Beth, meanwhile, had pulled out another paper. ‘Here, try this one.’
It was dated January 1916. James leafed through the paper. ‘A-ha. A team sheet.’
He examined the list of eleven players and groaned.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘The number nine for Cavendish was Archibald Franks.’
Beth put her hands to her mouth. ‘Oh no, that’s Adam’s grandfather.’
James folded the paper slowly and placed the pile back in the box. Charlie appeared with a cloth.
‘I thought I’d give this table a polish when you’re gone. It’s all a bit dusty, isn’t it? Did you find what you were looking for?’
James got up and helped Beth to her feet. ‘Yes, thanks, we’ll see you at the next rehearsal if not before. Cheerio.’
Outside, he grabbed Beth’s hand.
‘Where are we going now?’
‘The memorial.’ When they arrived he pointed to the brass plaque listing the soldiers of the Great War. The names were in alphabetical order. He pointed. ‘Archibald Franks is not on the plaque.’
He looked at Beth who’d paled. Tears formed in her eyes. ‘Oh, James, I don’t like where this is going.’
He wrapped an arm around her. ‘Darling, Adam may have absolutely nothing to do with this.’
She opened her handbag searching for a handkerchief. ‘But it points to him, doesn’t it? Archibald Franks isn’t on that memorial because he was number nine. Number nine was shot. He was a coward or a deserter.’ Her eyes welled. ‘Do you think Adam knew?’
He let out a sigh. ‘There’s only one way to find out and that’s to ask him.’
As they reached the car, Beth pointed back to the library. ‘Oh look. Isn’t that Mandy Billings?’
James followed her gaze. ‘Good Lord, yes. What’s she doing here?’
They got in the car and watched as she skipped down the narrow path to Charlie’s house and knocked. Charlie bounded out of the library and waved hello to her.
‘Well,’ said James, ‘I knew that he was rather smitten with her last week. I didn’t realise he was that smitten!’
He returned his attention to Charlie, who chatted with Mandy and checked his watch. After a brief discussion, he locked the library and they rushed to the bus-stop where the county service to Charnley had pulled up. James turned to Beth.
‘Let’s delay our chat with Adam. I believe Charlie may be escorting Mandy to Elsie’s for tea. There’s nowhere else of significance on that bus route. Do you fancy a cup? We may find out a little more about Olivia.’
Beth had a mischievous look in her eye. ‘That is terribly devious, James. They won’t want us intruding.’
‘We’ll take a timely stroll around Charnley so they have some time together first. Does that suit you?’
After some deliberation, Beth gave in. He put the car in gear and allowed the bus to go by before following.
CHAPTER TWENTY
James checked his watch. He and Beth had wandered around the green at Charnley and decided sufficient time had passed for them to drop by and visit Elsie’s café. The doorbell jingled as they entered and a few customers glanced up to observe their arrival. Most tables were taken but one of the waitresses waved them across to a table for two in the far corner. At first, James couldn’t see Charlie but then a hand sprang up. The librarian leant across the table to Mandy and then beckoned them over. They were sitting in one of James’ favourite spots, a table for four by one of the bay windows. He motioned for Beth to lead them through. They stepped over handbags and shopping on the way and wished some familiar faces compliments of the season.
‘Ah! Hello!,’ said James, feigning surprise. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here - and Mandy Billings too. Do you live in the area?’ he asked, ‘I presumed you were in London with Olivia and Enid.’
They sat down. Mandy linked arms with Charlie before explaining. She spoke softly. ‘Oh, Mr Hawkins invited me for tea, Lord Harrington. I’m still living at Mum’s in Cowfold - when I’m not working that is. The rent’s paid until the end of the month. Miss Dupree is taking a few days off so I’m sorting Mum’s place out.’
‘Yes,’ Beth put in. ‘I understand that your mother passed away recently. We’re so sorry.’
Mandy sighed and explained how difficult it was to clear out the house. ‘There’s no end of things to do and the stuff she collected – it’s taking an age to sort out.’
‘I guess we all accumulate things through our lives.’
‘I’m going to try to make sure I don’t, Lady Harrington. I’ve never been one for ornaments or antiques so I’ve got a head start on Mum. She loved collecting. First of all, it was bird ornaments, then vases and the latest thing was bottles. All they did was catch the dust, as far as I could see.’
Charlie rested his elbows on the table. ‘I said they could be worth a few bob, James. What d’you think?’
‘I think you could be right. Someone’s junk is another man’s hoard.’
Mandy shrugged. ‘I’m halfway through now. Done the upstairs. I’ve kept a couple of nice pieces as a memory but that’s about it. Most of it looked like rubbish to me.’
Elsie approached their table, apologising for the wait. ‘Christmas always brings my regulars out. What can I get for you?’
James and Beth examined the chalkboard which advertised home-made mince pies and Christmas cake. They looked at each other. Although it was lunch-time they knew exactly what they would order.
‘Two teas and two slices of Christmas cake please, Elsie.’
‘And we’ll have a top up on the teas please,’ added Charlie.
After a few minutes of small talk, the tea and cake arrived and James felt the time was right to steer the conversation his way. ‘So, Mandy, how did you enjoy singing with Carlo Pisani?’
Mandy’s face lit up as she described how excited she’d been, to be able to show what she could do. With a little prompting from Beth, she described her childhood in Cowfold; a standard education, a poor background and a love of music.
‘My mum used to sing quite a bit. Just around the house when she cleaned or did the cooking.’ Her expression hardened. ‘That’s before she got ill though. When she was ill, she never said a word – just curled up on the sofa staring at the floor.’
‘Was this a long-term illness?’
‘She’d get depressed. My dad left us and we didn’t have any family to speak of. She used to go a bit odd and they’d take her into hospital. Well, it weren’t a hospital, more like an institution but it didn’t make much difference. Sometimes I think it made her worse. The doctors didn’t treat her right,’ she snapped.
‘How awful for you,’ Beth said. ‘It’s good that she had you to help her.’
‘She’s better off out of it. She’s with family now – with Dad.’ Her eyes lost their sparkle and, in an almost childlike voice, she said: ‘Poor Daddy.’ She blinked, coming out of her daydream. ‘I’m not that religious but it makes you wonder when someone dies, don’t it?’
James noticed that Charlie was quick to agree. He’d lost his wife at an early age, leaving him with Tommy and Susan to bring up and the feeling of loss was still raw with him, even though it was several years ago. ‘Are you quite close to Olivia?’
Her brow knitted together . ‘She’s not someone you want to spend time with. She’s picky and rude and treats me and Enid like dirt.’ She brightened. ‘But, we get to meet quite a few celebrities and travel a lot. I’ve been with her for three years now and I think I may move on soon. I’ve had a couple of offers but I might wait now and see what happens with the singing; or anything else. It’d be nice to be rich and famous.’ She gave Charlie a coy smile. ‘Even if the right man comes along, I don’t think I could ditch it.’
‘Was Olivia pleased that you stepped in for her at Harrington’s?’
‘You’re joking, aren’t you? She was evil that night. Accused me of trying to kill her. I couldn’t believe it. After everything I do
for her. I practically run her life so she don’t have any stress. The one time I get to do something I love, she has a right go at me. It’s not as if I’m gonna stop her from being famous. It was just one night at a country hotel – it weren’t on the television.’ She pursed her lips. ‘And she left me in the lurch the other night. Didn’t check to see if I had a lift or anything.’
Beth patted her hand down. ‘She probably sees you as a threat. I heard your singing and I think the whole audience thought you were wonderful.’
Charlie grinned. ‘I thought you were better than Olivia.’
Mandy tilted her head. ‘Thank you, Charlie,’ she said, her voice gentle once more, ‘that means a great deal.’
‘I say,’ said James, ‘are Olivia and Carlo an item?’
Her laugh was almost sarcastic. ‘She’d like them to be. She’s besotted with him and who can blame her. He’s handsome, rich, talented; she throws herself at him all the time.’
‘And do you think someone was trying to kill her that night?’
She turned to face him. ‘You’re beginning to sound like a copper. You’re friends with that detective bloke, aren’t you?’
James held his hands up. ‘Sorry, I find it intriguing and my chef was rather put out about the poisoning accusation.’
‘Not surprised. His food was lovely and the old men on our table adored the pudding.’
‘You got on well with them, I hear.’
She describe her grandfather, an old man who had passed away some time previously. ‘He went into that convalescent home on the South Coast, The Royal Sussex I think it’s called. I don’t remember much about him. I was quite young when he left us.’
‘What regiment was he in?’
‘Sussex.’
James tried to remain calm. ‘Really? Do you know which battalion?’
Mandy pulled a face to indicate she had no idea. ‘Mum didn’t talk about it much and dad left us when I was about ten. Our family history is pretty non-existent.’
James bit into the last of his cake and checked his watch. Beth suggested to him that they should leave Charlie and Mandy alone. He stifled a grin. Was this his wife trying to match-make again? She and Anne had predicted the romance between GJ and Catherine. Was Charlie about to embark on a new romance? In a way, he hoped so. Charlie deserved it and James was sure he’d love his children to have a new mum. Whether it should be Mandy, he didn’t know. Although she was obviously fond of Charlie, he couldn’t see her being a mother. She didn’t strike him as being maternal and her mood blew hot and cold. But Charlie enjoyed her company. After settling up with Elsie, James and Beth returned home where Harry was waiting on the top step by the front door. James opened the passenger door and called across.
‘Everything all right?’
Harry closed the door and jogged down the steps toward them. ‘You might want to get back in the car.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Beth. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Adam’s been taken in for questioning.’
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
The drive to Lewes was a frantic one. James focussed on the winding country roads and was mindful of the light snow and ice that had yet to clear. Beth, meanwhile, fired questions at Harry who insisted he had no answers for her. The only information he could impart was that it was George who had spoken to the staff at Harrington’s and decided that he wanted more information from Adam. ‘Adam didn’t want his family to find out he’d been taken in. I think he felt a bit embarrassed about asking for you. You don’t think he’s guilty, do you?’
James came to a T-junction, pulled out and went past the sign that welcomed them to Lewes. ‘I don’t think he’s guilty, no. I don’t think he has that in him but there are questions that Adam needs to answer. I’m not entirely sure how much George knows.’
He drew up outside the police station and the three of them leapt out of the car and up the steps to the main desk where James asked to see DCI George Lane. While they waited, they sat on wooden chairs in silence and stared at the posters on the walls. In a couple of minutes, George appeared, alongside Inspector Collins. James groaned to himself. Collins was that officious little Inspector he’d met in the autumn up at Cory House.
George’s face was grey. Beth squeezed his arm. ‘George, you look terrible.’
George explained that he felt terrible and that he was only staying on for this business with Adam and then going home. ‘Inspector Collins is being briefed on everything. He’s taking over while I have a couple of days off.’
Collins gave James a look of contempt. ‘I’ve no business for amateurs so please don’t keep coming in here asking questions.’ Taking in Beth and Harry, he added, ‘Adam Franks requested Lord Harrington, not the whole family. We can’t have you all back here.’
James ignored Collins and held George’s gaze. ‘Oh come on, George, we can fit around your desk easily.’
George held up a finger. ‘No. Adam asked for you and that’s all he’s getting. He should be asking for a solicitor.’
Beth gasped. ‘You haven’t charged him, have you?’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Mum, why don’t you and I go and have a drink,’ Harry asked.
‘Good idea,’ James replied. ‘There’s a cafe around the corner. Once I’ve finished here, I’ll come and get you.’
Collins announced that he would continue reading the notes on the case and left. James couldn’t hide his pleasure at this announcement. As far as he was concerned, the Inspector was an intolerant individual and one who would allow him no room to assist. Following George down the corridor, he enquired after Major Carlton. George shook his head as they reached his desk and took their seats.
‘Nothing. No one’s seen him. I’m trying to get hold of any army friends but they’re proving elusive.’
‘And how’s John Carlton?’
‘Much better. He doesn’t have any idea where his father could be. But he’s going down to his father’s house tomorrow to see if he can get some contacts for us.’ He reached across for his notepad and opened it. ‘Right, Adam Franks.’
‘Yes, why have you hauled him in?’
‘I need him to be straight with us. He’s being particularly cagey with his answers. He was at the scene for all of the attacks. He delivered the water to Cynthia Carlton. I tried to get some background on his family and he’s uncomfortable answering anything to do with his grand-dad. Now he’s clammed up and he won’t speak with anyone but you and he’s insisting I don’t talk to his parents.’ He studied James. ‘Has he confided in you?’
James felt in his pockets for a cigarette and, after lighting it, said: ‘No, he hasn’t but he does have a story. What are your thoughts?’
‘I think he’s holding back. It’s as if he wants to tell me something but he’s frightened to. He could be covering up for someone.’
‘If my own instinct is correct, I think this may be more to do with shame for the family. Are you happy for me to lead the questioning? I know this goes against policy but I discovered a couple of things earlier. I was going to pass it on to you but I may as well do it here.’ He leapt up. ‘Lead on, DCI Lane, and let us speak to young Adam Franks.’
Adam Franks sat opposite them in a small windowless room that housed four wooden chairs and a table. A cold cup of tea had been pushed to one side. He was dressed in his work clothes; black trousers and a white shirt. He’d loosened his tie and James presumed he’d left his jacket at the house as it had been replaced by a baggy wool jumper. His hair, normally tidy with a side parting, didn’t look as if it had seen a comb. His right leg trembled and his fingers drummed the table. He found it difficult to make eye contact with either one of them until James insisted he meet his gaze.
‘Adam, I’m here as requested to try and help you but I believe you need to be open and honest with us here. I can’t promise that our discussions will remain confidential but I’m sure DCI Lane will do his best to respect what you have to say. Understood?’
> The young man confirmed his understanding.
‘When we last spoke, you told me about your grandfather, Archibald Franks. You told me that he played centre forward for the football team and that he never returned home from the war.’
‘That’s right.’ Adam looked at the ceiling and blinked back the tears.
‘Why didn’t he return?’
He swallowed hard and bit his bottom lip. ‘He was killed. He was killed along with a couple of other blokes during the war.’
‘You said your family never spoke about him. Why is that?’
‘Bad memories I suppose. He was loved by everyone and no one wanted to get upset.’
‘Adam, your grandfather’s name doesn’t appear on the memorial.’ He saw George’s reaction in his peripheral vision and noticed him jot this down in his notebook. Adam remained silent. James rested his arms on the table. ‘One of the cleaners found a couple of diary entries on the floor.’
He’d expected a reaction but Adam simply looked confused.
‘Diary entries?’
‘Did your grandfather write a diary?’
‘Not that I know of. He wrote letters to my nan but that was about it.’
George prepared his pipe. ‘Does your nan still have those letters?’
Adam gave James an apologetic look. ‘I said I didn’t think they kept them but they did. Mum looks at ’em now and again. Do these diaries mention my grand-dad?’
‘Not in as many words, no, but they speak of number nine being shot.’
Adam looked away, formed a fist and bit into it.
‘Number nine was your grand-dad’s football number. He was the man shot.’
It took some seconds for Adam to acknowledge this statement but eventually he gave a curt nod. George sat back in his chair.
‘Desertion?’
Adam wiped a tear away. ‘Nan said he was suffering from shell-shock. She could see it in him when he was home on leave. Kept shaking and shivering all the time and if there was the slightest noise, he’d jump out of his skin. He went wandering off. That’s what happened. He didn’t desert, he just went wandering off in a world of his own and they shot him.’ His eyes pleaded. ‘They should have put him in hospital.’ He buried his head in his hands.
Lord James Harrington and the Christmas Mystery Page 13