by Kate Ellis
‘Charles Woodbead’s made a statement, sir.’
‘Has he confessed to the murder of his men?’
‘No, sir, but he said he was on the Ridge when Jimmy Rudyard was murdered and he saw Stark with a woman answering Miss Fisher’s description. He said they were … you know.’
‘No need to be embarrassed, Constable.’
‘Anyway, Woodbead was with a lady too, although he’d rather not give her name, and they saw the Rudyard twins running towards where he’d seen Stark a few minutes earlier, so it’s likely the children saw him as well. Woodbead says he and his lady friend decided to leave because the Ridge was getting too crowded. He says that when they were walking away he heard a child scream in the distance.’
‘I interviewed everyone in the village at the time.’ ‘Woodbead was living in Wilmslow back then, sir. He wouldn’t have been questioned.’
‘Even so, why didn’t his lady friend say anything?’
‘She was married, sir.’
There was a long silence. ‘Thank you, Constable. I understand Daisy, the Ghents’ maid, is to be brought in. Attempted poisoning.’
‘Mr Ghent locked her in her room last night, sir. Someone’s gone to fetch her.’
‘Good work, Constable.’ Albert had always believed in giving praise where it was due.
By lunchtime the faulty lock on the cell door had been mended and the cells were fully occupied. Miss Fisher and Daisy were tearful as they awaited transfer to a larger station for an appearance before the magistrates. Charles Woodbead, in contrast, seemed positively cheerful. Perhaps, Albert thought, he was finding it hard to believe his luck had finally run out.
Monty Ghent was back with his family and word had it that Mallory Ghent hadn’t seen Connie Jones, alias Dora Devereaux, since his son’s return. Albert had resisted all suggestions that Monty should be handed over to the authorities. As far as he was concerned, young Ghent had suffered enough and nothing would be gained by punishing him further. In Albert’s opinion he’d proved himself a hero that night on the Ridge when he’d saved Peter’s life.
Bloodstains had been found on the rocks beneath Oak Tree Edge but there was no sign of Stark himself. The locals reckoned he was unlikely to have escaped unscathed and that it was only a matter of time before he was picked up; however Albert wouldn’t rest until the man was in custody. He toyed with the idea of visiting Mrs Stark who, he was sure, had been an innocent party in the whole affair, another victim of her husband’s double life, but he couldn’t bring himself to face the woman. Sometimes he thought he’d seen enough pain to last a lifetime.
Once he’d given orders for the search for Stark to be widened he was tempted to seek out Gwen Davies but then he thought better of it.
The prisoners had been charged and it was time to think about going home, so Albert returned to the hotel to sort out his things. He’d had enough of Mabley Ridge and, if he had his way, he’d leave and never return.
He opened his suitcase and took out the correspondence he’d placed inside. There was one letter in particular he wanted to reread; the one from the Reverend Jonathan
Hegg telling him the child, his son and Flora’s, had been found a home by the Reverend Bell in Wenfield. The sight of the chaplain’s words gave him new hope.
The thought of returning to Wenfield filled him with dread – but he needed to find out the truth.
Chapter 70
Although the area was being searched and reinforcements had been called in from Wilmslow and Macclesfield, there was still no trace of Abraham Stark.
Albert didn’t go up to the Ridge himself. If he’d been a superstitious man, he would have agreed with Peter’s claim that the place was populated by ghosts and malevolent spirits. Besides, it held too many bad memories.
He decided it would be more helpful to speak to Monty Ghent, who’d lived there undetected for a while and knew the hidden places a man might use if he didn’t want to be found. As the maid, Daisy, was now languishing in a cell in Macclesfield, it was Monty himself who answered the door and it struck Albert that he looked considerably better than he had when they’d last met. The first thing he did was to reassure Monty that he’d do all in his power to ensure that the authorities would quietly forget the case against him for deserting his post and the relief on the young man’s face told Albert that this had been weighing on his mind.
Jane Ghent was also feeling better, though still weak. According to Daisy’s statement she’d convinced herself that if she got rid of Jane then Mallory Ghent would marry her. She’d been unaware of his relationship with Dora Devereaux and was still refusing to believe it. She’d thought Mallory had been in love with her. People so often delude themselves, Albert thought.
Once he was sitting in the drawing room with Monty, who was now smartly dressed with his hair neatly trimmed, he asked the question that was on his mind.
‘You know the Ridge well. Can you think of any way Stark could have escaped?’
Monty thought for a few moments. ‘There are ledges beneath Oak Tree Edge in a few places so if he’d happened to land on one of them instead of plummeting the whole way down … And there are mazes of tunnels but it’d take weeks to search the place properly. That’s how I managed to … ’
‘Are you all right?’
‘Getting there, Inspector. I’ve arranged to see Barbara again, and David’s coming up from London next week so … ’
‘Good,’ said Albert, standing up.
‘I’m still having the nightmares, you know. They won’t go away.’ He looked down at his hands and Albert noticed they were shaking slightly. ‘I sometimes think I’d be too much for Barbara to take on. It wouldn’t be fair on her.’
‘Why don’t you ask her? I’ve met her and I think I know what her answer would be.’
Monty smiled and stood up. ‘I’ll show you out.’
Once they were at the front door Monty glanced back at the hallstand. ‘I should return your hat.’
‘Keep it. Consider it a gift.’
As soon as he left Gramercy House Albert made for the railway station and caught a train to Manchester before taking the once-familiar line out to Wenfield.
His stomach churned as he alighted at the little stone station, blackened by the soot of decades, and walked through the cobbled streets into the heart of the village. As he passed the familiar stone houses and cottages the events of eighteen months before flashed vividly into his mind. The arrival; the investigation with its dead ends and frustrations; then that dreadful moment when he discovered the truth.
All around the village the Derbyshire hills glowered down, their bleak tops shrouded in thin grey cloud and the fields on their lower slopes filled with sheep. It was colder now than it had been on his first visit so he wrapped his overcoat tightly round him and pulled down his hat, praying nobody would recognise him.
When he passed the house where Flora had once lived he looked the other way. He’d heard her father, Dr Winsmore, had left the village after her arrest. The man had suffered too for his daughter’s crimes. As he crossed the bridge over the rushing river he saw the square church tower peeping over the roofs and headed towards it. The vicarage, he remembered, stood at the edge of the churchyard and he felt the sting of nerves as he walked between the blackened gravestones.
He was surprised to see that the curtains of the vicarage were all drawn across the windows, giving it an unoccupied look, and the door was answered by a grey-haired maid who frowned as though she was trying to recall where she’d seen him before. He made no attempt to enlighten her but she remembered anyway.
‘You’re that inspector from London, aren’t you?’ she said accusingly. ‘Surely all that dreadful business is over and done with.’
‘Yes, of course. I’m here to speak to the Reverend Bell about another matter. Is he at home?’
Her hand went to her face and she looked as though she was about to burst into tears.
‘Is something wrong?’ he asked, wondering i
f he’d said something to upset her.
‘Oh, sir, haven’t you heard? The reverend passed away a week ago. Doctor said it was most likely his heart.’ She didn’t sound too sure. ‘Anyway it were very sudden, like. Funeral was yesterday and Missus and her mother have gone to stay with her sister down south. If you want to speak to the curate … ’
‘Thank you … no.’
Albert stood on the doorstep for a while, stunned. He’d liked Bell – and his wife – and the news saddened him more than he would have expected. His hopes had been dashed. The one man who could have helped him find his son – the one man who might understand – was dead.
He thanked the woman and retraced his steps, telling himself there were others who might know. Mrs Bell perhaps. He remembered her as a woman who could feel the hurt of others, a silent holder of hands and a good listener, and she’d been one of the few people in Wenfield who’d showed him any sympathy when Flora’s crimes had been discovered. She was far away at that moment but one day she’d be back so he would never give up.
The ache in his leg was growing worse as he made his way wearily back to Wenfield station and waited for the Manchester train on the draughty platform. When he finally arrived back in Mabley Ridge he limped the short distance back to the hotel where he found a telegram waiting for him.
Telegrams, in his experience, usually heralded bad news and this one was no exception. It was from Vera and her words bore a stark simplicity, no doubt to save unnecessary expense. Mary very ill, stop. Come home, stop.
Albert made his way upstairs and locked himself in his room, trying to cry tears that wouldn’t come. He knew he had to go back to London as soon as possible but he dreaded what he’d find there.
He opened his suitcase and when he saw the scrap of paper bearing Gwen Davies’s Liverpool address lying on top of his folded clothes, a sliver of hope crept into his soul.
Things couldn’t get worse. They could only get better.
Peter
I meet the Shadow Man a lot and we go up to the Ridge to watch the birds. He says there aren’t no ghosts up there now. But I know there are.
They looked for Sergeant Stark but they never found him and the Shadow Man says we should be careful when we’re up there, just in case he’s hiding somewhere. When I said he might have stood on the Devil’s Grave and got dragged down to hell the Shadow Man went all quiet. Then he said he’d seen hell and it wasn’t on the Ridge. He said it was in France where he went to fight.
The policeman from London’s gone now. I liked him even though he talked funny and he didn’t find out who killed our Jimmy for years and years. Me mam used to say that he couldn’t catch a cold but now she seems to like him.
They say Miss FishFace is going to be hanged for what she did and if they catch Sergeant Stark the same will happen to him.
I think I saw our Jimmy yesterday – and this time he was smiling.
Chapter 71
Abraham Stark had become accustomed to sleeping rough amongst the discharged soldiers who waved their wounds at passers-by or sold matches from makeshift trays in the hope of a few coins. He’d made up a history for himself. He’d been injured at Passchendaele and when he’d returned to Blighty his wounds had prevented him finding work in a cotton mill even though he’d been a skilled man. Amongst his fellow down and outs he’d kept his rank of sergeant and he’d acquired a limp, modelling it on Inspector Lincoln’s after careful observation.
So far he’d managed to fool everyone in London where nobody knew him. Unlike Mabley Ridge it was a big, anonymous place where he’d been able to transform himself into a new being. Al – short for Aloysius – Spring. He liked the name he’d chosen. Spring held the promise of new life, a fresh start. Ethel had a date with the hangman but he intended to carry on living, although he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t kill again because he’d enjoyed the feeling of power it had given him. There was nothing like killing for making you feel alive.
He sat beneath a railway arch dreaming of home. One day he might return up North, once enough time had passed for everyone to forget. But he was determined about one thing: nobody would ever catch him.
Table of Contents
By Kate Ellis
Copyright
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71