The Spirit Is Willing (The Lady Hardcastle Mysteries Book 2)

by T E Kinsey

  Training had already begun by the time we arrived, and we sat on the verandah of the clubhouse for a while watching as Mr Treble put the team through their paces.

  ‘I hadn’t realized he was the team coach,’ I said.

  ‘Nor had I,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘He’d been running up and down the touchline at the cup match, but I thought it was just because he was an enthusiastic supporter.’

  While the players caught their breath after a particularly strenuous exercise, Mr Treble approached us.

  ‘Good evening, ladies,’ he said amiably. ‘Glad you could come.’

  ‘Thank you for inviting us,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Are the men here that we wish to speak to?’

  ‘They are, my lady,’ he said. ‘Your best chance of speaking to them alone would be if I were to send them over one at a time. If you wait until we’re finished they’ll all be in the bar and you’ll never get a chance to speak to them.’

  ‘That would be most helpful, Mr Treble,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’ She took out her notebook and pencil. ‘Do you think we might start with… with… ah, here we are… with Mr Flynn?’

  ‘I’ll send him over,’ he said, and walked off. He spoke to a lithe fellow of medium height who looked over towards us. When Treble had finished speaking, the man nodded and walked over to the pavilion.

  ‘Good evening, Mr Flynn,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘Good evening, Lady Hardcastle,’ said Flynn. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Do sit down. I understand you were among the last to leave the club on the night of the dinner.’

  He sat in the remaining chair. ‘I was, yes.’

  ‘Did you see anyone or anything unusual?’

  He thought for a moment. ‘No, not really. There wasn’t really anyone about at all. Old Toby Whatsisname up in the pasture there, but no one else to speak of.’

  ‘I see,’ she said, making a note. ‘I’m sorry if I appear impertinent, Mr Flynn, but what’s your line of work? I’m trying to get a picture of the club and its members, you understand.’

  He chuckled. ‘I don’t mind. I’ve an engineering business just outside the village. We make machine parts and tools.’

  ‘Oh, I think we’ve passed your workshop,’ she said, brightly. ‘We have, haven’t we, Armstrong?’

  ‘I believe so, my lady,’ I said. ‘Out on the Woodworthy road.’

  ‘That’s the place,’ he said.

  ‘I do love engineering,’ said Lady Hardcastle, enthusiastically. ‘Is business booming?’

  He laughed. ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘If we don’t get some decent orders in soon, we may have to close. The bank is after us for loan payments and I’m not certain we can make them.’

  Lady Hardcastle looked slightly embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Flynn, I didn’t mean to pry.’

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ he said. ‘I’m telling anyone that will listen in case they can come up with a plan to save the place. It’s a family business; I’d hate to see it close.’

  ‘I understand,’ she said, kindly. ‘Have you been with the rugby club long?’

  ‘Quite a while, yes. I played at school and joined the club about when I started my apprenticeship with my dad.’

  ‘It means a lot to you, then?’

  ‘It does, my lady. It’s like a great big family, if you get my meaning.’

  ‘I think I do, yes,’ she said. ‘Well, thank you for your time, Mr Flynn; we shan’t keep you from your training any longer. Would you be kind enough to send Mr… Mr Molson over?’

  He stood. ‘My pleasure. That’s Big Jim over there.’ He pointed to a stocky man by the touchline. ‘Looks like the tubby old gundiguts could do with a break.’

  He trotted off to confer with his teammate.

  ‘It was him,’ I said. ‘He stole the trophy to melt it down and sell the silver to pay off his debts. He loves the club and he wanted the other stuff as souvenirs.’

  Lady Hardcastle laughed her warm, infectious laugh. ‘And he ignored the booze and cash because he didn’t want to rob the club. The cup belongs to whoever it is that organized the competition – and he doesn’t care about them – and the insurance would cover the cost of replacement anyway,’ she said.

  ‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘Case closed.’

  ‘Hold your horses there, Flo,’ she said with another chuckle. ‘Let’s see what “Big Jim” has to say for himself before we lock Flying Billy in the chokey.’

  Big Jim was already lumbering towards us. I had assumed that “Big” Jim would be tall, but this chap was shorter than Lady Hardcastle by a couple of inches. No, in his case, “big” referred to his girth – he was almost as broad as he was tall and his head seemed to be connected directly to his body without the complication or inconvenience of a neck.

  He clumped up the wooden steps. ‘You wanted to see me?’ he said.

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Do please sit down.’

  He did as he was bidden, and I winced as the chair creaked a little under his weight.

  ‘We’re just trying to get to the bottom of the theft the other night,’ she said. ‘And since you were one of the last to leave, we wondered if you might have seen anything.’

  ‘I’m not sayin’ I’s proud of it, mind – our ma drummed it into us as kids that strong drink was the path to wickedness – but I was drunk as a wheelbarrow. I could barely see me feet to find me way home, never mind noticin’ no strangers nor nothin’.’

  I smirked.

  ‘Nothing at all? No strange sounds? Unusual movements in the hedgerows?’

  He thought for a moment, staring earnestly at his boots. ‘Well…’ he began, hesitantly. ‘I suppose there might have been some rustlin’ in the trees along by the track there.’ He nodded towards the track that led out onto the road. ‘But it might just have been Old Mr Fox on his way back from raidin’ some poor blighter’s hen house. Or a hedgehog, maybe.’

  ‘Possibly,’ she said, making a careful note. ‘Of the four of you, yours is the house farthest from the club?’

  ‘’S right,’ he said. ‘T’others had all gone their separate ways by the time I got back to the farm.’

  ‘You own the farm?’

  He laughed. ‘No, m’lady, I’m one of Sir Hector’s tenants. Took over from our dad when he passed on.’

  ‘Aha,’ she said, making another note. ‘Did you wake your wife when you got in?’

  Another laugh. ‘No, m’lady, I i’n’t married. Got my eye on a lovely young girl, mind. I hopes to marry her soon, but I got a few things to sort out first.’

  ‘I see,’ she said, looking up and smiling. ‘I hope you find the happiness you seek.’

  He nodded his thanks.

  ‘We’re just trying to get a picture of what happened that evening,’ she said, ‘so we shan’t hold you up any longer, but I take it you won’t mind if we need to speak to you again?’

  ‘Not at all, m’lady,’ he said, getting up. ‘Glad to be of service. And I needed a break anyway.’ He nodded towards the team who were doing something frightfully energetic on the pitch. ‘You want me to send anyone else?’

  ‘That would be most kind,’ she said, consulting her notes again. ‘Mr Tredegar, please.’

  ‘Right you are,’ he said and clumped back down the steps. ‘Oi!’ he yelled. ‘Lofty! Get over here, ya gurt lanky bean-pole. Lady here wants a word.’

  Lady Hardcastle sighed. ‘Well I could have done that,’ she said.

  ‘No, my lady, your voice isn’t anywhere near that loud.’

  ‘Yours is. If I want uncouth yelling, you’re always my first choice.’

  ‘I’m flattered, my lady.’

  If you put “Big Jim” on a floured kitchen table and rolled him out, the result would be Donovan “Lofty” Tredegar. He must have been at least six-foot-four, and although he appeared strong and athletic, there was nothing of the bulk of Jim Molson. He trotted t
owards us with some grace, but as he sat at Lady Hardcastle’s invitation, there was a certain ungainliness as he folded himself into the chair.

  She introduced our purpose as before and once again asked him what he had seen that morning as he went home. Much like the others, it was evident that he had been too tipsy to notice anything very much.

  ‘I take it from your accent that you’re not from Gloucestershire,’ said Lady Hardcastle when we had explored the very little he knew about the events of early Saturday morning.

  ‘No, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Cornish through and through. Our family’s been fishin’ out of Mousehole since the 1600s.’

  ‘You didn’t join them?’

  ‘No, ma’am. I never could get on with the boats – I gets seasick, see? And then when I grew to be this tall, I was more of a hindrance than a help, so I chucked it in, like.’

  ‘And what do you do now?’ she asked.

  ‘Baker’s apprentice,’ he said proudly.

  ‘Forgive me,’ she said with a smile, ‘but aren’t you a little old to be an apprentice?’

  ‘You could say that, I s’pose,’ he said with a grin. ‘I wasn’t much use as a kid, fell into some bad ways, had more’n my share of trouble. But one day our local bobby – lovely old bloke he was – one day he caught me pinching lead off the church roof and he sat me down and gave me a talkin’ to like I’d never had before. Turned me round, he did. Saved me from goin’ bad altogether, I reckon. And he said he knew a bloke up in Gloucestershire as would take me on and teach me a trade. If I stayed, he said, I’d end up doin’ hard labour in Truro gaol. Or worse. So I packed up and come up here. Best thing I ever did, I reckon. I’ve got a girl up here and everything’

  ‘Well, good for you,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Who’s the lucky girl? Anyone we might know?’

  ‘Winnie, she is, Winnie Merrifield. Her dad farms a few acres over t’other side of the village.’

  ‘Well, I’m delighted for you, Mr Tredegar,’ she said. ‘We wish you all the happiness you so obviously deserve.’

  ‘Thank you, m’lady,’ he said, beaming.

  We said our goodbyes and he trotted back to the field.

  ‘I’m none the wiser,’ she said as we gathered our things and made ready to return home.

  ‘Nor I, my lady,’ I said. ‘Big Jim might have taken the cup to raise the money to buy the farm and impress his sweetheart. Lanky there is a reformed scallywag, but he might well have reverted to his old ways in a moment of drunken madness.’

  ‘Suspects with motives and opportunities abound. They all had the means, too, since the door was left open for them. Heigh ho. We’ll work it out eventually.’ She looked over at the pitch. ‘I don’t want to interrupt them again so let’s just wave to Mr Treble and be on our way.’

  I agreed, and with a cheery salute to the men on the pitch, we set off for home.

  As we walked along the lane back towards the village, we heard angry yelling coming from around a bend. Someone, it seemed, was not at all happy with his companion’s behaviour. Lady Hardcastle and I exchanged glances and hastened our pace a little – someone might need our help.

  We rounded the bend to see an exasperated Sir Hector Farley-Stroud, purple of face and with his hands on his hips, berating three madly cavorting springer spaniels who had evidently just returned from an unauthorized excursion into the nearby field.

  ‘What ho, Hector,’ called Lady Hardcastle, laughing heartily. ‘Having trouble with the girls?’

  ‘What? Oh, good evening, Emily, m’dear. Trouble? You don’t know the half of it. You wouldn’t care to give a home to three delinquent dogs, would you? They’ll be the death of me.’

  ‘Oh pish and fiddlesticks,’ she said. ‘You’d be lost without these three. Wouldn’t he?’ She ruffled the ears of the three friendly and inquisitive gun dogs. ‘Yes he would.’

  ‘You’re right, m’dear,’ he said cheerfully. ‘But it would be so wonderful if at least one person in my life did as I asked. Ever.’

  ‘They’re adorable. Aren’t you? Yes you are, you’re adorable.’

  The dogs wagged and sniffed and then, abruptly, they pricked up their ears and dashed off together to investigate something else.

  ‘It’s delightful to see you, m’dear,’ said Sir Hector. ‘Where are you off to this fine evening?’

  ‘We’re just on our way home as a matter of fact. We’ve been to your rugby club.’

  ‘Have you, by crikey? Well, well. Bad business that. You investigating for us?’

  ‘We are, dear, yes,’ she said.

  ‘Good, good. I dare say the insurance settlement would come in handy, but it’s a bad show to lose a trophy like that.’

  ‘It was insured?’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ he said. ‘Whole club’s insured. Stony broke, but worth a fortune if anything gets pinched.’

  ‘That’s very interesting,’ said Lady Hardcastle.

  ‘Is it?’ he said. ‘Vital clue, eh?’

  She laughed. ‘I wouldn’t say that, but it’s always helpful to know as much as possible.’

  ‘Of course, of course. Shame it had to happen just as we were winning trophies, though. Haven’t ever won anything before.’

  ‘Is it an old club?’ I asked.

  ‘Not very, m’dear, no. Got the club diaries back at The Grange if you’re interested.’

  ‘Well, we–’ began Lady Hardcastle, but I interrupted.

  ‘That would be lovely, Sir Hector,’ I said. ‘If you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘Not at all, m’dear, not at all. I’ll send Bert over with them soon as I can. But I’m afraid I must dash – can’t leave the gels to their own devices for too long or who knows what they might get up to.’

  ‘Right you are, Hector’ said Lady Hardcastle with a smile. ‘Give our love to Gertie when you hear from her, won’t you.’

  ‘Certainly, m’dear, certainly. Toodle-pip.’

  And with that, he trotted nimbly down the lane and out of sight in pursuit of his wilful dogs.

  ‘The club diaries?’ said Lady Hardcastle, watching him go. ‘Really?’

  ‘You saw how chuffed he was that someone was interested in his silly old rugby club. We don’t have to read them.’

  She smiled. ‘You’re very sweet. As for the case… how very disappointing; looks like another insurance fiddle.’

  ‘Mr Treble certainly is very tall,’ I said. ‘I neglected to look at his shoes, but I’d wager they were at least an eleven. He could sell the cup for scrap and claim on the insurance – that would save the club from the bailiffs.’

  ‘Damn and blast,’ she said. ‘We’re supposed to be eliminating suspects, not adding more. We need supper. And wine.’

  ‘Supper and wine it is, then, my lady,’ I said, and we set off once more for home.

  I cobbled together a light supper of bread and cold meats, with a little cheese I found lurking in the larder and some experimental chutney I’d made the previous weekend. Lady Hardcastle opened a bottle of wine and we sat in the dining room discussing the theft.

  ‘An unknown tall man enters the storeroom, steps in oil, steals a cup and some tat, and goes back out the way he came,’ said Lady Hardcastle as she nibbled a piece of Double Gloucester and put the finishing touches to the last of her sketches of the men we’d spoken to earlier in the evening. ‘He does it on the one night of the year when the club is occupied by all of the First XV and assorted club dignitaries, but nobody sees him.’

  ‘The timing does seem odd,’ I said. ‘Burglars don’t usually wait till dawn.’

  ‘No indeed. It could be a carefully planned theft that got delayed when the thief turned up and found the place full of drunken sportsmen, but why not just come back another night?’

  ‘So it’s an opportunist who just happened upon the place as he wandered past, or it’s an inside job as you suggest,’ I said.

  ‘Hmmm, yes. Inside job. But why?’

  ‘All the night owls seem to have had motive
or opportunity,’ I said.

  ‘They do, rather, don’t they. If only we knew where the thief went after he left. Those oily footprints just peter out; it would be nice to know which direction he set off in.’

  ‘It would be even better if one of the late birds had seen him.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ she said again. ‘It’s so very odd that they didn’t. It would have been perfectly light by the time they staggered out and there’s not much cover. A chap could hide behind that line of trees along the side of the club, but he’d have to be very careful. And getting there and back would leave him exposed to even the most casual of glances from even the drunkest of oafs.’

  ‘What about–’ but my ruminations were interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell.

  Lady Hardcastle glanced at the clock on the mantel – it was almost ten o’clock. ‘Who on earth could possibly be calling at this time of night?’ she said, affronted.

  I laughed. ‘I shall find out,’ I said and got up.

  I opened the door to find Bert, the Farley-Strouds’ chauffeur, standing there with a stack of books in his hands.

  ‘Oh, Bert, it’s you,’ I said. ‘We wondered who on earth could be calling at this hour. Is everything all right?’

  ‘Quite all right, thank you,’ he said with a rueful smile. ‘Sorry to be calling so late but Sir Hector insisted that you needed these urgently.’ He proffered the books.

  I gave him a puzzled frown as I took them. I opened the topmost book and glanced at the first few pages. ‘Ohhh,’ I said as I realized what I was reading. ‘The rugby club diaries; I’d forgotten all about them. Oh, Bert, I’m so sorry you had to drive all the way down here with these. It’s very sweet of Sir Hector, but they really could have waited until the morning. Can I offer you some tea?’

  ‘Very kind, miss,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘But I’d rather be getting back if you don’t mind. Got to be up early to take Sir Hector to Gloucester.’

  ‘Right you are,’ I said. ‘Well thank you again, and drive carefully on the way home.’

  ‘I shall, miss,’ he said, and with a smile and a tip of his cap, he turned on his heel and returned to his motorcar.

  I took the books back through to the dining room.