The Inspector Ravenscroft Mysteries Box Set

by Kerry Tombs

  ‘This is becoming something of a habit, Inspector,’ said Dr Edwards rising from his seat, as Ravenscroft and Crabb entered the room.

  ‘Our visit should prove but a short one, Dr Edwards. We would like some information regarding one of your past pupils,’ said Ravenscroft.

  ‘You mean the boy whom you thought committed suicide?’

  ‘Yes. Our investigations have shown that the information provided by the Tovey sisters was in fact true. One of your pupils did indeed kill himself, all those years ago,’ said Ravenscroft.

  ‘I see.’

  Ravenscroft thought the headmaster sounded almost disappointed by his news. ‘The boy’s name was Martin Tinniswood. I would be obliged, sir, if you could consult your records to see what information they could provide us with,’ he requested.

  Edwards rose from his seat and opened the door of a large cabinet in the corner of the room. ‘We keep an alphabetical list of all present and past pupils on cards. T — here we are — Tinniswood, Martin,’ he said, removing a card from the index.

  ‘May I see, please, sir?’

  Edwards handed the card over to Ravenscroft, who read the entry aloud—

  Tinniswood, Martin. Born, 1838, Radnor Lodge, Hay-on-Wye, son of Mr and Mrs Tinniswood. Admitted to the school in 1849. Member of the choir in 1850.

  ‘There is nothing else on the card,’ said Ravenscroft, handing the card back to the Master.

  ‘I suppose the school did not wish to record the unfortunate circumstances of the boy’s demise,’ suggested Edwards returning the card to its place in the cabinet.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ravenscroft, disappointed and about to take his leave.

  ‘There was apparently a brother,’ said Edwards, removing another card from the index and handing it to Ravenscroft.

  Tinniswood, Malcolm. Born, 1853, Radnor Lodge, Hay-on-Wye, youngest son of Mr and Mrs Tinniswood. Admitted to the school in 1864. Member of the choir in 1865. Chess, Athletics Clubs. Left 1866.

  ‘He was not here for very long,’ said Ravenscroft.

  ‘Just two years, sir,’ added Crabb.

  ‘That was surely unusual, for a boy to leave after just two years,’ said Ravenscroft handing the card back.

  ‘It would seem so Inspector. Most of our pupils remain with us for at least five or six years.’

  ‘Can you think of any reason why the boy might have left?’

  ‘Perhaps his parents were unable to pay the fees, or there could have been a family bereavement,’ suggested Edwards. ‘Or there is always the possibility, I suppose, that he could have been expelled for some violation of the rules.’

  ‘Would that not have been recorded on the card?’ asked Crabb.

  ‘Not if the school wanted to keep that quiet as well,’ suggested Ravenscroft, answering the question.

  ‘This is all in the past, Inspector. It might be prudent to leave it there. It can do neither the school, or your investigation, any good to pursue the matter,’ said Edwards closing the door to the cabinet.

  ‘Just one last question: where is Hay-on-Wye?’

  ‘It’s a small town in Herefordshire, on the Welsh borders,’ replied Edwards.

  ‘Thank you, Dr Edwards. You have been most helpful,’ said Ravenscroft as he and Crabb left the room.

  ‘Well, that was most interesting,’ said Ravenscroft, as the two men walked away from the school. ‘So Tinniswood had a younger brother who was born two years after his death, and who also became a pupil at the school. Don’t you find it rather strange, that the parents of the dead boy would want to send another son to the same school where their first son had clearly been unhappy?’

  ‘Perhaps they had every confidence in the school, despite the death of their eldest son. After all we don’t know what caused the elder Tinniswood to take his own life,’ suggested Crabb.

  ‘I wonder why the younger brother left the school so suddenly? The boy, Malcolm, was born in 1853. That would make him 35 now, if he was still alive.’

  ‘Cranston and Renfrew’s age, I would say.’

  ‘It seems to me that we could have been looking at this case from the wrong direction. Up to now we have assumed that Evelyn was killed for the Whisperie alone. We now know that he could have been involved in some way with Martin Tinniswood’s suicide all those years ago. Perhaps Malcolm found out the true cause of his brother’s death when he was a pupil here. That knowledge, in some way, leads to his expulsion from the school, but years later he returns and claims his revenge on Evelyn?’ said Ravenscroft thinking aloud.

  ‘It all sounds a bit too involved to me,’ said Crabb, a puzzled expression on his face.

  ‘Yes, perhaps you’re right. Sometimes I feel we are clutching at straws. Probably the death of Martin Tinniswood has nothing whatever to do with this business after all, and we are being distracted from our main line of enquiry.’

  ‘Good morning, Inspector!’ shouted a voice from across the green.

  ‘Mr Taylor. Might we have a quick word with you?’ shouted back Ravenscroft, quickening his pace in the choirmaster’s direction.

  ‘Always at your service, Inspector, but I must warn you that thirty rebellious choirboys are threatening to burn down the cathedral, unless I can bring my restraining influence to bear within the next five minutes,’ said the young choirmaster smiling.

  ‘We won’t detain you long,’ replied Ravenscroft. ‘Does the name Tinniswood mean anything to you?’

  ‘Tinniswood? Tinniswood? Can’t say it does, Inspector. Sounds like the name of one of those three-legged horses at the Worcester Races,’ said the young man running his hand through his untidy hair.

  ‘He was a member of the choir. He committed suicide in 1851.’

  ‘Good Lord, was his singing that bad?’

  ‘This is a serious line of inquiry, Mr Taylor,’ said Ravenscroft sternly.

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry, 1851 was long before my time, Inspector. At that date I was but a mere thought in my mother’s eye.’

  ‘How long have you been choirmaster here?’ asked Ravenscroft quickly changing the subject.

  ‘I came last year. There wasn’t a vacancy going at the time at St Paul’s, so London’s loss was Worcester’s gain — or is it the other way round?’

  ‘Have you ever had any association with the town of Hay-on-Wye?’

  ‘Hay-on-Wye? The Lord has saved me from that dreaded experience! Some dreary backwater on the edge of Wales, I believe. Sounds the kind of place you send your maiden aunt to, in the hope that she may never return!’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Taylor. We won’t detain you any longer.’

  ‘Then I bid you farewell. Tallis and Tompkins await the ruination of their works, yet again, by the angelic voices of the cathedral song birds. Will nothing survive the murderous onslaught?’ said the choirmaster, shaking his head and quickly heading off in the direction of the cathedral.

  ‘You think he might be our Malcolm Tinniswood? He did treat the whole matter somewhat lightly,’ said Crabb.

  ‘Mr Taylor sees himself as nature’s jester. But to answer your question, he would certainly be the right age, and it would have been easy for him to have changed his name from Malcolm Tinniswood to Matthew Taylor. In this world, Crabb, you can never be sure of anything,’ replied Ravenscroft. ‘But I know one thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It’s time we sought some refreshment. Let’s go to the Diglis. It’s not far from here and a breath of air by the river would be most welcome.’

  A few minutes later Ravenscroft and Crabb entered the Diglis where they were welcomed by the landlord like old friends.

  ‘Good to see you again, gentlemen.’

  ‘And to you, landlord,’ said Ravenscroft.

  ‘Same as last time, is it?’

  ‘If you will.’

  ‘Shame about old Billy; I would never have thought he would have been the murdering type,’ said the landlord wiping the bar with a cloth.

  ‘People will sometimes do anyt
hing for money,’ replied Ravenscroft, as their host disappeared round the back of the bar.

  The two men seated themselves by the window, which afforded them a view over the river.

  ‘Henderson has given us just two more days to solve the case. Time is running out for us, Crabb. I’m sure that the death of that choirboy has something to do with this case.’

  ‘It was a very long time ago.’

  ‘Yes, but if Nicholas Evelyn was responsible in some way for the boy’s death, and the younger Tinniswood later found out the truth when he was a pupil here, then he could have returned many years later and blackmailed Evelyn with that knowledge, forcing him to steal the Whisperie for him — and possibly the Antiphoner as well.’

  ‘Thank you,’ interjected Crabb, as the landlord placed two tankards of ale before them.

  ‘Tinniswood. Who is the younger Tinniswood? Who is our murderer?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘There is the choirmaster, Matthew Taylor. Sir Arthur would be too old. My money would be on Cranston,’ said Crabb, taking a drink of his ale.

  ‘I’m inclined to agree with you. Cranston is certainly an unpleasant enough fellow. We must not forget Renfrew however.’

  ‘But he is an American, sir.’

  ‘The Tinniswood family might have moved to America when young Malcolm was just thirteen, which would account for him leaving the school so early. When he grew up he could easily have changed his name to Renfrew before he returned to England. He also has the desire to possess early valuable manuscripts.’

  ‘There is also Edwards.’

  ‘No. He is far too old. Had he been our murderer he would never have shown us the other card which contained details of Malcolm Tinniswood.’

  ‘What do we do next then?’ asked Crabb.

  ‘I think we should pay a visit to Hay-on-Wye tomorrow, and see what we can find out about the Tinniswood family. I am still convinced that this present mystery has its origins back in 1851, when that poor choirboy took his own life. How far is Hay from here?’

  ‘It must be about sixty or seventy miles. It’s the other side of Hereford. I’ll consult the railway timetables, and find out when the trains are running.’

  ‘Could be a long day, Crabb. We will need refreshments.’

  ‘That will be all right, sir. I’ve got my Jennie. She’ll see me right,’ said Crabb.

  Ravenscroft suddenly banged his tankard down on the table.

  ‘Whatever is the matter?’

  ‘What was that you just said?’

  ‘I said, I’ve got my Jennie. She’ll see me right,’ repeated Crabb, mystified.

  ‘Of course! That’s it. How stupid I have been not to have seen the connection before. We’ve been following the wrong path all this time. Drink up. It’s time we made an arrest. I think I now know who paid Billy to kill Ruth Weston!’

  ‘Do sit down, Inspector,’ said Sir Arthur.

  ‘Thank you, sir. Good afternoon to you as well Miss Griffiths,’ said Ravenscroft accepting the seat. The young lady nodded briefly in his direction.

  ‘You have some news regarding the case?’ asked the Member for Worcester.

  ‘Yes, sir. I hope to be making an arrest shortly,’ replied Ravenscroft with confidence.

  ‘That is good news. It will give me great pleasure to see the villain who paid old Billy to kill Miss Weston behind bars,’ smiled Sir Arthur. ‘Did you hear that, my dear? Ravenscroft says he is about to make an arrest. We will have justice at last.’

  ‘Yes, Father,’ replied his daughter, staring out of the window.

  ‘Before I begin, sir, can I assume that your daughter is fully acquainted with the facts that you disclosed to me the other day?’

  ‘My father has never kept any secrets from me,’ said Miss Griffiths nervously turning her fingers in her lap.

  ‘Come to the point, Ravenscroft. What have you unearthed?’ asked Sir Arthur anxiously.

  ‘Since we discovered the body of Miss Weston I had always assumed that her death had been linked with that of the librarian, Nicholas Evelyn, particularly as they both lived at Glovers Lodging-house. It seemed highly probable that Ruth had discovered the murderer of her fellow lodger, and that the murderer paid Billy to kill her before she could go to the authorities with that knowledge. But then I asked myself, what if that assumption was totally wrong? What if the two murders were not linked at all and there were really two killers, one who killed Evelyn and stole the Whisperie, and one who killed, or rather paid, old Billy to murder Ruth Weston?’

  Ravenscroft paused for the effect of his words on his listeners.

  ‘Go on. All this is very fascinating,’ said Sir Arthur.

  ‘Then I began to wonder, if Ruth Weston was not murdered because of her possible connection with the Evelyn murder, why was she killed? She had no wealth or fortune. She lived quite modestly with her son, bringing him every morning before she started work to play on the green outside your house, believing that one day you, Sir Arthur, would accept the child as your own.’

  ‘My father could never do that. His reputation would be ruined,’ said Miss Griffiths firmly.

  ‘You are correct, Miss Griffiths, and that is the whole point. Then I realized that the only reason why Ruth Weston was killed, was because of the knowledge she held — knowledge not about the Evelyn murder, but the secret about the birth of her own son. Once I accepted that, everything seemed to fall into place. Our murderer took advantage of the investigation into the murder of Evelyn, to hire Billy to kill Ruth Weston, thereby creating the impression that the killer was the same person who had committed the first murder.’

  ‘I see. Then you believe that I killed Ruth because I wanted her to be kept silent, in order to protect my reputation and standing in society?’ said Sir Arthur.

  ‘The day after Billy killed Ruth, and after he had placed the body in a sack on his boat ready for him to dispose of later, he decided to drink away some of his payment in the Old Diglis. That is where my constable and I encountered him. He was rather the worse for drink at the time, and my constable here had to eject him from the inn. Before he left, though, I remember him saying — “I’ll be all right. I’ve got my lady. She’ll see me all right”, meaning that he had been paid by “a lady” to carry out the murder. Miss Griffiths, why did you have Ruth Weston killed?’

  ‘Look here, Ravenscroft, you can’t go around making accusations against my daughter! This is ridiculous. Why on earth would my daughter want to have her maid killed? The idea is foolish in the extreme,’ exclaimed Sir Arthur staring at Ravenscroft in an aggressive manner.

  ‘Your daughter is not a well woman, as you have stated, Sir Arthur. I believe she wanted Ruth removed because she was afraid that one day Ruth would reveal the truth concerning the true parentage of her child. Is that not correct, Miss Griffiths?’ asked Ravenscroft, turning towards the lady in question.

  ‘Really, Inspector, this whole thing is a work of fantasy on your part. I must ask you to leave my house at once. I find your manner insulting and I will certainly have words with my lawyers,’ said Sir Arthur rising angrily from his chair.

  ‘Miss Griffiths,’ protested Ravenscroft, ‘It will do no good to conceal the truth.’

  ‘Mr Ravenscroft is correct, father. I paid Billy to kill Ruth!’

  ‘Be quiet Anne. Don’t say another word until I have arranged for our lawyer to be present,’ urged Sir Arthur, walking over towards her.

  ‘There is no point, Father. I had Ruth killed. Mr Ravenscroft is quite right when he says that I could see that the police were looking for the murderer of the librarian, and I thought if Ruth was killed as well, they would think that the same person had committed both crimes,’ she said, rising from her seat.

  ‘But, Anne, why?’ Sir Arthur stared at his daughter, distraught, before burying his face in his hands.

  ‘Do you need to ask why, Father? I did it to protect you. I knew that one day that woman would want everything, and that you would be ruined as a consequence. I
could not let that happen. After all we had worked for over the years. Inspector, I am indeed a sick woman. The doctors have given me but three months to live. I wanted to do this for my father before I died, so that he would be secure,’ said Anne, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks. ‘Don’t think too harshly of me, Father, I have always loved you, and will do anything for you, you know that.’

  ‘But not this, Anne! Surely not this?’ said her father reaching out for her and encompassing her fragile body in his arms.

  The two policemen remained silent, looking uncomfortably at one another, listening to the sobs of the young woman. Presently Sir Arthur turned to face them.

  ‘Look, you can see the state of my daughter. She has but a short time to live. Is there some way in which all this can be covered up? I will do anything you ask — money, advancement, a title — anything you want, if only my daughter can be protected?’

  ‘Sir Arthur, you know better than that. A crime has been committed and I must act accordingly. I’m afraid I must take your daughter into custody. She will appear before the magistrates tomorrow morning on a charge of incitement to murder,’ said Ravenscroft, hating every word that he was saying, and wishing he was anywhere other than the drawing-room of the Member of Parliament for Worcester.

  ‘For God’s sake, have you no feelings? At least show some compassion, man. Have mercy,’ implored Sir Arthur.

  ‘No mercy was shown to Ruth Weston. She was an innocent young woman, the mother of your child, who was lured to the banks of the river where she was strangled to death by a cord being placed round her throat and being pulled tight until there was no life left within her. Where was the compassion then?’ said the inspector, trying not to let his feelings get the better of him.

  ‘Mr Ravenscroft is right, Father. It is a terrible thing I have done, and the memory of my actions will prey upon my soul until my dying day. I am prepared to accept the consequences. I am ready to go with you Inspector,’ replied Anne Griffiths, drying her eyes on her handkerchief.