by Bill Kitson
‘It is, and if Stephen Pengelly knew that diagnosis, it would explain his comment in the letter to Robert, and why he was so careless about answering the door to his killer.’
I told the others what Pickersgill had said. However, having answered one question, another remained. If Stephen knew he had cirrhosis, the specialist would have told him it was untreatable. However, in his letter, he had written that he had tried every means possible to find a remedy. What other methods could he have used to try and cure his illness, if medicine couldn’t provide a solution?
While I’d been speaking to Johnny, Robert told the girls what we’d found in the gun room, which explained why I was brandishing a wicked-looking automatic pistol. He didn’t mention that the second gun was missing, which I thought was sensible. The sight of just one had made Tammy and Alison nervous, to judge by their expressions.
Changing the subject, he asked what they’d found. ‘Nothing dramatic, if you discount the fact that your great-grandfather was christened Horatio Algonquin Amadeus Pengelly, which you kept a closely guarded secret from me,’ Alison replied.
‘I didn’t know that. If I’d been aware of it, I’d have kept it secret from everyone,’ Robert retorted. ‘Anything else, apart from my ancestors’ lamentable choice when naming their offspring?’
‘We’ve read through that folder, which as you know is labelled “part one”. It takes us back to Norman times. After we’d looked through that we began searching the filing cabinets in case we came across more, but without luck.’
‘It may well be that there isn’t anything else,’ Robert suggested. ‘I’m not sure how far back it’s possible to go.’
‘Much earlier than that,’ Tammy told him. ‘I believe there are descendants of Irish chieftains living in Spain who can trace their ancestral line back to around 3000BC.’
‘Wow,’ Eve said, ‘that’s before even Adam was born.’
‘Another thing it proves is that Tammy wasn’t asleep during all our lectures,’ Alison said hastily. ‘I remember Old Mother Riley telling us about that.’
Tammy snorted derisively. ‘You’d have to wait a long time for Locke to tell you it.’
‘You’ve referred to someone called Locke before in rather derogatory terms,’ Eve said. ‘I take it you don’t think much of him.’
‘He’s our Professor of Ancient History now that Riley has retired. He’s all right, I suppose, and I grant you he certainly knows his stuff on most of the subjects, but he has some weird theories regarding others. It might help if he was to attend more often. It’s supposed to be the students who skip lectures, not the tutors.’
‘That’s not fair, Tammy, and you know it,’ Alison reprimanded her. ‘You’re well aware that Professor Locke is ill. It’s hardly his fault if he’s too poorly to go to work.’
‘Yes, OK, I suppose you’re right, and if I didn’t have Professor Riley to compare him to, I probably wouldn’t have commented – but once you’ve had gold, it’s far from easy to put up with brass.’
‘Going back to your family tree,’ Alison told Robert, ‘the earliest entry in that folder is dated 1141AD.’
‘Who was on the throne then?’ Robert asked.
‘Was it Henry I?’ Alison suggested, looking at Tammy.
‘No,’ I told them, ‘it was too late for Henry. If my memory’s correct, 1141 would have been in the middle of King Stephen’s reign. Stephen was on the throne from 1135 to 1154, I believe.’
‘He’ll be right,’ Eve said. ‘Adam likes to get his facts correct, which I admit must seem strange, considering he was a reporter and therefore more used to making things up. Also, he’s lived through more history than most of us.’
I was still looking around for something to throw at Eve when Tammy said, ‘Adam is correct. It was King Stephen. Anyway, that wasn’t what we thought was significant. Alison noticed it.’
‘I don’t know if it’s unusual, but there seem to have been a lot of twins in your family, Robert. It isn’t one set every generation, but it’s not far short of it,’ Alison told him. ‘I might not have thought about it had you not been a twin.’
It was an interesting fact, but none of us thought it was either relevant or important at the time. What did intrigue us was the point Eve brought up. ‘Talking of family,’ she began, ‘reminds me of something.’ She had that little frown of concentration on her face that I found endearing. ‘Robert, would you describe your brother as a sentimental person?’
‘If you’d asked me a couple of weeks ago, I’d have said most definitely not.’ He smiled. ‘In fact I might have added one or two colourful adjectives to emphasise that. However, since I read the letter he left for me with the solicitor, I’m beginning to revise my opinion of Stephen. Why do you ask?’
‘I was puzzled by something we saw,’ she said, ‘but nobody seemed to think anything of it at the time. It was when you opened the safe. In the main compartment there were the estate ledgers and one or two other files. We never looked to see what they contained. There was also a photograph album. I just wondered why Stephen thought it necessary to take such precautions over a set of family photos.’
Eve was dead right, and it was something we had all overlooked. However, before we had chance to rectify the omission, we were summoned through for dinner. We decided the second, closer examination of the safe’s contents could wait for another day. That was a really wise decision, although we weren’t to know it at the time.
Chapter Nine
The following morning, as we were finishing breakfast; Frank appeared in the dining room. He looked a little sheepish, the reason for which was explained when he spoke. ‘Mary needs to go into Barton-le-Dale,’ he told Robert. ‘She hadn’t reckoned on there being so many people to cater for and she’s running short on a lot of things. Normally, she’d send me off into town, but as things are, that’s out of the question.’
He lifted his arm as he spoke, and we saw him wince.
‘Is that causing you a lot of pain?’ Robert asked.
‘Aye, it is, a bit.’
‘Didn’t the doctor say you should go back if it was painful, in case it wasn’t set correctly?’ I asked.
‘Aye, he did,’ Frank admitted reluctantly.
‘I think we could combine a shopping expedition with a trip to the hospital,’ Eve suggested. She looked at me, and I nodded confirmation. ‘If I take Frank across to Thorsby in our car, it will give me chance to pop home and collect more clothing for Adam and me while Frank is being seen to.’
‘And I can take Mary into Barton-le-Dale in the Mercedes to sort out the shopping,’ I added.
‘If we go with you, between us we could make the job easier,’ Alison suggested.
‘I’m going to give Nigel Alderson a call,’ Robert told us. ‘If he can get me an appointment at the bank I can introduce myself to the manager.’
The plan was readily accepted by all concerned, with the exception of Tammy, who thought she might be developing a migraine, and decided spending the day in a darkened room was preferable to a trip into town.
Before we set off, Mary asked if Robert had any specific likes or dislikes that she could include or omit from her list. ‘Nothing that I can think of,’ he told her, ‘but if that policeman friend of Adam’s is going to be a regular visitor, I think you should ensure we have plenty of tea in the house.’
I smiled at the notion that Johnny’s reputation was beginning to spread. Another adjustment to our plans was agreed when we were about to set off. ‘Why don’t we meet up in Daleside Tea Rooms,’ Robert suggested. ‘When Eve comes back from Thorsby, hopefully we’ll have finished the shopping, and I for one will be ready for a cuppa.’
‘Ready for another chunk of their Black Forest Gateau, you mean,’ Alison retorted. She turned to the rest of us and explained. ‘He had some when we were staying at the King’s Head, and the portion was so big I’m surprised the waitress was able to lift it. That didn’t stop greedy guts here demolishing it. The way he wolfe
d it down I thought he was trying for an entry in the Guinness Book of Records.’
‘That settles it,’ Eve said, ‘wild horses wouldn’t keep Adam away after hearing that.’
I smiled benignly at my beloved. ‘I’ll even eat your share if you’re on a diet, or fasting. Not that I’ve seen much evidence of that recently.’
The only reply I got was a two-fingered gesture similar to the one that had got a famous showjumper into bother a few years previously.
Having completed the shopping, which tested even the ample capacity of the Mercedes’ boot, we met up with Eve and Frank at Daleside Tea Rooms. Frank reported that the doctor had insisted on new X-rays, and on seeing them had re-set the arm and instructed him to report back in a week’s time. We did justice to various items from the sweet trolley, washed down with considerable quantities of tea. It was late afternoon, almost dark, before we set off back to Barton Manor.
The house was in darkness as we approached down the long drive, but Alison didn’t seem concerned. ‘If Tammy has one of her more severe migraines she could be out of it for a day, maybe longer. With luck, she might be fast asleep. It seems to be the only thing that does any good.’
I parked the Mercedes close to the kitchen entrance to make unloading the shopping easier, and a few seconds later Eve pulled our Range Rover to a halt behind us. ‘Robert and I will carry the goods inside,’ I volunteered, ‘just tell us where you want everything, Mary.’
She opened the back door and went inside. As we delved into the boot for the first of the bags we heard Mary scream. We abandoned the shopping and hurried inside, with Alison, Eve, and Frank close behind. In the kitchen Tammy was tied to a chair, her arms behind her back; a handkerchief across her mouth as a gag and a tea towel fastened across her eyes. We hastened to untie her, and loosened the gag, which provoked a stream of rich invective.
‘What happened?’ Alison managed to ask when Tammy eventually paused for breath.
‘You’d only been gone a few minutes. I decided I’d have a cup of tea before I went for a lie down. I came in here to put the kettle on. I looked across towards the back door and there was a man standing there. I was about to ask who he was, and what he was doing here, but before I could say anything, somebody grabbed me from behind. I struggled and bumped my head on the cupboard before I was tied up like you found me. I’ve been here ever since.’
‘Did you see the man who attacked you?’
‘No, I barely saw the other one. I certainly didn’t get a proper look at him, just a momentary glance.’ Tammy began to rub the ugly bruise on her forehead. ‘He was young, I think, slim, not tall. That’s about all I remember. Except that he smelt, or one of them did.’
‘Smelt? As in body odour?’
‘Not exactly. It was more like an animal scent. Not very nice.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘It was as they were tying me up.’ Tammy shuddered. ‘That was when I was really scared. I thought they were going to … well, you know … what happened to Robert’s brother and the woman. But they didn’t. I heard them leaving, that was around two o’clock.’ She pointed in the direction of the hall to the grandfather clock. ‘It chimed not long after they left.’
‘I think we ought to call the police before we do anything else,’ I suggested. ‘They’ll probably want to check the house over.’
Eve had been talking to Mary, who was searching one of the kitchen cupboards. ‘This will help with the bruise,’ Mary said, and began to bathe Tammy’s forehead with a piece of cotton wool soaked in something. ‘This is arnica,’ she explained. ‘It’s very good.’
‘Mary says the rope used to tie Tammy up was cut from her washing line,’ Eve told us. ‘By the sound of it, the attackers expected the house to be empty. They certainly don’t appear to have come prepared.’
‘That’s true, and perhaps Tammy was lucky.’ I pointed to the discarded gag. In one corner of the handkerchief were the initials SP. ‘They obviously used what was close to hand.’
We were still standing around, indecisive, when Robert returned from his abortive attempt to phone the police. ‘Neither Holmes nor Pickersgill are available, not even a constable,’ he told us, ‘nor can they tell us when they will be. I left a message, explaining what had happened, but whatever they’re doing, it seems to be more important than a break-in and assault.’
‘Well, we know how short-handed they are. I think we should have a look around, making sure we don’t touch anything.’
‘I think they were wearing gloves, but I can’t be sure,’ Tammy told us.
The study had again been the focus of the intruders’ attention.
‘They mustn’t have found what they were looking for the first time,’ Eve said. ‘But look at the mess!’
One glance was enough to realise that they had emptied every drawer of the desk, every folder in the filing cabinet. Whether they had found what they were searching for or not, it was impossible to gauge. The result was an untidy heap that stretched across much of the floor space. This time, however, there looked to have been little or no damage to the contents of the room. In the drawing room, and upstairs, there was evidence that the intruders had been intent on finding something, but as with the study, no damage appeared to have been done. This was no random act; this was a mission to obtain something specific. Whereas the others concentrated on the rest of the house, I volunteered to inspect Stephen Pengelly’s room. I found the contents undisturbed, and in his dressing room discovered something of great interest, but decided not to reveal my findings at that stage.
It was almost eight o’clock before DS Holmes phoned. Robert explained what had happened, and when he ended the call, reported that the detectives were on their way, and would ask for a forensics team, should one be available.
‘That sounds a bit odd,’ Eve commented. ‘I’d have thought they would always have someone on standby.’
‘Possibly they’re tied up with something else. Holmes did say there had been another development. He wouldn’t tell me what it was, not over the phone, but by his tone of voice, I guess it isn’t going to be good news.’
That, as we soon discovered, was a strong contender for understatement of the year.
Thankfully, the kitchen and dining room had not been disturbed and we felt able to use the rooms. We had just finished eating when the doorbell rang. Robert got up to go and answer it, but Alison stopped him. ‘Hang on, Robbie. No way are you going alone.’ He looked surprised, until she added, ‘Think what happened today, when Tammy was alone, and what happened to your brother.’
‘Alison’s right,’ I added, ‘I’ll go with you.’
‘You be careful, Adam,’ Eve cautioned me.
‘Don’t worry, Evie.’ I patted my jacket pocket. ‘I’ve got my insurance policy with me, and it’s bang up to date.’
I’m not sure if the others got my meaning, but Eve certainly did. ‘Well, don’t hesitate to make a claim if you need to.’
I waited to one side as Robert unlocked the door. As he went to turn the handle I took my hand from my pocket. Whatever the detectives might have expected when the door opened, I doubt if their wildest imagination could have prepared them to be greeted by a man pointing an automatic pistol at them.
I lowered the Glock and smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry, gentlemen, but we’re a bit on edge here, and we’re not taking any chances.’
‘Very wise, Adam,’ Pickersgill replied. ‘Now can we come in?’
He and Holmes watched approvingly as Robert ensured the door was securely locked, before showing them into the drawing room. ‘I’ll fetch the others,’ he told me, ‘you explain about the hardware.’
I’d just finished telling them about the discovery in the gunroom when the others walked in. ‘I assume you don’t have a firearms licence for it, so we’ll have to confiscate the gun,’ Holmes told me.
I unloaded the Glock and passed it to him without comment. I glanced sideways and saw Eve’s look of surprise at my m
eek compliance with the request. Holmes turned to Tammy and asked her what had taken place. He listened carefully to her account, his sympathetic attitude seeming to increase her distress rather than alleviating it. Or perhaps, I thought cynically, she was playing up to his obvious interest.
‘We’ll need a formal statement,’ he said eventually. He looked at Pickersgill. ‘Will you see it gets typed up, Johnny, and I’ll pop back and get Miss Watson to sign it?’
He turned to the rest of us. ‘I’m afraid it will be tomorrow before we can get fingerprint officers here. If you can avoid using the rooms they targeted until after then that would be helpful. The reason they can’t get here earlier is because, as I told Mr Pengelly on the phone, there has been a development. A very serious development, I’m sorry to say. This morning, we were called to the house of a local solicitor, a man by the name of Arnold Wharton, whose professional reputation was somewhat dubious. His cleaning lady found his body in the bedroom. He had been murdered.’ Holmes paused, before adding, ‘The wound to Wharton’s body was identical to those suffered by Stephen Pengelly and Kathy King.’
‘How long had he been dead?’ Eve asked.
‘According to the pathologist, time of death was somewhere between six o’clock yesterday evening and around midnight. Certainly no earlier than that.’
‘Which means,’ Johnny Pickersgill told us, ‘that the man we have in custody, Graeme Fletcher, who had confessed to the two previous murders, could not have been responsible for Wharton’s death. So either he passed this strange weapon to someone else, or he was lying when he admitted to the killings.’
Holmes grimaced. ‘We were certain we had the right man. The blood found on shoes in his house was of the same type as Kathy King’s. It’s possible that he might have an accomplice, as Johnny suggested, but neither of us are sure about that.’