give her time. We thought
she'd be mad to stay. He laughed bitterly. Oh God, but that's
the problem, isn't it. Elizabeth smiled sympathetically at David. I'm told Lady
Underwood is a little eccentric. Eccentric, said Underwood. She's as mad as
a brush. Never the same since we were caught outside during a German airah.
After that, she wouldn't come above ground for anyone or anything. God,
it was intolerable. Well, that sounds to me like she had ptsda
Lord, what the dell is that? When it's at hem aumatic stress disorder
you probably knew as shell shock. Shell shock, Yes, yes, I
suppose it was something of that order. Well, respectfully, my lord,
that's not madness. That's a perfectly treatable condition. She needed professional help,
love care, understanding. Underwood thrust a finger under David's nose. Don't you
bloody judge me, flinch, You have no idea. There was a war
on the country was under attack, and a man has a duty. You
His finger trembled with rage. You listen to those tapes and you think you
know it all, don't you? But you know, bugger all. I'm
not judging you, my lord, And yes you're right, I know bugger
all. But all that stuff between you and now is neither here nor there
right now. That's not why Ronnie used his last ounce of strength, trying
to point out old which is it? He knew I was coming. He
was trying to tell me something and what was that? That? That's where
Daimo went when he ran into the tunnel. Ronnie knew London, but he
must have forgotten about Aldwitch because it's been gone from the map for so long.
But tonight it must have come back to him. He got his old
aida Z down and checked it, and sure enough, there it was,
just off Hoburn on the Piccadilly Line, and maybe he was going to ask
me about it. I don't know. But the main thing is, assuming
they haven't walled off the tunnel to Aldwitch, that must be where Daimo went.
And if Lady Underwood is still down there, they could be working together,
said Elizabeth. Oh that's splendid, said Underwood. That's all I need.
How come you didn't think of this already, my lord asked David.
I mean you knew where Aldwich was because I thought it was still open,
you clod. I thought if Sullivan had run down there, the station staff
would have nabbed him just as surely as they would have if he'd popped up
at Russell Square. But there's a lot more than stations underground, you know.
I assumed that he'd found his way into a sewer or an electrocity service
time. That's what I would have done, my Lord, said Elizabeth,
not wanting to interrupt. But if there's nothing else to be got from here,
perhaps we should leave. Yeah, good idea, said David. If
the killer wants the body to be found, he could be on to the
police right now, pretending to be a neighbor that way he'd get us nicked
into the bargain. Underwood nodded, yes, of course, there's nothing for
us here. The bloody London vampire has beaten us to it. Bring the
ater's head and as get going, wipe down anything you may have touched that
could take a fingerprint. It didn't take long. They had been circumspect with
regard to fingerprints as soon as they knew it was a crime scene. On
exiting the front door of the building, David hung back to clean Underwood's prints
from the door, while Elizabeth went to start the car. Once he had
finished, David turned to see Underwood squatting down on the lawn, inspecting the
grass. My lord, he whispered, you ready, Underwood beckoned him.
Over Look at this, he said, waving a finger over a small area
of grass. See them what I can't see in the dark. Remember,
look here, Underwood pointed directly at two spots. See how the grass is
flattened. There was enough ambient light from nearby street lighting to just make out
what he was pointing at. David nodded, yeah, but what is it
footprints? Underwood looked up to Ronnie's window directly above. How a vampire didn't
fly away, He just jumped. Is that weird? Oh? No,
not weird. A drop like that presents no difficulty for a vampire. But
it is interesting why because it tells us three things. He got up and
started for the car while I then One, I was right. We are
definitely dealing with a vampire. No human could have made that jump and survived.
Two. I was also right when I said we disturbed him, thus
causing him to flee. Three. Those were a man's foot, Prince,
I'd say, a size nine or ten. Do you know what that means?
Uh? That it wasn't a woman. Underwood arched an eyebrow. Are
you being facetious? Flinch? No, my lord, that's what it genuinely
tells us, Either that or it was a big footed female. What it
tells us, my lad, is that it wasn't Lydia. Underwood got into
the back of the car and pulled the door closed behind him. David went
around to the other side and got in beside him. So our potential suspect
list just got shorter, precisely, and frankly, I'm relieved I didn't relish
the prospect of killing Lydia again. Once was quite enough. Elizabeth turned in
the driver's seat to look back at them. Where do my lord? What
time is it? I don't have my watch. Just coming up to three,
said David, and that's time enough to sorry, street, Elizabeth.
What's there, my lord, asked David, The one place on earth that,
if I'm honest, flinch, I genuinely fear to tread. He sat
back and covered his eyes with his hand. Ald Witch, who killed Ronnie
Bishop, the London vampire? But who is that? Daimon? Rose Lydia,
Miguel. Maybe it's even one of the Bensons. After all, there's
still a lot of Lydia's story yet to be revealed, And so it's back
in time to Lydia that we will travel next time for season five, episode
eleven. The music you're listening to is ahmad Amah by Farid Fajard from the
album and Rusa Volume four, courtesy of Taranay Records and our good friend Fawaz
al Maloud. You can stream the track from Spotify, YouTube Music, Google
Music, and all the other music streamers out there.