A Full Churchyard

by Nicholas Rhea

  In reading the file, Pluke could quickly absorb the essential details and whilst he did not claim to possess a photographic memory, he did have a strong capacity for recalling the salient details. He looked through the file once again, reading it carefully before returning it to Alwyn and his filing cabinet.

  ‘So what happens next?’ asked Alwyn in all innocence.

  ‘I will report my findings to our Force Headquarters, Alwyn, who will then notify the Police Department of the Home Office that Mr Furnival does appear to be a very positive candidate for the type of voluntary work they envisage. I would also add that I think the idea has some merit – an intermediary between police and public does seem to be a sound idea. Once I have done that, I have no idea what will happen – but I will keep you informed.’

  Leaving the Town Hall, he made his way back to the police station whilst telling himself that his deceptions were necessary in this kind of undercover police work. He had much to tell Detective Sergeant Wain, particularly that Furnival appeared to be a fraudster but that could wait until the sergeant had completed his own rather delicate enquiries. Montague decided not to return to his home just yet – he wanted Millicent’s ordeal to be over before he went off duty.

  Chapter 17

  Whilst Pluke was conducting his rather devious enquiries, Detective Sergeant Wayne Wain was on his way to the head office of Crickledale Volunteer Carers for an equally devious chat with John Furnival. He had not made an appointment because he wanted to surprise his target; Furnival would not be forewarned and would not produce rehearsed responses.

  As he walked across the town centre, however, Wayne noticed Mrs Pluke making her way through the marketplace. She noticed him at the same instant. This sort of thing happened frequently in Crickledale – it could almost be guaranteed that if you wanted to meet someone, you’d eventually encounter them in the marketplace. It was ideal for chance meetings or even pretend chance meetings!

  ‘Ah, Detective Sergeant Wain,’ Millicent called as she approached, using his formal name as Montague would have done. ‘Nice to see you. How are you?’

  Wayne thought fast. ‘I’m fine, thanks, Mrs Pluke. Look, I was just heading for a nice cup of tea before my next meeting. Would you care to join me? My treat!’

  ‘I was heading for Tea Break café too so isn’t that a pleasant coincidence! It would be nice to catch up with your news.’

  Wayne selected a window table where they could talk in confidence, ordered a pot of tea with two cupcakes and prepared to be sociable with his boss’s wife. After the introductory small talk, he commented, ‘Work always gets in the way of socializing, Mrs Pluke. We’ve been busy until just now, but for the past few days things have been dreadfully quiet. But that’s the way of police duty – we can never plan our workload but happily our work is rarely boring.’

  ‘So Montague tells me. And he tells me he is making good use of the quiet time for a cold-case review. He always works so hard; I do hope he produces results.’

  ‘If I know your husband, Mrs Pluke, he will certainly produce results. It’s due to him that we have such a positive record of crime detection in this town, so I’m sure his cold-case review will prove highly satisfactory.’

  ‘I hope he leaves the carers alone, Sergeant. He seems to have got some kind of bee in his bonnet about the way CVC goes about its business. I know there have been lots of deaths recently in Crickledale, many being under our care, but I’m sure he can’t hold us responsible, especially as none of the deaths was suspicious.’

  Wayne decided to try and balance things by saying, ‘I’m sure he doesn’t think crimes were committed, Mrs Pluke. We’re aware of those deaths and I’m sure we’ve not the slightest reason to believe the CVC is failing in its duties. After all, the deaths were from natural causes, old age in most cases, so I am told. So is something troubling you?’

  ‘I’ll be honest with you, Wayne,’ she used his Christian name now. ‘I must admit I’m rather concerned. I’ve been aware of some odd and rather worrying things happening within the CVC. As you are aware of those deaths I feel I can speak to you in confidence. . . .’

  ‘Of course you can. Tell me what’s bothering you and perhaps I can help.’

  ‘It may be nothing but I fear some of our carers are less than professional. Speaking personally, I’ve not seen such things happen but, as you might expect, there is always talk among the volunteers whenever they get together.’

  ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’

  ‘I need to tell someone, Wayne, someone quite independent of the CVC. I don’t think Montague is the right person. He would decide to launch an enquiry or begin an investigation which would upset everyone and I’m sure we don’t need that! He’s already hinted he’s checking something within the CVC.’

  ‘Has he really?’

  ‘He won’t tell me what it is but I can see he’s concentrating on something important, although I’ve told him I have no reason to think crimes are being committed by the carers.’

  ‘So if they’re not committing crimes, what exactly is troubling you?’

  ‘As I said, I fear there is some sloppy and careless attention to our patients and clients, Wayne. I know that’s of no concern to the police, it’s an internal matter but some of those who were recently found dead were lying on cold floors – someone must have helped them and then abandoned them. Heaven knows why! Also, Wayne, I know some have lost things from their homes.’

  ‘Lost things? What sort of things?’

  ‘Personal belongings, heirlooms, small objects that are quite valuable.’

  ‘Has anyone done anything about them?’

  ‘When I mentioned it to senior management, I think they felt I was nit-picking and they responded by saying old people did silly things and lost their belongings or even gave things away to friends and neighbours. They said such things were no concern of the CVC.’

  ‘I can understand why that would worry you.’

  ‘I’ve been very worried recently. In fact I am thinking of resigning, no one seems to care, and that’s a bad thing to say about professional carers!’

  ‘So to sum it up, you think there is something going on behind the scenes that is not very pleasant? Something that requires attention?’

  ‘That’s a good way of putting it, Wayne. Yes, that sums it up neatly.’

  ‘So have you done anything to try and rectify matters?’

  ‘I have mentioned my concerns to Mrs Jarvis and I’ve also been visiting some patients and clients in my own time, occasionally in the evenings, to see if they are all right. I know I must be careful in what I do, I must not appear to be interfering. In any case, I suspect they think I’m a policeman’s wife checking up on them, being nosey! And I told Montague not to go snooping on the carers; what they do by way of carelessness or slip-shod work should not concern him. I’ve told him that those are internal matters, Wayne, of no concern to the police.’

  ‘Is that why you don’t want him to get involved?’

  ‘It is. It would stir up all sorts of trouble and problems and undo much of the good work the carers do. It would give them a bad reputation and lead to a crisis of confidence. I don’t want that, Wayne, so I don’t want a police investigation. That would be totally counterproductive. We’re not criminals even if we are inefficient.’

  ‘I understand your concern, Mrs Pluke, but I believe I should tell you this. We’ve been in discussion with Mr Furnival about when to call a police officer to a natural death but that doesn’t mean we’re suspicious or critical of the carers’ work. We’re trying to make our duties, and theirs, more productive with less time being wasted on non-essentials.’

  ‘I knew something was going on but Montague doesn’t reveal much. The trouble is you never know with police enquiries, Wayne! What often appears to be the very innocent beginning of something can flare up to reveal hidden secrets. I do kn
ow quite a lot about how the police operate, as you can imagine.’

  Wayne decided he should continue his gentle deceit by using the cover story. He did not want Millicent to stop talking – it seemed he had gained her trust because she would never talk to Montague in this way. He smiled and said, ‘All I can say is that our interest in the CVC is part of a Home Office initiative to reduce costs. It will affect other organizations such as the Fire Service and National Health Service. In our case, the police are called out to deal with deaths which, if a doctor examined them first, would be determined from the outset as occurring from natural causes. That means the police would not be involved. We are trying to persuade Mr Furnival to train his carers not to call the police first as a matter of routine – we want them to call a doctor first. That small act alone would save a lot of police time.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Then perhaps I’ve misunderstood things and misinterpreted Montague’s involvement? Anyway, Wayne, you can rest assured that the carers are doing lots of good work even if they do sometimes fall from the ideal. In fact, I’m on my way to a client now. It keeps me occupied on Wednesday afternoons when the shops are shut!’

  ‘I’m pleased we’ve had this chat, Mrs Pluke, it’s helped enormously. Now I’m heading for a talk with Mr Furnival about our need to reduce costs and become more efficient whilst not damaging the service we, or they, give to the public.’

  ‘You’ve not made an appointment, have you?’ she asked.

  ‘No, as a matter of fact, I haven’t.’

  ‘I thought not. He won’t be in his office today and he isn’t out visiting clients. He likes to visit a selection of our clients to see how they are faring but Wednesday afternoon after 1pm and that same evening, constitute his half-day off. He works at weekends, you see. Mind you, he does sometimes pop in to see a carer who is working late on Wednesdays in addition to our Thursday Special. He is very thorough and dedicated to his job.’

  ‘Thursday Special? What’s that?’

  ‘Oh, well, we ensure there is one night in the week when we can help clients with special or extra needs or requests, things we rarely have time to consider during our normal visiting hours. It might be nothing more than a person-to-person chat, or painting a door and decorating a ceiling, fixing a leaking tap, getting a chimney swept, helping to clean the brasses – anything that can’t be fitted into a routine visit.’

  ‘That seems a good idea. So if Mr Furnival keeps his staff on their toes, as it were, maybe he’s aware of the problems you’ve just highlighted? Have you discussed them with him? It’s often a good idea to go right to the top. . . .’

  ‘No, I felt I should not try to subvert the system, Wayne. . . .’

  ‘There are times when that is a good idea. So where will Mr Furnival be now? Will I be able to talk to him at his home address?’

  ‘That’s something I can’t answer, Wayne. For one thing, I don’t know where he lives and for another, I don’t know what he does when he’s not on duty. If he’s anything like police officers he’ll go somewhere where he can’t be found unless there’s a dire emergency.’

  ‘We all do that! My granddad used to tell of the days when policemen had to leave a holiday address at their police station whenever they went away or even on their weekly days off, just in case they were needed in an emergency. He added that many claimed they were touring whilst on holiday or enjoying their days-off and so they were out of contact!’

  ‘Fortunately that’s no longer the case, but sadly I’ve no idea where you’ll find Mr Furnival. If it’s very important you could ask his secretary.’

  ‘I’m on my way there next so I’ll do that,’ he said. ‘Thanks for telling me this, Mrs Pluke, it’s been most useful. I’ll respect your wish for confidentiality and hope your ministrations are appreciated this afternoon.’

  ‘Thank you for listening to me, I feel better already,’ she said, smiling sweetly as he prepared to leave her. ‘I’m visiting Mrs Cardwell in Shipton Avenue next.’

  ‘Fully dependent, is she?’

  ‘Not really, no. She can do things and likes to show her skills. She may even have a cup of tea ready but has difficulty dusting, polishing and cleaning, especially her silver on high shelves. I must admit I check everything each time I call, just to see that nothing is missing.’

  Wayne thought he might have time to visit the surgery in the hope of catching Dr David Simpson for a quick chat. He was lucky – the doctor did not have a patient in at that moment and invited him into his consulting room. He knew Wayne by sight and name.

  ‘A quick chat, please,’ asked Wayne the young doctor. ‘Not a consultation, it’s a police matter.’

  ‘That sounds serious! What have I done?’

  ‘Nothing, I hope, doctor!’ And Wayne explained the cold-case review, with due emphasis on the doctor’s role in examining most of the deceased.

  ‘Well, Wayne, I must admit I did think some of the deaths were rather peculiar – lying on the floor, having windows open and so on, but my job was not to be a detective. It was simply to examine the deceased firstly to confirm that he or she was dead, and secondly to certify the cause of the death, if I was sure enough. In most cases, I could do so; those where I could not certify the cause of death were referred to a pathologist for a post mortem.’

  ‘Weren’t you suspicious of some of the recurring facts? Several deceased lying on a cold floor, doors and windows standing open?’

  ‘I thought it odd, but old folks do get themselves into some strange situations. I once dealt with a man who died in his outside coalhouse and another who was found dead in a dog kennel . . . I must say, however, that in these cases when I felt things were not quite as one would expect, I did alert the policeman who had been called to the scene – but what happened thereafter was not my concern. If I could certify the cause of death, the matter was concluded very swiftly. If not, the post mortem confirmed the death was not suspicious and so there was no coroner’s inquest.’

  ‘So despite the curious scenes of death, you did not feel compelled to alert anyone in authority?’

  ‘As I said just now, I did tell the police officer who had been called to the scene, but it was a different officer on each occasion. I had done my job, Wayne, nothing more, nothing less.’

  ‘Thanks, that’s a help,’ said Wayne. ‘Now I must go elsewhere. . . .’

  ‘Sorry I couldn’t help more,’ said the doctor, emerging to call in his next patient.

  When Wayne reached the offices of Crickledale Volunteer Carers, Wayne tapped on the door marked ‘Secretary’ and was invited to enter. Mrs Allanby was behind the counter, busy with her computer and a pile of files.

  ‘Detective Sergeant Wain!’ she smiled warmly. ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘I’m sorry to arrive unannounced but I was hoping to catch Mr Furnival.’

  ‘Oh dear, he doesn’t come in on Wednesday afternoons or evenings, it’s his day off.’

  ‘So where can I find him? It’s rather important? Will he be at home? Or does he have a mobile phone?’

  ‘He has one but never switches it on when he’s off duty. This is his only time off; he works very hard and needs time for himself, Sergeant, just like anyone else. And I’m not at liberty to reveal his home address.’

  ‘So how does he occupy himself off duty? Is he a golfer, does he go fishing?’

  ‘Nothing like that. He’s very keen on antiques and goes off to places like Leeds or Harrogate to look around second-hand shops, market stalls, car boot sales and the smarter antique dealers that sell items like jewellery, gold, silver, pocket watches, precious stones, artwork, trinkets, that sort of stuff. He does a spot of dealing too, buying good stuff and selling it to dealers. He’s quite knowledgeable.’

  ‘There’s good money in such things, they’re wise investments.’

  ‘That’s his view. He’s not into larger items like furniture
or grandfather clocks!’

  ‘Any idea where he’s gone today?’

  ‘Sorry, no, except it’s not in Crickledale. He always gets away from the town – his job makes him very well known so he needs to get away from those who stop him in the street to discuss personal problems. He keeps his private life very private.’

  ‘So what happens if there is a really serious emergency that requires his immediate attention?’

  ‘That has never happened to my knowledge, Sergeant, and I hope it never will. Sadly, deaths among our clients are not considered emergencies by this organization. . . .’

  ‘Well, my purpose is not all that urgent. I’ve other visits to make. If I can’t resolve my enquiry, I can always make arrangements for a formal meeting.’

  ‘Is it anything I can deal with?’ she asked. ‘Or perhaps one of our professional carers could help? Both are out at the moment but Mrs Jarvis deputizes for Mr Furnival when he’s away for any reason.’

  ‘Not to worry, Mrs Allanby. Please inform Mr Furnival that I called and say that I wish to discuss something we talked about earlier; tell him I’ll return when it’s convenient.’

  And so he left Crickledale Volunteer Carers without achieving much success – except it appeared that Furnival was a devotee of antique shops and car boot sales, places that sold small goods. That was useful information. Now he must begin his interviews with some of the carers’ patients; he had a list in his pocket. He was pleased Mrs Plumpton had divided them into two sections. One group comprised those who were elderly and lived alone, and who were allocated regular care by the CVC; the second did not necessarily live alone but received occasional care when required, say after an accident or illness, or perhaps following a period in hospital. That was also arranged through the CVC office. He knew that the two professional carers ensured that all clients received as much attention as was either possible or feasible, with due emphasis on night-time care. There were times when a carer may be expected to stay overnight – that task usually fell to the professionals. He decided not to visit Mrs Cardwell because Mrs Pluke would be there, nor would he visit any of the clients who lived remotely close to Shipton Avenue.