‘I suppose so.’ Alkmene paid for the chocolate, wished the shopkeeper a pleasant day and left.
She said to Jake, ‘Duncan would never get involved with a woman with two small children. He wants his freedom. So Abby can’t be his local love interest. Maybe Kramer lied there ever was one. He is using it as an excuse to come out here and look for the treasure. He might even have written the poison pen letter to Lady Eleanor to ensure she would keep sending him out here.’
She told Jake what Lady Eleanor had told her over the phone, ending with, ‘Kramer must have something to do here other than watching Duncan.’
Jake grimaced. ‘Maybe he is just a lover of hunting. Last night while you were trying your charms on Peartree, I had my dinner with the common folk.’
Alkmene rolled her eyes at him, but did listen carefully to what he had to say next.
Jake continued, ‘It seems most people here are hunters to supplement their meagre incomes. Now the innkeeper’s son Miles is also known to be out and about at night. Combine that with his knowledge of the golden bracelet find, and his eagerness to be there when the body was collected…’
‘Each and every one of those local men – having a good knowledge of the terrain because of their hunting – could have met Goodman and killed him, then moved the body to the dig to link it with Duncan. You need to be physically fit to move a dead body. Miles is only sixteen, seventeen perhaps. I doubt he has the strength for it.’
‘You could do it with a horse.’ Jake looked at her. ‘Miles has access to horses at his father’s livery stable.’
Alkmene nodded. ‘That’s true. But why would a local person want to kill Goodman? People had gripes here, against the excavation, but those were against Duncan. Not Goodman.’
She suddenly halted and stared at the cobbles.
‘What?’ Jake asked.
She snapped her head up to look at him. ‘Did the two men have the same build? Leonard Page said Goodman’s hands were smaller and white, feminine. But he told us nothing about Goodman’s height.’
Jake held her gaze. ‘You think an angry local might have mistaken a figure working on the dig for Duncan, killing him with a blow from behind? Killing the wrong man…’
Alkmene tilted her head. ‘It would change our entire perspective. We would no longer need a motive for Goodman’s death. We’d have to ask who wanted Duncan dead.’
Jake nodded. ‘Right. And we have to start at The Catch. With the innkeeper and his son Miles.’
Chapter Fifteen
At the inn it was quiet. Some ladies who had come off a motor coach sat in a corner drinking tea with lukewarm scones and clotted cream. Alkmene’s mouth watered, but Jake, striding ahead of her, completely ignored their little group and pressed on into the kitchen area. Alkmene had no choice but to follow.
The innkeeper himself was kneading dough for bread, his huge strong hands moulding the lump before him.
Alkmene looked at them and swallowed. He certainly seemed capable of killing a man with a well-aimed blow.
He glanced up and said, ‘What do you want?’
Jake said, ‘Your daughter, Sarah? I heard she is an expert seamstress?’
Suspicion filled his eyes. ‘How come?’
‘Lady Alkmene here tore a dress the other day. Could your daughter repair it for her perhaps?’
The man shrugged. ‘If you don’t need it again while you are here, you might be better off having it repaired in London. Sarah believes she is good with her hands, but I doubt she can do justice to an expensive dress.’
Jake pushed on, ‘I heard she wanted to leave and work as a seamstress in London?’
‘Or a typist maybe?’ Alkmene kept a close eye on the innkeeper’s response, but he stood over the table and didn’t look up as he said, ‘I dare say she could have wanted it, but who would have hired her? A girl from such a small town, with no education. She doesn’t like to make a fool out of herself. She wouldn’t have left this place to come back crawling. Not like her.’
‘You think she didn’t mean it?’
He wiped his sweaty face on his shoulder. ‘Young people say things in anger, not meaning them. She wouldn’t have left us. She’s seen examples of where that leads.’
If the innkeeper was right – or merely believed he was right – he would have had no reason to kill anybody.
As if Jake had drawn the same conclusion, he changed tack. ‘I heard your son knows the area well, even by night.’
Now the innkeeper did tense. His hands grabbed the dough so hard the lump got out of shape. He had to restore it with trembling fingers. ‘You looking for a guide?’ He glanced up at Jake. ‘It might not be smart to go out there alone, in the darkness.’
Something in his eyes made Alkmene’s skin crawl. But she smiled at him, picking up the interrogation. ‘My father is a botanist and ornithologist. He researches plants and birds. He is in India at the moment, but he would like to hear about rare species here. I think a local expert could help us out. Your boy seems to be just the right person for it.’
The innkeeper’s shoulders pulled back a little, his face filling with pride. ‘My boy already knew those lands like the back of his hand when he was just a lad. Always out looking for birds and frogs and plants. He can show you some rare species all right. If he wants to. He is very protective of it, always afraid something will be disturbed.’
He sighed. ‘He was mad when the dig was announced because there were rare plants there too, he said.’
Duncan had mentioned a local person approaching him about rare plants. Had that been Miles?
No, it had been Aldridge, about badger burrows. Right? Their conscientious constable, who had not been so conscientious at all when it had concerned his poaching friends. Those he had protected, even against the mayor’s wishes.
The innkeeper continued in a harsh tone, ‘Then all of a sudden Miles wanted to work there at the excavation. I don’t understand that boy at all.’
‘Maybe Miles believed he could convince the other workers to stay away from areas with rare plants.’ Alkmene shifted her weight.
Jake shot, ‘Did Miles ever meet Reiner Goodman? The murdered man?’
A spoon clattered on the floor. The innkeeper took a while to retrieve it. His face was flushing red. ‘Why would Miles have met him? He knew him of course, because he had seen him around town, but…’
Jake leaned back on his heels. ‘Come on, sir. We already know Reiner Goodman was out on the dig in the darkness because he was meeting up with your son.’
Alkmene sucked in a breath at this outright bluff.
‘No.’ The innkeeper looked up at Jake. ‘Miles had nothing to do with it.’
Jake shook his head. ‘You say that now, but you won’t be able to deny it at the inquest. There you will be giving official testimony. If you lie and it comes out later that you did…’
The innkeeper paled. Sweat beaded on his forehead. ‘Why would I be called to give testimony at the inquest? I had nothing to do with the death.’
Jake leaned over. ‘The man accused of murder, Duncan Woolsbury, isn’t just anybody. He is a viscount’s son. Important people will take an interest in this case. In fact, I bet you that an inspector from Scotland Yard is on his way out here right now. He will ask questions, real questions, like your own police never did. They only looked at Duncan Woolsbury for a suspect, because they dislike outsiders and want to put the blame on them. But Scotland Yard will not accept that. They’ll dig deeper. Much deeper. And you know why? Because Duncan Woolsbury is innocent of the crime? Oh, no, not necessarily.’
Alkmene bit back a gasp. What on earth was Jake doing here?
Jake continued talking to the innkeeper, who gaped at him. ‘Whether Duncan Woolsbury is innocent or not does not really matter to the Yard. They’ve heard from his father that he has to be innocent. That it’s not acceptable to the viscount that his son, his eldest, his heir, gets accused for real. So they have
to find somebody else to pin it on. Somebody who doesn’t have the protection of titles and money.’
Jake laughed, a harsh sound. ‘Believe me, sir, they’ve done it before. I’ve been writing about crime for years now and I could tell you about countless cases where the blame was shifted to a servant just so the high-born people in the house would not be bothered by talk, smudging their reputation. It’s always much easier to persecute someone who has nobody to protect him. Who can’t afford a lawyer who might make it hard for the prosecution.’
Jake leaned over even further. ‘Don’t you see? They need a scapegoat. And your son is the perfect person for the role. Already accused of theft. Having professed his dislike of the dig and the city people coming with it. Protective of the land he loved since he was a little child. They have plenty of motives to choose from to build their case against Miles.’
‘No.’ The innkeeper’s voice was hoarse. It was not clear if he was denying the possibility that Miles would suffer for a crime that he had not committed or that Miles had been involved at all.
Sweat now drizzled down his face. His hands cramped on the table in front of him.
Alkmene was almost sorry for him. But what Jake was doing was inevitable. The innkeeper would never confide in them unless he understood his son’s predicament. Unless he believed that Jake and she might save Miles from the clutches of Scotland Yard.
The innkeeper swallowed audibly. But he didn’t speak.
Jake scoffed as if he could not believe the man’s stupidity. ‘Fine,’ he said, ‘don’t believe me. But once those bloodhounds are here and start digging, there will be no turning back. You can then come to me and ask for my help, but I won’t be able to give it to you any more.’
He turned as if he was about to go, walk out of the door. ‘It is a pity though. Someone so young going to hang for a crime he didn’t commit.’
The innkeeper stared at Jake’s back, his eyes wide with horror. Then he rounded the table and grabbed Jake’s arm with his fleshy hands. ‘My boy didn’t do it. Miles didn’t do it. He didn’t kill Goodman. He slept in his own bed that night. I swear. Oh, Miles might have been supposed to meet Goodman on the night on which he was murdered, yes, but Miles didn’t go to the meeting place. He didn’t go, not that night.’
Alkmene sucked in air. ‘Miles was supposed to go there? To a meeting with Reiner Goodman, the man who was later murdered. Why?’
‘I do not know.’ The innkeeper’s voice was pleading. ‘All I do know is what Miles blurted when he came back from helping that doctor with the dead body.’
‘And what was that?’ Jake asked softly.
The man rubbed a hand over his face, leaving flour everywhere. ‘Miles said that he was glad he hadn’t gone to the appointment, that he might have been there when the killer came for Goodman.’
‘And you didn’t ask him what on earth he was talking about?’ Jake shot out in disbelief.
‘Of course.’ The innkeeper glared at him. ‘What kind of father would I have been, if I had not? I asked the boy all right; I cornered him. He confessed he had met up with Goodman before, because Goodman had asked him questions about the procedures on the dig.’
‘Procedures?’ Jake asked.
‘That’s what Miles said. That Goodman had given him money for information. Goodman had wanted to meet him again to learn even more, but Miles had not wanted to go. He had become tired of dancing to that city man’s tunes. Apparently Goodman went to the spot anyway, and someone was there who killed him.’
Alkmene’s mind raced to make sense of this revelation.
Jake spoke, low and concentrated, ‘That would have had to be someone who knew about this proposed meeting. Did your son say if Goodman had a companion? The other time when they met, was someone with him or waiting in the distance?’
Alkmene held her breath. Peartree? Kramer? Who had been Goodman’s accomplice who might have turned on him?
The innkeeper shook his head. ‘I haven’t asked Miles. I didn’t want to know one more thing about it. He should never have gotten involved with that dig, with the city people. There could only be trouble. I told him not to tell the police either. That he had ever had any dealings with this Goodman. It was bad enough that someone was dead. No need for any of us to get involved.’
Jake sighed. ‘But you were involved already. Your son was accused of theft.’
‘Not by Goodman. Miles was mad about the accusation all right and might have given Woolsbury a black eye for it. But Miles had no reason to harm Goodman.’
Something wanted to click in Alkmene’s mind, but the moment she sensed the connection, the bits were drifting apart again and she could not grab them. She frowned in irritation. Why did it seem to matter so much?
Jake continued to the innkeeper, ‘Goodman wanted to meet your son before he died. That explains why he was out and about in the dead of night. Don’t you think the police should at least know about that? It might help them in their investigation.’
‘Those people couldn’t investigate a murder if it happened in front of their eyes.’ The innkeeper rubbed his left hand over his bare right arm. ‘They should just have arrested that fine gentleman and sent him back to London in cuffs. There they can deal with him.’
‘Duncan didn’t kill Goodman.’ Alkmene held the innkeeper’s gaze. ‘And I intend to find out who did.’
The man blinked a few moments. Then he said, ‘It wasn’t my boy. You have to believe me. Miles is a good boy. Always has been. Full of thoughts about his plants and animals. Helpful to people. Not a boy who gets into trouble.’
‘But he did get into trouble. He was accused of theft.’
The innkeeper clenched his hands. ‘That fancy Mr Woolsbury might be lying about ever having found a gold bracelet. Do you think nobody has ever looked for that treasure? Half the land has been turned over through the years. But nobody found anything. Not even a coin. Now he is supposed to have found a gold bracelet, then it disappears from his pocket. At my inn. But there were lots of people here that night. No need to accuse my boy. And even if Miles did take it, because he was angry, or for whatever reason, he didn’t kill that Goodman.’
Alkmene acknowledged to herself that stealing and killing were two very different things stemming from very different motives. Some people might be able to steal without feeling any kind of twinge in their conscience, even saying their theft was justified for some reason. But killing?
She believed that not a lot of people could do that without remorse.
Then again…who said the killer didn’t feel remorse?
‘I do have one more question,’ she said to the innkeeper. ‘There was a threat carved in the wall of Duncan Woolsbury’s tool shed on the site. Get out, or something in that vein. Did you do that?’
The innkeeper laughed softly. ‘Of course not. Yes, I did dislike him for what he did to Miles and for his leering at my daughter. But I told him to his face to cut it out. I don’t need to skulk about in the night to damage people’s property.’
Alkmene held his gaze. ‘Any idea who might have carved the threat into that wall?’
The innkeeper shrugged. ‘Lots of people disliked the excavation work. Old Paul for one, because he said it was happening on his land. And Page never wanted anybody near the treasure he considered his.’
‘You really think,’ Jake said, ‘that that bookish clerk goes out at night carving threats in tool sheds?’
The innkeeper shrugged again. ‘You ask me who might have done it and I tell you other people than just me disliked that fine city man being here. I’m not saying they actually carved the threats there. I don’t want to get anybody in trouble. Not now that you’ve told me Scotland Yard might be coming.’
His eyes were serious as he said to Jake, ‘If they do start looking at my boy, you will speak up for him, won’t you? I’ve told you the truth now.’
Jake took a deep breath. ‘It would help most if we had another suspect in
our sights. Someone to present to Scotland Yard, ready-made so to speak. Is there anything you know, have seen, overheard, that might help us?’
‘Something regarding Peartree maybe?’ Alkmene tried hopefully. If somebody had to be handed over to Scotland Yard, she would prefer it was the most unlikeable person around.
The innkeeper shook his head. ‘Peartree isn’t staying here, so I never saw much of him. He was here at night on one or two occasions to play billiards with Woolsbury and other men.’
‘Was he here the night on which the bracelet vanished from Woolsbury’s pocket?’
The innkeeper thought a moment, then he nodded. ‘Yes, he played with him that night. But why would it matter? They were friends, right? Why would Peartree steal Woolsbury’s find? And then let my boy be blamed for it…’
His face reddened, and his veins began to bulge at the idea of this injustice.
Alkmene hurried to say, ‘We don’t know if Peartree took the bracelet. Like you say, this doesn’t seem very likely. Better forget about that.’ She didn’t want the hot-tempered innkeeper going after Peartree to shake him to see if the truth came out. Peartree would press charges and the poor innkeeper’s family would be in even more trouble than they already were.
Still, to her own mind it might make sense to keep Peartree on the suspect list, not just for the murder, but also for the theft. After all, the wager was his perfect motive for not wanting the dig to succeed. By making the bracelet vanish he would have taken Duncan’s only evidence that something could really be found here.
Thoughtfully, she thanked the innkeeper for his time and followed Jake out of the kitchen, leaving the shook-up man to finish with his bread.
Chapter Sixteen
They walked side by side down one of the narrow cobbled streets, past a small shop with a newspaper stand. A yellow flier on top gave information about an upcoming fair.
Jake asked, ‘Do you think it’s possible Duncan lied about having found the bracelet? Just to suggest he was on to something?’
Alkmene pursed her lips. ‘He might have lied about having found something, because he was desperate under Peartree’s pressure, the knowledge people would laugh at him if he came back empty-handed. But I can’t see Duncan accusing an innocent local boy of theft knowing there never was any bracelet. It’s so cold and selfish. Not at all in line with his character.’
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