A Country Way of Death (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 4)

by R. A. Bentley

  'I couldn't do it officially anyway. We need to be invited – Scotland yard, I mean – which we wouldn't normally be for anything less than murder, and not often then. They guard their independence jealously, these local chaps.'

  He removed once again the lid of the butt, and peered in. 'That's odd.' he said, taking out his torch.

  'Can't you see him?'

  'No. Step back a minute.' He rocked the big barrel until it toppled off its stool, spilling the last of the water onto the snow. 'Gone! Would you flipping credit it? I was only away for moments!'

  'That's extraordinary! Who could have taken it? Did you tell anyone?'

  'Not a soul! That was my only evidence for an intruder, and now it's gone. Ten to one the beggar was watching me and took his chance.'

  'Well if nothing else, it proves he's still around,' said Connie consolingly. 'And it's enough that you know about it, isn't it?'

  Miles smiled wryly. The problem, my darling, is that if it came to court, I'd be the only witness. Juries don't always believe the unsupported testimony of policemen, you know, and it's right that they don't. It certainly suggests that the intruder lives or is staying in the village. It also suggests he's someone who can walk about the place without exciting comment. Although, thinking about it, he's quite as likely to have come in from the woodland behind here. In fact, no-one has come up from the road, or we'd have noticed his footprints, so he must have done.' He stood back and examined the ground immediately around them. 'He's also erased the ones here by the look of it, probably using a bit of wood. See? All these are ours.'

  'Where does that gap in the hedge go?' Said Connie. 'There are similar marks in the snow, leading to it.'

  'Yes, there are! Well spotted. That, if I remember rightly, is Miss Ashton's shortcut to the church. Come on.'

  The vague trail, already slightly obscured by additional snow, led straight to the vestry door. Leaning beside it was a short length of floorboard. Miles took charge of it. 'Clever,' he said, cocking an ear. 'I think I know what happens next, unfortunately. Hurrying round the outside of the church they arrived at the front porch.

  'Someone has cleared the path,' said Connie. 'Yes, that is clever.'

  'Thus getting our quarry safely down to the High Street.'

  The sound of a shovel on flagstones led them to Eustace Peartree, St John's ancient sexton and handy-man, now progressing doggedly towards the boiler-room.

  'Hello, Mr Felix,' he said. 'Wairst find thik plank?'

  'It was propped up by the vestry door.'

  Eustace looked surprised. Thaas a bit queer. Tis from pile at back — kindlin' for the boiler.'

  'How many folk know about that?'

  Eustace shrugged. 'Bent no secret. Ee can see un from top o' churchyard.'

  'Did you see anyone come out of the church just now, carrying something? A bundle of some sort, or a bag?'

  Eustace shook his head. 'Naw, I've a-bin round this side a while. Waas afoot?'

  They left him guessing.

  'Whoever did it isn't stupid,' said Miles. 'Or at any rate he's a cunning sort of beggar. Bold too. I wonder what he carried the dog away in?'

  'They're not all that big. He'd go in a basket, I daresay. Or do you think he might have hidden him somewhere else? In the church, for example.'

  'With a view to coming back for it later? Yes, he might have done. However, we could spend all day searching for it and it might not even be there. And as you rightly say, I've seen the dog, and he can't do anything about that. We might as well check the street though.'

  'It couldn't be the old fellow, I suppose?'

  'Eustace? I should hardly think so. He's not all that bright, and he's never been in any trouble, that I know of.'

  There was no sign of wheeled traffic but the shops were all open and the village children joyously about, dragging toboggans to the nearest hill or hurling snowballs, particularly at any passing adult likely to become annoyed by their attentions. The snow was therefore well-trampled.

  'Had we known what we were looking for, we might have stood a chance,' said Miles. 'As it is, we ought to check the outskirts of the village to see if anyone has come into it, or gone out. We'll walk a little way towards Lower.'

  But not even a bird had left its mark on the virgin snow. Nor were there any footprints at the crossroads, apart from those to and from Red House farm. Beyond the last house, Long lane also remained pristine – although a couple of Martin Bullock's farmhands could be seen toiling knee-deep towards them – and in Upper lane were only Daisy and Ian's tracks, their own, and two others'.

  'At a guess that's Pippa Piper,' said Miles. 'She's a smaller girl than Daisy. Not sure about the bigger one but probably female, wouldn't you say? Then we've got Daisy going home, and the other two again. Probably been shopping.'

  By unspoken agreement they paused at the gate into Top Field. Several children were tobogganing there, taking advantage of its precipitous slope.

  'I used to do that,' said Miles, a little wistfully.

  'You know that Daisy's in love with Ian, don't you?' said Connie. 'Properly, I mean. She said to make you promise not to tell about seeing them here. Then at the dance your mother told me she knows all about them and I can tell you but not them.'

  Miles chuckled. 'Well, I'd rather guessed. What a household, eh? Seething with covert passion! We were fortunate last night, you know. Imagine if that call had come through ten minutes later!'

  'It doesn't bear thinking about does it? But the first opportunity we get, you can have your way with me. That's a promise.'

  Miles took her in his arms. 'Give us a kiss, to be going on with.'

  It had been a few welcome moments of normality. As they came up to the farm entrance, the smaller set of footprints took itself off to Ivy Cottage, vindicating Miles's judgement. The larger set was plainly headed for the pig farm.

  'Josie Clement,' then, said Miles. 'Too big for Margery. Too small for Bert.'

  'What are they like, the Clements?'

  'Ordinary folk. Josie is chatty, pleasant, the brains of the family. Margie is a nice enough kid. Features her father unfortunately. Bert is best experienced in the flesh. No mere description can do him justice.'

  'Which half of him is pig?'

  Miles chuckled. The better half! No, Bert's all right. He's uncouth, inarticulate and indescribably ugly, but one could do worse for a neighbour. They keep us in eggs, and he's run my father out to a patient a time or two when his car's played up. I feel a bit awkward with him, that's all. No point of contact.'

  Connie smiled. 'Not a dog murderer?'

  'Oh no, I shouldn't think so. Well, I doubt he'd have much compunction if the occasion demanded, but I can't see him walking into Glebe Cottage somehow. And why would he?'

  'I thought he might be dead, said Daisy, wiping away her tears. 'but I never expected this. Whatever shall I say to Ian?'

  'Would you like me to tell him?' said Miles. 'I'm quite prepared to and I can give him chapter and verse.'

  Daisy shook her head. 'Oh no, I couldn't let anyone else do it. He'll be so upset.'

  'You might consider not going back just yet,' said the doctor.

  'Why not?'

  'Because he's a man. Women tend to be comforted by talking, but Ian may want to be alone for a while. He won't tell you that, of course, because he won't want to hurt your feelings. You can always telephone to him later.'

  'Yes, I suppose so,' said Daisy doubtfully. 'How dreadful it all is.'

  'He'll be wondering if you've found the dog,' said Lavinia. 'He'll probably telephone anyway to find out, or even walk up here.'

  'What concerns me,' said Miles, 'is the bigger picture. I'd like to know who he thinks this person might have been. He may also have an idea of what they were doing there. The most likely thing is theft of course, but nothing appeared to have been taken, which one might have expected. If you do go down, I ought to come with you and see what I can find out. For one thing, I'd like to know whether he had bee
n shut in the house or was wandering about outside.'

  'Johann wasn't allowed out on his own,' said Daisy. You don't think whoever it was murdered Miss Ashton, do you? That would be too awful.'

  'There's no physical evidence of foul play,' said the doctor, 'although in Cecily's condition a bad shock or fright might have done it — being threatened, for example. As to time of death, it's hard to fix with any certainty. My judgement is that she died before it started, although perhaps not long before. She seemed not to have inhaled smoke to any noticeable extent.'

  'Might they have caused her death and set the fire to hide that?' said Connie, 'I know it's horrid.'

  'They might,' said Miles. 'But murderous arsonists are fairly thin on the ground, you know. I'm more inclined to blame unintended consequences. Miss Ashton professed herself tired and went home early. That we know. Possibly she wasn't feeling very well. It would be like her to pass it off as tiredness so as not to take anyone away from the dance. Picture the scene. She lights the lamp and goes straight to bed. By the time she's dragged herself upstairs she feels so poorly she doesn't trust herself to carry the lamp to her room, or perhaps isn't thinking straight. Either way, she puts it down on the box on the landing, where under normal circumstances it would be safe enough. The dog follows her upstairs. She doesn't want him in her room so she shuts him out. The dog curls up on the landing for a snooze. At some point thereafter, Miss Ashton dies or becomes unconscious and falls to the floor, where Ian later finds her.

  'Then the intruder arrives. The dog hears him and starts barking and leaping on and off things, the way that they do, knocking over the lamp. Eventually he rushes downstairs and attacks. They're game little dogs, Jack Russells. The intruder panics, grabs the nearest blunt instrument – or possibly uses his torch if it's a heavy one – and kills him. He can't leave the body behind as it would show that someone has been in there, so he hides it in the rainwater-butt, probably with a view to disposing of it later. Unknown to him, the fallen lamp has set something smouldering on the landing and there's no-one to put it out. It's all conjecture of course, but perfectly plausible and opens the field to a wider range of suspects.'

  'That does seem more likely,' agreed Lavinia. 'I can't think who would murder poor Cecily, can you? Not village folk anyway. She was such a kindly soul and everyone loved her.'

  'The problem,' said Miles, 'is that one can't be sure of that. In my view there's enough here to warrant an investigation, although the local police might see it differently. It'll need to be reported anyway, if Buckett hasn't already. I must tell him about the dog.'

  'There is something,' said Daisy. 'I don't expect it has anything to do with it, but there was a threatening sort of note. Miss Ashton found it on some sheet music, after the rehearsal for the carol service. She was looking in the organ bench for a spare score for Marjory – the one we ended up copying out – and I'm sure she found one, but she got flustered and said that it wasn't and dropped it in her carrier bag. The note was scrawled on it.'

  'Threatening Miss Ashton?' asked Miles.

  'No, Ian's mother, so it must have been twenty years old. It certainly looked old. You know about her and Linsey Baverstock, I suppose?'

  'Not really. Didn't he run away or something?'

  'Yes. Well, they thought so. He disappeared anyway. She was pregnant and they were going to be married, so it must have been awful for her. They did all the usual things to try and find him and so did his uncle, Sir Rupert, but they couldn't and then she had Ian and died. It's frightfully sad.'

  'Not unusual, of course — expectant fathers bunking off. What did the note say?'

  '"You keep away from that Baverstock, Ellen Titmus, or there'll be trouble."'

  'Is that all?'

  'Yes. Well, I think so. I only saw it for a moment. It was scrawled across the top of the page in heavy pencil. It wasn't signed, unless it was where I couldn't see. But you wouldn't put your name to a threat like that, would you? I almost told Ian about it, but as it was to do with his parents I decided to leave it to Miss Ashton. I just told him there was writing on it and that I thought it a bit queer because it looked like the right score to me. He said he'd ask her about it, but not having seen the note himself he might not have bothered. In fact, I don't think he can have done or I'm sure he'd have told me. Then after the carol service she came to me and asked me straight out if I'd seen what it said and I said I had, and she asked me not to tell anyone, especially Ian, so I didn't.'

  'Did she say anything else about it?'

  'No. She might have done, but then Ian joined us and I never saw her again on her own.'

  'And you didn't tell him?'

  'No, because I'd promised not to.'

  'Clearly a bit of rivalry over Ellen,' said the doctor. 'Nothing very consequential on the face of it.'

  'And they were all very young,' said Lavinia. 'Feelings can run high at that age.'

  'Daisy nodded. 'Ellen was only eighteen when she died, same as me! Imagine having a baby at eighteen and then dying! It's quite frightening really, to think it might happen to one at that age. Well, not to me, obviously,' she added hastily. 'Though I suppose you see that sort of thing all the time, don't you Connie? All the death and suffering you were talking about.'

  'Well, I've been on a men's ward, as it happens,' said Connie.

  Seeing her discomfiture, Daisy suddenly coloured. 'Oh Miles, I'm so sorry! I never thought.'

  Miles smiled and shook his head. 'It was a long time ago, sis. Forget it.'

  She looked about to apologise further but Connie firmly interrupted. 'Do you suppose anyone else saw this note, apart from you?'

  'I can't say,' said Daisy, her face now blotched with embarrassment. 'They might have I suppose. People were pushing past us – the members of the choir – and the bellringers were there too, waiting to start their practice. Oh dear, I'm such an idiot.'

  'It doesn't sound so very terrible, as you say, Dad,' said Miles, putting a comforting hand over Daisy's, 'but what matters is Miss Ashton's reaction to it. She was flustered, did you say?'

  'Yes, she was. She couldn't put it away quickly enough.'

  It's possible she recognised the handwriting of course. Upper or lower case? Educated hand?'

  'Upper, but sort of joined up, as if it was written in a hurry. Quite big letters. I don't know if it was educated.'

  'I suppose you're thinking,' said Roger, 'that if the writer of the note was there in the church and saw it he might have decided to get it back.'

  'Well, it's perfectly possible,' said Miles. 'Everything about this business is conjecture of course, but it is rather a coincidence. And they don't have to have been in the church. If Miss Ashton recognised the handwriting she might have collared whoever it was and demanded an explanation. Destroying the documentary evidence wouldn't have stopped her knowing, of course, but it would only be her word against his.'

  'Do you mean, if it came to court or something?' said Lavinia.

  'Well, you don't go walking into someone's house and killing their dog for nothing. If he really was after the note, he must have been pretty worried about what it might lead to.'

  'Do you mean, he might have murdered Linsey, and that could have been used in evidence?'

  'It's possible. He did disappear. Or it could be something else entirely. However, I think this is something we really ought to keep to ourselves, at least for the time being. There's no point in upsetting Ian with what may be a flight of fancy. He's got enough on his plate.'

  Daisy stood up. 'I'm going back,' she said. 'I won't mention the message but I'm going to tell him about Johann. It wouldn't be right not to, and he'll find out anyway. Miles I'm really sorry, about what I said.'

  They waited until the door closed behind her.

  'She's still very young,' said Connie apologetically.

  'You know how I feel about it,' said Miles. 'That's the past; you're my future.' He stood up. 'Best get on with it, I think.'

  'What are you going t
o do?'

  Chapter Five

  'Did you want us to clear off?' asked Roger.

  Miles, with his hand over the telephone's mouthpiece, shook his head. 'No, it's all right. This won't take long. Ah, good morning, sir. I wasn't sure I'd find you in today. How was Christmas?'

  'Hello, Felix,' said Detective Superintendent Polly. 'Very pleasant thank you. How's Hampshire? Got the snow down there?'

  'Yes we have. Quite the picture postcard if it wasn't such a confounded nuisance. Sir, I find myself on the horns of a dilemma. Our church organist and choir mistress has died – last night, in fact – in possibly suspicious circumstances. I'll be reporting it, of course, but there's little that's concrete to show the local lot, and it'd be hard even to get someone up here at the moment, given the state of the roads. We've got the village bobby but he's rather a slow sort of chap and needs directing to be of much use. I'm minded to poke about a bit myself and see what I can find out, but I could do with Teddy Rattigan to help. Any chance?'

  The Super was silent for a moment. 'Hmm, bit irregular, you know, getting involved without a request. I've no objection myself but I'll have to take advice on it. Rattigan's no problem as it's your work he'll be neglecting. Do you want the others?'

  'Not at this stage. They've plenty to get on with. Perhaps later.'

  'You think it's murder, presumably?'

  'Probably not, sir, though it just might have been. She was at home when a fire more or less destroyed her cottage. We got her out, but it seems likely she was dead before it started. She had a weak heart and had been complaining of tiredness. However someone had been in there and clobbered the family dog, hiding it in the rainwater butt. He may have set the fire on purpose or it may have been an accident. It's not what you'd expect in a small village, and it's probably someone local, which is disturbing. Also, a document has come to light that suggests there's more to it than meets the eye.'

  'Interesting. All right, Felix. Give me an hour and I'll get back to you.'

  'He's getting back me,' said Miles.

  'Not keen?' asked the doctor.