Bury in Haste

by Jean Rowden

  ‘There are more police on their way,’ Deepbriar said urgently. ‘Killing us isn’t going to help you.’

  ‘If they were coming they’d be here by now,’ Aubrey said, ‘but he’s right, killing them won’t solve anything.’

  Barney ignored him, his left arm extended to push Cyril out of the way.

  ‘No!’ The musician’s long fingers clutched at his brother’s sleeve. ‘You can’t!’

  ‘Got no stomach for blood, have you, Cyril,’ Barney said, easily thrusting him aside. ‘It’s a good job we didn’t need your help getting rid of the tramp.’

  ‘Aubrey,’ Cyril pleaded, ‘stop him.’

  The undertaker hesitated, and seeing his chance, Deepbriar launched himself across the five yards that separated him from Barney Crimmon, raising his left arm, surprised to find how heavy the torch had become in the last few minutes. Deepbriar dodged Aubrey’s belated grab at him and plunged on, as if intent on bringing the torch down on Barney’s head, distracting him from the weapon in his other hand. The man ducked expertly aside, his knife arm sweeping round, aiming to slice up between Deepbriar’s ribs to find his heart.

  The truncheon came ramming through in a powerful swing, to catch Crimmon full in the face. It smashed his front teeth and his nose, sending a spectacular spray of blood arcing across to hit the horrified Cyril, who shrieked and flinched back to cower against the wall.

  Deepbriar’s momentum carried him on, and for a heart-stopping split second he was staring death in the face. The torch slid from his fingers. Crimmon’s stabbing blow was still coming, but Deepbriar’s luck held. Encountering the thick leather of Deepbriar’s belt beneath his greatcoat, the blade slid upwards. It sliced through every stitch of his clothing but barely grazed his flesh.

  As Aubrey Crimmon leapt to grasp him from behind the constable delivered another blow, this time hitting Barney’s elbow with a bone-jarring stroke that knocked the knife from his hand.

  ‘Leave him alone!’ the big man had an arm round the constable’s neck, jerking his head back. ‘You leave my little brother alone!’

  Deepbriar choked, the truncheon flying from his grasp. He took hold of Aubrey’s arm, but it felt like a bar of iron, solid and immovable beneath his clutching fingers as it crushed his windpipe. Time slowed. Deepbriar’s whole existence was suddenly centred on the need to keep breathing, to somehow drag air into his lungs. It was as if he stood outside himself, watching his silent struggle for survival, while Aubrey Crimmon increased the pressure on his neck. Calm, almost detached as the strength ebbed from him, the constable knew that he was losing. A black void lay in wait, only seconds away. And after that, death.

  ‘That’s enough.’ Jakes’s voice echoed round the mausoleum.

  Through a haze speckled with bright spots of light, Deepbriar saw the space around him suddenly filled with blue-clad men. Two of them pulled the undertaker away from him, and Deepbriar slumped against the flat top of a huge stone coffin, gulping in air. More officers had grabbed Barney Crimmon, but there was no fight left in him, and he yelped in pain when they touched his injured arm. Jakes bent briefly over Harry Bartle, and gave swift orders to another of his men.

  Recovering a little, Deepbriar pushed himself upright, and the heavy slab he’d been leaning on moved, stone grating against stone; it wasn’t properly bedded down. Straightening up, he became aware of the terrible stench Harry had mentioned. There was a narrow gap between the coffin and the lid, and the side of the sarcophagus was smeared with a rust-coloured stain.

  ‘Look,’ Deepbriar said, beckoning Jakes.

  With help from a uniformed constable the two men eased the coffin lid aside a few inches. The smell was overpowering, and Jakes gagged, turning away.

  ‘Bring that light,’ Deepbriar ordered, and a constable obeyed, handing the lantern to him. Using his right hand to pull aside the dirty sack that had been exposed when they moved the lid, Deepbriar held the light high in his left, and found himself looking into a pair of staring eyes. He’d never seen the man alive, but he knew they’d found Joseph Spraggs.

  It was suddenly very hard to hold on to the lantern. He needed to grasp it more firmly because it had become very slippery, but his fingers were reluctant to grip, and his arm felt weak. With something like amazement Deepbriar watched fresh blood dripping freely on to Spraggs’s dead face. He looked at the deep rent in the sleeve of his coat, and the big damp stain that surrounded it. Only then did the stab wound below his shoulder begin to throb with pain.

  ‘You’re a lucky man,’ Jakes said, as he wound a makeshift bandage round Deepbriar’s arm.

  ‘That was skill, sergeant,’ Deepbriar said lightly, trying not to wince as Jakes tied a knot. ‘Pure skill.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about this, I was talking about your wife. She’s one in a million. She sent me the message that got us out here in time to save your neck.’ Jakes nodded grimly. ‘Literally, as it happened.’

  ‘I told Mary to call you as soon as the telephone line was repaired.’

  ‘Yes, but it wasn’t. Mrs Deepbriar had the sense not to wait. She sent a young boy on his bike. Came dashing into the station as if his pants were on fire. Lad by the name of Kenny Pratt, I expect you know him.’

  ‘Indeed I do,’ the constable replied, suppressing a grin. Kenny would be expecting a good few tea cards when he learnt he’d saved two people’s lives. That thought brought him back to more important matters. ‘How’s Harry?’ he asked.

  ‘Showing signs of coming round. He’s lying in the back of the hearse, Constable Giddens is keeping an eye on him while we wait for the ambulance. My guess is, he tried to jump out of the way when Crimmon stabbed him, and his head hit the wall. The knife didn’t do much damage. He’s got a good strong pulse and his breathing’s normal, I doubt if he’ll have anything worse than a bad headache in the morning.’

  ‘Thank the Lord for that,’ Deepbriar said fervently. ‘I’d never have forgiven myself if he’d got himself killed. Maybe this will cure his enthusiasm for amateur detection.’

  ‘He’s the one who didn’t grow tall enough to join the force?’ Jakes hazarded.

  ‘That’s him.’

  Jakes grinned. ‘Then there could be a better cure. They’ve confirmed the new regulations. He can apply to become a police officer in a couple of months time.’

  When the ambulance arrived to take Harry Bartle and Barney Crimmon to hospital, the latter under guard, Deepbriar refused point blank to go with them. ‘I want to be here when they lift Spraggs out,’ he said. ‘Please, sergeant.’

  Jakes sighed. He had sent for Inspector Stubbs, and was expecting him to arrive at any time, probably with the police doctor. He didn’t think either of them would approve of him allowing Deepbriar to stay, but it was thanks to the constable that they’d just arrested three men, at least one of them a murderer. ‘All right. But you go back to Falbrough in the next available car and get that wound stitched.’

  They didn’t have long to wait. By six o’clock the lid had been removed from the last resting place of Marmaduke Abney-Hughes, to reveal that he had been sharing the great carved sarcophagus with three uninvited guests. Beneath Spraggs’s body were the remains of old Bronc and Tony Pattridge.

  ‘You knew we’d find them here,’ Jakes said quietly.

  ‘I thought it was likely,’ Deepbriar replied.

  ‘I don’t blame you for wanting to stay and see the case through to the end,’ Inspector Stubbs said, ‘but you’d better get off to the hospital now.’

  Deepbriar nodded, too weary to explain; it hadn’t just been a matter of professional pride. Old Bronc had been a solitary man, but it seemed right that somebody who’d known him should be there at that moment.

  ‘Are you sure you’re fit to be on duty, constable?’ Inspector Stubbs looked at Deepbriar quizzically. ‘Not that we’re sorry to see you. Another two men went down with the flu yesterday, and I’m due at Belston again this afternoon.’

  Behind the Inspector’s back
Sergeant Jakes grinned at Deepbriar and lifted a cheerful thumb; Stubbs’s absence would leave him in charge again.

  ‘I’m fine, sir,’ Deepbriar insisted, gently patting the sling he wore. ‘The wound’s been stitched. As long as I don’t try any physical jerks with my arm for a few days I’m sure I can make myself useful.’ He picked up a pen. ‘I’m right handed, I could take notes,’ he offered.

  Stubbs nodded. ‘Jakes told me you wanted to be in on the interview with Cyril Crimmon. We’ve got nothing at all out of Aubrey, and Barney’s not been exactly forthcoming either. Of course we’ve got a pretty good case against them, now we’ve got the bodies, not to mention catching them about to add you to their list of victims. Still, we’re hoping Cyril’s going to spill the beans.’

  Cyril Crimmon had never been a big man, but he seemed to have shrunk even more in the few hours since Deepbriar had last seen him. He didn’t look up as the three officers walked in, his gaze fixed on the table top between the fingers of his long hands.

  ‘What do you know about the death of Anthony Pattridge?’ Inspector Stubbs asked, once the preliminaries were out of the way. Crimmon looked surprised, as if this wasn’t the question he’d expected.

  ‘Barney didn’t kill him. Nobody did, it was an accident. He was driving too fast and the car skidded, and when it hit the side of the road he was thrown through the windscreen.’

  ‘How do you know all this? Were you involved in the robbery at Somersons?’

  The music teacher shook his head. ‘No. Barney was. He told me what had happened later. He’d had an idea that Aubrey could get rid of the body by putting it in a grave the night before a funeral, burying it so the coffin would go on top, but Aubrey thought that was too risky. He suggested the mausoleum instead. They came to see me, bringing the body with them in the hearse, and asked for the key.’

  ‘You had the key?’ Jakes asked, surprised.

  ‘Yes. Rupert Abney-Hughes was a friend of mine. When he was lost at sea his great aunts asked me to wind up his estate. That included taking responsibility for the mausoleum.’ His eyes took on a distant look. ‘At first I wanted nothing to do with Barney’s plan, but then he offered me money. A large sum of money. I found I couldn’t refuse.’

  Stubbs nodded, as if this revelation confirmed his suspicions regarding human nature.

  ‘Sir?’ Deepbriar said tentatively. ‘May I ask a question?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘What did you do with the money, Mr Crimmon?’

  The musician gave him a faint smile. ‘I think you know,’ he said. ‘I had the organ repaired. I’d already raised nearly two thousand pounds, but it had been incredibly hard. Getting the rest together would have taken years, I’d have been lucky to live that long. You must admit, it was money well spent.’

  Stubbs looked at Deepbriar, who quickly explained.

  ‘That doesn’t excuse what you did,’ the inspector told Crimmon, ‘ill-gotten gains don’t become legitimate just because you use them for a good cause.’

  Crimmon sighed. ‘I know. Although if I’d done nothing more I don’t think I’d judge myself too harshly. I know young Pattridge died when he was on the run from the police, but all I did was help to hide the body. I never thought Barney would be capable of murder.’

  ‘How did you get involved with the disappearance of Joe Spraggs?’ Stubbs asked.

  ‘You have to understand how it was with Barney,’ Crimmon said, biting his lower lip. ‘He’d always been demanding, even as a child. And we indulged him, my brother and I. Aubrey was five and I was ten when he was born, inspector. Our father was in a mental institution, after being brain damaged by an injury at work, and our mother was out fifteen hours a day, trying to earn enough to give us a decent schooling. That left me and Aubrey to look after Barney.’

  As he wrote all this down, Deepbriar recalled the words Aubrey had shouted at him as he broke Barney Crimmon’s grip on the knife: ‘You leave my little brother alone!’ He must have used that same phrase a hundred times in the school playground.

  ‘So, in the case of Joe Spraggs?’ Stubbs prompted.

  ‘Barney asked me and Aubrey to kidnap Joseph Spraggs for him. He told us it was what Sylvester Rudge wanted, and that he was too scared to refuse. Evidently Spraggs had crossed Rudge in some way.’ Crimmon’s voice trembled. ‘I didn’t want to get involved, but Barney said Spraggs would get a beating, that’s all. We just had to lock him up in the mausoleum and he’d do the rest.’

  ‘But you got the wrong man.’ Jakes said.

  Crimmon nodded. ‘I’d seen that name in the school register for five years. Joseph Spraggs. It never occurred to me that he had a relation of the same name. Barney got hold of the stuff to put in his tea, then he went out of town, to give himself an alibi; evidently that’s what Rudge had done, and Barney didn’t want to risk anyone connecting him with Spraggs’s abduction. Nobody was likely to suspect me or Aubrey. Actually it all went very smoothly, but when Barney came back we found we’d made a mistake.’

  ‘So you decided to let Joe go.’

  ‘Yes. Barney didn’t want to, but I persuaded Aubrey it was the best thing to do. I insisted. I was sure Joe hadn’t seen us.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘That was when I made a big mistake. I let Barney keep the key to the mausoleum.’

  ‘You got hurt that morning,’ Deepbriar put in suddenly. ‘Sorry, sir,’ he added, as Stubbs turned to look at him.

  ‘No, that’s all right constable.’ Stubbs looked back at Crimmon. ‘Well?’

  Crimmon nodded. ‘Young Spraggs kicked my hand. The wound turned septic and I felt quite ill, I couldn’t even go to work. I was glad not to be involved when Barney and Aubrey went after the other Joseph Spraggs, I just decided to put it all out of my mind.’ There were tears in his eyes, and he dashed a hand across his face to wipe them away.

  ‘I never thought Barney could kill anyone, but when the old tramp disappeared I began to suspect something. In the end I went to see Aubrey. He admitted he’d helped Barney put two more bodies in the same sarcophagus.’

  ‘Do you know why they took off the tramp’s coats?’ Jakes asked.

  ‘Evidently Barney panicked,’ Crimmon said, ‘and he had some idea of burning the clothes and burying the body. By the time he’d calmed down and fetched Aubrey to help him it was nearly dawn. Aubrey took charge, and Barney didn’t tell him about the coats until they were up at the mausoleum. They decided they’d be safe enough where they were.’

  ‘So Aubrey had no problem with the fact that his young brother had committed murder,’ Stubbs said.

  Crimmon shook his head miserably. ‘I suppose he deals with death all the time, he didn’t seem to think he’d done anything wrong.’

  Stubbs nodded. ‘And like you, he’d become accustomed to doing what Barney said.’

  ‘Yes,’ Crimmon said eagerly. ‘That’s it exactly. Barney was really quite a good little boy, you know. Mischievous perhaps, but always so cheerful. We couldn’t help ourselves, it was easy to spoil him.’

  And turn him into a murderer, Deepbriar thought bleakly.

  Harry Bartle, a gleaming white bandage round his head, came out from behind the bar of the Speckled Goose and put the brimming pint pot down in front of Thorny Deepbriar. ‘On me,’ he said, ‘and as many more as you want.’

  ‘One will be fine,’ Deepbriar said, taking a mouthful and savouring the taste, ‘Mrs Deepbriar’s keeping my supper warm. Really,’ he added, reaching into his pocket, ‘I just came to show you this.’ He took out an official letter. There were holes in the four corners, where it had been pinned to a notice board. ‘I need to take it back with me, but I thought you’d want to see it for yourself.’

  He leant back and enjoyed his drink, surreptitiously watching the younger man’s face as he took in the printed words. Puzzlement turned to incredulity, then to joy. After that an odd expression Deepbriar couldn’t place flickered across Harry’s features.

  ‘What’s up?’ Deepbriar asked. �
��I thought you’d be pleased. Only a couple of months and you can apply to join the force. Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind!’

  ‘Not exactly. Only I didn’t do too well, did I? My first attempt at solving a crime nearly got both of us killed.’

  ‘That’s amateurs for you,’ Deepbriar said, grinning. ‘Once you’re a professional like me, you’ll never find yourself in that sort of situation. I mean, what kind of fool tries to take on three men, one of them armed with a knife, and another nearly twice his weight?’

  Harry’s face cleared and he laughed. ‘As long as I’ve got you looking out for me I’ll be all right anyway.’

  Deepbriar nodded solemnly. ‘And one piece of advice,’ he said. ‘Get yourself a good wife. But for Mrs Deepbriar I don’t reckon either of us would be here right now.’

  A few minutes later he let himself into the house, to be greeted with a wonderful aroma of beef and onions. Mary came to meet him. ‘Thorny,’ she whispered, ‘before we eat there’s somebody waiting to see you. I put her in the office, she didn’t seem to want to come into the parlour. It’s Bella.’

  With a sigh Deepbriar re-buttoned his tunic, in too good a mood to mind much. Mrs Emerson sat in the visitor’s chair, her fingers shredding a little wisp of handkerchief. She jolted to her feet as he came in. ‘Thorny, oh dear. I thought I’d got it all ready in my head, but now I’m not so sure …’

  He sat her down and made soothing noises, then he took the seat opposite and waited. ‘I have to make a confession,’ Bella Emerson said. ‘Mary has been such a good friend, and you too. I can’t go on deceiving you.’

  ‘Would this be something to do with Mr Emerson?’ Deepbriar hazarded.

  ‘There!’ She pouted. ‘I might have guessed you suspected something, you policemen are so very clever. Yes. There’s a reason why I never speak about the way Edgar died. He didn’t really die in Peru. He never went further afield than Liverpool in his whole life.’ She flushed. ‘Oh dear, I knew this would be difficult. The fact is, he’s still alive.’