by Kerry Tombs
Looking up, he observed that the window was slightly ajar. He stepped out into the garden and crouched down to examine the ground.
At the sound of people returning to the house he stepped back quickly into the study.
‘Ah, there you are, Ravenscroft,’ said Sommersby, entering the room. ‘May I introduce you to Doctor Gladwyn.’
Ravenscroft shook hands with the new arrival.
‘Well, this is a sad state of affairs. Poor Pitzer, I had warned him that he must take greater care of his health,’ said Gladwyn, in a pronounced Welsh accent.
‘It must have happened quite suddenly. We were in the main room at the time,’ said Sommersby, as the doctor began to examine the deceased.
‘Yes, I am inclined to agree with you, Sommersby. It does appear that Pitzer died of a seizure of some kind.’
‘You are sure of that diagnosis?’ asked Ravenscroft, examining the contents of a small silver tray on one of the side tables.
The two men, surprised by his comments, looked sternly in his direction.
‘My dear sir, I am a qualified medical practitioner,’ said Gladwyn drawing up to his full height.
‘Doctor Gladwyn has been practising medicine in this town for over forty years, my dear sir. You of course are a doctor yourself?’ snapped Sommersby.
‘No, I was merely—’
They were interrupted by the sound of the outside door opening once more. Clearly Touchmore had returned with an officer of the local constabulary.
‘If you would care to follow me into the study, Constable,’ said Touchmore entering the room. He was followed by a uniformed officer.
‘You say, sir, that Mr Pitzer died earlier this evening? Why bless my soul, if it isn’t Mr Ravenscroft!’ said the constable.
‘Mr Crabb, we meet again. I was under the impression that you were a member of the farming fraternity. I was not aware that you were also a member of the local constabulary.’
‘Indeed so, sir. It is my mother who runs the family farm near Evesham. I serve with the Malvern Constabulary and live here in the Wells,’ replied Crabb, shaking Ravenscroft’s hand.
‘You two know each other?’ asked Touchmore, a puzzled expression on his face.
‘Mr Ravenscroft and I had the good fortune to meet one another on the Malvern train yesterday,’ answered Crabb.
‘Constable, can we now proceed?’ said Sommersby in an irritated voice.
‘By all means, sir. You say that Mr Pitzer died earlier this evening?’ asked Crabb, taking out his notebook from the inside top pocket of his tunic.
‘Constable, if I may,’ said Gladwyn. ‘Poor Mr Pitzer appears to have died as the result of a seizure.’
‘Had he been ill, sir?’ asked Crabb beginning to write in his pocketbook.
‘He did consult with me two or three weeks ago, and I found him a little tired and recommended that perhaps he and his wife would benefit from a holiday.’
‘I see, sir. It would appear that the gentleman did not take your advice. Well, I will have to inform the coroner of course. It’s just a formality,’ said Crabb closing his pocketbook once more.
‘Constable Crabb, I wonder if I might have a private word with you, before you leave?’ asked Ravenscroft. The two men looked at one another.
‘Of course, sir. I wonder if I could ask you other gentlemen to go into the drawing room, while I have a word with Mr Ravenscroft.’
‘Really, Crabb, this is most irregular,’ protested Sommersby.
‘I’m sure we won’t detain you long, sir,’ said Crabb.
‘Oh, come along, Sommersby. Let’s do as he says,’ said Gladwyn.
Sommersby gave Ravenscroft a stare as he left the room, followed by Touchmore and Gladwyn.
‘Now, sir, I guess that you know something about this affair that does not seem at first evident?’ said Crabb closing the door behind the departed trio.
‘I do indeed, but before that, I should inform you that I hold the rank of Inspector in the Whitechapel Division of the Metropolitan Police.’
‘I knew I was right! When I saw you yesterday, I said to myself, ten to a penny that gent is a policeman — and look here we are again,’ smiled the young constable.
‘The other gentlemen here tonight would have it that Pitzer died of a seizure of some kind.’
‘But you know differently, sir, I’ll be bound.’
‘I do indeed, Constable Crabb. You see, I think that Pitzer did not die of a seizure or as the result of any other natural causes or ailments. I have every reason to believe that Pitzer was murdered in this room earlier this evening!’
CHAPTER TWO
‘Well, sir, that seems rather a bold statement to make, if you don’t mind my saying so. What evidence do you have to suggest such a possibility?’ asked Crabb.
‘When I arrived at the house earlier this evening, Mrs Pitzer informed me that her husband was detained, in this study, on urgent business. I believe that he was expecting a visitor, and it was that person who entered this room and killed him.’
‘But surely the maid would have seen such a person when she showed the visitor into the study?’
‘I believe that the visitor did not wish to announce his, or her, presence to the rest of the house, and that the person entered through that window.’
‘How do you know that, sir?’
‘When I entered the study tonight, I observed that the window over there was slightly ajar. It leads directly onto the garden. Whoever was in this room with Pitzer tonight must have entered and left by that same entrance. That the window is not closed properly suggests he left in a hurry.’
‘You think the killer was afraid of being interrupted?’ enquired Crabb.
‘I am sure of it. Furthermore, outside the window I found marks caused by a shoe or boot on the earth directly below it. A path from the house then leads across the garden to a gate. It would have been easy for our visitor to have slipped out of the grounds without being seen by anyone, and once outside he could have made his way anywhere.’
‘He could even have returned to the house later,’ suggested Crabb.
‘Indeed. If Pitzer was killed at approximately half past six, let us say, there would have been ample time for either Mr Sommersby or the reverend to have returned to the house to keep their dinner appointment.’
‘You suspect either of these two gentlemen, sir?’
‘We must keep an open mind to all possibilities, Constable Crabb. Certainly, Sommersby was quick to assume that Pitzer had died of natural causes and Doctor Gladwyn seemed only too obliging to agree with him.’
‘Begging your pardon, sir, but you keep saying that Mr Pitzer was killed?’
‘There are two glasses on this tray by the decanter. Both appeared to have been used recently, but one of them has the remains of what looks like a powdery substance at the bottom,’ said Ravenscroft, holding the suspect glass up to the light.
‘Then you think, sir, that Mr Pitzer was poisoned?’
‘It would appear so. There is a slight bitter smell. Clearly our murderer did not have time to swill out the remaining contents of the glass before he left, but then again he probably assumed that everyone would accept that Pitzer had died of natural causes and would have no need to make an examination of the room.’
‘So our visitor pours out two glasses of sherry and slips some poison into one of the glasses. Very neat, I would say.’
‘Poor Pitzer then drinks the lethal concoction, and slumps forward over the desk, and if I am not mistaken, he may well have dropped the glass from his hand onto the floor. You will oblige me by studying the carpet Crabb.’
The constable crouched on the floor and ran his fingers along the carpet.
‘You are correct, sir, there is indeed quite a wet patch here.’
‘Pitzer dropped the glass, and our murderer, disturbed by some noise outside in the hall, picked it up quickly and replaced it on the tray before leaving in a hurry, in case he was discovered.’
‘I am quite impressed by your observations, sir, but who could have done such a deed — and why?’
‘That is what we have to discover — or rather what you have to discover. I have no jurisdiction here in Malvern. It must be a matter for the local constabulary to investigate.’
‘I think we will be a bit out of our depth with this one, sir. We don’t tend to have any murders here in Malvern. I’ll have a word with my sergeant. I’m sure he would be most obliged if you were to take over the case, sir.’
‘I do not think I am able to comply with your request, Constable. I am supposed to be here for the water cure, and I had planned to leave tomorrow for Brighton.’
Crabb looked crestfallen. ‘I see, sir. Well then, that’s a great shame. It looks as though our murderer may escape the gallows. Perhaps you could just stay for a day or so until the investigation is under way and we have apprehended the felon?’
‘I’m not so sure, Constable,’ protested Ravenscroft.
‘We would be grateful for your expertise, sir,’ pleaded the constable.
Ravenscroft thought deeply for a moment.
‘As you wish, Constable Crabb — but just for a day or so.’
‘That is excellent news, sir. You will of course take over the investigation?’ asked Crabb enthusiastically.
‘If your sergeant agrees, Constable,’ sighed Ravenscroft. ‘Then let us make a start. If you would have a word with our three guests, inform them as to my true role, but on no account mention that we suspect that Pitzer was murdered. Just say we have to make further enquiries.’
‘I understand, sir.’
‘Tell them to go home but make appointments for us to see each one of them individually tomorrow. Then I suggest you return to your station and inform both your sergeant and the coroner. Then meet me tomorrow morning outside the Tudor at ten o’ clock.’
‘And you, sir?’
‘I will have words with the maid, Susan, before returning to the Tudor.’
* * *
‘Sit down here, Susan,’ said Ravenscroft, indicating a seat on the sofa. ‘I believe that Constable Crabb may have told you that we are making enquiries into the death of your master.’
‘Yes, sir,’ replied the maid, dabbing the corner of her eye with a handkerchief.
‘I realise that you have suffered an unpleasant shock, but I would like to ask you a few questions, if you feel you can manage that?’ asked Ravenscroft, trying to sound as sympathetic as he could as he sat down beside her.
‘Yes, sir. I will do my best.’
‘I’m sure you will. How long have you been working for Mr and Mrs Pitzer?’
‘For about ten years, sir. I came first as a scullery maid. After a few months Mrs Pitzer asked me to be her personal maid.’
‘Did Mr and Mrs Pitzer ever argue or quarrel?’
‘Oh, no, sir, they were very much devoted to one another. There was never anything like that.’
‘Would you say that your master was the kind of man to have any enemies?’
‘Enemies, sir? Why bless me, sir, everyone seemed to like Mr Pitzer. I never heard anyone have a bad thing to say against him.’
‘Did Mr and Mrs Pitzer have any family? I see no evidence in any of the photographs on display.’
‘No, sir. There was never any talk of a family or such like.’
Ravenscroft paused as the maid dabbed her tearful eyes with her handkerchief.
‘I want to turn to the events of earlier this evening. Did anyone, other than the dinner guests, visit the house either late this afternoon, or earlier this evening?’
‘No, sir. No one called.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Ravenscroft moving closer to the maid.
‘Quite sure, sir. Mr Pitzer received no one. There was only the boy with the letter.’
‘The boy with the letter?’
‘Yes, sir. A boy came with a letter for Mr Pitzer.’
‘What time was this?’
‘About half past four, sir. I told the boy to wait while I took the letter into Mr Pitzer.’
‘What happened next? What did your master do with the letter?’ asked Ravenscroft anxious to learn more.
‘He read the letter and gave me a sixpence to give to the boy to send him away.’
‘Had you ever seen the boy before?’
‘No, sir. He must have been someone from the town.’
‘Tell me, Susan, how did Mr Pitzer seem when he read the letter?’
‘I don’t understand, sir.’
‘Did he seem angry or displeased?’
‘No, sir. He just read the letter and placed it on his desk. He did say that on no account was he to be disturbed until dinner time.’
‘I see,’ said Ravenscroft standing up. ‘You have been most helpful, Susan.’
‘Can I go now, sir?’
‘One more question. You say that no one else came to the house after the boy left?’
‘That’s correct, sir.’
‘During the evening you would have had cause to pass by the study many times. Did you, at any time, hear voices coming from inside? Think carefully.’
‘No, sir, I heard no voices.’
‘Did you hear any other noises from inside the room?’
‘No, sir. There was only the sound of something falling as I passed the door.’
‘Falling?’
‘Yes, it sounded as though Mr Pitzer had dropped something on the floor.’
‘Excellent, Susan, you are doing very well. Tell me at about what time you heard this noise?’
‘At six thirty, sir,’ replied the maid, a puzzled expression on her face.
‘How can you be sure as to the exact time?’
‘Why, by the clock in the hallway, sir. I remember it chiming the half hour, just after I heard the noise.’
‘And you did not go into the study to investigate what had caused the noise?’
‘No, sir. I did tap on the door, but Mr Pitzer had left strict instructions that he was not to be disturbed, on any account, and there was no response.’
‘Thank you, Susan. I am obliged to you for all your assistance. I think it would be well if you returned to your mistress. She will have need of you tonight. I will let myself out.’
The maid left the room. Ravenscroft stared into dying flames of the fire for some minutes, deep in thought. It had only been yesterday that he had spoken with Pitzer on the train, now here he was in the poor man’s house enquiring into the nature of his demise. It was ironic that his holiday now looked more likely to take second place to his investigations. Quite why he had allowed himself to be persuaded to take on the task of solving the crime by the youthful enthusiastic constable, he was at a loss to comprehend. Then he returned once more to the study where he made a search through the drawers of the desk, before casting a final look round the room.
A few minutes later he began to make his way back along the dimly lit road in the direction of Great Malvern. The gas lamps threw pools of light onto the path before him, each one guiding him onwards towards the next, like islands in a sea of darkness. He drew the collar of his coat tighter round his neck and pulled down his hat to protect him from the wind that blew off the common. Eventually the lights of the town came into view.
He now knew that Pitzer had been poisoned at six thirty that evening, and that whoever had written the letter arranging the meeting had not only sworn Pitzer to secrecy, but had also been careful to remove the same letter before he had hurriedly left the scene of the crime.
It looked to Ravenscroft that he would be staying in Malvern for a while longer. The case looked a challenging one, and he was now resolved to solve it. The pleasures of Brighton would have to wait for a while longer.
As he approached the Tudor, he suddenly became aware of his own hunger and realised that he had not eaten since lunchtime. Perhaps if he was fortunate, Stebbins would still be up at such an hour and be able to procure him a dish or two from the kitchens, before he retired for the evening.
/>
CHAPTER THREE
A loud banging on his bedroom door woke Ravenscroft from the deep sleep he had finally fallen into.
‘Go away, Stebbins! Leave me alone!’ He turned over on his side and buried his face in the pillow.
‘Can’t do that, sir. Orders is orders. Doctor says you must have your bath, and the bath you shall have,’ said the youth, entering the room, throwing open the curtains and reaching for Ravenscroft’s robe.
‘Why are you always so damn cheerful, Stebbins?’
‘No time to be miserable, sir.’
‘And where were you last night when I got back to the Tudor? I hadn’t eaten all evening and could have done with a morsel or two before retiring,’ grumbled Ravenscroft rising from his bed.
‘Say no more, sir. Stebbins is yer man. After yer bath, sir, how about I arrange for a nice juicy slice of lamb and a lump of cheese to be brought to yer room?’
‘Stebbins, I see that we might be friends yet. Here is a shilling.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said the smiling youth, biting on the silver coin with his crooked teeth.
The prospect of finally satisfying his deepening hunger encouraged Ravenscroft to make his way to the bath house where he forced himself to give even the attendant a brief smile. Returning to his room, after his treatment, he found the food and a jug of ale waiting for him on the table at the side of his bed.
After consuming the contents of his unexpected breakfast, he dressed quickly and began to make his way slowly up the hills towards St Ann’s well house. Pausing halfway up the winding path, he wiped his brow and stood admiring the view below him. Duty required him to present himself for his three containers of spring water when he arrived at the well house, but he also hoped that he might find his mysterious travelling companion again. In this he was disappointed. There was no sign of the black-veiled woman. His curiosity on that score would have to wait for another day. There were only three persons present — the attendant, a young boy playing with his hoop, and his nurse.
Ravenscroft raised his hat to the nurse, smiled at the child, and then went over to the old woman who poured him a container of water.
‘Perhaps you might care to read the local paper, sir?’