by Bill Kitson
‘Extremely dead; I think she’d been stabbed as many times as Armstrong, although I didn’t stop to count the wounds.’
‘Was she also naked?’
‘Yes, her clothing was strewn on the carpet. At a guess I’d say it was a case of coitus extremely interruptus.’
‘Did you recognize her face, or were you to preoccupied staring at her…wounds to look elsewhere.’
Eve’s momentary hesitation and the slight extra emphasis on the word ‘wounds’, made me smile, in spite of the grim situation. ‘What sort of pervert do you take me for?’
I saw Eve open her mouth to reply so I lifted a warning hand. ‘No, don’t bother to answer that, I can imagine. The woman was around thirty years of age, quite attractive, with long dark hair that appeared to be natural, and a decent enough figure, although some of the sand in the hourglass had trickled through to the bottom. I’m certain I’ve never seen her before, but then I don’t mingle with the Stag-driving set.’
At that moment we saw Pickersgill’s patrol car hurtling along the village street towards us at a pace far in excess of the speed limit. He brought it to a shuddering halt only inches from the back bumper of my car and leapt out. ‘There’s no rush, John, they aren’t going anywhere,’ I told him. ‘Well, only to the mortuary, I guess.’
‘Did anyone ever tell you what a sick sense of humour you have?’ Eve enquired.
I ignored the snide remark. ‘Did you manage to get hold of Ogden?’
‘I did, eventually, but it took some doing. Inspector High-and-Mighty was interviewing Mrs Lewis and gave strict instructions that he wasn’t to be disturbed by anyone below the rank of chief constable.’
‘How did you get round that?’
‘I phoned the chief constable, of course, and asked him to intercede.’ Pickersgill smiled wickedly. ‘I’d have liked to have eavesdropped on the call he made to Ogden. The outcome is that Ogden will be here in about an hour, together with a full team of experts. I’m not going to vouch for what his temper will be like, though. In the meantime I have to secure the crime scene, keep you here, and ensure the onlookers don’t disturb the area.’
I glanced down the village street, which was still empty. ‘Another tough assignment for you.’
‘Why does he want us to stay?’ Eve asked. ‘Is he frightened we might run away, or fly off to Brazil at a moment’s notice?’
Pickersgill shook his head gravely, responding to Eve’s sarcasm in like vein. ‘It isn’t for us lesser mortals to attempt to understand the workings of a fine mind like Ogden’s. All we can do is stand by, proud to be onlookers witnessing such genius at close quarters.’
His expression changed. ‘Are you both OK?’ He looked from Eve to me and then back again. ‘It must have been terrible for you, finding the bodies.’
‘It wasn’t pleasant,’ Eve agreed. ‘I was upset at the time, but I’m all right now. I think Adam was upset too. He didn’t speak for almost five minutes, which shows he was in shock.’
‘You said on the phone that Armstrong was one of the victims.’ Pickersgill concentrated his attention on Eve. ‘Have you any idea who the other one was?’
‘I didn’t actually see her body, only part of one foot. Adam went back into the room to make sure she was dead.’ Eve paused, realizing at once what she’d said. ‘I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I meant that he went to check for any sign of life in case he could help.’
‘I understand; very wise, too. I take it she was dead?’ He looked at me.
‘Well and truly. I didn’t touch either of the corpses, but I’d guess they’ve been dead some time. I didn’t count the wounds, but I reckon she was stabbed just as many times as he was.’
I described the woman, but Pickersgill couldn’t place her from my brief account. ‘There is one way we might be able to get her name. If I get the station to find out who the owner of the car is, that should do it.’ He smiled. ‘Promise you won’t elope to Gretna Green whilst I’m on the radio.’
‘Will it be OK to go sit in my car if I promise not to switch the engine on? It’s a bit chilly out here.’
‘I don’t have a problem with that.’
It was almost half an hour later before Pickersgill returned with news of what his colleagues back at headquarters had discovered. During his absence, as much to take our minds off the tragic events nearby, we discussed our plans for Dene Cottage.
‘I think we should change its name once we’ve added the extension,’ Eve told me.
‘What to?’
She grinned mischievously. ‘I think Eden House would be appropriate, don’t you? As long as we don’t have a son and call him Cain, or Abel.’
I stared at her in surprise. ‘That’s spooky. I had the same idea the other day. Not only is it apt, but it has a real ring to it. I’m not sure if you’re allowed to rename houses though, we’ll have to check with the post office.’
Pickersgill knocked on the driver’s window. I’d been looking at Eve at the time, admiring her beauty, and his tap startled me.
‘The Triumph’s registered keeper is a company in Leeds called MPD Ltd. That doesn’t mean anything to me, how about you?’
I shook my head, but Eve said, ‘How about that man from the shoot? Matthews, I mean. Isn’t he something to do with property? I seem to remember you saying that at the Nelson. Couldn’t MPD stand for Matthews Property Development?’
‘Eve’s right,’ I told him. ‘She’s also something of a genius.’
‘That makes sense, but who was the woman?’
‘I don’t know if Matthews was married or not, but if he was, perhaps Mrs Matthews decided she wanted someone else to make the earth move for her.’ I grinned as I heard Eve groan. ‘I can’t see the attraction myself; I certainly wouldn’t have Armstrong down as the Oliver Mellors type.’
Eve and Pickersgill both looked baffled. ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover,’ I explained.
‘You did tell us the reason he was sacked from his previous job was because he’d been having an affair with a married woman,’ Eve pointed out. ‘Maybe he prefers them with a wedding ring on.’
‘You may be right, and if the dead woman is Mrs Matthews, it will give Ogden a ready-made suspect. It will be interesting to see if Matthews can account for his movements around the time of the deaths.’
Witnessing the arrival of Ogden, his CID officers, their uniformed colleagues, the pathologist, and sundry forensic scientists, was rather like watching a parade, or a royal procession. The long straight main street of Rowandale village was transformed momentarily in my imagination to Pall Mall, or Horse Guards Parade.
I watched with interest as Ogden emerged from the lead vehicle, to see if his attitude had been affected by the chief constable’s intervention. I have to say I was unable to detect the slightest alteration. I wondered what it would take to dent the man’s pompous arrogance. He scarcely acknowledged Pickersgill and paid little heed to Eve’s presence. The focus of his attention was on me, although I couldn’t for the life of me work out what I’d done to deserve it. However, Ogden soon put me right on that score.
‘You seem to be making quite a habit of being first on the scene whenever a murder’s been committed, Bailey. Some people would regard that as suspicious; highly suspicious.’
‘By “some people” I take it you are referring to yourself, Ogden. Are you working on the principle that the person who finds the body must be the killer? It’s an extremely interesting concept, and I can see that it would have several advantages. No murder would go unsolved; you’d have someone locked up for every crime, no matter whether they were guilty or innocent. Unfortunately for you, Ogden, that theory is about as flawed as the rest of your detective work. I ought to point out that it wasn’t actually me who discovered Lewis’s body. It was Mrs Price. I only became involved because I happened to be passing by when she needed to raise the alarm, but don’t let that trivial detail spoil your reasoning.’
He turned to walk away, his whole demeanour
one of anger, but I wasn’t prepared to let him off the hook yet. ‘I have two other matters to raise with you, Ogden.’
He whipped round and snarled, ‘It’s Inspector Ogden.’
‘Yes, I know, so perhaps you will do me the courtesy of addressing me as Mr Bailey in future. That was one of the matters. The other was a request.’
‘What request?’
‘I wanted to ask you to contact your office and give them instructions to release Barbara Lewis immediately.’
‘Are you mad? If it hadn’t been for these killings, I’d have charged her with her husband’s murder by now. I shall rectify that as soon as I’ve finished here.’
‘OK, go ahead.’ I paused, before adding, ‘Go ahead and make an even bigger fool of yourself than you already have done.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that if you charge Barbara you’ll be the laughing stock of the county within days, hours even.’
‘Oh yes, and why is that?’ he sneered.
‘Because Barbara couldn’t have killed Charles Lewis. At the time he was murdered she was over thirty miles away.’
‘How do you know what time Lewis was murdered?’
‘One of your officers told me the pathologist had set the time of death as sometime between late morning and evening on Thursday of last week, and I happen to know Barbara was nowhere near Rowandale during that time.’
‘Oh yes, and who is going to give her an alibi? You, I suppose. Do you honestly think I’m going to fall for such a lame story?’
‘No, not me, but there must be quite a lot of people who will be able to confirm the facts.’
‘What people? Give me names.’
‘I can’t possibly do that. What I can do, is tell you where Mrs Lewis was and what she was doing. According to her stable lad, she set off in the horsebox with him and Blenheim Boy to Wetherby racecourse around nine that morning. The horse won the most prestigious hurdle race of the day, and afterwards, Barbara was interviewed in the winner’s enclosure for the benefit of several million people who were watching on television. Later, as they were driving back from Wetherby, the horsebox broke down. Because the horse is so valuable, they couldn’t risk having the vehicle towed to a garage, so they had to wait until a mechanic completed the repair at the roadside. This resulted in them not returning to Linden House until just before midnight.’
Before I began my story, Ogden’s face had been almost puce with anger, now it was ashen pale. ‘All these facts will have to be checked before I can authorize Mrs Lewis’s release. In the meantime, I’ve two other murders to investigate.’
As he walked away, Eve said, ‘Oh dear, Adam, I think you’ve ruined the inspector’s day. He looked quite upset.’
‘Not likely, it would take a guided missile up his backside to upset him.’
‘Now there’s a sight we’d all like to see.’
‘Unfortunately, there’s a flaw in Adam’s reasoning,’ Pickersgill told her. ‘Ogden is that thick-skinned the missile probably wouldn’t penetrate his self-esteem. However, I definitely think you’re off his Christmas card list, as well as me.’
‘That won’t cause me any lost sleep. He was never on mine.’ I gestured to the milling throng of officialdom that was congregating by Armstrong’s front door. ‘Anyway, what’s your contribution to this circus going to be?’
‘Not so much a circus, more of a pantomime, or French farce, I’d say, considering Ogden’s in charge of proceedings. I have no role, I’m not important enough, so I’ll have to await instructions and hope against hope I get selected even for a walk-on part, or as an extra. Looking at that lot, it will probably entail crowd control or car parking, just like last time.’
‘One good thing, though. It looks as if Zeke Calvert will be getting his job back.’
Eve shook her head despairingly. ‘I suppose I’m going to have to get used to your sick sense of humour.’
Eventually, the young DC, whose name I still didn’t know, came over to take our statements. We told him why we had come to see Armstrong, which seemed to go right over his head, and how we’d found the house door ajar on our arrival. In the middle of our explanation, I suddenly realized that I might have the answer to the question that had been troubling me for a week. And, if that was the case, I might also have a shrewd idea as to a possible motive for Armstrong’s murder. In all this speculation, I could not be sure whether the gamekeeper’s companion had been an intended victim, or whether she had merely been unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Once he’d reported back to Ogden, giving him chapter and verse on what we’d told him, the DC returned and confirmed that it would now be in order for us to leave. Although I realized there were procedures to be observed, I doubted whether what we had told the detectives would advance their search for the person responsible for the murders at all. As we drove back to Laithbrigg, Eve noticed my silence, and remarked on it. ‘What are you thinking about, Adam? You suddenly went quiet as we were telling that detective our story and I realized then your mind was elsewhere. Would you care to share your thoughts with your beloved?’
I smiled. ‘You have no idea how great that sounds, Evie.’ I told her the idea that had suddenly come to me. ‘If I’m right, it goes some way to explaining why Armstrong was killed. However, that still doesn’t provide us with a motive for Lewis’s murder.’ I paused; then changed the subject. ‘Do you fancy dining out again tonight?’
‘Where have you in mind?’
‘The Admiral Nelson.’
‘Have you a specific reason for wanting to go there? Not that I object. Quite the opposite, I’m starting to enjoy the lifestyle, although I’m not sure it’s good for my waistline.’
‘I simply wanted to ask one or two questions about local history; that was all.’ I leered at her. ‘And, if you’re really concerned about your weight, I could suggest some intense physical activity for when we return from the pub, to burn some calories off.’
‘You’ve got a point, Adam. The way you’ve been going on, I need have no fear of getting fat, so the Nelson it is then, and then back home for some aerobics.’
Chapter Twelve
I was surprised by how many people were in the bar of the Admiral Nelson when we walked in at around 7.30 that evening. At first, I thought there must be a darts or dominoes match scheduled to take place. I could think of no other reason for the pub being so busy on a cold midweek evening. ‘Is it always this packed?’ Eve asked the landlord as he served us. ‘I don’t remember there being this many people in here on Saturday night.’
‘No, it wasn’t. You two are the reason the place is packed, as I understand it.’
‘Why might that be?’
‘Everyone wants to know what happened today at Rowandale, and the local bush telegraph has reported that you two found the bodies.’ He grinned. ‘You might find it difficult to buy a round of drinks tonight. In fact, if trade continues to be this good for the rest of the evening, I might even buy you one myself.’
He was proved right within seconds. I was reaching for my wallet when Henry Price put a restraining hand on my arm. ‘I’ll get these,’ he told the landlord, and placed a £5 note on the counter.
‘That’s very kind of you, Henry, thank you. I’m surprised to see you in here, though. I thought you’d be getting some kip before starting your milk round.’
‘I had a few hours’ sleep earlier. Besides which, the missus sent me to find out all I could about the latest murders. I heard that you found the bodies, is that right?’
‘That’s correct. Would you like to hear about it?’
Henry nodded. ‘Yes, please.’
‘I’ll tell you everything I know.’ I saw Eve’s eyes widen with astonishment, ‘But first, I’d like a bit of background from you. Call it recent local history, if you like. Shall we go over there, where it’s a bit less crowded?’
I manoeuvred Henry to the end of the bar, and once we were safely out of earshot of eve
n the most determined of eavesdroppers, asked him, ‘Tell me what you can about Zeke Calvert’s son, Stan, I think his name is.’
‘That’s correct.’ As he pondered my request I could tell Price was wondering about my reasons for asking it. Defeated in this quest, he decided to open up. ‘Stan is a true woodsman, which is hardly surprising given his ancestry. He has several generations of keepers’ blood in his veins. Everyone felt convinced that Stan would take over from Zeke as gamekeeper to the Rowandale estate when his father retired. Zeke used to take him into Rowandale forest almost from the day he could walk. In the end, I reckon Stan knew those woods better than Zeke; better than anyone for that matter, apart from Brian, of course.’
‘Brian?’ Eve asked. ‘You mean Brian Latimer?’
‘That’s right. Brian and Stan were inseparable as lads. They used to go off camping in the forest for days, sometimes weeks on end, during the school holidays. That was another reason everyone was convinced Stan would end up as the Rowandale keeper; his friendship with Brian. A lot of folk reckon the reason Stan left was all to do with Zeke getting remarried, but I think it had more to do with Brian’s death. The news hit him hard, you could tell that. He’d been Brian’s only champion when old Mr Rupert accused him of theft. Everyone else believed it, because the evidence was overwhelming, but Stan would have none of it. Even his father told him to listen to reason, but Stan was unshakeably loyal. I remember he got into a couple of fights with other youths hereabouts over the matter. They made the mistake of saying something derogatory about Brian, and Stan flared up. He was tough; far too strong for them, and they got the bruises to prove it. Eventually of course, the truth came out and Stan was proved right. That was all very well, but any pleasure he got from being vindicated was soon destroyed when the news came through that Brian had been murdered in Mexico. Myself, I think Stan was so upset he just had to leave the area because it held too many unhappy memories; he picked the fight with his father as an excuse.’
‘I heard he went to live in America, is that right?’