The Inspector Ravenscroft Mysteries Box Set

by Kerry Tombs

‘But, sir, we’ve a lot on at the moment,’ protested Ravenscroft, secretly hoping that his objection would be overruled.

  ‘Granted. There is this Nichols murder to deal with. Some prostitute in Whitechapel who’s been stabbed to death. Rather nasty by all accounts. I’ve got Inspector Spratling on the case. He seems to be managing well. I think we can spare you. No, you take yourself off to Worcester. You’ll need to tread carefully in regard to the local force, however. Fellow called Henderson is in charge. He’s a prickly customer by all accounts.’

  ‘If that is what you want, sir.’

  ‘What I want, Ravenscroft, is for this case to be solved as professionally as possible,’ said the commissioner leaning forward and fixing his eyes on him. ‘The Yard’s reputation is at stake. We can’t afford any more mistakes, like today. Take as long as you like — and don’t let the Yard down this time.’

  ‘I’ll do my best, sir,’ said Ravenscroft standing to his feet.

  ‘I sincerely hope so,’ muttered the commissioner looking down at his papers.

  Ravenscroft closed the door behind him and made his way down the staircase. As he walked across the courtyard, the idea of leaving London began to grow increasingly more attractive with each step that he took. To be able to put the streets of Whitechapel, the corridors and courts of the Bailey, the rooms of the Yard and the summer heat of London all behind him for a few days, maybe even for a few weeks, seemed freedom and opportunity indeed. There would be old friends to meet, and the chance of good food and fine country air to be experienced and enjoyed. The world had suddenly become a more appealing place.

  And, of course, there would perhaps be the opportunity to see Lucy Armitage once more, and to renew his favours in that direction.

  CHAPTER THREE

  WORCESTER

  ‘My dear Crabb. How delighted I am to see you again!’

  Ravenscroft had just alighted from the train at the town’s Foregate Street Station and had been reunited with his former colleague.

  ‘Pleased to be welcoming you to Worcester, sir,’ said Constable Crabb shaking the hand that had been offered. ‘May I take your bag, sir?’

  ‘That is most kind of you.’

  ‘I trust you had a good journey, sir?’

  ‘As well as could be expected. Now, Crabb, tell me your news. How is that good wife of yours, and that fine godson of mine, young master Samuel?’ asked Ravenscroft, addressing his younger colleague.

  ‘Both remarkably well, sir, thank you.’

  ‘Your wife must be feeding you well. I’m sure you have put on some weight since I saw you last.’

  ‘I believe you are correct in your observation, sir. It is a fortunate man indeed who marries a good cook. This way.’

  The two men made their way down the flight of steps and out into the street.

  ‘This is Foregate Street, sir; the main street of the town. I have taken the liberty of booking you into the Cardinal’s Hat. They say the food and accommodation are very good there. It’s not far, sir, if you would care to follow me.’

  Ravenscroft found himself walking along a wide, busy street, full of horse-drawn vehicles, cabs and people going about their everyday business.

  ‘I have managed to let the Malvern Constabulary release me from duty there, to assist you in your enquiries.’

  ‘That is good news indeed, Crabb. I don’t know what I would have done without you last year at Malvern.’

  ‘Talking of Malvern, sir, it seems as though our good friend The Reverend Touchmore of Malvern Priory has been elevated to the Dean and Chapter of Worcester Cathedral.’

  ‘I know. Apparently it was he who asked for me to come down here.’

  ‘I see, sir.’

  ‘And I must say, Crabb, it is a relief to leave all the excitement of London behind me for a few days.’

  The two men turned off the main thoroughfare, and soon found themselves in a narrow street, where Ravenscroft’s senses were assailed by the noise and clamour of the shopkeepers shouting out their latest offers to the crowds as they passed by.

  ‘This area is called the Shambles. Watch where you are treading, sir! Some of the rotten fruit and vegetables find their way into the road, to say nothing of the horse droppings!’

  ‘I see what you mean, Crabb,’ said Ravenscroft, stepping quickly to one side to avoid being pushed into a pile of squashed apples by a large woman of assertive tendencies. ‘More like London, than Malvern!’ he added.

  Reaching the end of the thoroughfare, the two men turned left, and then sharply to their right, and soon found themselves in a quieter area, where the old timber-framed buildings jutted out into the street, and the cobbles were uneven beneath their feet.

  ‘The Cardinal’s Hat is just down here, sir.’

  ‘Unusual name for an inn.’

  ‘I believe its name has something to do with the pilgrims who lodged there whilst visiting the cathedral. Speaking of which, sir, you can just get a view of it over there, above the roof tops on our right.’

  ‘It looks an imposing building.’

  ‘I have arranged for us to visit the reverend gentleman there in about half an hour. I knew that you would want to commence investigations right away.’

  ‘You thought right, Crabb.’

  ‘Ah, here we are,’ said Crabb, stopping and opening the door of the inn.

  An elderly man with a ruddy complexion and stout appearance came forward to greet them as they entered the bar. ‘Good day to you, sir.’

  ‘Good day to you, landlord. This gentleman is Inspector Ravenscroft from London. He will be staying with you.’

  ‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. From London, you say. We don’t have many folks from London staying ’ere. On police business, sir?’ the landlord enquired.

  ‘That’s of a confidential nature, my man,’ interjected Crabb. ‘See that the inspector gets your best room.’

  ‘All the rooms at the Cardinal’s Hat are of the highest quality. Martha, will you take this gentleman up to number five, if you please.’

  A young girl emerged from around the corner and picked up Ravenscroft’s bag.

  ‘I’m sure you will enjoy your stay at— Oh, I should have warned you about that beam! It’s as well to duck when you go through.’

  ‘Thank you,’ muttered Ravenscroft, rubbing the top of his head where it had just come into contact with the offending woodwork. ‘I’ll try and remember next time. On second thoughts, just place the bag in the room, and we will return later.’

  ‘As you wish, sir.’

  ‘Delighted to meet you again, Inspector, and you Constable Crabb. Do please both take a seat.’

  The speaker was an elderly clerical gentleman, of rotund appearance and whose round, red face was adorned with a fine set of grey side whiskers. ‘As you can see my circumstances have somewhat changed since our last meeting. I had quite expected to spend the remainder of my days ministering to my flock at the Priory in Great Malvern, but then the good Dean, The Reverend Doctor Sanderson, unexpectedly died — I say unexpectedly, he was ninety-one at the time of his demise — but everyone thought he would go on for ever. Then he caught a rather nasty chill and passed away over a weekend. So sudden. The bishop contacted me and invited me to become the new dean and join the chapter of Worcester Cathedral. At first I declined the offer, believing that my true mission was to be found in Malvern, but the bishop was so persuasive, I eventually came to the conclusion that it was my Christian duty to accept such an undertaking,’ said the cleric, without pausing for breath.

  ‘You certainly have a very fine house here at the Cathedral Close,’ said Ravenscroft looking around the room, with its Regency furniture, ornate decoration and fine paintings.

  ‘Indeed so, although of course I am only the custodian. We are all here on this earth, for only for a brief time, and we have a duty, I believe, not only to safeguard that which has been passed down to us but also to leave something of ourselves for posterity. When I first came here—�
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  Crabb coughed, as Ravenscroft interrupted the dean’s flow of words. ‘Your letter speaks of a missing book?’

  ‘Ah yes, the Whisperie.’

  ‘Whisperie?’ enquired Crabb.

  ‘Yes, an unusual title. It was written by a monk, here at Worcester, in the early thirteenth century. I need not say that the book is one of our most priceless relics. Irreplaceable, of course. What makes the work so unusual is its content. You must understand, gentlemen, that up to that time most works were of a religious nature, either drawing upon the script of the Bible, or recounting the activities of the early Christian missionaries to these islands. Then in the year 1216 King John died and his body was conveyed here to Worcester, where he lies to this day in the chancel. Apparently he had quite a liking for the place. John, however, was a very unpopular monarch, by all accounts, and most people were rather pleased when he died. He had heavily taxed many of them for so many years. Not only was the church and the barons taxed, so were the ordinary townspeople, yeoman farmers, merchants and, of course, the Jews. The country was practically ruined by his foreign exploits, and following a revolt by the barons he was forced to sign the Magna Carta, which I am sure you have heard about.’

  Ravenscroft nodded and leaned back in his armchair, enjoying the history lesson.

  ‘There were quite a number of rumours spread about the cause of his death, at the time. The accepted version is that he died from eating too much food, although many believed that he had been poisoned by either one of his own barons or by someone — God forbid — who was high up in the church. All these accounts, or rumours, are included in the Whisperie, which was written by our unidentified monk at the time of John’s funeral. I cannot stress too highly, Inspector, the importance and significance of this work to both the cathedral, and to the nation. It must be recovered at all costs.’

  ‘You say the book was taken from the library?’ asked Ravenscroft gazing out of the window, across the Close, towards the cathedral.

  ‘Yes, Worcester Cathedral has one of the finest libraries of medieval books and manuscripts in the country. The collection runs to many thousands, with some of the items dating back to, and before, the cathedral’s foundation. Many of the works give a profound insight into the life of the late medieval Benedictine priory, and are all handwritten and beautifully decorated with colourful initial letters and cartouches. They were nearly all lost in a fire that broke out in the vestry sometime in the last century I believe—’

  ‘Where are the books kept now, sir?’ asked Crabb looking up from his notebook.

  ‘In the library, which is situated over the vestry, on the south side of the cathedral,’ replied Touchmore, taking out a large handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing his brow.

  ‘They are in a secure location?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘Absolutely, Inspector; only the librarian and myself have a set of keys which opens the door leading into the library.’

  ‘Are the public allowed to view the library?’

  ‘No. Visitors are only allowed access to the library by prior appointment, and once there are closely supervised by the librarian. Could I offer you gentlemen a glass of sherry?’ said Touchmore, rising from his seat behind his desk.

  ‘Not for me, thank you, sir,’ said Ravenscroft.

  ‘Nor me, sir, don’t touch the stuff,’ added Crabb.

  ‘Then you won’t mind if I do? I find a glass of sherry taken at this time, strengthens one’s resolve for the rest of the day. Now let me see, where were we?’

  ‘I believe we were talking about the disappearance of the Whisperie, Dean. When did you first notice that it had been taken?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘One of our minor canons came to my office in the morning, to say that he had found the door to the library open, and that there was broken glass everywhere. I immediately went to investigate and found that the cabinet that housed the Whisperie had been broken into, and that the book was missing,’ replied Touchmore pouring himself a large glass of sherry and resuming his seat.

  ‘I understand that your librarian is also absent?’

  ‘That is correct, Inspector. Nicholas Evelyn has not been seen or heard of since the book was taken. It is all most worrying.’

  ‘Do you think he could have taken it?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘At first sight, it would seem most unlikely. He has been librarian here for over forty years. I’m sure that if he wanted to steal the book he would have done so many years ago. Also as he had a set of keys to both the library and the cases, he would not have needed to smash the cabinet to acquire the book.’

  ‘Nevertheless both he and the book seemed to have disappeared at approximately the same time,’ said Ravenscroft. ‘What can you tell us about Evelyn?’

  ‘I can’t tell you a great deal about the man I’m afraid. I have been here less than a year, and during that time have only spoken to him on perhaps three or four occasions. He kept very much to himself, but I suppose that was the nature of his occupation,’ replied the dean, replacing his handkerchief.

  ‘So, he was a very lonely man?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. I do not remember him attending any of the social or ecclesiastical events of the cathedral.’

  ‘Was he married?’

  ‘No, I believe he lived alone, in lodgings near the old Cornmarket.’

  ‘Has anyone been to see if he is there, sir?’ asked Crabb. ‘He could have been taken ill.’

  ‘Those were exactly my own thoughts at first, Constable. No, I have been to his lodgings, and checked his rooms, but his landlady has not seen him since the night of the robbery.’

  ‘What else can you tell me about him?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  Touchmore sipped his sherry and thought for a moment, before replying, ‘I can’t in all honesty add anything else at all. Dear me, I find it rather sad that I do not know more about the man. I should have taken the time to engage him in conversation and found out more about his concerns.’

  ‘Do not reproach yourself, sir. I’m sure you are a busy man,’ said Ravenscroft.

  ‘There is perhaps one thing: I know that the vestry has been concerned that perhaps Evelyn has been finding the job somewhat arduous of late. It was suggested to him that he should consider taking on another, younger assistant, with a view to eventual retirement.’

  ‘And what was his response to this suggestion?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘I understand that he became quite annoyed, and rejected the proposal, after which nothing more was said on the subject.’

  ‘Thank you, Dean. I wonder if we might now visit the library?’ asked Ravenscroft, easing himself out of the comfortable armchair.

  ‘Of course, Inspector; I understand how important it is for you to view the scene of the crime. If you would care to follow me, gentlemen, we will make our way over to the cathedral.’

  Touchmore led the way across the lawns of the Cathedral Close.

  ‘It is certainly an impressive building,’ remarked Ravenscroft, as the three men entered through the south doorway.

  ‘It is one of the finest cathedrals in England, Inspector. Ah, I hear the choristers practising.’

  The three men stood in silence, listening to the sound of boys’ voices drifting down into the nave of the cathedral, and looking upwards at the fine stained-glass windows and impressive arches.

  ‘The boys come from the adjoining King’s School. They attend morning and evening services in the cathedral, and often come here, at quiet times in the day, to practise,’ informed the dean.

  Ravenscroft smiled, as a bewildered Crabb looked around in awe. ‘A magnificent building; I had not expected it to have been so large, and inspiring.’

  ‘If you would care to follow me, gentlemen,’ said Touchmore leading the way across to an old oak door in one of the walls. ‘This will take you up to the vestry, after which another wooden staircase will enable you to reach the library. You will find that the room has been left exactly as we found it. If you will
excuse me though, gentlemen, I will not come with you. I have a meeting to attend, and I find the ascent somewhat difficult at my age.’

  ‘Thank you, Dean. I am sure we can manage,’ said Ravenscroft.

  ‘Till later then, gentlemen.’

  Ravenscroft and Crabb began their climb up the stone steps.

  ‘Well, our Mister Touchmore seems to have done very well for himself,’ said Crabb, following behind his superior.

  ‘Good fortune always shines on the righteous — or so they say.’

  ‘No wonder they wanted old Evelyn to retire. These steps are worse than the main street in Malvern!’ muttered Crabb.

  ‘Ah, here we are. This must be the vestry,’ said Ravenscroft, pausing to steady his breathing.

  ‘Bit of a dusty old room,’ remarked Crabb.

  ‘And there are the steps up to the library. You can go first this time, Crabb.’

  The two men made their way up the old wooden steps. Eventually they could see a heavy oak door ahead of them at the top of the flight. Crabb pushed open the entrance to the library and they stepped inside.

  Ravenscroft took a large spotted handkerchief from his coat pocket and mopped his forehead. ‘I must be out of training, Crabb,’ he said, between gasps.

  ‘You’ll have to go back to Malvern for another water cure, sir,’ laughed Crabb.

  Ravenscroft gave his colleague a look of disdain.

  ‘There are certainly plenty of books up here. Rows and rows of them,’ said Crabb.

  ‘Well, whoever broke in here, certainly made a mess of the place. Broken glass everywhere,’ said Ravenscroft walking over to the case. ‘Mind where you tread, Crabb. This was obviously where the Whisperie was kept, and it looks as though this candlestick was used to break the glass, as it is lying here in the case.’

  ‘I have just found this discarded candle on the floor nearby,’ said Crabb.

  ‘So it looks as though the robbery took place at night. It is surprisingly quite light in here with the sun coming in through the windows. I noticed the candlestick on the desk over there also contained a candle, so whoever broke in, lit some of the candles so that he could carry out the deed,’ said Ravenscroft examining the broken case.