Kat didn’t want to raise the woman’s hopes. But she knew she’d get nothing if she offered nothing.
“I’ll be honest with you, Mabel. Until this morning, we didn’t have anything. But something’s come up that, well, doesn’t make sense. Something that might be relevant – but we don’t know how, or whether it really is important.”
“What? I don’t understand,” said Mabel, her voice trembling. “You mean Oliver’s going to go free?”
Kat quickly reached across and took Mabel’s hand on the table: “We don’t know. Not yet. I can’t offer you that hope. But I’ve got some questions for you. And what you tell me might help Ollie. Is that okay?”
In truth, Kat wasn’t sure what Mabel might know about the mysterious Will Davis. But it was possible Oliver had talked about him. After all, Ollie, Ben and Will were supposedly “best mates”.
She watched Mabel closely. The woman seemed to be wrestling with the decision. Then she looked round at Elsie, as if to check the little girl wasn’t listening, and turned back to Kat.
“This is about the Green Man, isn’t it?” she said.
Kat concealed her surprise. What on earth was Mabel talking about? Did she know about Will and Connie last night?
She nodded, waiting, wondering.
“That’s what you want to know all about, isn’t it?” continued Mabel.
Kat nodded again, hardly daring to breathe, not wanting to stop Mabel talking.
“I know I lied. Lied in the court. Lied to Ollie. I feel terrible about that.”
Kat suddenly realised – Mabel was talking about her rumoured assignation with Ben Carter.
“But, you see, I had to lie,” continued Mabel. “I didn’t want Ollie to think there was something going on with me and Ben. And then once I’d lied, I couldn’t take it back.”
“And the truth?” said Kat.
“Me and Ben wasn’t seeing each other, I swear on her life,” said Mabel, glancing across at her daughter. “But we did meet at the Green Man. Just once.”
“Why?” said Kat, knowing there was no time to dance around the subject.
“I wanted to get to the bottom of all them ugly rumours – about me and him. Wanted to see if it was Ben himself that was spreading them.”
“And was it?”
“No. He was in the dark like I was. Said it was just gossip. Told me to ignore it.”
“But you couldn’t, could you?” said Kat.
“I could – but Ollie couldn’t. It was fair driving him mad! Trouble is – that night at the Green Man, someone saw us.”
I bet I know who that was, thought Kat. Will Davis...
“And word got to Ollie. And I made the mistake of denying it, but Ollie didn’t believe me and he lost it. And th-that’s why he’s going to die tomorrow.”
Not if I can help it, thought Kat.
13. A Little More Digging
Harry took another sip of his coffee then glanced up at the clock on the bar behind Charlie. Eleven o’clock.
Just twenty hours to the hanging, the time ticking away...
The landlord hadn’t been very useful to begin with. He had no recollection of ever seeing Ben Carter in the Green Man. Though, as he said, “I don’t work every shift, old boy, and, unless he was a regular, I could easily have missed him.”
But now the subject had moved onto Will Davis – and Harry was learning a lot.
“I first noticed him in July, I reckon,” said Charlie. “Always takes a stool at the bar, very ‘hail fellow well met’, cheery sort of chap.”
“Popular then?”
“With the locals? Yes – affable, friendly – generous! And with my barmen too – he always buys ’em a drink, always chatting away with ’em.”
“Never any trouble?”
“Never. But you know what, Harry? Always felt something not quite right about him.”
“In what way?” said Harry, knowing that Charlie’s instincts were always spot on.
“Can’t put my finger on it,” said Charlie. “Cheerful chap he is, always lending people a helping hand if they need one, giving advice, buying his round.”
“But?” said Harry, watching Charlie shaking his head.
“Only way I can describe it, it’s like his face is all smiles, but behind those eyes it’s as if... as if he’s... somewhere else. Like he’s calculating.”
“Cold?”
“There you go! That’s it. One time, I was behind the bar there, back to the punters, cleaning some glasses. In the mirror, I could see old Joseph Potter, one of my regulars, having a proper heart-to-heart with Davis. No idea about what. But then Joseph pops out to the privy out back, and soon as he’s gone, Davis whips out this little notebook starts writing in it, quickly too. Then the minute Joseph comes back, Davis’s slipped the notebook away, smooth as silk, like he was hiding the bloody crown jewels.”
“A tad devious, you think?” said Harry, already wondering what might be in that notebook and how to get his hands on it.
“Devious, yes. Exactly. That’s the word. Devious. Someone with something to hide!”
“When did Connie Price appear on the scene?” said Harry.
“Didn’t take him long. Couple of months after he first turned up here, maybe. Quite a surprise that was, I must admit.”
“Surprise? How so?”
“Sorry to say this, but, bit of an unlikely couple, if I’m honest. Sweet woman, she is, no doubt about that. But life’s been pretty hard on her. One of the left-behinds, they call ’em, don’t they? No love to be found. All them suitable fellas lost in the World War.”
“Davis not her type, you think?”
“Don’t get me wrong, Harry. Takes all sorts. But Davis: he’s younger, educated and – like you said – slick. And well enough off, I’d say. But Connie – well I know she says she’s the housekeeper, but seems to me she’s still not more than a parlour maid. It just doesn’t – to me – fit at all!”
Harry nodded. These old ideas of what constituted a “suitable partner” were taking forever to shift, it seemed.
Wonder what he must think of me and my American wife? Harry thought.
“They come in here together a lot?” he said.
“Every Wednesday, like clockwork. Always the same table, that one right over there in the corner, tucked away. Same drinks order, lots of cosy chats, hand-holding.”
Harry looked across at that table now, and knew immediately that if he had a clandestine meeting in this pub, that would be the precise table he’d choose: it gave a view to all the entrances, but was dimly lit and would be barely noticeable to the other drinkers at the bar or the tables.
What was Davis up to? Could he really be attracted to Connie Price? Everything Charlie had told him so far suggested otherwise.
But then – what was his game?
“Oh, Sir Harry – that’s your Maggie, isn’t it?” said Charlie, gesturing up at the window behind him. “What is she doing?”
Harry looked around, and there, leaning against the window outside, was Maggie, pretending to read a newspaper.
“Ha, she’s waiting for me, I do believe,” said Harry, standing up and tapping on the window to attract her attention.
“She looks like one of them private detectives you read about.”
“I’ll tell her that,” said Harry, buttoning up his coat. “Think she’ll be flattered. Charlie, thanks for the coffee and the chat by the way. I owe you.”
“No, you don’t, Sir Harry,” said Charlie. “This is all about Oliver Brown, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Well, I hope I’ve helped in some way. Though for the life of me I don’t know how.”
“Nor do I – yet,” said Harry.
And he slipped out of the pub and round to the window where Maggie was waiting in softly falling snow.
*
“Should we be seen together?” said Maggie, as he stepped close. “I mean, spies have to be careful, don’t they?”
“Oh,
I think we’re safe enough out here,” said Harry, smiling. Enjoying just how much Maggie was relishing her new role. “So then, what can you tell me?”
“Your Mr Davis? He left his lodgings just twenty minutes ago. And Mrs Pinder – by the way did you know her brother’s married to my cousin from Winchester? – anyway, Mrs Pinder said he told her she could do his room and he won’t be back until this evening.”
“You’re a marvel, Maggie, a true marvel.”
“Oh, and that’s not all,” said Maggie, reaching into her handbag and taking out a key-ring. “Front door – and Mr Davis’s door. To be handed back to me when you’re done.”
Harry took the keys and grinned.
“Seriously? I may have to recommend you to my superiors in London. Always on the hunt for a new recruit!”
“Just doing my bit,” said Maggie, smiling, but then suddenly serious. “I only hope it helps.”
“Me too,” said Harry, then with a tip of his hat, he turned and headed off to Mrs Pinder’s Board and Lodgings.
*
Kat took a sip of tea from what she imagined was the guest teacup, and waited while Mabel put little Elsie down for a nap in the little truckle bed in the corner.
“Mabel, what do you know about Will Davis?” she said, when Mabel finally joined her again at the table.
“Will? Ollie’s drinking buddy?”
Kat nodded.
“Seems all right,” said Mabel. “I’ve only met him a couple of times. Ollie likes him. Says he’s a good pal.”
“He even tried to give Ollie an alibi, didn’t he?” said Kat.
“I know. Think he wasn’t very good at lying, though. Police saw through it straight away.”
“Ollie and Will go back a long way, do they?” said Kat, persisting.
“No. Just a few months, that’s all.”
Kat could sense that Mabel was wearying of all these questions.
I’m not going to learn anything new here, she thought.
“Friend of Ben’s too?”
“Was he?” said Mabel. “Could be. What men get up to in the pub, who they drink with, not for me to know.”
“You never met up with Will?” said Kat, trying one last line of questions. “Maybe with Connie Price?”
“Connie? Why Connie?”
“She’s Will Davis’s sweetheart.”
“Little Connie – and Mr Davis?” said Mabel, shaking her head. “Sorry. I can’t believe that.”
“You know her?”
“Known her for years,” said Mabel. “Going back to when Ollie worked at Blackmead Farm.”
Kat drew a breath. What?
This was something out of the blue...
“Wait. Ollie worked at the farm – with Ben?”
“Course. That’s how I got to know Ollie,” said Mabel. “I used to help out in the dairy sometimes. Ollie worked with the herd, for years, he did.”
Kat saw Mabel get up, go to a shelf and bring over a small framed photograph showing three young people sitting on a hayrick.
“See, that’s Ollie, Ben and Connie,” said Mabel. “And that’s me, by the side. Good ten years ago that must have been. First harvest after the war.”
Kat tried to realign the facts to fit this new information: Ben, Ollie, Connie, Will – everything leading back to Blackmead Farm.
But why?
“Old Jeremiah... I tell you, he was the best thing ever happened to my Ollie,” said Mabel, her face for a moment lifted, brighter. “Like a dad, he was. Fact – he always said when he passed away he’d see my Ollie right. And Ben too.”
“How do you mean?”
“Jeremiah had no family,” said Mabel. “Ollie took it to mean he’d maybe get left a bit in the old man’s will.”
“Could be a lot of money?” said Kat, thinking maybe there was a hint of a motive here.
“Once upon a time, maybe,” said Mabel. “But all Jeremiah’s going to leave is debts, from what I hear. Stony broke he is. Sad, isn’t it?”
Then Mabel looked away. “Won’t make much difference to Ollie, anyway, will it?”
Kat sat back. Seemed the inheritance wasn’t a motive after all. But she made a mental note to talk to Harry about the old man’s will. Maybe there might be a way of checking?
She heard Elsie start to cry and looked over. The little girl was stirring. Mabel got up to comfort her.
“I should be getting on too,” said Kat, standing. Thanks so much for answering all those questions, Mabel.”
“Don’t know if they’ll help,” said Mabel, picking up Elsie and holding her tight in her arms. “Don’t know if anything can help now.”
Kat nodded. She knew there was nothing more she could say that wouldn’t just sound like an empty platitude.
But she did at least have some new leads. And until they were followed up, she wasn’t ready to give up hope on saving Oliver Brown from the gallows.
14. Secrets
Coat tight against new falling snow, Harry climbed the steps of number 14 Crab Tree Lane, the set of keys that Maggie gave him in his gloved hand.
The house – respectable, in good order, prim and proper – stood in the middle of a terrace in a quiet part of Mydworth. The front window net-curtained, a small sign hanging: temporary/permanent lodgings for gentlemen, enquire within.
As he reached the top of the steps, he saw the curtain twitch to one side and a woman’s face appear: Mrs Pinder, he assumed.
He smiled. The woman nodded back at him and the curtain twitched back.
Permission granted, thought Harry and he brushed the snow from his coat, opened the front door with the key and went in. Inside, the house smelt of polish and mothballs.
The key in his hand said “room 6”, and Maggie had told him it was on the top floor. He started to climb the stairs, the carpet clean but thin under his boots.
On the landing, he spied a small cupboard and opened it.
Perfect.
He took off his coat, hung it on a hook inside the door. Then he removed his boots, placed them in the cupboard too.
Don’t want to leave tell-tale patches of melt-water in Davis’s room.
He closed the cupboard door, then, in his socks, took the next flight of stairs. At each turn of the stairs there were a pair of numbered doors, until he reached the top – room 6.
He tapped on the door. Just in case there’d been a mix-up and Davis was actually at home. But no answer.
So, in he went, shutting the door quietly behind him.
He looked around. The room was barely furnished: bed, chest of drawers, wardrobe, desk and chair. One small armchair.
He checked his watch. The hours ticking away.
Then he started his search.
*
Ten minutes later, Harry went over to the armchair and sat, slowly – carefully – scanning the room.
The search had revealed... nothing.
In the chest – clothes neatly folded. In the wardrobe – two suits, weekend jacket and trousers. On the top of the wardrobe – an empty, good quality suitcase. By the bed – a bible.
On the desk – pen, papers, writing paper with the Consolidated letter-heading, envelopes, a blotter. Interesting, thought Harry. Wonder how he got that?
And in the desk drawer – some coins, paper clips, a pencil sharpener, a small screwdriver.
In short – absolutely nothing personal, or of value.
All of which still had Harry excited. Very excited indeed.
Because this was clearly the room of a man with secrets to hide.
Question was – where had he hidden them?
Over ten years of working with Intelligence – at first with the military, after the World War, then with the cover of diplomatic service in various British Embassies around the world – Harry had encountered many such spartan rooms. And all with many ingenious methods of hiding secrets.
It was possible, of course, that Davis’s secrets were hidden in his car. But Harry couldn’t shake the idea that Dav
is must have concealed his personal effects somewhere in this dull, bare room.
He scanned the ceiling. Not a mark on it. The ceiling rose dusty, and untouched. Then the walls: only one picture – and there could be no safe behind it, not here in temporary lodgings, for sure.
Which left the floor.
Brown, bare linoleum, with a large, threadbare rug in the centre of the room. He rolled up the rug: the aged linoleum was intact beneath it.
Now he got down on his hands and knees. Nothing under the bed – and nor did the flooring by the bed legs look marked or scraped.
The same with the floor under the wardrobe. But that was unlikely anyway – the big piece of furniture too heavy to move in a hurry, if required. And the desk – well that was too easy to move.
Which only left the chest of drawers. Harry ran his fingers over the linoleum in front of the piece of furniture.
And felt something.
At each side, there were slight indentations in the floor covering: the furniture had clearly been moved – enough times to have left the tell-tale marks.
He stood up, slid the chest of drawers into the centre of the room, then got down on his knees again to examine the exposed flooring. To see... that a small section of lino had been carefully sliced open, then tacked back into place with the smallest of flat-headed nails.
He got up, went to the desk drawer, took out the screwdriver, then knelt by the nails, and levered them out.
As expected, the screwdriver was the perfect tool, popping the nails out quickly.
Then he gently peeled back the lino: underneath he saw floorboards. But more importantly, a small section of the timber floor – barely a foot long – that he could see had been recently cut.
Easy enough to do with the right saw, thought Harry. Just pick an afternoon when the house was empty.
He inserted the screwdriver (again – the perfect tool) and levered the piece of wood out to see...
A metal box, maybe a foot square.
He lifted the box out, taking care not to leave any marks, then went over to the desk, put the box down and opened the lid.
The box was crammed tight. Piece by piece, Harry took out the contents, lining them up on the desk so he would know exactly how to replace them. The idea being – that Davis would never suspect he’d had a visitor.
Mydworth Mysteries--The Wrong Man Page 8