The Case of the Missing Morris Dancer

by Cathy Ace

  ‘Good thinking, Mother,’ said Henry as the strange group began its progress toward the hall. ‘The long portrait gallery has not yet been overrun by the hordes, though I suspect it’s only a matter of time.’

  ‘I’ll be having some photographs taken there tomorrow morning, before the ceremony,’ said Stephanie. ‘I thought it would be a good setting for a bridal portrait – watched over by dozens of former Twysts. But you don’t need to worry about that, Henry dear. It’ll all be taken care of without you having to become involved – though you might think it’s a good idea for us to have some shots taken there when we are married. The newlyweds standing among the ancestors might be a nice touch.’

  Annie noticed Henry almost winced at the idea, but that Stephanie seemed oblivious to his pain.

  ‘Have Stephanie’s parents arrived yet?’ asked Alexander as Annie and he made their way up the stone steps. ‘Or Christine’s?’

  It’s Christine’s parents you’re really interested in, was what Annie was thinking as she replied, ‘John and Sheila Timbers arrived the day before yesterday, but the Wilson-Smythes won’t be here until – oh, now, by the looks of it. Isn’t that them?’

  They turned and glimpsed the viscount and his wife alighting from a sleek Audi. ‘Yes, that’s them,’ Alexander said, but Annie could tell he was distracted. ‘Did you say “John and Sheila Timbers”?’ he added. Annie picked up on the tension in his voice as he spoke. ‘Don’t suppose you happen to know where they’re from, do you?’

  ‘Well, as luck would have it, Car told me she’d done a bit of nosing around about him.’ She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening. ‘He ran a business out near the Catford dog track in South London back in the 1980s, then grew it from there. As Car tells it, he had quite a number of lumber yards between the Thames and the M25, but largely south and west. He sold up years ago, and they live in Spain now. Have you met ’em?’ she wondered what Alexander would say.

  Alexander’s eyes narrowed. ‘Would you excuse me? I think I’ll go and tell Fiona and Aiden what their daughter’s up to, and try to make sure they don’t panic. How about I invite them to join everyone in the long gallery?’

  ‘Alright, doll, can’t see why not. The more the merrier,’ said Annie as she continued on her way, noting silently that Alexander had managed to wriggle out of answering her question about his knowing John Timbers.

  By the time everyone had assembled and tea had been brought, the atmosphere in the long gallery was quite festive.

  Annie overheard Edward whispering as he deposited the last tray on an occasional table, ‘Your parents were asking about going down to the village, Miss Stephanie, I told them I would tell you. They are in their room.’

  ‘Thanks, Edward. I did promise I’d take them on a tour – I just don’t seem to have had the time.’

  ‘We’ll be fine dealing with all this,’ Annie whispered to Stephanie jovially. ‘It won’t take you more than an hour – why don’t you go and have a bit of time with your mum and dad, alone? I know that sort of thing means a lot.’

  Stephanie flashed a grateful smile and checked her watch. ‘I could be back by lunch – plenty of time to eat and get ready for this afternoon’s arrivals. The harps won’t be here until after lunch so I suppose …’

  ‘Go on,’ urged Annie with a wink.

  Stephanie bent to her fiancé’s ear, whispered something then left without further ado.

  Annie sipped her tea, wolfed down a few of the tasty, crumbly oatmeal biscuits brought to accompany it, and watched as Mavis strode the length of the gallery, constantly looking out of the windows which gave onto the surrounding countryside and the hill up which Christine and Tudor had ridden. Annie didn’t reckon Mavis would want to run any risk of missing a flare.

  Looking at her watch Mavis announced, ‘They should have reached their goal about fifteen minutes ago. I’m sure they’d have alerted us by now if they needed any help.’

  Annie was on edge, anxiously perched on the same window seat as Alexander, straining her eyes for any sign of Tudor.

  ‘There they are,’ called Alexander, rising. ‘They’re galloping, but they’re alone. I’m going down to meet them. Anyone coming?’

  The entire group replaced cups and saucers on trays and moved en masse toward the staircase leading off the paneled room which ran the entire length of the main body of Chellingworth Hall – designed to allow seventeenth-century ladies to exercise during poor weather.

  By the time Christine and Tudor’s horses clattered across the cobbled courtyard beside the hall, the entire group was assembled. Annie felt so proud when she looked at Tudor, it made her worry about her sanity. Then she told herself it wasn’t odd, because he looked very handsome as he dismounted and allowed Bob Fernley to take his horse to a water trough, along with Christine’s steed.

  ‘So? What did you find?’ Annie was breathless as she finally reached Tudor to speak to him, but it was Christine who answered.

  ‘Hello there, Mummy, Daddy,’ began Christine, waving at her parents, who’d been left straggling at the back of the assembled huddle. ‘We found the buildings but there was no one there. However, there were signs at least one person had been kept in each of the two buildings. Look, I took photographs.’ She pulled her phone from her pocket and handed it to Mavis, who passed the phone around for all to see. As the phone moved from person to person, Christine addressed the group.

  ‘Someone had piled up straw to make beds – one in each of the two buildings. There were empty bottles of water, protein bar wrappers, even plastic sandwich containers, strewn about both buildings. Someone has “lived” in each building for some time. Days, I’d say. Also in each building there was evidence ropes had been used to restrain a person. And in one there was blood. Not much, but certainly enough to give concern. We must inform the police. They must listen now, surely?’

  Mavis handed the telephone back to Christine and took control, ‘So, we’re working on the theory that Rhys Roberts has kidnapped and confined his daughter Ann, and Aubrey Morris, in these buildings, but that he has now moved them. Do you agree WISE women?’ Annie, Christine and Althea all nodded.

  ‘I’ve got to say, for what it’s worth, I’ve never liked the man, and I wouldn’t put this past him,’ said Tudor quietly. ‘But it’s shocking. I mean, you never think it’ll happen on your own doorstep, do you? And that he’d do this to his own daughter, too? Unbelievable – even though I suppose I can believe it of him, if anyone.’

  ‘We’ve got to get in touch with the police immediately,’ said Annie. ‘Look, Car was at the Morris farmhouse, and she didn’t think that Aubrey and Ann were there then. I bet if Rhys has moved them, he’s probably taken them to his own house, or – and this is more scary – he might have carted them off somewhere else altogether. And as for where that might be, I don’t know. As Tudor said, this is a man who’s crossed a line, and he might have lost all perspective.’

  ‘Maybe they’ve got a point about the curse after all,’ said Tudor quietly, then he shook his head and added, ‘Nah! It’s all nonsense.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Althea.

  ‘The curse,’ replied Tudor, speaking very slowly and clearly.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with my hearing, I just didn’t catch what you said – or rather I did, but I have no idea what you mean,’ snapped Althea.

  Annie noticed Tudor blush, and suspected if he’d had a forelock he’d have tugged it. She felt embarrassed for him. Rallying he said, ‘There’s supposed to be a curse on the Anwen Morris artefacts. All nonsense, of course, but I understand it’s something to do with whoever owns it dying before their time. Load of old rubbish.’

  Annie couldn’t help but speak up. ‘Do you mean people believe the owner of the Anwen Morris artefacts is cursed – or just the artefacts themselves?’

  Tudor replied, ‘I’m pretty sure it’s the owner, because I’ve never had any of my men refuse to use the implements when we dance.’

>   All eyes turned toward Annie, and she didn’t disappoint. ‘Well, that’s it then! I bet you that’s it – Rhys Roberts didn’t want his daughter getting hitched to someone in the family that owned the implements. I bet they were given to Aubrey’s grandfather to get them out of the part of the family that stayed at the Morris farm in the first place. Whatever you might think of curses – and I have to say I agree with Tudor that they are all a load of twaddle – with what we’ve found out during our enquiries, it’s clear that the main Morris family didn’t do well when it owned them. The great-grandfather’s death was unexpectedly early, if you recall. Since then everyone in Aubrey’s part of the Morris family has died at a relatively young age, as Mavis and Carol said they discovered in the graveyard yesterday. Maybe that bolstered Rhys Roberts’s belief that his daughter’s life would be in danger if she built a friendship with, and then went on to marry, Aubrey. I know we’ve all been trying to work out what would make a father go to such extremes to keep two people apart – and for that to have begun when Ann and Aubrey were so young. Believe me, as someone whose dad is very much a man who’d do anything to protect his daughter, I can tell you fathers might go to extreme lengths to keep their little girl safe – and then some. Any parent would, wouldn’t they?’ As her gaze swept the group she noticed how Christine’s parents looked at Alexander when they nodded their agreement.

  ‘That’s true,’ said Althea, ‘the love of a parent for a child is a powerful thing, even if it is misdirected by some weird belief.’

  Mavis took control again. ‘Well, whatever the motive might be, and however wrong-headed it is, we need to get hold of the police. Now. Finding blood cannot be a good sign. Carol has furnished us with a comprehensive electronic file on the case to date and, if Christine will send those photos showing the blood on the floor of the shack to me right now, I can put it all together and send it to whomever I manage to speak to on the telephone at the Builth Wells police station.’

  ‘Go to the top,’ said Althea. ‘Use my name – use Henry’s. Use anyone’s to get hold of someone who will take this seriously, and take action.’

  The result was that half an hour later Mavis was able to report to the entire group, which had reassembled itself in the long gallery once again, that police cars were being dispatched to search the Morris farm, and all its buildings. ‘It seems my phone call arrived just after they received information from their colleagues in Bridgend that the two lads they’re holding there confessed they’d been sent to steal Ann Roberts’s wedding dress by her father. When they spotted Stephanie’s gown hanging close to Ann’s, they saw an opportunity to make some money for themselves, so they pinched that too, and came up with their hare-brained scheme to ransom the dress. They knew Rhys Roberts because he’s hired them as casual laborers during the lambing season before now. They also told the police he told them he found out about Ann and Aubrey’s plans to elope, and has prevented them from doing so. They did not have any information about how he has been doing that, so the information and evidence we have gathered arrived at just the perfect moment to allow our local police to do their job. They’ve promised to keep me informed, though, to be honest, I don’t think we should expect them to take the time to do so.’

  ‘So what do we do now?’ asked Althea looking at Mavis.

  ‘As private enquiry agents we’ve done all we can,’ replied the Scot with resignation. ‘When we reach a point in a case where it’s obvious it’s a police case, and they’re willing to take it from us, that’s what we do – we hand it over to them. There’s only so far we’re allowed to go, you know.’

  ‘It’s very frustrating,’ said Althea petulantly. Annie knew what she meant because she’d had the same feeling on many occasions herself.

  ‘Mave’s right. Best let the cops deal with it now,’ said Annie with resignation.

  ‘I can hear sirens,’ said Althea, peering out of the window. ‘Why would we hear sirens so far away from the Morris place?’

  Annie noticed Mavis had pulled out her phone and was listening intently. Putting away her phone Mavis announce, ‘Rhys Roberts has bolted. Apparently, when the police arrived at the main farmhouse he ran to his Land Rover and sped off. They reckon he’s coming this way.’

  ‘He can’t be,’ said Christine. ‘Tudor and I jumped a lot of walls to get to those buildings. He’d never be able to make it here.’

  ‘Don’t forget the track that leads here from the Morris farm,’ said Mavis. ‘It doesn’t go anywhere near those outbuildings you visited, it takes quite a different route. But we know where he’ll come out – near the New Buttery – and I told the police that. They’re coming here to try to pick him up at this end, and, apparently – oh, yes, I hear it now – they’ve sent up a helicopter to keep an eye on him.’

  Everyone crowded to the windows, then Henry shouted, ‘I’m going outside. I cannot wait inside here any longer. This is terrible.’ Annie noticed he looked quite excited.

  As soon as Henry made for the door it seemed everyone decided to do likewise, and they all trooped down the main staircase, across the great hall and out onto the steps. Two police cars were racing up the driveway spitting stones in all directions, their sirens and lights blaring and blazing. Overhead a helicopter buzzed over the hall and everyone instinctively ducked, then stood again to watch as it swooped toward the hillside. Behind the police vehicles was Stephanie’s car, her father’s head sticking out of the back window, his arm pointing skywards.

  The police cars rounded the hall and stopped where Bob Fernley stood, agog. He spoke to one of the drivers, pointed, and the cars continued toward the rear of the hall. Just as they disappeared from sight a battered old Land Rover shot out of the same area, skidded on the pea gravel as it came around the side of the hall, then side-swiped Stephanie’s car, sending it skidding onto the lawn, before taking off along the driveway.

  ‘Stephanie!’ shouted Henry as he ran toward his fiancé’s now-stationary car. Before he could get there the two police cars that had just disappeared, reappeared and screamed their way back around the hall, setting off in pursuit of Rhys Roberts’s vehicle, only narrowly missing the duke as they did so.

  There was a general surge toward Stephanie’s car, and Annie was relieved to see all three of its occupants get out, seemingly none the worse for wear. The police helicopter swooped overhead again, though fewer people ducked at its second pass.

  Holding his fiancé to his chest Annie saw Henry swaying, rocking her like a baby, kissing her head, her hands – anything he could. Her parents exchanged a hug and turned their attention to their daughter.

  ‘Let me through,’ called Mavis, ‘I am a nurse.’

  ‘Me too,’ shouted a deep voice from the steps, where Nurse Betty Thomas had deposited Lady Clementine in her wheelchair and was now running toward the car that had been hit by the Land Rover.

  Annie didn’t rush anywhere, she did what the panicked duke had asked and dialed 999, then she hung on with the operator until she knew an ambulance was on the way. From her vantage point on the steps she watched the pandemonium unfold before her. It was quite a sight but, luckily, it seemed that no one was hurt.

  Annie thought the chaos of the day was behind them all, but the events that followed proved her wrong. There was the arrival of an ambulance, then the checking of the Timbers family members by the paramedics, finally the removal of the badly dented car by Bob Fernley using one of the estate’s Land Rovers was undertaken, so the eventual flocking of the group to a very delayed luncheon only took place after a couple of hours. She was just about to join everybody to enjoy some much needed sandwiches and cold meats in the drawing room when she noticed Edward was looking flustered – for him – and dithering about in the great hall.

  She went across to the door of the hall where he was hovering distractedly. ‘What’s the matter, doll?’ she asked.

  ‘The lorries have just arrived with the harps and one of the drivers said there’s been a nasty accident. The man the poli
ce were chasing after went off the road a few miles along, and it’s serious they say. Critical. After all that’s happened I don’t know if I should tell His Grace.’ Annie felt sorry for Edward who looked as though he was about to snap under the accumulated stresses he’d been facing.

  ‘I’ll do it, you go and have a cup of tea.’

  ‘Tea? No time for tea! I must make sure they know what they’re doing with those harps,’ he replied looking worried. ‘They look a lot bigger that I’d thought they’d be. I hope we’ve left enough room for them at the bottom of the staircase.’ He hurried down the steps waving to the burly men who were unloading the harps and shouted that they should stop doing what they were doing and come inside to check where they were to bring the huge instruments. Through the open doors Annie caught sight of a procession of four hatchback vehicles making a stately progress along the driveway toward the hall. As they slowly navigated the space between the now-rutted lawn and the large lorry she could see Marjorie Pritchard was driving the lead car, and it was full of plates, containers and bags. The Young Wives’ Welsh cakes had arrived.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Saturday, March 1st

  The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear. Gone were the clouds and sleety rain of the previous days, even the birds in the still-bare trees seemed to think it was time to break into song.

  Despite all the recent disastrous events, the plans for the day had gone ahead as originally envisaged. By noon, when Stephanie Annabel Timbers agreed to love, honor and obey Henry Devereaux Twyst at the fifteenth-century chancel steps of St David’s Church in the picturesque Welsh village of Anwen-by-Wye, the sun was just high enough to pour through the ancient stained-glass windows, throwing a rainbow onto a packed nave full of happy faces and some dubious fashion choices.

  ‘Love Divine’ and ‘The Lord is My Shepherd’ had been sung with real hwyl and some spontaneously beautiful harmonies, a reading from Corinthians about adulthood and the importance of love was delivered by Tudor Evans – who struck an intriguing chord in his Morris Green Man garb – and the entire congregation had been delighted by a blessedly brief sermon from the Reverend Ebenezer Roberts about the different types of love that exist between human beings, culminating in praise for the sacrament of marriage.