by Kerry Tombs
‘I already have.’
‘Good. I’m sure he has proved most helpful. Now if you will excuse me, I have another patient to see. Please continue with the treatment and walks. I’ll see you again in another three days.’
* * *
The two policemen climbed into the waiting cab outside the Tudor.
‘Where to, sir?’ enquired Crabb.
‘Back to the almshouses; I think it is about time that Mr Armitage showed us those account books,’ replied Ravenscroft.
Several minutes later they found themselves outside the row of old buildings. The two men walked up the path of Armitage’s cottage and knocked on the door.
‘No good you knockin’. He ain’t there.’
The speaker was one of the old men with whom they had spoken with the day before.
‘Do you know when he will be back, my good fellow?’ asked Crabb.
‘Don’t know. How should I know? He left last night. Just after you skedaddled,’ said the old man. ‘Ain’t seen him since.’
‘I believe he sometimes goes to see his sister in Ledbury?’ suggested Ravenscroft.
‘Does he now?’
‘You don’t happen to know whereabouts in the town that she resides?’
‘Ain’t been to Ledders since me wife left us.’
‘Thank you. If Mr Armitage returns, will you tell him that Inspector Ravenscroft wants to speak with him urgently, and that I can be contacted at the Tudor in Malvern.’
‘Ain’t been to Malvern neither, since I left ’er,’ replied the old man, wiping his nose on his sleeve.
‘Nevertheless, I would be obliged,’ said Ravenscroft firmly.
‘Sees what I can do.’
‘Good day to you, my man.’
‘If we call in at the station in Ledbury, they will know where she lives,’ suggested Crabb, as they made their way back to the cab.
‘Good thinking, Crabb, then let us do that.’
Their journey continued along winding country lanes until they entered the market town of Ledbury. The cab pulled up outside the police station and Crabb went inside to consult with his colleagues, returning a few minutes later.
‘It seems that there is a Miss Armitage who resides in Church Lane.’
Their driver took them on to the Market Place.
Ravenscroft and Crabb climbed down from the cab and looked around at the street full of half-timbered buildings and fine Georgian frontages.
‘Can’t go no further, it’s up there,’ said the cabman, pointing in the direction of a narrow lane in front of them.
‘Will you wait for us here then, my good man?’ said Crabb, patting the horse.
‘I will. Old Patch could do with rest.’
The two men made their way up the narrow, cobbled street, where the old timbered buildings faced one another on either side, until they reached a black and white cottage, with neat hanging baskets of flowers outside.
‘I think this is the place,’ said Crabb. He reached out for the bell pull.
The door was opened by the maid.
‘We understand that Miss Armitage lives here?’ enquired Ravenscroft. ‘Perhaps you would be good enough to say that Inspector Ravenscroft and Constable Crabb from the local Malvern Constabulary would like a word with her.’
The maid curtsied, pulled the door ajar and disappeared from view, leaving the two officers standing on the doorstep.
‘The town seems a pleasant enough place,’ said Ravenscroft, as they waited.
‘’Tis the first time I have been up this lane,’ replied Crabb.
‘Mistress says, would you like to enter this way, sir,’ said the maid, returning.
Ravenscroft and Crabb followed the servant through a brightly lit hall and into a small drawing room.
‘Mr Ravenscroft.’ The speaker was a young lady of striking appearance and auburn hair, who Ravenscroft judged to be of around twenty-five years of age.
‘I presume I have the honour of addressing Miss Armitage?’ said Ravenscroft.
‘You do, sir. How may I help you?’
‘Your brother, is I believe, the warden of the almshouses at Colwall?’
‘Yes. Has something happened to James?’ she asked, suddenly alarmed. ‘Has he met with an accident of some kind?’
‘No. Your brother has not met with an accident. He is well, as far as we know.’
‘That is a relief. Please do sit down, gentlemen.’
Ravenscroft accepted a seat by the table and looked around him. The room was light and airy, being comfortably but simply furnished. A small piano stood in one corner, upon which stood two vases of flowers and a framed photograph of a group of people. A round table and chairs were situated in the centre of the room, and a small but welcoming fire on one of the walls gave out a bright glow. Ravenscroft felt that its occupier had given the arrangement of the room a great deal of thought, and the more he gazed around him the more it seemed to him to be a place full of peace and calm, free from the cares of the outside world — almost a sanctuary.
‘I should perhaps explain, Miss Armitage, why we have called upon you. Your brother is not here I suppose?’
‘I have not seen my brother since last week,’ said the lady of the house, resuming her seat.
‘Constable Crabb and I are investigating the deaths of two prominent members of Malvern society. One of them was Mr Jabez Pitzer, who lived at Malvern Wells; the other a Mr Sommersby, the assistant master at Malvern College. Were you acquainted with either of these two gentlemen, Miss Armitage?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘No, the gentlemen are unfamiliar to me, Inspector.’
‘Did your brother ever mention their names?’
‘I don’t believe so,’ she answered, looking puzzled by his questions.
‘They were both trustees of the almshouses, Miss Armitage.’
‘Ah, I see. I suppose my brother may then have mentioned them in passing. He often talks about the almshouses, but I am afraid I have no recollection of the names. I am sorry.’
‘How often does your brother come to visit you?’ asked Ravenscroft, trying not to be too forthright in his questioning.
‘He usually calls upon me on a Saturday morning. He stays for a few hours. We go out into the town, have lunch here, talk together, and sometimes if it as a fine day we will go onto the hills.’
‘Forgive the intrusion, Miss Armitage, but I could not help noticing the photograph. The people — they are other members of your family?’
‘It was taken a few years ago, before my parents unfortunately died,’ she replied, walking over to the piano and bringing the photograph over so that Ravenscroft might see it. ‘That is my father, and there is my mother,’ she said, pointing to the figures in the picture. ‘We lived in Gloucestershire, near Fairford. After my parents died, James was fortunate enough to secure the position of warden at the almshouses. Naturally I could not share his abode there, so I came here to Ledbury and rented this cottage.’ Ravenscroft thought he could discern a note of sadness in her voice.
‘You have private means to support yourself? Forgive the question,’ said Ravenscroft, beginning to feel uncomfortable with his intrusive questioning.
‘I have a number of pupils who call upon me during the week. I give lessons in piano and some writing. My brother also assists me from time to time, but his income from the almshouses is fairly limited.’
‘You like Ledbury, miss?’ enquired Crabb.
‘Yes. It is a very fine town. I have made many friends here,’ she replied, smiling.
‘I am glad of it, Miss Armitage. We spoke with your brother yesterday at the almshouses, but when we returned this morning we found that he had not been seen there since yesterday evening. If he is not here, can you think of anywhere else where he might be, anywhere at all?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘No. I know James likes walking on the hills. We sometimes take a cab together up to the British Camp and walk down to Eastnor through the park. Is my brother in any kind of troubl
e?’
‘No, not at all, my dear lady,’ replied Ravenscroft, seeking to relieve her anxiety. ‘We merely need to ask him some more questions concerning the affairs of the almshouses. Your brother mentioned that the accounts of the almshouses are kept here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why is that so?’
‘James, my brother, said there had been a burglary at the almshouses recently, and that the books would perhaps be safer if they were kept here. He was anxious that they would not fall into the wrong hands, and worried that he would be in trouble with the trustees if they were lost.’
‘I wonder whether it would be possible if Constable Crabb and I looked at the books, if you have no objection, Miss Armitage?’
‘Yes, of course. They are over here, in the bureau.’
Ravenscroft watched as their hostess walked over to the piece of furniture, opened the lid and took out a large ledger, which she placed on the table.
‘Perhaps you would like some tea?’
‘That would be most welcome,’ replied Ravenscroft.
‘I will leave you two gentlemen to your business, while I go and see to the tea.’
Ravenscroft rose from his seat as Miss Armitage left the room.
‘A very pleasant young lady,’ whispered Crabb.
His superior shrugged his shoulders, smiled briefly and opened the ledger.
‘Now what have we here,’ he said, looking at the first page. ‘1850. That’s too early. Let us try further on.’ He turned over a few more pages. ‘1872. Further on. Armitage came three years ago. Yes here we are. 1884. See how the handwriting changes. This must be where the old warden died, or left, and Armitage took over, Crabb. Now let us see. On this side of the page we have the income, which appears to be in the form of regular sums, probably issued every three months or so, by the trustees I would suspect. On this side we have the expenditure. Let’s see what kind of money is going out. Various items on food, bills paid to local traders, then personal items — new bonnet for Martha Turner, new pair of shoes to Thomas Mason, and so on.’
‘Nothing particularly startling there, sir — and both sides of the books seem to balance,’ said Crabb, leaning over Ravenscroft’s shoulder.
‘It would appear that way, and yet there must be something. Let’s proceed on over the months.’ Ravenscroft turned the pages and ran his finger down the column of figures. ‘This is unusual. See here, Crabb. 1885. February. Troutbridge £1 10s. — and again for March, Troutbridge £1 10s. See, it is the same again for the next month, and the next.’ He turned over yet more pages. ‘Yes, here we are again. Every month, the same sum, paid out on the seventh of the month to this Troutbridge. Ah, here we have an initial D. — D. Troutbridge. I wonder who this D. Troutbridge can possibly be? Paid as regular as clockwork, but not once does it say what the payment is for.’
‘Looks as though we may have uncovered something here, sir,’ said Crabb.
‘It requires further investigation, certainly. There may be a perfect logical explanation for the payments.’
‘Or our Mr Armitage has been paying himself out of the money?’
‘Shush, Crabb, I think Miss Armitage is returning.’
The door opened and the lady in question entered, followed by her maid carrying a tray.
‘Did you find what you were looking for, gentlemen?’
‘Yes, thank you, Miss Armitage,’ replied Ravenscroft, closing the ledger and walking over to the table.
‘Good. Do sit down, gentlemen. That will be all, Sally. I’ll serve the tea. How do you like your tea, Mr Ravenscroft?’
‘Lemon and a little sugar, thank you, miss,’ replied Ravenscroft.
‘And you, Constable?’
‘Oh, I’ll have the same, thank you, miss,’ said Crabb, pulling his collar in an uncomfortable manner.
‘You do not sound as though you are a native of this area, Mr Ravenscroft,’ she said, pouring out the tea and handing the cup to him.
‘No. I live and work in London, in the Whitechapel area.’
‘So what brings you to Malvern then, Inspector?’ his hostess asked, smiling as she did so.
‘I came to Malvern to take the water cure.’
‘Ah, the famous water cure! And how have you found the water cure, Mr Ravenscroft? To your benefit I trust? Here is your tea, Constable.’
‘Thank you, miss,’ said Crabb, accepting the cup.
‘I doubt that very much, Miss Armitage, although I am informed by the physician that I can expect an improvement any day now.’
‘I think you are a born sceptic, Inspector,’ she laughed.
‘Perhaps you may be correct,’ replied Ravenscroft, drinking his tea. ‘Can I ask you if the name D. Troutbridge means anything to you?’
‘No,’ she replied, turning away suddenly.
‘Your brother never mentioned anyone of that name to you?’
‘No. There was a village, close to where we used to live, called Troutbridge. That is all the name means to me.’
‘Thank you, Miss Armitage. You have been most helpful to us. If your brother should return here within the next day or so, I would be obliged if you would ask him to contact me at the Tudor in Malvern,’ said Ravenscroft, standing up.
‘Of course, Inspector, although I sense that my brother is in some kind of trouble,’ said their hostess, rising and looking away sadly.
‘My dear Miss Armitage, I am sure you have nothing to worry yourself about,’ replied Ravenscroft, feeling compelled to lay a comforting hand on her arm. ‘We merely need to meet with your brother again and ask him a few more questions. I am confident he will be able to answer all to our satisfaction.’
‘I know my brother. He is a good man. He would not be involved in these murders you speak of,’ she said suddenly, looking deep into Ravenscroft’s eyes.
‘I am sure not, Miss Armitage.’
‘Lucy.’
‘Lucy,’ repeated Ravenscroft slowly, removing his hand. ‘Be assured we will keep you informed of any developments. I will let you know when we have made contact with your brother.’
‘Thank you, Mr Ravenscroft, I would appreciate that.’
‘Now, Miss Armitage, Lucy, I’m afraid we must continue with our investigation. I thank you for your hospitality, and for the tea.’
‘I will see you both out,’ she said, smiling.
Crabb hastily drank down the contents of his cup, placed it upon the table and followed his superior out of the room.
* * *
Ravenscroft and Crabb made their way down Church Lane, towards their cab, which was waiting for them in the marketplace.
‘Do you think she was telling us the truth about her brother, sir?’ asked Crabb.
‘I have no cause to doubt her.’
‘She could be hiding him, somewhere in the house.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Then it seems, sir, as though our Mr Armitage has gone to ground.’
‘It would appear so. Did you notice how she blushed and turned away when I mentioned the name Troutbridge? Crabb, I think it would be useful if we could make enquiries regarding this D. Troutbridge. Perhaps you would be good enough to ask questions at the Ledbury station to see if they are familiar with the name. While you are doing that, I’ll take a brief walk around the town and see you back here in, say, fifteen minutes.’
‘Very well, sir.’
Crabb set off to the station, after exchanging a few words with the cab driver. Ravenscroft stood back and admired the features of the fine marketplace, then retraced his steps up Church Lane. He paused outside Lucy Armitage’s cottage for a moment or so, looking up at the windows, half expecting to see the young lady gazing down upon him, and then continued upwards until he reached the church yard. Opening the door of the church he went inside the building. A figure was standing by the altar and called out to him. ‘Welcome to our church, sir.’
‘Thank you. You are the incumbent here?’
‘I am indeed. How can I help you?�
� asked the clergyman, peering through his round spectacles.
‘You have been here a long time, vicar?’
‘More years than I sometimes care to remember,’ laughed the other.
‘So, I would be correct in assuming that you know everyone in these parts?’
‘Well, nearly everyone, but may I be so bold, sir, as to enquire the nature of your questions?’
‘I am a police inspector. What can you tell me about Miss Armitage?’
‘A charming lady, she lives just down the lane. She arrived about three years ago, if I recall. One of my daughters goes to her house once a week for piano instruction. Surely the good lady is not in any trouble?’ asked the vicar anxiously.
‘Do not alarm yourself my good, sir. I am sure the lady is of an impeccable character. I understand she has a brother?’
‘Yes, I think he is the warden of some almshouses, over at Colwall, I think.’
‘What can you tell me about him?’
‘Very little I’m afraid. I think he came to church once with his sister. He seemed an agreeable fellow, but really I don’t recall much about him.’
‘And does the name Troutbridge mean anything to you? D. Troutbridge, to be precise?’
‘Troutbridge, Troutbridge? Yes, I have heard of the name, but I must confess I cannot put a face to it.’
‘But the name is familiar to you? I believe it is a local name. The family may reside in the vicinity. If you could try and recall the name, I would be most grateful,’ urged Ravenscroft.
‘Well — but — ah, yes, I have it. I believe there is a family called Troutbridge out near Mathon. Yes, Troutbridge, that is the name. They live on a farm, if I recall correctly. Yes, that’s it,’ replied the vicar scratching his head.
‘Thank you. Mathon, you say? You have been most helpful,’ said Ravenscroft turning away.
‘Glad to have been of service. Come to one of our services if you have the time officer.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ said Ravenscroft, as he closed the door behind him on the way out.
He found Crabb waiting for him back at the market place.