The Blackwoods Farm Enquiry (An Ivy Beasley Mystery)

by Purser, Ann

  Roy laughed, and protested that it was only a glimpse, and he had told her all he could remember. He looked at Ivy’s bright eyes, and realised that her new venture with the Manor House College had given her an unexpected lift of spirits. What a brave and lovely woman she was!

  • • •

  MONDAY MORNING, AND Deirdre had set out pads and pens on the desk in the Enquire Within office. Coffee was simmering away in the pot. She looked at her watch. The others should be here very shortly, and she wondered if they would have anything new to report. Her positive scenting of cigar smoke last time she was at the farm was certainly important, and since talking to Gus, she had had further thoughts. She realised they had more or less decided a lodger or guest was at least visiting Blackwoods. Whether he or she was newly on the scene was not clear.

  “Deirdre? Where are you?” The voice was sharp. “You’ve left your front door open, you silly girl! Anybody could come in and steal your silver before you noticed. It’s Ivy, anyway, all ready for the meeting. And Roy, of course,” she said, as she saw Deirdre coming. “He’s parking the trundle.”

  “Fine,” said Deirdre. “I was in our office. Are you coming straight in? Coffee’s hot, and there’s new biscuits from the shop. Shall I give Roy a hand?”

  “No, thank you. He is quite capable of managing. Is Augustus here yet?”

  “Here I am, Ivy,” said Gus, coming in behind her. “You’re in fine form today.”

  “As always,” said Ivy.

  When they were all settled, Deirdre opened the meeting from her desk, saying she would be glad if Ivy could give them a résumé of the case so far.

  “Your memory is so good, Ivy,” she said, “and we all know you can organise your thoughts.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere,” said Ivy, smiling. Then she gave a succinct account of what they knew about their client, Mrs. Winchen Blatch, and added the latest spotting of a woman at the lighted window of the farmhouse.

  “And then,” she said, enjoying the drama,” there’s Rickwood Smith.”

  “Who?” chorused Deirdre and Gus.

  Ivy once more related how the new tutor at the college had turned out to be a nephew of Mrs. Eleanor Blatch, and what was more, he was staying with his mother, Mary Winchen, who lived in an old person’s bungalow in Spinney Close.

  Giving them time to take this in, she sipped her coffee before continuing. “And before you ask, no, they don’t have any contact. A deadly feud between the sisters, apparently, and they have managed to live forever in the same village without mending it. I suggest we leave that for the moment, and get on to the shape at the window of Blackwoods Farm.

  “Unfortunately,” she continued, “by the time we had a good look, the curtains had been drawn and only a shape appeared. A shape which my dear Roy is quite certain was that of a woman. And before you ask him how he was so sure, he muttered to me something about bosoms. But I am sure he will tell you more.”

  “Good man,” said Gus, smiling at Roy. “Anything to add?”

  “Not really. I don’t know if it was in any way important, but at the point where we were looking at the window, out of nowhere appeared Rubens and Rickwood Smith, the new tutor from the Manor House College. Rubens was at his jauntiest, and tried to persuade us to go to the pub with him.”

  “We refused, of course,” said Ivy.

  “Naturally,” said Gus. “Now, Deirdre, time to tell what you discovered.”

  “Well, last time I went up to see Eleanor Blatch, we got on well. I think she trusts me. Anyway, while we were chatting, I noticed a familiar smoky smell. My Bert used to love those small cigars, and that was it. Same lovely smell, drifting in from another room somewhere in the house. Eleanor claimed she could smell nothing, but it was quite strong. So that’s another time one of us has smelt it. When I asked her if she’d thought recently of having a lodger, maybe a young person who could be useful to her, she reacted against it very firmly. Said she was much happier living alone, and changed the subject immediately.”

  “Interesting,” said Gus. “What do you think, Ivy?”

  “Well, since you ask me, I would say that she’s not to be trusted. I wouldn’t believe a word she says. I’m sorry about that, Deirdre, because I know you like her, but there it is. I think this new factor, Mary Winchen and son, puts her in a different light. She was very flighty in the past, and won’t have changed all that much.”

  “Maybe, dearest,” said Roy. “But I’m afraid the fact that she was flighty in her youth has nothing to do with it.”

  Seventeen

  THE MEETING HAD finally ended, after much disagreement between Ivy and Deirdre on the true character of Eleanor Blatch. The four had come out from the office and the trundle was ready for the off, when Deirdre’s house telephone rang.

  “Hang on, chaps!” she shouted as she ran in to answer it. “Probably someone trying to sell me double glazing!”

  “More likely an assignation with the squire,” muttered Ivy to Roy. He smiled. “Lucky fellow,” he said.

  But when Deirdre came out after five minutes, she looked pale and worried. “Better come back in for a bit,” she said, helping Roy to dismount. “That was Eleanor, and she was in a panic. I said we’d help, so can we have a quick session?”

  “Not an immediate emergency, then?” said Ivy.

  “Not absolutely immediate, but she was very upset,” Deirdre answered, frowning at Ivy.

  When they were perching on chairs in the sitting room, Deirdre explained. “Well, she got up late this morning. Overslept, feeling safe for the first time for months, she said.”

  “Get on with it, Deirdre, said Ivy.

  “Well, you know she has these chickens and they’re like children to her. All got names, and that kind of thing? Well, apparently she’d forgotten to shut them up last night, though she swears she didn’t. Anyway, being bantams, they could fly, and all but one had flown up into a tree. All but one, and there was no trace of it.”

  There was an uncertain silence, during which Ivy folded her hands in her lap and looked fixedly at the floor.

  “So, she’d more than likely forgotten to shut them up last night? And a fox had taken one?” Gus could see that Roy was having trouble nudging Ivy into attention.

  “And a fox could have come back for the rest. Foxes do that. It might come back tonight. She is very upset,” Deirdre repeated.

  “I’m afraid I agree with Deirdre,” said Ivy, to the surprise of the others. “Anybody could get into the yard and slide open the hen door. And nobody is going to believe that she did shut them up. This is a very nasty way of causing alarm to a defenceless woman, and since it could mean other similar tricks could happen, we have to speed up our enquiries. Meanwhile, Deirdre, if you are going up to see her now, I should suggest to her that she find some reputable person to lodge with her, if only for a short time, until we, and of course the police, have sorted it all out.”

  Deirdre managed a wobbly smile at Ivy, and said that she would certainly do that, and maybe Ivy would like to come with her? “The two of us might reassure her. What do you think, Gus?”

  “Good thinking, Dee-Dee. Poor woman needs some support right now. What a pity her sister can’t help her. Why don’t you and Ivy go up to Blackwoods in your car, and I’ll walk with Roy and his trundle back to Springfields.”

  • • •

  ON THEIR WAY up Manor Road to the farm, Ivy and Deirdre discussed what could be done straight away for Mrs. Blatch.

  “I could invite her to stay with me for a few days,” Deirdre said.

  “You might never get rid of her,” Ivy replied. “Don’t advise that one. No, but I think she might agree to your staying with her for a night or two, until she feels braver. What do you think?”

  “Um, yes,” Deirdre said hesitantly. “Er, I suppose that would be all right. I could kip down on a camp bed or so
mething, to be there during the night. But what about the dark chamber? Suppose there is someone in there, coming and going via the fire escape? That someone might not feel too kindly towards me. Come to that, why won’t that mysterious lodger, if he exists, do for a reassuring presence in the house?”

  Ivy did not answer, pleased that Deirdre was seeing sense, and not being too carried away by her new friendship. “Come on, gel,” she said. “Let’s go and see if she’s handing out chicken pie.”

  They walked round into the farmyard, and saw that the remaining bantams were all down from the trees, and Eleanor Blatch had fed and watered them. She burst into tears when she saw Deirdre, and thanked them profusely for coming round so quickly.

  “All part of Enquire Within service,” said Ivy firmly. “Now, why don’t we all have a nice cup of tea and talk about what’s happened to you.”

  Deirdre did not have much longer to think about her plan to move in for a day or two. Eleanor told them once more how she was sure she shut up all the hens, having counted them in, and this morning she found the door open and the rest up a tree. “They looked scared to death!” she said.

  How can you tell what a chicken is thinking? Ivy was already sceptical. Then Eleanor continued, “If I paid a suitable fee, Miss Beasley, do you think Deirdre, I mean Mrs. Bloxham, would come and sleep overnight here? I could make a spare bedroom very acceptable, and it would tide me over this horrible panicky feeling.”

  Deirdre was frowning again, and willing Ivy to refuse, but then Ivy nodded and said she was sure that would be okay. However it would have to be an Enquire Within decision, with all partners agreeing. “We have never undertaken this kind of task, you understand,” she said. “We can let you know later today, in time for you to make other arrangements if Mrs. Bloxham is unable to do this.”

  At this, Deirdre opened her mouth to speak, but Ivy jumped in and said that they must be going in order to have an emergency meeting. They would be in touch, she said, and more or less pushed Deirdre out of the door.

  “Ivy!” said Deirdre, as they drove off. “How could you? Poor woman. I shall go back there this evening. We don’t need to ask the others.”

  “Chairman’s orders,” said Ivy. “No such decisions to be made by individual board members. First we go and ask Gus, and then we can get Roy’s reaction when you take me back to Springfields.”

  Secretly relieved, having thought twice about the creepy old farmhouse and the dark chamber, Deirdre did as she was told and drove down Hangman’s Lane to find Gus.

  When he heard what they had to say, he stood masterfully over Deirdre, who was sitting on the edge of a rickety chair, biting her nails.

  “I’ve had a better idea,” he said. “I shall go instead of Deirdre. I’ve met far more dangerous moments in my life than a confrontation with an unpleasant prankster. No, Deirdre, no arguments, I shall go this evening. Mrs. Blatch and I will watch television together, then retire to our separate beds, armed to the teeth. She might even talk to me about her sister. All fixed.”

  • • •

  WHEN DEIRDRE HELPED Ivy out of her car and went with her into Springfields, Roy met them at the lounge door, looking anxious. They gave him the bare bones of Mrs. Blatch’s request, and he looked even more anxious.

  “Relax, Roy,” said Deirdre. “Gus is going to do it. He’ll start tonight at Blackwoods Farm and report back to us tomorrow. I must say I’m relieved, and I’m sure Ivy is, too. Maybe a coward’s way out, from my point of view, but I think it is the sensible solution.”

  Mrs. Spurling appeared, hands on hips. “May I be permitted to ask if Mr. Goodman and Miss Beasley will be in for lunch?” she said, tight-lipped.

  “Of course we will,” said Ivy. “If we weren’t, we would have told you earlier, as usual. Now, you two, come along in, and let’s get Roy up to date.”

  “Yes, indeed,” said Roy. “I need to know for a start if you formulated any opinion on what we do next. Apart from Deirdre going to stay with Mrs. Blatch overnight? I did take one step by myself, and hope it will be approved.”

  “What are you talking about, my dear?” said Ivy.

  “Oops, sorry, Ivy!” he answered with a smile. “I took it on myself, and I hope you won’t mind, and I gave the police a ring about the hens. They were not too impressed, and said that Mrs. Blatch had already informed them. They were, of course, carrying out enquiries, ho ho.”

  “As Deirdre is about to remind you, Roy,” announced Ivy, “even small actions like one hen going missing are trivial to us, but a disaster to Eleanor Blatch. Of course you did the right thing.” She patted his arm, pecked his cheek and said she did not know what they would do without him.

  Eighteen

  GUS LOOKED AT his clock and with a small sigh put on his jacket, took down Whippy’s lead and said, “Walkies? Yes, I’m afraid it is,” he said, patting the little dog. “But not as we usually know it. I’d better take some food for your breakfast and a water bowl. And a mat, in case Mrs. Blatch objects to you sleeping on my bed. Sorry about this, but should be for one or two nights only, until she gets her confidence back.”

  They set off, and Gus noticed Miriam Blake at her window. She waved and beckoned. But he kept going, making an effort to put thoughts of her delicious supper out of his mind. When he arrived at the farm, Mrs. Blatch was waiting for him, smiling and welcoming them both into the kitchen.

  “So glad you brought Whippy,” she said. “I’ve decided to get another dog myself. I’ve still got the old sheepdog, but he’s so ancient and useless now. He’s deaf as a post and lives in his kennel in the yard. Didn’t even bark when that intruder sneaked in. I fancy a lively youngster, something a bit feisty. I’ve been told a Jack Russell terrier is the most frightening to a burglar. Goes for their ankles, you know. Anyway, I am sure Whippy can bark loudly, and that’s a good substitute!”“

  “Thanks,” said Gus. “Is it okay if I put her mat upstairs in my bedroom?”

  “Wouldn’t she be better as a guard dog here in the kitchen?”

  Gus had a sudden mental picture of Whippy facing a big man with a stick, and said that he would prefer to have his dog with him. “She senses a presence, even before I have heard anything,” he said. “So I can be fully alert if anything happens. Which I’m sure it won’t,” he added, on a more optimistic note.

  “Well, we shall cross our fingers,” Eleanor Blatch said, and led the way upstairs. She showed him the bathroom and his small bedroom, clean and tidy with fresh linen. As they came out onto the landing, he turned and pointed to steps leading to the dark chamber. “More bedrooms down there?” he said innocently. “Must have been a big family living here at one time.”

  She nodded. “A farmer in the past had five daughters, and so built on a couple of extra rooms. They haven’t been used for years. That one’s locked most of the time, but I occasionally go in there to check on the mice. No need for it, you see.

  So that accounts for the shadow on the lighted window, he thought. Checking on mice. He said that he would turn in early, as he intended to be up in good time for Whippy’s prebreakfast walk.

  “Oh, but do have a cup of something with me before you retire,” Eleanor said. “Or a nightcap. I like a small whisky myself. What do you fancy?”

  Not you, missus, he thought. Although with a good haircut and some makeup she could look another ten years younger. He accepted her offer of a nightcap politely.

  The bed was comfortable, and as Whippy landed on his legs under the covers, he relaxed and was asleep within ten minutes. A good hour later, he awoke to the sound of footsteps. They were soft and quick, and as Whippy pricked up her ears, he heard the main bedroom door shut. Eleanor needing a pee, he decided, and went back to sleep.

  An owl hooting outside his window was the next interruption. He got out of bed and drew back the curtains. A bright full moon shone into his eyes, and he blinked. He had never seen
the moon looking so huge. It could have been suspended a hundred yards away over the nearby field, and he looked up the road towards the Manor. To his surprise he saw lights at the upper windows. A student working late, burning the midnight oil, he guessed.

  The owls hooted again, two of them answering one another. Gus yawned widely and padded back to his bed. Whippy raised her head to look at him, and then curled up tightly, disapproving of his restlessness. This time he found it difficult to go back to sleep, and wondered once more what could have caused such a complete rift between two sisters. Perhaps he would bring up the subject tomorrow.

  His thoughts wandered on to the fire escape. Unusual in an old farmhouse, surely? Someone must have realised that the old wooden beams and occasional lath and plaster walls could go up in flames in a couple of minutes. Or did the dark chamber have a more sinister history? Was it a punishment room for one of those daughters? Being forced down the dizzying descent of the fire escape as an extra ordeal? And then, arriving at the cage exit, was there a man-eating tiger waiting for her?

  For God’s sake, Halfhide, he told himself, don’t be so ridiculous. He punched his pillow and settled more comfortably. He wished now that he had succumbed to temptation and gone to supper with Miriam. He could be snoozing on her sofa now, with Whippy by his side. Finally he fell asleep.

  • • •

  IVY AND ROY had watched television in her room until later than usual, then they had kissed tenderly and separated, Roy going along the corridor to his room, and Ivy slowly undressing for the night. They had been talking about their coming marriage, and Ivy had said that it was going ahead this time, if she had to carry Roy up to the altar herself. Roy had laughed and put his arms around her and lifted her a couple of inches from the floor. “I shall do the lifting in our marriage,” he said. “That’s quite enough of that,” Ivy had squealed, and then he had gone and peace reined over Springfields.

  Before she fell asleep, Ivy had a recurring few minutes of anxiety. Roy had made it clear that a double bed was ordered, and that they would share it happily together. All very well, Ivy thought now, if you have the body of a twenty-year-old. But what would he think of wrinkly skin and droopy bosoms? And then there was her middle-aged spread controlled during the day by her mother’s old boned corset. Should she ask him to look the other way whilst she unhooked it and leapt into bed? Well, slowly climbed would be more accurate. Her old legs were pretty good for her age, but she was well aware of knotted veins and spindle shanks.