A Country Way of Death (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 4)

by R. A. Bentley

  'Well, it was the Wednesday night he left and the wedding was supposed to be on the Friday, so, yes, it was only the two nights. We knew he was packing, of course. In fact, me and Irene did most of it. But he'd have been doing that anyway, as they weren't coming back to live at the Hall. We thought at first he might have gone to stay with his best man and would bring him back with him. Except, of course it wasn't that, because he never did come back.'

  'Who was the best man?'

  'I don't know. We just assumed that was where he was going — to fetch him.'

  'A village person?'

  'Oh no, I don't think he had any posh friends locally. We never saw any.'

  'How would he have gone, to fetch this friend? Did he have some sort of transport?'

  'I don't know. Maybe he would have hired something.'

  'Did he say he was coming back?'

  'Yes. He said to Cyril, "See you later, Jackson," or something like that. That's what Cyril told the police.'

  'Did you speak to the police?'

  'Yes, they asked what you're asking now, more or less.'

  'Was it to be a big wedding — big village event?'

  'Oh, no, nothing like that. He didn't have any money, you see. I don't know anyone who was invited. It was just family, I suppose.'

  'How do you know he had no money?'

  'Because Sir Rupert told Jackson. He'd asked for a loan to get married and Sir Rupert told him no. He told the police that too. But, we all knew anyway because we could hear them shouting at each other.'

  'Might that be why Baverstock left early, because of the ill-feeling?'

  'No I don't think so. Well, it might have been, but the Willoughbys had already left for the summer, a week or two before. They used to go travelling every year.'

  Miles glanced regretfully at Rattigan. 'Oh, I see. And that's why you were able to visit Bert?'

  'Yes. Well, I could have done anyway. No-one minded as long as there was one of us girls there in the evening. It was easier when they were away though.'

  'So they weren't bad employers, by the sound of it?'

  'No they were very good. Lady Willoughby was never any trouble, even when she got ill, poor thing. And if Sir Rupert gave any orders it was through Jackson, so we didn't have a lot to do with him directly. He's a funny, strutting little man – your mum calls him a little bantam-cock – but quite kindly really. He never made himself a nuisance to us like some of them do. Of course, with a lovely wife like that he hardly needed to. I don't think much of the new one though. She looks like a camel and she's got this dreadful laugh.'

  Miles paused in thought for a moment. 'Josie, you said you thought Baverstock ran away, for whatever reason, but did it occur to you, or to anyone else, that he might have met with foul-play?'

  Josie nodded knowingly. 'That's what this is about, isn't it? You think it might be the same person that murdered Bill. Yes we talked about it. Everyone did. But no-one could think of anyone who would have done it. Not a Bettishaw man anyway. And what happened to the body? He just completely disappeared.'

  'Mightn't it have been one of Baverstock's rivals, for the hand of Ellen?'

  Josie shook her head discouragingly. 'Miles, they were just boys! Skinny village boys of eighteen or nineteen. And Baverstock was a toff. They'd have known they'd be caught if they even so much as thought about it. And what would have been the point? Ellen didn't want anyone else after she met Baverstock. And then she died.'

  Miles smiled his thanks. 'Well that's all regarding the Hall, I think. You've been very helpful, Josie. So to recap. When Baverstock walked away that night, the Willoughbys had left for the summer, presumably accompanied by Lady Willoughby's personal maid. You were with Bert; Cook was in her kitchen with Elsie, and only Jackson saw him go. To your own knowledge, did anyone see him after that?'

  Josie shook her head. 'No-one ever said they did, and the police asked everyone in the village. But he must have gone somewhere, mustn't he?'

  'That's a rather different slant on Sir Rupert,' said Rattigan as they came away.

  Miles nodded distractedly. 'Yes it is. However, he appears to be out of it as far as direct involvement is concerned; though we'll have to confirm all that with Jackson. It's a bit odd that she claimed not to know about Ellen and Rowsell. She seems to have known all her business otherwise, and girls being what they are, you might have expected them to compare notes. It must surely be Ellen that old man Rowsell remembers.'

  'And the vicar the same. It's the one thing that folk are usually interested in, especially in a little place like this.'

  'Yes it is, and the vicar even said as much; they used to speculate on who would marry whom. There's something there they don't want us the know, I'm sure of it.'

  'You don't entirely trust her, sir?'

  'Do you?'

  'No I don't. I don't say she was lying exactly; more sticking to generalities, as if she didn't want to drop someone in it.'

  'Which might equally apply to others. She's still upset, of course, and no doubt embarrassed to be interviewed by me. And it was a long time ago. All the same, I'm beginning to wonder if we shouldn't be treating them all as hostile witnesses.' He glanced at his watch. 'Time's getting on. We'll call at the Bell before they open, and interview Archie Kitcher, then see Jackson. That should put our Josie to the test anyway.'

  'What's Kitcher like?'

  'Pleasant, uncomplicated sort of fellow. Typical publican really. One of the old village families. Been at the Bell forever.'

  Almost filled by a table and chairs and the end of the public-bar counter, the Bell's tiny snug-bar seemed even smaller for having Archie Kitcher and Rattigan in it. Comparing these human leviathans with interest, Miles decided the innkeeper could probably offer Rattigan a few pounds, though it was close. In a fight, however, there could be only one outcome. Rattigan had been a heavyweight boxer and was dangerous even now.

  'Can't give you long,' Archie informed them. 'Ron's taken Minnie and the kids to stay with her sister and Fanny's gone for the ride so I'm on me own. Getting a bit complicated for you chaps, eh? Glebe Cottage and now this.'

  'Just a little,' admitted Miles. 'We're working on the premise that everything is linked: Glebe Cottage, Rowsell's murder and possibly the disappearance of Linsey Baverstock.'

  'Baverstock! That's going back a bit. How did you get from here to there?'

  'One flimsy piece of evidence. I'm not able to tell you about it at the moment. Also we could be quite wrong. Rowsell's murder may have nothing to do with it.'

  'But you think Glebe might have?'

  'Yes, it seems likely.'

  'Hmm. Any leads?'

  Miles hesitated and glanced at Rattigan. 'One or two. What we need to know, of course, is who was where when Rowsell was murdered. We think we've got the names of everyone still in the Bell when he was discovered, but can you think of anyone who left early, or who wasn't in at all yesterday?'

  'I can try,' said Archie. 'You don't want it this minute do you?'

  'No. Have a think about it. Maybe the regulars can help you with that?'

  Archie looked doubtful. 'This isn't going to make you very popular, old son.'

  'Well I can't help that,' said Miles, a little irritably. 'Would you rather have some bull in a china shop who doesn't know the village?'

  'No, all right. You know we'll help you if we can; we want him caught.'

  'Which one?'

  Archie looked confused. 'Oh, I see what you mean. Well, both of them, obviously.'

  He paused for a moment. 'Look, about Ronald. I'm not saying he's a saint, he can be a darned nuisance sometimes, but I'll swear he had nothing to do with this. He never even had the chance, that I can see.'

  'Mr Adams seems unlikely on the face of it,' agreed Miles judiciously. 'This is a hard one, I know, but can you remember anyone else going out to the gents, at the critical time?'

  Archie looked aggrieved. 'You don't flippin' want much, do you? I don't make a note of when they go
for a slash!'

  'What about Gabriel Shutler?'

  'Not the faintest! No, wait a minute. Now I think about it, he and Ron went out and came back together.'

  'That's good enough for now. Gabriel gave him an alibi.

  'Oh, I see. Well that's something.'

  'Unless they were both involved, of course.'

  'Humph! Why not the whole bloody village?'

  Miles didn't answer. 'What was the fight about anyway?'

  Archie rolled his eyes heavenward. 'Load of fuss about nothing. You know Minnie does a bit of hairdressing? No? Well she does, including a few men, and she did Rowsell's. Not often, because he didn't have a lot of hair, but they got friendly and he used to drop in now and again for a chat. A bit too often for Ron, unfortunately. Then he asked her for a dance. Ron was tight as usual and saw red. The rest you know.'

  'No chance of it having gone further than friendship?'

  Archie shook his head, making his mottled jowls shake. 'Our Minnie's a good girl. Never given us any trouble like that.'

  'Whom do you think killed him, Archie?'

  'Not one of my patrons,' said Archie firmly. 'I'd know! I've known them half their lives, most of them. Sometimes all their lives. I know them inside out. I know who they get on with and who they don't. I know what they're thinking, very often, before they even say it. None of them would have murdered Bill Rowsell; I'd swear on the Bible to that.'

  'Well that's pretty emphatic. Can you say the same about the murder of Baverstock?'

  'Baverstock wasn't murdered.'

  'Do you know that?'

  'I don't know it, no. I daresay there's one or two lads would have liked to have a go at him for pinching Ellen Titmus – she was a little cracker, that girl – but he won her fair and square and they would never have killed him over it. If they had, we'd have known about it. You can't keep something like that to yourself and just carry on as normal. Not in this village anyway.'

  'He could hardly say anything else,' said Rattigan, as they paused outside. 'He's bound to defend his customers unless he's got firm proof, like the vicar.'

  Miles nodded. 'That's the trouble. He's lying about Rowsell and Minnie though. It wasn't just Ronald that was upset, and why would the others have cared? More likely they'd have laughed about it. And now Ronald and Minnie are conveniently out of the way. Still, they'll be back. Another look in the garage, I think.'

  They found Stan Bush bending over a workbench. 'Can I help you gentlemen?' he asked, reaching for a piece of rag.

  'No, you carry on,' said Miles. 'What have you got there?'

  'It's the motor off that Excelsior,' said Stan, gesturing at the motor-bicycle propped up behind him. 'They works all right if you looks after 'em. Unfortunately he don't.'

  'Whose is it then?'

  'Eustace Peartree's. Well, I'm not sure if he actually owns it, or if he's just got the use of it. It was Sir Rupert's originally. He likes his toys but he gets bored with them. He brought it in when I wasn't here and left a note on it.'

  'Eustace did, do you mean?'

  'Yes. Here's the note. This is what he wrote . . .'

  Miles grimaced and took it off him. 'Spare us the rest, Stanley, you haven't the figure for it. "Dear Stan, please mend my bike it don't go. Yours sincerely, Eustace." Well it's to the point. When did you find it? Not yesterday?'

  'No, this morning. You kicked us out yesterday.'

  'So I did. But might he have brought it in yesterday?'

  'I'd assumed it was this morning before I got here. Gabriel opens up. It might have been yesterday I suppose, after I left for Long.'

  'All right, I'd better check that. Just one thing: where do you suppose our murderer picked up the hammer, or whatever it was that he used?'

  Stan looked contemplative. 'I've been wondering about that myself. I likes to work tidy, I do. I don't leave me tools just lying about the place like some sloppy beggars. I got me boxes, which I carries with me, and there's the rack over there for the bigger stuff, which, incidently, I've put away. It was either that or get me tin hat out.'

  Miles smiled. 'No-one is going to murder you, Stan; you're our only mechanic. Are you quite sure there's nothing missing?'

  'Not entirely, no. There's me own tools and there's garage tools. I got all mine. Not so sure about the rest of 'em. I probably shan't know that until I need one and find it missing.'

  'What do you do with your boxes when you go out?'

  'I takes this one with me, mostly. The other goes in this cupboard under here, when I remembers.'

  'And did you remember?'

  'I didn't bother. I wasn't expecting any murderers in on a Thursday.'

  'Might it have been beside the pit?'

  'No, I put it back here on the bench. It didn't look as though anyone had been through it. There's a bit of a trick to getting at the bottom half, and it's all small stuff on the top as you see. Nothing heavy.'

  'All right, Stan. Thanks. Oh, yes. Did you have any reason to go out the back door yesterday, before the murder?'

  'No. It wasn't me that opened it.'

  They returned outside.

  'Rowsell was facing into the garage, judging by where he ended up in the pit,' said Rattigan. 'So if he was hit by someone coming in behind him, and Stan's right, there'd have been nothing handy to do it with. He's hardly going to wait to be walloped while they go looking for something.'

  'Never straightforward, is it?' grumbled Miles. 'And I'll tell you another thing. No-one going to the office to pay would pass very near the pit. Assuming that's what he was doing, why would he stray over there?'

  'Murderer hit him then rolled him into it? It's only five or six feet.'

  'I suppose that's possible. But would they have wanted to hang about doing that?'

  'I don't see why not. They'd have known whether there was anyone outside just then. It mightn't have been much of a risk if there wasn't, and with the body hidden they'd have more chance of getting away before it was found.'

  'Not sure I agree, but let's assume that. He then clears off via the back door. Or does he? It could have been done to confuse us.'

  'The back door would have been safest option though, wouldn't it?'

  'I'm not so sure that it would. He might not have been seen until he got onto Long Lane, although even that would be risky. What would be his excuse for being in George Harris's yard? And once in the lane, where would he go? It'd be a bit chancy coming back down the High Street and I can't see anyone hanging about in a field until it got dark. Not in this weather. There's Bullock's place, I suppose, lots of farm buildings to hide in, although even to get there he'd have to cross the crossroads.'

  'And your mother would likely have seen him. He could have got away by car. In fact, if someone else was driving they could have dropped him at the front and come round the back to pick him up.'

  Miles considered this. 'Two men in a car, one armed with an offensive weapon. That's not murder, that's an execution.'

  'Possible, though.'

  'I'm not so sure it is. Again, my mother would have seen it, unless they drove to Long, which is a dead end. They'd risk being trapped there.'

  'I did look for tyre tracks and footprints when I went out there,' said Rattigan, 'but it's too wet to hold them, probably.'

  'You didn't say.'

  'Well, I didn't find any. There's a field gate across the road and I went and looked over it, but there were no obvious prints there either, except from hooves.'

  'Not much else we can do there, then. Let's assume for a moment that the back door being open is a blind.'

  'He'd need to be a bold one to go to that trouble.'

  'Yes, he would, but let's assume it anyway. He comes in at the front and goes out the same way. Big risk unless he can dodge into somewhere quickly, like the Bell. It would be interesting to know how long he might have been gone, if he did come from there.'

  'You're thinking of Adams?'

  'Not so much Adams, no. But it could have been
one of the others. Fancy a reconstruction? Knock him on the head, dispose of body, unlock back door, scarper back here.'

  'Who's doing it, sir?'

  'Toss you for it,' said Miles, producing a penny.

  'Heads,'

  'Tails, I'm afraid.'

  Rattigan sighed resignedly. 'Do I have to go for a pee first?'

  'That's a thought. Trouble is, we don't know if whoever it was actually used the gents'. He might have come out of the pub, seen Rowsell filling up and gone straight into the garage after him.'

  'Well if he did come out of the pub, oughtn't we to make it the maximum time, including a pee? Not a fair test otherwise.'

  'Yes, I suppose we should. Have your pee then, come out, pause to look about you, then nip into the garage. Off you go.'

  Noting the time, Miles watched his sergeant enter the gent's outside lavatory, emerge, look left and right, scuttle into the garage and eventually reappear. 'Four minutes and twenty-three seconds,' he told him. 'But the gents' took about half the time. Reasonably quick I suppose, either way. Probably not long enough for anyone to wonder where you'd got to.'

  'But where would he have got a weapon from in the Bell? And he wouldn't have known he needed it until he got outside. It also occurred to me, thinking about the pit, to wonder why Mrs Clement looked into it. It was out of her way too.'

  'She was expecting to find Rowsell in there somewhere but found the place deserted. She'd be bound to look and see if anyone was in the pit, especially it was normally covered. Wouldn't you?'

  'Yes, I suppose so, but I'm a policeman.'

  'I think she would. There's always the possibility, of course, that he had help.'

  'You mean, someone else dealt with the prostrate Rowsell while the killer shot back into the Bell, if that's what he did?'

  'Well, it's a thought. The back door too. They wouldn't be missed after four minutes but they might be after six or seven. Did you find out if anyone came out and didn't go back?'

  'No-one said anyone had. But would they? They wouldn't want to get a mate into trouble just for leaving early.'