A Full Churchyard

by Nicholas Rhea

  ‘We couldn’t record it as a crime, Montague. You know that. So yes, it was noted in the Lost Property Register.’

  ‘And she did have CVC to care for her?’

  ‘Yes, it was one of the carers who reported the missing necklace after the lady’s daughter had noticed its absence.’

  ‘Was it found?’

  ‘Never. Not a sign of it.’

  ‘And did she die?’

  ‘Yes, she lingered longer than most people expected but died about a week after we had learned about the missing necklace.’

  ‘Was it a normal death? Not on the kitchen floor or in the garage or anywhere like that?’

  ‘No, quite ordinary. She died in her armchair in front of the fire. There were no suspicious circumstances. Doctor Simpson certified the death as being due to nothing but old age, natural causes in other words. She was 94.’

  ‘Did her death occur on a Thursday by any chance?’

  ‘You are up to something, Montague! Are you trying to create a drama or crisis out of nothing? If our worthy and highly trained doctors are prepared to certify these deaths are from natural causes, who are we to question their professionalism? Besides, we’ve enough to do without regarding every death as suspicious enough to require investigation as if it was a murder enquiry.’

  ‘My duty, Inspector Horsley, is to protect life and property and to investigate crime without fear or favour, even if it means extra work for our officers and support staff. So I repeat my question. Did that old lady’s death occur on a Thursday?’

  ‘No it didn’t. I remember hearing about it as the church bells were ringing, so it must have been a Sunday. I can check our files if necessary. But I repeat, we were not involved in any investigation into her death.’

  ‘How much was the necklace worth?’

  ‘The daughter said she’d had it valued a couple of years earlier and it was then worth in excess of £2,000.’

  ‘A very valuable piece of jewellery. Did you interview any of the carers about it?’

  ‘You’ve done it again, Montague. You’re trying to implicate the CVC in these losses and I’m sure they are not responsible. As I said earlier, there was no evidence of a crime.’

  ‘So you didn’t interview any of the carers? Is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Yes, I am saying we didn’t interview any of them.’

  ‘May I ask why?’

  ‘As I’ve repeatedly told you, we had no reason to think a crime was involved and it’s not our job to go looking for lost property unless it is something likely to cause danger to the public. We record the loss in case the property is eventually found and handed in. That’s all. We did everything that was necessary. This was a very old woman, Montague, the general feeling was that she’d mislaid it. I did hear that the carers and her daughter had searched the house and all her clothing, bags and so forth, even the dustbin, but it was never found.’

  ‘And did similar incidents involve more elderly people?’

  ‘Yes, there were others. One old lady lost a diamond brooch and died before its lost was noticed – she was found dead on a Thursday as it happens – and another owned a valuable miniature painting which hung over the bedhead, and that vanished.’

  ‘Who reported the loss?’

  ‘A neighbour. Its absence was noted after the old lady had died but I can’t recall the day or date without checking our files and a third died a few days before the loss of a valuable vase was noticed.’

  ‘And none was recorded as theft?’ asked Pluke.

  ‘No, Montague. Not one of them. I’ve already explained why such losses were all recorded as lost property but only because I felt they should be on record.’

  ‘And none could be associated with the death of the owner?’

  ‘Right. There was no evidence that any of the losses were linked to the deaths, apart from the coincidence of their timing. After all, the items could have been given away by their owners – relatives come into the houses to clear up after death of an elderly parent and that’s when some notice things had gone missing. Some of them tell us but not everyone does so. I do know that some old folks want precious items buried with them and the carers would arrange that with the undertakers and family.’

  ‘Were you involved in such transactions? Making sure the undertakers actually placed the goods in the coffins or graves?’

  ‘No, that is no part of our responsibility, Montague.’

  ‘So all this is hearsay, Inspector Horsley? We have no facts to help us.’

  ‘That’s the way things are, Montague, but we don’t keep records if the items have been given away by the owners.’

  ‘I have that list of deaths from the Registrar,’ piped up Wayne Wain. ‘If we can examine just a few entries about items that have been recorded lost or stolen, it might help if we can link them to the names of deceased persons. It might reveal a trend but it won’t be a comprehensive record.’

  ‘It’s worth a try,’ agreed Montague Pluke. ‘We’ll also need to check all your lost property registers, Inspector Horsley. I’ll be in touch about my findings in due course and thank you, PC Carey for your help. I order you both not to divulge what has transpired during this meeting.’

  ‘You are up to something, Montague!’

  ‘I am about to walk through the town for a nice lunch at home with my loving wife,’ smiled Montague Pluke. ‘It will give me time to consider what you have told me and I look forward to examining your files and registers in due course.’

  ‘You’re not thinking Crickledale Carers might be bumping off old folk to get their hands on their valuables, are you?’ persisted Horsley. ‘Great stuffed turtles, Montague, we don’t want to panic the townspeople into thinking we have a team of mass murderers at large!’

  ‘Then say nothing about this. It is highly confidential, top secret in fact, and I have an open mind at the moment.’ Pluke rose from his desk to retrieve his panama from its hat stand. ‘It is very open indeed.’

  His normal light lunch with Millicent was uncharacteristically quiet. She was not in her usual ebullient mood and apart from general pleasantries she did not ask how his work had progressed that morning. That was unusual – she always showed a keen interest in his ceaseless efforts to maintain a crime-free town. Instead, she chattered aimlessly about her daily routine – she’d had coffee with Mrs Findale and Miss Crimpton in the George Hotel when they had been discussing a proposed summer flower festival at the parish church, then she’d visited an exhibition of clip rugs in the Town Hall. She talked about a new dress and possibly a new overcoat and some shoes, and said she would pop into town this afternoon to find a nice chicken for their meal tonight. It was all domestic trivia, he felt; in fact, he was sure she was deliberately avoiding any discussion about his work. He made no attempt to provide an account of his morning’s activities – he felt any reference to his cold-case review might prompt her antagonism and more accusations of professional snooping.

  It was whilst walking back to his office through Crickledale after lunch that something troubled him. The victims who appeared to have had their belongings stolen shortly before death had never been in a position to make formal complaints to the police or anyone else.

  It was the actions of others that had brought the problem to the notice of the police. As time progressed and more facts emerged, it did appear increasingly likely they had been killed to silence them and that fact alone suggested the missing articles must have been valuable. Was any valuable thing worth a death, even one supposedly inducted out of kindness and love?

  That raised another issue. As his stroll carried him back to his office with people greeting him and with much hat-raising on his part, he realized that another area of investigation had developed. It was based on the fact that only a small proportion of the people under the care of CVC had died in circumstances that involved the police.
Lots had died without any involvement of either the CVC or the police. So had others died prematurely so that thieves could remove their precious belongings?

  Such victims may not be elderly people in imminent danger of death but they would include widows and widowers, infirm people and blind people, people who for a variety of reasons looked after themselves and maintained their own homes. Perhaps the CVC helped some from time to time because many may need modest help such as collecting the shopping, cleaning the roof gutters or having their chimneys swept. The wide range of available assistance meant that carers were invited into many homes in Crickledale that were not on the CVC’s official list. He wondered how many had reported either lost or stolen belongings? And how easy was it for someone to pretend to be from the CVC when in fact they were in no way connected? Did CVC volunteers carry identity cards? Had any of those people noticed thieves or burglars around their homes or been attacked during a burglary? If so, surely they would have reported the matter? Unless they had died soon afterwards. . . .

  Attempting to assemble and check those facts was a huge task and Montague realized that a complete answer was impossible. Then there was the worrying question of Millicent’s involvement. She was one of the carers who worked on Thursday nights and so she must be questioned. He must insist that Wayne Wain interviewed her as soon as possible, but would he absolve her of all suspicion?

  Chapter 15

  Pluke returned to his office in a reflective mood, hung his hat on its stand instead of throwing it, removed his top coat and sat at his desk. Almost idly and in deep thought, he shifted the ornaments and trays to their correct locations, at which point Mrs Plumpton entered.

  ‘I’m up to date with my work, Mr Pluke, so is there anything else I can be doing to help your cold-case review?’

  ‘I’m interested in that information we received from the CVC. Those lists of volunteers and clients, past and present. We need to examine them very closely.’

  ‘They’re all very detailed, Mr Pluke, and I’ve already loaded the file into my computer. I can print the lists in seconds, any time you require copies.’

  ‘And what about cross-referencing that information with our police computers? Is that feasible?’

  ‘Yes, no problem, Mr Pluke. Unlike the so-called good old days, the computers do all the work. So what exactly are you looking for?’

  ‘The list of clients includes everyone currently receiving care from CVC even if it only involves something like half-an-hour a week. It also includes those who have benefited from their care in previous years. What we have been concentrating upon are those elderly people who live alone and who require regular care. There are many others receiving attention, Mrs Plumpton and at this point I’m going to ask you to become a detective all over again. What I need to know is which of those other people in care – not necessarily the elderly – have complained about things missing from their homes, stolen in other words. And we need a list of those who have reported other matters such as lost property, prowlers, intruders, anti-social behaviour – anything that might have required action by Crickledale police.’

  ‘So you believe the carers are abusing their position of trust?’

  ‘I can’t rule it out, Mrs Plumpton. As you and I know, dishonest and disreputable people join genuine organisations to steal or assault vulnerable people including children. I don’t think all our carers are doing such things and I don’t think it is institutionalized, but I fear someone – or more than one – is abusing the trust placed in them. I’m rapidly approaching the moment when I shall have to be bold enough to officially state my fears. It would not surprise me if an evil person has joined the carers to gain access to potential victims. It’s rather like paedophiles working as scoutmasters, choir masters or priests to gain access to young children. Such people don’t suddenly become paedophiles, Mrs Plumpton, but they will join any organization that enables them to pursue their evil ways. Such deviousness among the criminal fraternity is not unknown but it taints others working in the same profession. What I need to know, therefore, are the names of all those who have become victims of this abuse of trust, if indeed it has happened. And I need to know the day, date and time of any offending, along with the day, dates and times of any deaths. If anyone did make a formal complaint against the CVC I need to know the outcome. Do you think it is possible to obtain all that information by searching our files in tandem with those of the town police and the CVC? And, of course, we need to ensure that our enquiries are undertaken with the greatest of discretion. We must do our best to keep the proverbial lid on this enquiry for as long as possible.’

  ‘Our computers will do most of the work,’ she reminded him with confidence. ‘The Control Room maintains confidential records of incoming calls or verbal reports. Sergeant Cockfield-pronounced-Cofield gave me a lesson when the system was installed so that I, as your secretary and PA, could access the station computer. It’s all in there, Mr Pluke, it can all be found.’

  ‘Good! Then you’ve got yourself a job! You’ll probably realize I’m still seeking some kind of plan or system that’s used by the criminals. Their MO, modus operandi, method of operating. It’s usually a good means of identifying criminals.’

  ‘I understand. I’ll start straight away and can obtain the data in confidence – although, of course, I do have to provide our password before I can start.’

  ‘Do whatever is necessary.’

  ‘Over what period shall I search, Mr Pluke?’

  ‘The last two or three years will be a useful starting point. It should determine whether we need further back-checks over longer periods.’

  ‘You realize the abstracts will include the cases we already know about?’

  ‘Yes, but that will provide a good double check on our work. Now, I trust that the list of Crickledale Carers includes Mr Furnival, Mrs Allanby and the two full-time carers in addition to all the volunteers?’

  ‘They are all there, Mr Pluke, including volunteers and staff who have recently left.’

  ‘Excellent. The guilty person could be someone who has left but who still knows how to work the system. And have they all been checked for convictions and police records?’

  ‘They have, that’s done before they are selected for the posts. As you already know, those on the current list are all clear except one, a Mr Dorsey, a window-cleaner. It was a juvenile conviction for assault – actual bodily harm – which has since expired but it is still shown on his record due to the vulnerability of our clients. Especially the young ones.’

  ‘So we have no known sneak-thieves or burglars among them?’

  ‘Not according to our records, but we all know that some thieves never get caught or prosecuted.’

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Plumpton. It’s astonishing that some thieves and villains pass through life without being caught for their crimes. They show up on routine checks as clean and wholesome, whereas they are true villains. I have to bear in mind that we might now have people of that kind in Crickledale! Even as CVC volunteers!’

  ‘I’ve always considered Crickledale to be a law-abiding community.’

  ‘It can appear so but we never know what’s bubbling beneath the surface, do we? It’s like looking at the smooth and bright water of your garden pond, knowing that all manner of unsavoury creatures live and lurk down there, killing and plundering . . . but we must accept what we see and know. Anyway, Mrs Plumpton, you are doing a good job with your ventures into crime detection. Perhaps it is a blessing that we are going through a very quiet spell just now.’

  ‘I’m really enjoying my detective work, it’s such a change from routine office procedures. And I do like to be kept busy.’

  ‘Now where is Sergeant Wain? I have a special task for him.’

  ‘I’m not sure where he is. . . .’

  ‘I’ll find him. Well, Mrs Plumpton, I think that’s all for now. It will be interesting to see what yo
ur research reveals.’

  ‘Let’s hope I can reveal all kinds of interesting things, Mr Pluke,’ and with one of her large smiles, Mrs Plumpton left him.

  In the solitude of his office, therefore, he decided he must re-examine and analyse yet again all the information he had gathered. He was fully aware that it was so very easy, especially when discovering something new and exciting, to overlook the obvious whilst being side-tracked or swamped with masses of new information.

  So what had he missed? What had escaped his notice, he wondered? It was time to reassess his progress, so he began to jot down the positive information he had gleaned so far. He hoped it would indicate the future direction of his enquiry. For example, was he concentrating too much on the elderly when others in care might be victims? Or were there victims among other elderly people not on the CVC’s formal list? Or even young people . . . all the possible combinations must not be overlooked.

  Despite his reservations, he had to accept that Crickledale Volunteer Carers were strongly in the frame due to their involvement in some of those puzzling deaths, but he was acutely aware that the actions of just one rogue could so easily tarnish the others. So had the carers themselves noticed anything untoward during their ministrations? Had they noticed one of their own members falling short of their very high standards – if so, how could they make a reasoned complaint? Indeed, he realized, that might explain Millicent’s recent odd behaviour. Had she noticed something that was not right whilst being nervous of becoming a whistle-blower by informing on her colleagues? And had her role as the wife of a senior detective meant she had been targeted at work?

  Getting closer to home, had Millicent witnessed anyone misbehaving in the vicinity of the old folks, or indeed with any of their other clients, particularly those who had lost their belongings? And if Millicent had discovered someone misbehaving or being dishonest, what could or would she do about it? Inform her policeman husband? Would any individual carer inform against their own kind? Did peer pressure or misplaced loyalty persuade the witness from revealing the truth, however unsavoury it happened to be? Or was he, Pluke, reading far too much into the entire situation?