A Full Churchyard

by Nicholas Rhea

  Was Millicent right in her condemnation of his alleged snooping? Was he obsessed with looking for a murderer when in fact no murder had been committed? Or seeking a gang of thieves when nothing had been stolen? He had to bear in mind that there had never been any official complaints about the behaviour of any of the Crickledale Carers, so perhaps he had no right to investigate them as he was doing now. In spite of his own reservations, he nursed a deep desire to uncover the truth, whatever it was; that over-ruled any sense of precaution he was experiencing.

  He began to write down all the volunteers’ names in pencil in one of his many notepads. He found that writing aides-memoires in pencil rather than keying it into a computer meant he could recall it with greater clarity and so he compiled his list which was headed:

  Crickledale Volunteer Carers

  The Cedars, Millbank Road,

  Crickledale (Phone Crickledale 776020)

  Staff List

  Chairman: Mr John C. Furnival, widower in his late 50s-early 60s. Ex-fireman

  Secretary: Mrs Sarah Allanby, a widow in her 50s

  Professional Carers: Mrs Rebecca Frankland, 35 (776870)

  Mrs Juliet Jarvis, 42 (776670)

  Volunteers and their contact telephone numbers, all with a Crickledale prefix code.

  Mrs Eileen Baker, 28. Ex-chambermaid. 1 child (776114)

  Mrs Anne Barnett, 55. Retired nurse. Adult children (776808)

  Miss Fiona Blackwell, 18. Out-of-work. No children (776272)

  Mr Keith Dorsey, 47. Window cleaner. Unmarried (776007)

  Miss Fiona Grainger, 22. Cleaner, out-of-work. No children (776435)

  Roland Parkinson, 45. Out-of-work stonemason/builder. Single (776670)

  Mrs Millicent Pluke, 47, wife of Detective Inspector Pluke (776316)

  Mrs Cynthia Roseberry, 76, retired local government officer (776304)

  Mrs Marie Rose Stonehouse, 32. Housewife, 2 children (776535)

  Miss Rachel West, 33. Former secretary, 1 child (776270)

  He added six footnotes:

  1. Miss West had inherited the house belonging to Miss Croucher, her next-door neighbour.

  2. Miss Grainger had been carer to Mr Lindsey before his death.

  3. Mrs Stonehouse, Mrs Barnett and Mrs Roseberry all worked on Thursdays.

  4. Thursday evenings were set aside for extra visits.

  5. Mrs Barnett and Mrs Roseberry had both attended Mrs Langneb’s funeral.

  6. Mobile telephone numbers are not listed here because several carers do not possess them and in any case, such conversations are not always confidential.

  As he pondered this list, he wondered who, if anyone, had inherited Mrs Langneb’s house – Miss West had inherited the house belonging to Miss Croucher but, in addition to being a carer, she was a friend and neighbour of Miss Croucher. There was no evidence to suggest that Miss West had connived in any way to inherit the cottage and it was widely known that Miss Croucher had no family. Being made aware of whom had inherited houses was not the sort of information that would generally be known by the police but he knew that, in the event of a murder investigation, he must elicit such information as a possible motive. That may yet prove necessary.

  In addition, the undertaker for Mrs Langneb’s funeral had been a local man, Jacob Carpenter. It was he who had commented that Miss Croucher’s death was rather odd and Pluke had discussed that with him. So far, however, he had not been interviewed about his role in the funerals of the other deceased clients of the CVC. Could he or Sooty Black have engineered deaths to provide themselves with extra income? It was highly likely they knew that access to the homes of those old folk was fairly easy because many left their doors unlocked for friends, neighbours and carers. And if they knew that, then so would other local undertakers. And their staff. Then there was that other old character at Mrs Langneb’s funeral, Awd Ezra. He’d sat alone with bodies before the funerals – although his visits followed the deaths, they did not precede them, but they would provide opportunities for theft.

  As he stared at the list of people that had so far ‘come into the frame’ he realized he knew very little about any of them, apart from Millicent. And now he wondered how much he really knew about her! But if he was to drive this cold-case review to a successful conclusion, he must forge ahead. If there was an answer to his concerns, he would find it!

  It was now time to consider whether or not he should openly regard this as a murder investigation or even a major crime enquiry. Perhaps it was a little too early for that radical step! He was still trying to determine whether or not any crimes, other than the theft of Mr Lindsey’s gold watch, had been committed.

  But first he must learn more about individual carers. In so doing, he must avoid generating any alarm or any suggestion that he suspected any of them of committing crimes, even murder. Furthermore, he would have to start at the top. He then realized he knew virtually nothing about John Furnival, the director of Crickledale Volunteer Carers, except that he was a former senior fire officer.

  His first task, therefore, was to learn more about that man and to determine the qualifications he had displayed in securing his post. He must do that without alarming any of the townspeople or the local council under whose auspices the carers functioned. He must not alert Furnival to the reason for his sudden personal interest.

  Likewise, his knowledge of Mrs Allanby, the CVC secretary, was extremely limited. Certainly he had passed her in the street on occasions when he had invariably raised his panama and greeted her warmly – as he did with all attractive women.

  It was perhaps fortuitous that the list of carers included many people known to him, albeit rather slightly in most cases. He began to realize that, deeply and truly, he did not know much about the majority of individual townspeople. He further realized there was a difference between knowing something or someone, and being totally sure that such knowledge was based on truth. As a police officer he was aware that many people operated their daily lives under some kind of personal façade – many wanted to portray themselves as successful and clever when in reality their skills and personality were contrived.

  So where had Mr Furnival served as a member of the Fire Service? What rank had he held? And why had he left? Indeed, where did he live now – did he live in Crickledale or did he commute to work? And how could Pluke acquire all the necessary information without setting off alarm bells in town? But the truth must be found. He would proceed with great caution.

  His mind made up, he used the secure telephone in his office to ring an old friend whose hobby was researching the medieval trods of the North York Moors. His expertise had led Pluke to many locations of hidden or forgotten horse troughs and, in return, Pluke had identified some of the ancient trods of interest to his friend.

  That friend was now the manager of Rosklethorpe Fire Station in the north-east of the county and he carried the rank of Assistant Divisional Officer, ADO for short. Not surprisingly he had to endure jokes about making much ado about nothing but his real name was James Russell. Because Pluke was using a secure line, his call went direct to Russell whose handset identified the person who was calling.

  ‘Hello there, Montague,’ came the brisk response. ‘Nice to hear from you. Does this mean you’ve found some more trods for me?’

  ‘Not at this point, James. My explorations of the moors have been rather few recently. I really must get myself out to find more troughs.’

  ‘I discovered a new trod only last week, Montague. It stretches for five miles from the coast towards Rosklethorpe, but there is less than three miles of stone flags left. I think the rest have been stolen for building operations or covered up during road construction. But it’s a new find – it was discovered under the heather after some controlled moor burning.’

  ‘Then I trust you will make a note of its whereabouts!’

  ‘You know I w
ill, Montague. It’s one more for the book that I promise myself I will write one day. Fully illustrated of course, like your book on troughs. So how can I help you?’

  ‘It’s a highly confidential enquiry, James.’

  ‘I guessed as much, with you coming through on the secure phone.’

  ‘It’s this – do you know of a former fire officer – retired or otherwise – by the name of John C. Furnival. I am not sure what the C stands for. He’s around fifty give or take a few years. And he says he held a senior rank in the Fire Service. A CRO check was carried out upon his appointment and nothing was known against him.’

  ‘His name doesn’t ring any immediate fire bells, Montague! Did he serve in this county?’

  ‘I don’t know but he doesn’t sound like a Yorkshireman. He has one of those featureless accents. I think he would leave the service at least five years ago, maybe earlier. I don’t know whether he retired on pension or left for other reasons. I’ve got to be very secretive about this enquiry so I can’t use established sources.’

  ‘I understand. Can you give me an hour or so? I’ll check in our official almanac and also our list of current pensioners. The almanac lists every fire station in England and Wales, with the names of all their senior personnel currently serving and what posts they occupy. We keep previous years’ copies on our shelves. If he is, or has been, one of us, he will be there, Montague. And now, of course, those details are kept on our computers. It won’t take long. I’ll call you back later today.’

  ‘Thanks, I appreciate it.’

  When he rang off, Pluke checked the next name on his list: Mrs Sarah Allanby. A widow in her 50s, she was the secretary of Crickledale Volunteer Carers but rarely if ever went out to care for the clients. A local woman, she was purely an administrator and so Pluke wondered if Mrs Plumpton knew anything about her. He buzzed her on his intercom.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Plumpton, you are a fountain of all local knowledge so do you know anything about Mrs Allanby who works for CVC?’

  ‘I do know her, Mr Pluke, but only as an acquaintance rather than a friend. She is a local woman who lives in a nice terrace house along Newton Lane, her husband worked in York, something to do with one of those insurance companies in those big offices that used to be near the railway station, I believe. He travelled in every day by bus and she has always done clerical work in offices at Crickledale or nearby, sometimes on a part-time basis. She said she always wanted to share her free time with her husband. Unfortunately he died very young, cancer I think, but she has a good pension from his employment and is comfortably off. She has no children, Mr Pluke, which saddens her. She does a lot of charity work, you’ll often see her collecting funds for everything from Save The Children to Yorkshire Cancer Relief. A very nice lady indeed.’

  ‘Well, I couldn’t have asked for a more comprehensive account! Thank you. And clearly, that brings me to the two professionals and all the other volunteers. All are Crickledale residents, so how about them? You’ve got the list.’

  ‘Yes, it’s on my screen, Mr Pluke. I’ve met the two professionals quite often, socially as well as in their former places of work. Mrs Frankland used to work in the Crickledale Building Society as a receptionist, and she lost her job when it was taken over by one of the big names. Halifax, I think. I know nothing against her, Mr Pluke.’

  ‘And Mrs Jarvis?’

  ‘She’s in her early forties, I would say, and she used to work in the Brewer Brothers department store here in Crickledale, moving from counter to counter.’

  ‘That could be where I have seen her!’ remarked Pluke.

  Mrs Plumpton continued, ‘Quite possibly. I’ve always bought my clothes there, you know, she always gave me good advice on how to make myself more attractive . . . and then I once saw her on the perfume counter, then in the furniture department . . . she moved around quite a lot. Her husband left her for another woman, fortunately there were no children. Then she left Brewer Brothers very suddenly.’

  ‘Why was that? Do you know?’

  ‘There was talk, Mr Pluke. It began when her husband left her. Money going missing . . . cash from tills . . . nothing was ever proved and there was no court case or police involvement. She was asked to resign. Even though nothing was proved against her, word got around town as it does on these occasions. She couldn’t get work and I think she’s on benefits now. She rents a house on that big council estate at the West End and occupies herself with CVC. I believe she is very good in her dealings with the elderly. There is just a hint that she was entirely innocent – another employee was later caught with her hand in the till and sacked.’

  ‘So how did Mrs Jarvis cope with that?’

  ‘She had to live with that reputation. As they say, mud always sticks.’

  ‘This could be relevant, Mrs Plumpton. So what about the other volunteer carers? They’re all part-timers, I believe, working when they are required . . . in this case, I think you had better come into my office and we will discuss these face-to-face. I’ll call Detective Sergeant Wain to join us.’

  He pressed Wayne’s intercom button; he was in his office from wherever he had been and Pluke asked him to join them immediately.

  ‘Well, Mr Pluke, I can tell you something about that Mr Parkinson who is on the list.’

  ‘Then let’s get started the moment Wayne arrives.’

  ‘Ooh, you are impetuous, Mr Pluke. . . .’

  Then Pluke’s secure phone rang. It was a call from James Russell.

  ‘Hi Montague,’ came his breezy voice. ‘You certainly set me a right puzzle here. I’ve been through all our records past and present, including the national list of Fire Service pensioners, and your Mr Furnival is not shown anywhere. All I can say is that he has never been a member of the Fire Service in England and Wales. We do have links with Scotland and I did a check there – same result, Montague. He’s not known to any of the Fire Service Headquarters in Britain. You could always try overseas but I have no idea where to suggest you start. Is it a false name? Can you check his passport? Immigration Office?’

  ‘I’ll have words with our Special Branch,’ said Pluke. ‘They might have the means of tracing such a person. But thanks very much indeed for your help.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure, Montague. Now you owe me the discovery of another trod.’

  ‘I will do my best.’ And Pluke rang off.

  Wayne Wain then entered the office and noticed Pluke’s rather glum expression.

  ‘Ah, Wayne. Glad you’re here. Please join us,’ and so the sergeant settled on a chair near Pluke’s desk. ‘I have a very difficult task for you – this afternoon.’

  ‘Something wrong, sir?’

  ‘There are two things, Wayne. I have just been told that the man in charge of Crickledale Carers might have a secret past; that means he must be closely investigated. And the second thing is that I fear it is time for you to do something I will not be allowed to do. It is time to interview Mrs Pluke.’

  ‘To establish her innocence?’ asked Wayne.

  ‘To establish the truth, Wayne.’

  Chapter 16

  ‘Let’s start with Mr Furnival, Wayne,’ began Pluke. ‘The short question is that he claims to be a former senior fire officer but there is no record of his recent service in this country. Any thoughts on that?’

  ‘If he was an auxiliary – a part-timer – he would never become a senior officer, would he? And his part-time membership wouldn’t be recorded, would it?’

  ‘It should be somewhere in the system, Wayne, probably buried very deep in some dusty old files, but not available to the public. There’s an official almanac, produced annually, and back copies have been checked by my contact. It lists officers of high rank – but Mr Furnival’s name is not there. It should be. In spite of that, he gave the impression he is a retired former full-time fire officer of high rank.’

  ‘Could he
have slipped through the net, sir? Was his name omitted by accident? These things can happen. Or is he one of those conmen who apply for top jobs, and often get them?’

  ‘We’ve also checked the fire officers’ pensioners’ pay lists, Wayne, he’s not there either. And that contains every paid pensioner, irrespective of rank.’

  ‘So if he’s not in any of our British lists, is it possible he could have returned to Britain after service overseas? We’ve got to think like that, we live in a global world now, not an island community. Anyway, couldn’t we question him discreetly? Be devious – you’re very good at that. Chat to him about his success in moulding Crickledale Carers into such a successful and effective organization whilst persuading him to reveal more about himself? Or has he done time in prison? You know the sort of thing – a murderer released on licence under a new identity?’

  ‘We would have been informed if such a person was living within our area,’ Pluke reminded Wayne. ‘Furnival will only reveal what he wants us to know.’

  ‘Then it means we must investigate him – initially without him being aware of what we’re doing.’

  ‘You’ve had experience in Special Branch, haven’t you, Wayne?’

  ‘Yes but not for very long. Two years in fact. I could arrange an interview with him as a follow-up to our chat about his carers.’

  ‘I was thinking of any contacts you might have had in, say, the Immigration Office or the police forces of our ports and airports. I think that would be a good means of finding out his overseas past, and to check whether his identity is false.’

  ‘I can try but I’d rather talk to him first, to establish a few known truths that we can use as key-points in our research. In talking to him, I would continue the theme about his staff not understanding when a call to the police was unnecessary. I’d refer to that Home Office initiative we talked about; I don’t know how you came up with that idea, sir, but it was perfect for that occasion. And I could be wired up?’