Archer's Mystery At Mainswell

by Edward Fisher

‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’

  ‘I don't know, Bec, tell me.’

  ‘Well, what if Tom isn’t who he appears to be? What if he’s in with chubby-face? What if he’s the insider? He has the perfect job, the perfect cover, and a ready-made alibi.’

  ‘I think I understand. Look this could be important. Does your father keep track of the days Tom doesn’t come to work?’

  ‘Yes, of course, because he only pays him for the days he works. But why?’

  ‘Do you know where he keeps the record?’ Mark chose to ignore her question.

  ‘Yes, in the house. We have a little diary for that kind of thing.’

  ‘Come on then, I need to see it. Somehow I know it’s vital evidence.’

  In less than two minutes the teenagers were sitting at the kitchen table and Mark was thumbing through the little diary.

  ‘So, he took some time off around this time last year, and then he’s been off quite a lot in the last three months. What was last year’s absence for?’

  ‘It was just after Mother went missing. About a couple of weeks afterwards he decided to go away on holiday which was a good thing in a way because it let me and Dad get used to being on our own. He said he’d gone up North for a few days, but I don't really know. I didn’t take much notice at the time.’

  ‘Fair enough, and now this latest bout of absence. Due to a bad back, he says. Do you actually know how he did his back in?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Has he ever come up with a doctor’s certificate or anything?’

  ‘Not that I’ve seen, but as he’s casual labour we wouldn’t necessarily see one.’

  ‘Oh, right. Have you got a bit of paper and a pen?’

  ‘Yeah.’ The girl opened a drawer in the table and produced a sheet of paper and a ballpoint pen.

  Mark jotted down the dates in the last three months when the farmhand had reported in sick and then closed the diary.

  ‘We’d better get back to James and see how he’s doing.’

  The two of them left the farmhouse and were soon walking back up the field.

  ‘I can’t believe Tom’s involved,’ said the girl.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because he was so helpful after Mum disappeared. It just doesn’t seem to be in his nature.’

  ‘I don’t know. This is a perfect place to hide out for a farmhand with a good track record working as a casual labourer. It’s almost as if he planned this - you know, took a long term view and started plotting years ago for this very moment. He’s found his place in the community, become accepted by people, found things out, and now he’s using that knowledge to clean up. You’ve got to admit that it all fits.’

  ‘I know, but the same could be said about lots of people around here.’

  ‘Yeah, but not all of them have connections with a chubby-faced chap who lets himself into a shed and walks off with a bag of who-knows-what on his shoulder.’

  By now they had reached the tents.

  ‘What chap?’ asked James. In return he was treated to a full explanation of the events of the past hour. As he listened, he became more and more excited. His eyes were bright as Mark finished the story.

  ‘And that’s the missing link.’

  ‘What?’ asked Rebecca.

  ‘The missing link, the other voice at the windmill today. I knew I’d heard it before. I’m sure the voice was Tom’s. He has a curious accent and so did the voice at the windmill.’

  ‘But why didn’t they meet in the shed? Why meet at the windmill?’ argued the girl.

  ‘Two reasons,’ said James. ‘Firstly, Tom was off sick today, and secondly the farm is too dangerous a place to meet regularly. I’ll bet your Dad doesn’t know about chubby-face, and so he’d have to know your Father was away to come to the farm. I’d say today’s visit was carefully planned and that the chubby-faced bloke simply had to get some stuff out of the shed before your father stumbled onto it. Quite probably, Tom forgot to remove it yesterday evening and it simply had to be retrieved.’

  ‘But why was it there in the first place?’

  ‘Perhaps it needed some “work” doing to it. Something Tom could do in the shed.’

  There was a brief pause before Rebecca broke the silence.

  ‘I know: Tom’s been grinding the pewter. It’s a soft metal and if he covered the bench in newspaper there’d be no trace left afterwards. I’ll bet that’s what he’s been doing.’

  ‘Grinding pewter? But why?’

  ‘Dunno, but it’s either to remove something or to change something.’

  ‘Could be, James. But what about this idea - say they’re stealing pewter tankards and so forth. Then they change them by melting them down and forming other shapes: perhaps the grinding is to add some distinguishing marks. So why all of this in the first place?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ the younger boy replied. ‘And we may be way off course anyway.’

  ‘We may be,’ agreed his brother, ‘but I think we’re actually pretty close to the truth. I also think we’ve got to do some planning. If Tom’s involved, then this farm is a potentially dangerous place to be. Either way we’re going to have to keep a close eye on him, and also on the windmill. We’ve also got to keep our ears to the ground for any other news, and we probably need to think about listening out on the bank again tonight.’

  ‘Mark, I’ve just remembered something,’ said Rebecca. ‘I was talking to Mary today and she said that the vicarage had been burgled yesterday. That’s why all the cop cars were about this morning.’

  ‘Okay, so that’s the job that nearly made the car driver late for the rendezvous last night. It’s starting to fit together. Do you know what was taken?’

  ‘Not really. Just bits and pieces, I think.’

  ‘Curious. We’ll keep our ears open on that one. Now, how can we divide this situation up?’

  ‘Well, James can’t go far, not with that ankle,’ said the girl.

  ‘Fair enough. James, how about you listen out on the road tonight? If anything happens you can tell us in the morning. Then perhaps you can keep an eye on the farm area tomorrow. Stay round the tents and use the binoculars.’

  ‘That’s fine by me. But what are you two going to do?’

  ‘Bec and I will take a walk into the village in the morning to do some shopping and see if there’s any more news. After that I thought we’d do some sightseeing by bike. I want to spend a bit of time working on the bike first thing - see if I can get it to go a bit smoother and faster.’

  ‘Sounds good. What about the rest of this evening?’

  ‘Well, I suggest we have a meal. It’s going to start getting dark soon. I have the feeling that we’re getting close to solving something and that tomorrow will be a busy day. Now, where’s Archer?’

  Archer had waited with James until Mark and Rebecca had returned. As he had already solved the mystery he didn’t bother to wait to hear their conversation. He had known for two days that the chubby-faced gentleman had been visiting the farm. He still couldn’t quite sort out the puzzle of the peculiar perfume, but he figured it was probably a red herring. This assumption is a good indication that even Archer was not infallible. Still, it was unlikely that he’d have been able to solve the puzzle at that time.

  Archer had spent the meeting time roaming around the field. He was tired after the day’s activities but he had little to do other than roam. He passed a few burrow openings and sniffed casually. There was a scent of rabbit but the aroma was faint, indicating that the burrow had not been used for some time. Archer pondered on another scent, which was like the scent in the work shed, and in the hole behind the windmill. In both places that distinctive scent was faint, and yet it was stronger in the farmhouse. It was curious. Archer, his tail wagging gently, found a hole where the scent of rabbit was much stronger. He stopped quite suddenly and dropped down so that his stomach touched the grass. He lay there, almost without breathing, and sniffed gently. The scent was getting stronger.


  Archer suddenly pounced on what seemed like an empty hole, but when his mouth came back up it held a small, furry creature. Not daring to let it go, he turned and headed back to the tents. Just then he heard Mark calling him. He ran with mounting pride back to the humans.

  ‘What have you got there, Archer?’ James asked as the dog appeared.

  ‘Drop it, Archer,’ said Mark.

  Archer growled, as if to say, ‘No way, this is mine!’

  ‘Drop it, I say,’ repeated Mark more forcefully. Mark also took a step towards the dog. Archer tossed the furry ball into the air and caught it again between his front teeth. The creature made a peculiar noise and Mark smacked the dog on its hindquarters. In surprise, the dog dropped its quarry. The furry creature dropped to the ground, motionless.

  The girl came and touched it, but for a moment there seemed to be no life in the creature. However, after a few seconds, the rabbit stirred and in a trice began to race off across the field. Archer tried to follow but Mark was holding him by the collar and so the creature escaped. Archer looked mournfully up at his captor and Mark looked down at his captive.

  ‘Archer, you really must leave the rabbits alone. They taste horrible like that and they could make you ill. You’re a clever boy to catch one, but we don't want you getting ill. Now where are your favourite chews?’

  Archer looked at the boy as if to say, ‘It just got away.’

  Chapter 18

  The evening meal was over and the youths played some games Rebecca had brought up from the farmhouse. At about eleven o’clock they decided to call it a day. James’s ankle was still sore, but he was able to walk on it tentatively. He set his alarm for twelve thirty and fell asleep. In her tent, Rebecca too was soon curled up and fast asleep. Archer was outside as he had shown no inclination to go into either tent. Mark was the only one who lay in his sleeping bag with his eyes wide open. He was thinking. It was curious that what should have been a simple holiday, with the three of them doing the kinds of things all teenagers like to do, had ended up in the way it had. He lay there considering all the things that had happened and he began to wonder what would take place in the days ahead. As he thought, his mind began to touch on curious things.

  Eventually his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep. His dream world was filled with a picture of a ten-kilogram bag of a sugary-looking substance, and lots of little metal boxes. The boxes were simply made with tight-fitting lids. Each box could hold a precise amount of the white sugary substance and then the lid was fastened down with glue. His dream drifted off into a walk through large dark tunnels and when he came out the other end he was in a brightly lit room.

  Meanwhile, James’s alarm clock sounded under his duvet and the boy dragged himself out of bed. He quietly left the tent and clambered up the bank. Archer went with him and lay down on the rug the boy had taken with him. The minutes ticked by. The minutes turned into quarter of an hour, then half an hour, and eventually an hour. After an hour and a half had passed, James was about to give up when he heard a noise down on the road. After a few moments a car came into view, its headlights bright in the darkness. The car stopped below where James was lying and the driver stepped out. He lit a cigarette, and in the light of the flame from the match James recognised the face. After a few minutes the van also appeared and its driver also got out.

  ‘All right?’ the van driver asked.

  ‘Yeah, there were no problems. But that’s the last one for now. We should have all we need anyway. I think we should finish it off tomorrow and clear out as quickly as we can. I’ll take care of things my end, and you make sure we’re ready to move tomorrow evening.’

  ‘Yeah, I agree. This place is getting too hot now. We’ll go somewhere else.’

  ‘You can if you want to, but after tomorrow I’m out of this.’

  ‘You can’t, not without my say-so.’

  ‘I can, and I will. I’m through after this. We clear up, leave no loose ends, and we get out. What we make out of this should leave us pretty for a few years.’

  ‘True, but we could do it again somewhere else.’

  ‘Nah. It took three years to get into this place and I don’t want to go through that again. Why not just call it a day?’

  ‘If you say so. See ya tomorrow evening then.’

  ‘Yeah, about ten o’clock.’

  ‘Right you are.’

  The two drivers went back to their vehicles and in a few moments had driven off. James clambered back down the hill and was soon fast asleep in his tent. The next morning, over breakfast, he told the others of the night’s events. They listened with growing interest until James had finished his story.

  ‘Right, so we’ve got today to pull this thing together and get to the police,’ Mark said. ‘James, you’ll have to watch the farm from here seeing as your ankle won’t let you go too far. Bec and I will have to get out and about and try to solve this one. You ready, Bec? James can do the washing up for us.’

  ‘Sure thing, Mark. Just two ticks and I’ll be with you.’

  ‘Are you gonna be okay here on your own?’ Mark looked at his brother.

  ‘Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ve got some reading to do and I’ll see you about lunchtime anyway. I’ll tidy up here a bit as well.’

  The older boy and girl began their walk down to the farm. Once at the farm Mark paid some attention to his bike and adjusted the chain and gear mechanism. Half an hour later they were ready to go.

  They cycled quickly into the village, Mark pleased that the work he’d done on the bike had improved its performance significantly. As they neared the shop where Rebecca’s friend worked, they slowed down.

  ‘I’ll let you go in on your own, Bec. Chances are Mary won’t want to say too much while I’m there. I’ll pop up the road and have a look in a couple of other windows.’

  ‘Right you are. See you in about ten minutes.’ With that, the girl parked her bike outside the shop and went in.

  ‘Morning, Mary, how are you today?’

  ‘Not so bad, and yourself?’

  ‘Oh, okay. I’m camping out in the field with my cousins at the moment so I’m not getting such good sleep as I’m used to, but the fresh air’s good.’

  ‘Oh, right. Are they staying long?’

  ‘About another week, I think. Why?’

  ‘Well, I was wondering if I could join you for a few days. I quite like living under canvas and I’m sure my dad would let me if he knew I was with you.’

  ‘Well, I’ll ask the boys and let you know. I guess it won’t be a problem. You ask your dad and I’ll ask them, and if it’s okay then why not bring your tent up tomorrow after work?’

  ‘Didn’t I see one of them come up here with you a moment ago?’

  ‘Yes, that was Mark. He’s doing some window-shopping. He can’t stand listening to girls talking!’

  ‘Pity.’

  ‘Why?

  ‘Well, two things really. Firstly, you could ask him about me joining you.’

  ‘I can still do that; he’s not gone far. And secondly?’

  ‘Secondly, there was another robbery last night at the pub. I know he was interested in the Manor, so I thought he might like to hear about this one.’

  ‘He probably would. Hang on a sec and I’ll see if I can find him.’ Rebecca went to the shop door and could see Mark cycling down the road towards her. She beckoned to him urgently and in a moment she was talking to him softly. One minute later they were all in the back of the shop.

  ‘Mark, you’ve met Mary, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Bec says you’ve had some news you wanted to mention.’

  ‘Yes, in a minute. Did Bec mention the camping?’

  ‘Yeah. Tomorrow evening’s fine by me, and James will say the same. It’d be good to have some extra company for the weekend.’

  ‘Great! I’ll clear it with Dad tonight. Now to get back to these burglaries. I know you guys have been doing some ferreting around, sniffing here and there. In fact, some of the
locals think you might be involved, but I know that’s rubbish. These burglaries started weeks before you came on the scene. Now there have been eight in all in the local villages and all of them are different. There’s been five small ones, and until last night two big ones, at the Manor and at the vicarage. Last night the pub got turned over. Funny thing is the burglar ignored all the booze but walked off with a load of tankards and about thirty quid out of the till. The folk round here are getting really edgy now and they’re treating any stranger with suspicion.’

  ‘Thanks for the warning. Since you don't think it’s us, you must have your own ideas.’

  ‘It must be someone local. My policeman friend thinks that. If that’s the case, then the burglar won’t even be suspected by the villagers. That means they can come and go and nobody will raise an eyelid over them. You, on the other hand, only have to cycle up the road and people notice. So I reckon our burglar is local.’

  ‘And, presumably, must have been for some time.’

  ‘Exactly. Now apart from the folk who were born here, only a handful of people have moved to the village, and no one’s moved here in the last year.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning, it’s going to be difficult finding the right local.’

  ‘What about changes in the way people act, that sort of thing?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, for example, has someone suddenly started acting differently, like tense, or nervous, or suddenly more chatty?’

  ‘No, not really. Hang on though, there is something - but it’s absurd. Your farm help, what’s-his-name, was in here a few days ago. Seemed like he was waiting for someone. He kept looking over his shoulder out the door as if he was expecting someone. Silly really, ’cos he only came in to buy a few sweets and some cigs.’

  ‘Some cigarettes?’ interjected Rebecca.

  ‘Yeah, twenty King Size if I remember rightly.’

  ‘But Tom doesn’t smoke!’

  ‘Bought them for a friend or relative maybe?’

  ‘He hasn’t got any family round here. How strange. How long was he in the shop?’ asked Rebecca.