Murder at High Tide (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 4)

by P. J. Thurbin

  “You did the right thing coming to see us, Professor. I can’t say too much about it you understand, but we knew that Richard Wakely had been suspicious of the Mary Ann and her owners. He kept phoning us but there was never any positive evidence to go on. I’m afraid that we drew a blank when we made our enquiries. Now we have a murder investigation to deal with as well as having the Customs and Excise lot on our backs. It’s all very sensitive, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t say anything about this to anyone. And you too, Bob. This is all off the record until I give you the okay to print something. If Wakely was killed by someone wanting to shut him up then we don’t want to frighten them off. Given enough rope they’ll show their hands and then we will have them.”

  “My wife heard rumors when she was up at Bay View Farm recently that Wakely may have been having an affair with the wife of someone called Max Horton, and that might have been linked to his death,” said Ralph.

  He probably shouldn’t have referred to Katie as his wife, but it seemed ridiculous to say friend or girlfriend, and in any event he didn’t want to start any rumors of his own in the tight knit little community. It would be hard enough to get the villagers to accept them without giving them an excuse to snub them outright. He could sense that mentioning Horton had hit a sore point with Fletcher.

  “I think you had best keep remarks like that between yourself and your wife. Mr. Horton is a trusted and valued member of the community and his wife is heavily involved in the church and charitable works, which makes her very popular. They’re good friends with the Chief Constable, Oliver Smeeton and his wife. In my experience that sort of malicious gossip is usually started by someone who carries a grudge.” He glanced at his watch. “Look I have to be off or I’ll miss our tee-off time. We’ll follow up on the information you’ve brought in, but in the meantime remember to keep this under your hats. Just leave it to the police and enjoy the rest of your holiday, Professor; plenty to do around here to keep you out of trouble. It’s not like London where everyone is a stranger. Local people stick together here in Devon. Bob, I’ll get back to you on what you can report once I’ve cleared it with the Chief Constable.” With that he stood up and gave Ralph an even firmer handshake which said, ‘keep out of my patch’.

  When they were outside Bob took one look at Ralph’s expression and practically laughed out loud.

  “Cheer up, pal. You did the right thing by bringing that box of Wakely’s in. Old Fletcher probably can’t wait to bend Smeeton’s ear about the charts and diary you gave him, only he’ll be taking all the credit for finding it. By the way, a bit of advice. Don’t go mentioning any of your theories to the locals or down at the pub. Those guys that were shot were all related to people in the village and they don’t need encouragement to take the law into their own hands. But I’m sure you already realized that.”

  Ralph drove Bob back to Bideford, and before he headed off for Rose Cottage they agreed to stay in touch. It had been a strange day and he was eager to update Katie on what had transpired.

  ***

  “That Inspector Fletcher sounds like someone you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of,” Katie ventured after Ralph had summed up the meeting at the police station.

  “He practically warned me not to go snooping where I didn’t belong,” Ralph said.

  “But there’s no way you are simply going to let him have all the fun,” Katie teased, “Although I guess the stuff in that box really doesn’t tell us much except that Wakely had some sort of fascination with the scheduling of the fishing boats and the smuggling activity that was going on around here.”

  “But it does seem a bit extreme to go to the trouble of cutting out those articles and actually writing about the comings and goings of the boats in a personal diary. There must have been some reason behind all the interest,” Ralph said, half thinking aloud.

  “Bob Wyman strikes me as a bit of a slippery character as well,” Katie said.

  “He does seem like a bit of a chancer,” Ralph agreed.

  Katie had done a terrific job sorting out the garden. It looked like it had never been allowed to go to rack and ruin even though Ralph recalled what a state it was in only a few hours earlier.

  “Really impressive, Katie. I didn’t realize you knew so much about gardening,” Ralph said as they stood at the back door admiring the lush shrubs and pristine grass.

  “When I was at the nursery yesterday I told them I wanted an instant garden that looked like it had been tended for decades, and this guy Stan helped me select the plants.”

  “But you must be worn out after all of that digging and planting,” Ralph said sympathetically.

  “Well, truth be told, I arranged to hire Stan to help with the heavy work. So when he brought the plants and turfs over he stayed and did the lion’s share of the work while I mainly supervised and made pitchers of lemonade. He wasn’t hard on the eyes, either,” she said with a mischievous grin.

  “Katie Eggerton, I don’t know what to do with you,” Ralph said good naturedly. By the way, I did a silly thing today.”

  “Only the one thing?” she asked with a laugh.

  “I guess I was worried about causing a scandal, so I told the Inspector you were my wife.”

  “What’s silly about that? I cook your breakfast and keep your garden tidy. What more could a man ask for? Anyhow, it’s just as well because I told that Jake creep at Bay View that I had a husband just so it would put him off leering at me. So I guess we’re even.”

  The evening sun dipped behind the horizon in a display of red and orange.

  “I really like it here, Ralph; so peaceful and quiet.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  ----------------------------------

  Chapter 7

  Katie was determined to go riding and she was not going to let that smarmy stable hand dampen her enthusiasm. It was a glorious morning as she set out for Bay View Farm near the village of Barnsworth, and the Morgan was proving a delight to drive. She wondered what it would be like driving it in London traffic if she took it home at the end of her holiday? Of course technically she and Ralph owned it 50/50, but she was pretty sure he meant for her to treat it as hers. As she drove through the winding lanes she thought about her relationship with Ralph. He hadn’t really said much about her job interview at the Sorbonne. If she got the Professorship in Education she had applied for then it would mean renting out her mews house in Chelsea and getting an apartment in Paris. She was not sure what he thought about that. She knew that they were more than simply former colleagues and friends but was not sure just what that meant to a crusty old bachelor like Ralph. Not that she was rushing to get into any sort of commitment herself, but she did enjoy Ralph’s company and he was one of the few men she had known that she felt she could trust. She also knew how much he hated change, although she admitted that his decision to buy the cottage had surprised her, and he did seem to be less stressed once he was away from the pressures of Kingston. And then there was that over protective tendency he had. How did he think she managed all those years before he appointed himself her guardian angel? She knew that wasn’t fair; after all, sometimes it did seem like she couldn’t take care of herself, but it rankled to think it was obvious to anyone else. But just then the car rattled and bumped over the cattle grid guarding the pathway to the stables and interrupted her thoughts. Parking her car in a space behind some large sheds she walked up to the wisteria covered house. She could hear the sound of laughter coming from inside as she pushed open the door. A dog barked and trotted over and sniffed at her riding boots.

  “You must be Amanda,” she said to a tall fit looking woman who was hovering over the keyboard of a lap top computer holding a mug of tea in one hand.

  “That’s right. Amanda Darant. And you must be Katie. You called in the other day when I was out with the ride.”

  “I spoke to your groom.”

  “Don’t worry about Jakes. Actually it’s Robin Jakes but he doesn�
�t like people to call him by his first name,” she said with a laugh. “Thinks it sounds too twee. He’s a bit grouchy sometimes but he sticks around in the winter when it can get pretty wild up here on the moors. Look if you want to ride with us today that’s fine. Come on and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the group.”

  “That would be great,” Katie said. “I’ve got my riding gear in the car.”

  “You said on the phone that you were an experienced rider,” Amanda went on. “What sort of riding have you done?”

  “We had our own horses back in Australia,” Katie said. “Mostly it was just pleasure riding although I did do a bit of eventing and even exercised race horses for some friends for a couple of summers when I was younger. Now I’m afraid that I am a fair weather rider, although I try to get in the occasional riding holiday when I’m not too busy.” Katie thought it best not to mention what had kept her out of circulation for a couple of those years. “What sort of horses do you have here?” She asked.

  “Mostly crossbred Arabs and thoroughbreds and a few Spanish horses, although we do

  have one or two purebreds. The one I had in mind for you is called Majestic. He’s a full Arab but well schooled, as he used to be owned by an Olympic rider, Richard Wakely. You may have heard of him.”

  “That’s not the horse he was riding when he was killed, is it?” Katie asked anxiously. “I’m not exactly up to Olympic standard and if he came off then maybe I should start with something a bit less challenging.”

  “Not to worry. It was a freak accident. Majestic is actually an easy ride, surefooted and easy going. I’ve been using him for the rides for some time and he hasn’t put a foot wrong.”

  “Okay, if you think I’ll be okay on him. By the way, how long will we be out? I didn’t bring any food or anything,” Katie said.

  “It’s a four hour ride, but Jane makes packed lunches for us so you won’t starve,” she said over her shoulder as she nodded at the sporty looking woman busily making sandwiches in the pantry.

  Katie felt a moment’s panic at the thought of riding Wakely’s horse but relaxed as she was introduced to the other riders who were staying at the Farm. They were seated around a large table and had obviously just finished eating a hearty English breakfast.

  “I am Marcel Dupois and this is my wife Arian,” said a tall athletic man as he stood up to shake hands.

  Typical French couple, thought Katie. Mid-40s, both good looking; expensive riding gear and probably work out at least 3 days a week.

  “We’re friends of Miles Willard. He has a restaurant near here. He told us that Amanda has wonderful horses and we couldn’t resist the temptation since riding is our shared passion,” Marcel said as Katie shook hands with him and Arian.

  “Hans is from Germany,” Amanda said as Katie reached out to shake the hand that was proffered. “He says he came all the way from Hamburg just to ride across Exmoor.”

  “Hans Clim. Delighted to make your acquaintance.” Katie had to stifle a chuckle when he all but clicked his heels as he spoke. Then she felt embarrassed for stereotyping him like that. She guessed he was about 35 years old and a typical blue eyed, blond haired Saxon. She could picture him stepping ashore from a longboat wielding an axe. With only the faintest hint of an accent he continued.

  “During World War Two one of my great uncles crash-landed his Heinkel aircraft on the Island of Lundy and while I am here I plan to visit the Island. But of course I am also looking forward to riding Amanda’s wonderful horses this week and getting to know my fellow riders.”

  “Tariq and Ahmed are from Turkey,” Amanda said as two tall smiling giants stood up to shake hands with Katie.

  “Tariq Alman and Ahmed Tourifa. And to save you asking, we are not all terrorists as the newspapers would like to paint us.” Everyone laughed politely. “This is a break from work for us as we are working over on Lundy Island putting in a new cell phone relay system and renovating the two lighthouses. Good to meet you Katie.” She turned as someone standing by the door spoke.

  “I’m Marin Swale. I teach at a school just outside London. So I’m unwinding after a stressful year trying to control forty kids every day,” she said with a wry smile. Katie put Marin in her early to mid fifties. About the same age as Ralph, she thought, but she looked older.

  “Katie and her husband bought the Wakely cottage over near Clovelly,” Katie heard Amanda say before she could correct her. She figured that Jakes had passed on that little white lie to Amanda when he told her that Katie had stopped by. Oh well, too late to correct it now, she thought. “I haven’t ridden in a while,” she said, “so I hope I don’t hold the group back.” Breaking in to a new group was always a bit difficult and she had in the past found it best to adopt a low profile and see how forthcoming the others were before she said too much.

  “Okay, now we all know each other let’s get outside and mount up. Jakes will have already groomed and saddled the horses so it’s just a matter of adjusting stirrups and girths and making sure everyone is happy.”

  “Who’ll be leading the ride?” Marin asked.

  “I’ll be your fearless leader today,” Amanda said. “It’s a new route and parts of it are a bit rough going, but nothing the horses can’t handle.”

  Everyone groaned and Katie noticed that there were one or two nervous glances being exchanged. Walking outside into the immaculate sun-baked yard she could see that the gleaming horses were saddled and ready. Majestic was a magnificent looking bay Katie noted with excitement and a twinge of apprehension.

  “We always use the mounting block,” Amanda said. “Easier on the horses’ backs.”

  “Ours too,” Arian laughed.

  Katie’s enthusiasm took over once she was in the saddle and she and Majestic were parading around the indoor ring to warm up while the others were getting on. She was soon joined by the rest of the group until Amanda called for them to come outside and head out on the ride. As they walked the horses out of the yard Katie rode alongside Amanda.

  “Was Wakely out with the ride when he had his accident?” Katie asked.

  “No,” Amanda replied. “He was out alone that day. He was a top rider and we’d never given a thought to his going off on his own and riding across the moors for the day. Jakes went out and found him when Majestic came back on his own.”

  “Someone said that he often went riding with Max Horton’s wife,” said Katie.

  “I didn’t really know him that well, apart from looking after his horse,” Amanda said.

  Katie wondered if perhaps she had broached a no go zone in probing about Wakely’s private life. But then Amanda went on, “although it wouldn’t surprise me. He was certainly a charmer. All the women in the village liked him.” With that Amanda stopped to let the others catch up before asking if they were ready for a bit of a canter.

  “That was more than a bit of a canter,” Katie said beaming when they finally pulled up at the top of a rise. “I think I’m in love,” she added as she let Majestic have a loose rein and stroked his neck.

  “I told you you’d like him,” Amanda smiled.

  They stopped at noon by a small stream to rest the horses and eat their packed lunch. Jane, who took care of the catering at the Farm, had outdone herself. The sandwiches were filled with ham, cheese and salad. Fresh orange juice in a carton, plus an apple, and a chocolate biscuit ensured that the riders were suitably refreshed. While the horses grazed contentedly nearby the riders stretched out on the ground and enjoyed the midday sun. The sound of water rushing through the rocks of a small brook and the cries of the starlings overhead accompanied by the munching of the horses completed the bucolic scene. Katie struck up a conversation with Marin Swale and within a few minutes discerned that if she was a teacher than she wasn’t a particularly inspiring one.

  The French couple were a lot more interesting. It seemed that they knew a lot about Miles Willard and his activities in France. When Marcel got up and strolled away from the group to answer a call from
nature, Arian confided that Miles was a bit of a gambler and had lost quite a lot at the track. She explained that he had borrowed heavily to cover his debts and had made a hasty departure from France when the loan sharks began to finger his collar.

  “Okay you guys, I know you’re enjoying your siesta, but we still have a two hour ride before we get back to the farm and the forecast sounded a bit iffy for this afternoon. So if you want to beat the rain we had better get started,” Amanda said as she gathered up the empty bags and napkins and stuffed them in her saddle bag.

  Katie found herself alongside Hans Clim. He seemed a bit uncertain about starting a conversation so she decided to help him along.

  “So you want to see the spot where your uncle crashed his plane during WW2?”

  “Yes, my great uncle. Of course I never knew him, but I have always been intrigued as to how he managed to land the plane on such a small island as Lundy. You see he was trying to return to his airfield in France when anti-aircraft fire from some ships in the Bristol Channel hit his plane.”

  “Why was he in the Bristol Channel? I thought most of the bombing raids targeted London.”

  “London was heavily bombed, it is true, but the Bristol Channel was a very busy shipping lane. It goes straight out to the Atlantic and from there ships can start the 4000 mile voyage to the USA. Even today the Island of Lundy would make a perfect place for terrorists to set up an attack.”

  “Bideford is just a sleepy seaside town these days,” said Katie. “Not much there to attract terrorists.”

  “I agree. But don’t forget that from Lundy it is only a short distance to Milford Haven which is the biggest entry point and storage location for natural gas imports to England, and if that were hit or destroyed it would be a major blow to the economy; and the ports of Avonmouth and Bristol are both within striking distance as well.”