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

by P. J. Thurbin

  “Well let’s hope they don’t think like you, Hans,” she said with a laugh.

  Katie had less luck talking to Tariq and Ahmed. They seemed intent on cantering ahead of the group whenever Amanda’s attention was diverted by some of the weaker riders. She wondered if their work on Lundy was connected in some way to the smuggling and once more felt slightly guilty for stereotyping. But you’re meant to be enjoying riding this magnificent horse, not trying to impute some criminal intent to every person you meet, Katie reminded herself. And now that she thought about it, Majestic truly was a dream. He was so surefooted over the rough ground and rock strewn streams she could see there was no way he would have thrown a rider of Richard Wakley’s class. She started to consider making Amanda an offer for what was rapidly becoming her number one man. As they clattered into the stable yard she was confronted by a smirking Jakes.

  “I see you didn’t manage to break your neck yet,” he whispered to Katie as he grabbed Majestic’s reins. She ignored him as Amanda’s appearance cut short any further remarks from what Katie began to see as the one downside to riding at Bay View Farm.

  “Anyone who thinks riding is a quick way to lose weight has another think coming.

  Jane has afternoon tea set up in the sunroom as soon as you sponge off your horses and put their tack away,” Amanda called out as she strode off to talk to a tradesman who had come to fix the hot water system.

  Having agreed to ride again later in the week, Katie said her goodbyes to the rest of the group. It was now late afternoon and as she drove back to Rose Cottage she was glad that her sports car had soft leather seats. Being in the saddle for half a day was something that she had to get used to again.

  ***

  Ralph had spent most of the day working on his report and was glad to have an excuse to shut down his computer.

  “Productive day?” Katie asked as she came in to the room where Ralph had his notes spread out on the coffee table he had pulled over next to the desk.

  “I think I’ve broken the back of it. What about you? How was the riding?”

  “Absolutely wonderful,” Katie said. “Amanda was great and you’ll never guess what horse she gave me to ride,” Katie enthused.

  “I give up.”

  “Richard Wakely’s. The one he was riding when he had his accident,” Katie said.

  “That was a bit risky. I’m surprised they let anyone ride him after that,” Ralph said with a worried note in his voice.

  “Amanda said that they’ve been using Majestic on the ride for weeks and he hasn’t put a foot wrong,” Katie said. “And by all accounts, Wakely’s death doesn’t sound all that accidental.”

  “So it seems that we aren’t the only ones suspicious about his accident,” Ralph said when Katie told him about the ride and what she had learned from her companions.

  “It just doesn’t make sense for an experienced rider like him to simply fall off like that. I think he may have been on to something about that smuggling ring and they decided to shut him up,” Katie said as she handed Ralph the plates and cutlery to take into the back garden.

  “You must admit that your theories about those two Turkish guys are a bit far-fetched, though,” Ralph said when he reemerged from setting the table. “You make them sound like some sort of al Qaeda disciples who are over here to set up a missile site so that they can blow up the gas facility at Milford Haven or something.”

  “It was Han’s who suggested it, not me. But it could be possible,” Katie said as they moved into the kitchen to get the supper prepared.

  “And that poor school teacher woman that you think isn’t really a teacher at all. What do you think she is if she’s not a teacher? And why would she make something like that up? Certainly not to impress anyone or else she would have chosen a more glamorous profession.”

  “I don’t know. She was just so boring. Maybe she’s some sort of undercover detective or working for the customs people; or maybe she doesn’t believe Wakely simply died from an accident any more than we do.”

  “Or she could be just some poor woman trying to get over a nasty divorce who doesn’t want to tell anyone anything about her private life,” Ralph suggested.

  “Yes, I suppose anything is possible. I guess I just got carried away trying to imagine all sorts of intrigue out there on the moors. They do have an eerie air about them. I can see how I could get hooked on this sleuthing bug of yours. It’s pretty contagious. Here, help me carry these things outside,” Katy said as she grabbed the basket of rolls and a couple of casserole dishes and gestured in the general direction of the platter next to the cooker.

  “That German chap, Hans something or other. Do you think I should offer to take him with me when I sail over to Lundy?”

  “You never said anything about sailing over to Lundy. When are we going?”

  “Yes I did. You just forgot. I thought I’d go while you’re riding. Since you aren’t that keen on boats I just assumed you wouldn’t want to go.”

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be invited,” Katie replied testily as she pushed the ham towards Ralph for him to carve.

  “The French couple sound interesting,” Ralph said, trying to divert the conversation a bit. “Maybe we could meet them for dinner at the Willards’ restaurant.”

  “Speaking of Miles Willard, you know Arian told me that he was up to his eyeballs in debt. You don’t think he’s involved in that smuggling stuff, do you?”

  “He looked too nervous to me. I’m surprised he can run a restaurant, let alone manage a bunch of criminals,” replied Ralph.

  They enjoyed a wonderful supper of local ham, new potatoes and broccoli with a creamy cheese sauce that Katie admitted was better than anything she could have made from scratch, followed by treacle sponge and custard pudding that she had thrown in her basket at the last minute and only required 1 minute in the microwave.

  It had been another full day and as the velvet dark evening closed in they sat by the open French doors overlooking Katie’s new garden while the lace curtains billowed gently in the soft breeze. As the last strains of Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto from radio Devon faded, they reluctantly decided to call it a day.

  ----------------------------------

  Chapter 8

  The Hartland Village annual garden party was an exclusive event hosted in the well groomed grounds of the Vicarage. Ralph was surprised to have received an invite from Oliver Smeeton, the Chief Constable of the Devon police. Katie thought that it was probably part of a plot on behalf of the local power group to buy Ralph’s allegiance, or at least to stop him unearthing some local secret. She was convinced that they were worried about Ralph’s reputation as an amateur sleuth and that by keeping close to him they might distract him from his investigations. The invitation was for 3pm, and parking on the gravel path alongside the church, they entered the garden via a well-worn lych-gate. Sounds from the other guests greeted them as they were confronted with a scene that would not have been out of place in a Victorian novel or the popular TV series Downton Abbey.

  Small groups were gathered in the shade offered by the canvas awnings of the marquees. Flags fluttered from poles that had been erected around the edges of the immaculate lawn and a string quartet was playing just loud enough to fill any gaps in the chatter and laughter. Not that there seemed any need. They spotted the Vicar motioning them over and took it as their cue to join the flock.

  “Welcome to Hartland. I’m Clarence Welk and this is John Staples, my long- suffering choirmaster. He’s always on the lookout for new recruits, so be on your guard. Do either of you sing?” Ralph decided that it was too late to introduce themselves and just let the Vicar ramble on. Besides, he had already worked out that everyone in the village already knew who they were.

  “Well he won’t be wanting me,” Katie laughed. “I’m practically tone deaf. But Ralph might be persuaded if you could use a part-time tenor.”

  “Well I’m sure John here would be happy to welcome you o
n those terms,” The Vicar said as he turned toward John Staples.

  “As you can imagine, the choir is heavily laden with female voices, but we could certainly use another man to help balance it out,” John said.

  They were not surprised at such a direct approach. Vicars tended to follow a pattern and the ability to drag people into village life was one of their skills; and obviously John Staples knew enough to second whatever the Vicar suggested.

  “Nice to have you in Hartland, Katie, Ralph,” the Vicar smiled, and with a nod he moved on to greet some of his parishioners, the choirmaster dutifully following a few steps behind.

  Ralph noticed that Miles and a tall elegant woman in a silk dress were walking towards them across the lawn carrying a bottle and some glasses. “Professor, Katie, good to see you both again,” Miles called out. “You must meet my wife, Elizabeth. “This is the couple I was telling you about, darling. They just bought poor old Richard’s place up near Clovelly.”

  “What a lovely dress,” Katie said admiringly. Elizabeth smiled her acceptance of the compliment and returned one to Katie.

  “I’ll introduce you to some of Hartland’s movers and shakers,” Miles said as he steered Ralph and Katie over to a small group standing next to the marquee. “You must meet Ian Roth. He owns the car dealership over in Bideford and loves to talk about cars, so you two should have plenty in common,” he said with a laugh. “And Liz can introduce you to the Robinsons,” he said, turning to Katie. “Allan and Beth run the local art classes. They’re a great couple and always on the lookout for new models for their indoor sessions, if you are up for it.” he said with a chuckle.

  Katie gritted her teeth and hoped it looked like a smile. Miles was demonstrating about all the male chauvinism that she could take for one day. But fortunately for him Elizabeth led her away to meet the artist couple. She wanted to check out the classes in case she could persuade Ralph to take some time away from his work and indulge in his hobby. This was a perfect opportunity to scout things out.

  Miles introduced Ralph to Ian Roth who was talking to an impeccably dressed woman of a certain age who looked as though she had just stepped out of the pages of Vogue Magazine.

  “May I introduce you to our Village Doctor?” Ian said as he presented his companion.

  “I’ll make sure to have a complaint so I can book an appointment, Doctor,” Ralph said as he warmly shook the proffered gloved hand.

  “Samantha Tulle. Very nice to meet you. But save any health problems for my successor,” she rasped in a voice that suggested someone who had possibly waited too long before giving up smoking. “I retire at the end of the summer, and not a minute too soon. I want to enjoy my retirement before I need to call on some of my colleagues to fix whatever ailments are waiting for me just over the horizon.”

  After some small talk about the virtues of vintage cars and the practicality of driving a Land Rover around the country lanes, Ralph moved the conversation to the Mary Ann.

  “Katie and I were surprised to hear that a lovely village like Hartland was involved in smuggling. It seems such a quiet peaceful place; families on the beach, rolling countryside, cattle grazing in the fields and all that sort of thing.”

  Samantha Tulle gave him a hard look. “I’ve been the village doctor here for nearly 40 years, and I can assure you that it’s not the villagers who are buying contraband goods. It was a perfectly normal village until the likes of Max Horton with that flighty wife of his bought the Manor house. God knows how he managed to afford it. He came to see me once about something or other and I must say I didn’t form a very good impression. From what I gathered he got a nice golden parachute settlement when he was made redundant from some big chemical firm up in the Midlands somewhere and used it to set himself up as a local squire. What a lot of nonsense.” She paused in the midst of what Ralph recognized was a drink induced tirade from a person who was obviously ready for retirement. She continued. “Then the Anderson’s turned up with that antiques business of theirs and seem to be making a killing selling a lot of junk to gullible tourists. To cap it all we now have Miles Willard trying to run a French Bistro. What next? Snails on toast, I shouldn’t wonder.”

  Ralph was a bit taken aback by such an outburst. He had been brought up to believe that the medical profession would never express a personal opinion about their patients, although strictly speaking she hadn’t actually said anything of a medical nature about anyone. Still, he wasn’t accustomed to such forthright remarks and tried to move the conversation to a less volatile topic.

  “We love it up near Clovelly where our cottage is located,” Ralph said. “The solitude is wonderful after the hustle and bustle of London and the views across the moor are certainly worth the effort to get there.” Samantha began to show a spark of interest.

  “I looked for a place over there when I first came to the area, but that was when Nigel and I were young and ambitious. We wanted to be hands on physicians so we decided to buy the other side of the semi-detached house where our practice was located so we could live near our work. It was awfully convenient, I must admit, especially when we were juggling the practice and raising our children. Of course they’re all grown up now with families of their own and my husband died several years ago, so it’s outlived its usefulness. I sometimes feel like I’ve done the same.”

  Ralph tried to fill the awkwardness by asking what she planned to do now that she was retiring.

  “The chap who is taking over the practice is buying the property as well, so I will

  probably move closer to London to be nearer the children, although I shall miss the countryside.”

  “Well, if you decide you need a bolt hole when the grandchildren get too much for you, Katie and I are thinking of renting out the cottage when we’re not using it,” Ralph said with a smile. He was beginning to see why Samantha was in such a state of tension with her retirement looming and no fixed plans in place. Not that many years before I’ll be in the same boat, he reflected.

  “Richard Wakely bought a Morgan from me when he moved down from Northampton,” Ian said, obviously eager to change the subject. “Someone said that they had seen your wife driving it in the village.”

  Ralph explained about buying the car with the cottage and how it was opportune as Katie would need something to drive when they were there. “Of course she’s in love with it so I’m not sure how I’ll wrest it away from her when we go back to London,” he said. He noticed that the Doctor had accepted another glass of wine when the server came by with a silver tray laden with glasses.

  “Shame about Richard Wakely,” Ralph said to no one in particular.

  “Seemed a nice enough chap,” Ian said. “Of course he spent most of his time out riding so I didn’t see that much of him.”

  “I don’t wish to malign the dead, but he was a fool,” the Doctor said as she took a sip of her chardonnay. “I heard that he was having an affair with the wife of that ghastly Horton man. The last time I saw him I suggested there were better ways for him to get exercise than chasing around after someone else’s wife. After all, he was a very nice looking man and there are plenty of unmarried women around here who would have been happy to be seen out on his arm. Once someone gives up something they are good at then they get bored and start getting into trouble. I’ve seen it happen too many times. Idle hands and all that sort of thing.”

  That struck a chord with Ralph and he wondered if his interest in the Mary Ann and smuggling was simply an attempt to fill a gap now he didn’t have his time filled with a teaching timetable.

  Ian and Samantha wandered off in the direction of the buffet and Ralph went in search of Katie. When he finally spotted her she signaled to him to come across the garden where she was standing talking to a couple he hadn’t yet met.

  “Ralph, this is Barbara Anderson and her husband Jason. They have an antiques place just outside Hartland.”

  This must be the couple Samantha mentioned earlier, Ralph thought, but decided to wi
thhold judgment and decide for himself. Jason was wearing an expensive tailored summer weight Saville Row suit. His wife was dressed in a light green raw silk outfit and a magnificent matching hat. It looked more like they were dressed for the owner’s enclosure at Royal Ascot than a garden party at the local vicarage. Jason shook Ralph’s hand.

  “Ralph, I hear from Katie you are on the lookout for a desk for your apartment in London? I have something that might be of interest. You should come up to the house sometime and take a look. It’s a charming art deco piece. From what Katie tells me it should fit in very well with your taste.”

  They chatted on and Ralph noticed that Jason kept glancing across at Miles Willard and his wife who were talking to someone who had that unmistakable air of a policeman. Ralph thought there was something about the way policemen stood that was an immediate giveaway.

  “Katie was telling us she has signed you up for some painting classes with Alan and Bethany Robinson,” Barbara said, with a glance at her husband. “They’re both really good artists and I understand that they’re excellent teachers as well. They used to run those summer art getaways at a chateau they rented near Bordeaux a few years back. You’ll love them”.

  Ralph could have kicked Katie, but the best he could do was to give her a stern look.

  “That sounds very interesting,” Ralph said with a forced smile. “I’m afraid I’m only an amateur and a bit out of practice, but I suppose it would be a break from work,” he replied, trying to look pleased.

  He was annoyed that Katie had gone ahead and set something up without consulting him. But the real reason he was agitated was because he was concerned that he would be out of his depth with a group of painters who were probably experts. Just then he saw that the man who had been talking to Miles Willard was walking towards them and had been joined by a rather large blustery companion. Jason and Barbara made their excuses and left as the pair approached.