‘You look as if you’ve just won a raffle or something!’ laughed Mark.
Over a cup of tea produced by Barbara, Mark’s secretary, Lorraine told Mark about her day. When she reached the stage of referring to the road beneath the bridge, he laughed and said, ‘Don’t tell me! The child was in the dip in the road and couldn’t see the pony and trap…’
‘Sir! You let me work that out… I went all the way to Rosenthorpe and you knew all the time…’
‘No, I didn’t,’ he said. ‘Duncan worked it out — or guessed it. But I’m delighted you have confirmed that it is a distinct possibility. But you’ve found more?’
She told Mark of her conversation with Millicent Roe, referring to the peculiar rhyme she had discovered and the tale of the ghost of James Hartley. When she had concluded this part of her story, Mark nodded in agreement.
‘There’s something bloody odd about all this.’ He sighed. ‘I’ve a feeling that if we dig much deeper, we’re going to turn up a lot of nasties from the past.’
‘Should we call a halt, sir?’ She used the formal term automatically for this was, at least for the moment, a discussion between a subordinate and her boss. ‘Perhaps we should not pursue it any further — you know, let the family rest in peace. It’s going to be traumatic enough for the Hartleys having to cope with all those Americans. They’re going to start digging too, aren’t they?’
‘Let us suppose there is some muck to unearth, Lorraine.’ Pemberton smiled. ‘Suppose the Vice-President himself decides to dig deeper. He might find something nasty. Imagine that — what a shock for our VIP visitor.’
‘But that is surely his problem, not ours.’
‘I appreciate that, and I am the first to realise that these people might not be related to him. But if there is something dirty awaiting discovery, I think we should be the ones to find it. In fact, we must find it, if only to stop him mouthing off all over the place. Assuming we do find something awful, we can then decide what further action to take. We might be able to smooth things over, if you see what I mean. Knowledge is power, don’t forget, Lorraine! I don’t want him blabbing all over the world’s press about skeletons in the cupboard of a decent, hard-working English family — which he might do if he’s anti-British. Imagine these decent folk having to live with that, just so that he can score some obscure political point. It would be especially awful if they were not related to him.’
‘You’re very wary of his so-called Yorkshire bluntness!’
‘It could be worse than that Yorkshire bluntness!’ laughed Mark. ‘So, if there is something lurking in the woodwork, I want to be the first to find it. And there is something lurking, I’m sure, and I’m positive it’s linked to James’s death.’
‘Fair enough. I can see the sense of your argument.’ She smiled. ‘But Millicent clearly knows something. She’s not senile by any means and I believe she’s come to realise precisely what she saw when she was only six.’
‘I’ll try to find time for a chat with her,’ Mark said. ‘But first, I think we should glean every scrap from this old file. It does keep throwing up surprises. It might produce more questions that Millicent could answer I’ll bet she’s the only surviving witness from the murder investigation.’
‘And I must go and get ready for my desk duty.’ Lorraine realised it was almost time for work as she hurriedly sipped the last of her tea. ‘But before I go, there’s another puzzle.’
‘You have been busy.’
She smiled. ‘I’m like you, I can’t bear sitting around getting bored! So after Millicent told me her story, I went back to Wolversdale churchyard. They’ve done more work there, clearing the Hartley graves for their important visitor.’
‘And?’
‘Luke’s not buried there, sir,’ she said. ‘Out of the brothers and sisters mentioned in our file, those who were alive in 1916, several are buried in St Monica’s. But Luke is not. If he was head of the family, you’d think he would have been buried with the others.’
‘The file doesn’t say when he died?’
‘No, there’s no mention of his death.’
‘What about the continuation sheets? Have you gone through those in detail? I believe they contain a potted version of the enquiries which were pursued for several months after the murder. There might be some reference to Luke there — you know the sort of thing: he might have gone to live in another area, he might have died, taken another farm or something. Duncan won’t have got that far yet in programming HOLMES — it’ll mean a physical search of the file.’
‘I never thought of looking there, sir,’ and she blushed as if admitting an error.
‘I haven’t read them either. I was leaving them until the very end, as a sort of summing up. I thought they might round off the file, for us as well as for that old team. But it might be worth a look if Luke did disappear for any reason. So did Luke emigrate? Do you think our Luke could in fact be the Vice-President’s grandfather? And a murder suspect to boot!’
‘There are certainly a lot of uncanny coincidences,’ Lorraine said. ‘It’s just odd that George did not agree, that he knew nothing of Luke. Anyway, I’ll plod through the files again while I’m on reception tonight. Now I really must go and get ready.’
He watched her lithe figure disappear from his office. She had a most alluring walk, sensuous and flowing, smooth and even stately. She was lovely.
Evening duty at the reception desk kept Lorraine very busy. The Americans and the officers from Scotland Yard and the local Special Branch seemed to be coming and going all the time, some walking in the parkland, others walking down to the little town to sample the hospitality in the local inns and others going for drives in the surrounding countryside. There seemed to be even more of them now and Lorraine found herself checking passes in and out, making entries in ledgers and answering questions about everything from how old the church tower was, to whether the Lord of the Manor wore a coronet and why Yorkshire people hunted foxes and grouse but hated badger baiters. She told them where to find good food, books about the area, maps of the moors and details of places like Castle Howard, Duncombe Park, Nunnington Hall, the moors steam railway and the coastal villages like Staithes and Robin Hood’s Bay.
After finishing his daily stint at 7.00pm, Mark went to his room, washed and changed, and came down for his supper in the canteen. He joined Paul Larkin at his table and ordered soup followed by a ham salad, then ice-cream as a sweet. During the meal, they deliberately avoided talking about the Hartley enquiries, partly because each felt it unfair to ‘talk shop’ when off duty, and partly because they might be overheard.
Larkin said he fancied a walk into the town for a pint of real ale and invited Mark to join him. Mark agreed. It would be a very pleasant excursion.
They checked out at reception, showed their passes to Lorraine and watched her enter their names in the ledger.
‘Is the system working, Lorraine?’ Mark asked.
‘Yes, sir, it’s simple but effective. If anyone fails to return without reason, we can tell fairly quickly just by checking down the right-hand column. And everybody who goes out knows the system now, so it’s working well. We’ve even got the decorators into the system!’
‘Great. Well, Paul and I are going to sample the quality of the ale at the Brockton Arms. See you when we get back.’
As the two detectives drank their glasses of real ale in the comfort of a friendly Yorkshire inn, it was inevitable that they discussed their current work. They were in a quiet corner near the fire where there was little chance of an eavesdropper overhearing them. Mark found himself explaining to Larkin some of his recent thoughts about the feasibility of continuing with his Hartley investigations and he found Larkin agreeing with him. He knew Paul well enough to know that he would not express his agreement if he did not believe they were doing the right thing. Mark found this reassuring. In delving into the background of the Hartleys, it seemed he had already turned up more than he’d anticipated. But, as he h
ad said before, murder was murder, whether it had been committed last night or nearly eighty years ago.
And an unsolved murder file was never officially closed, even if it was stored in an attic for decades and even if the chief suspect might turn out to be an ancestor of the Vice-President of the USA.
Their conversation ranged over the facts which had so far emerged, Mark expressing his professional opinion that Luke Hartley was by far the most obvious suspect. The fact that he had not been arrested for further interrogation remained something of a puzzle because the circumstantial evidence against him was sufficient to justify an arrest, if not a trial in the Assizes. Careful and systematic interrogation could have followed while he was in custody. He might have ‘coughed’ if he’d been incarcerated for a week or two. At that time, there were none of the restrictions which are imposed on modern police interrogations; restrictions of the kind enforced by the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984 had never been thought necessary.
Paul Larkin highlighted the nagging fact that no motive had been found; there had not even been a hint of one. There was no family animosity, no jealous rival — nothing which would amount to a motive of any kind, let alone one for murder. And without a motive, it was difficult to understand why anyone would kill the returning soldier. And so, after talking shop over several pints, the two detectives walked back to Thirklewood Hall.
It was eleven thirty when they entered, and Lorraine’s face was a picture of happiness.
‘Sir,’ she said, ‘you were right. Luke was mentioned in those continuation reports.’
‘Was he? So what happened to him?’
Chapter Ten
‘He emigrated, sir, to Canada, in 1916,’ Lorraine told him.
‘Canada? Are you sure?’
‘Yes, according to Inspector Dawson. It was following Dawson’s initial enquiries. You remember the railway linesman, Lapsley? He claimed to have seen Luke and Millicent Roe near the scene of the murder and we wondered why that evidence didn’t result in Luke’s arrest. Well, Lapsley wasn’t interviewed until Friday, 13th October — we didn’t check the date on his statement when we read it. He lived away from Rosenthorpe and the police didn’t realise he’d seen something until later — but by then, Luke had left the country. Lapsley hadn’t come forward earlier because he hadn’t realised how important his evidence was. There’s a note among the continuation sheets which says that this statement confirmed Dawson’s belief that Luke was guilty, and he decided to re-interview Luke about the facts revealed in Lapsley’s evidence. But when he got to the farm to confront Luke, Luke had already left, and his family had gone with him. Wife and kids. They had sailed from Liverpool on 6th October — Dawson checked with the shipping line. Neither Luke nor his family told a soul they were leaving — it was all done with the utmost secrecy.’
‘Had he run away? Does it say anything about him running from justice?’
‘No, but it does look as if it was planned. There’s nothing to say he’d fled from the police, there’s just a note to say that he’d gone to start a new life in Canada.’
‘Canada? Not America?’
‘Yes, lots of people from this district did that — Canada was full of English families from this part of Yorkshire who’d left to seek their fortunes.’
‘Do we know when Luke made those plans? In other words, did he plan to leave England before or after James was killed?’
‘We don’t know when he started thinking of going, but does it matter? He might have wanted to get away from the farm anyway; he might have blamed himself for James’s death. If he didn’t kill James, he probably dwelt on the notion that if he’d been on time at the station, James would have lived. And I can’t see him having an easy time with his mother once James was dead — she seems to have been neurotic or at least to have had a fixation with James. I’m sure she’d blame Luke for James’s death even if he was innocent. I can’t see that his departure can be regarded as a sign that he murdered his brother even if it was a form of personal guilt for his death.’
‘That’s not how I see it!’ Mark told her. ‘I reckon he killed James and then left the country before he could be arrested. He must have known that, sooner or later, the truth would emerge.’
‘I agree he must have had some feeling of personal responsibility, whatever happened.’ She spoke softly.
‘I think he realised he was the main suspect and that he’d be questioned at length if more evidence came to light. So he went somewhere beyond the reach of the local constabulary.’
‘But,’ said Lorraine, ‘if Dawson really thought Luke was guilty, and Lapsley’s statement was the clue he’d been waiting for, wouldn’t he have pursued Luke to Canada?’
‘I doubt it. In spite of everything, there was no real evidence, no firm proof of his guilt, certainly not enough to justify a policeman crossing the Atlantic to arrest him. And I’m not sure what extradition procedures were in force at that time — although they did go after Dr Crippen! Murder was almost certainly an extraditable offence but without the necessary proof I doubt if Luke could have been brought back for trial. You can’t extradite suspects unless you’ve got some fairly strong evidence.’
‘So if he had murdered James, he would be able to begin a new life overseas without anyone knowing his past?’
‘Exactly — unless there was some very positive evidence against him. In this case, the evidence was all circumstantial and very weak.’
Pemberton was now struggling to assess the implication of the Vice-President’s grandfather being a suspected murderer. But was this Luke really the Vice-President’s grandfather?
‘Lorraine, I’ve a nice job for you. Try to ascertain whether our Luke Caleb and the Vice-President’s grandad really are one and the same person. We don’t know for sure that they are, do we? We need more evidence, more links, something positive.’
‘Where do I start on that, sir?’ She looked slightly flustered at the task he’d given her.
‘Well, the Americans have some information which they’ve produced from somewhere. They’ve already provided us with a little of it, so have words with that boss chap of theirs from the White House. They probably have a lot more detail about Hartley’s claim to be of Yorkshire descent.’
‘You mean Mr Dunnock?’
‘That’s him. I’ve seen him eyeing you from time to time — exercise your feminine charms on him! Tell him we need to complete our files for security purposes. And then, having established what you can at the other side of the pond, give the Maritime Museum at Liverpool a ring. They keep emigration records and might even have passenger lists from that period. And photographs? Does the Vice-President have photos of his ancestors? Any relics which might have come from Wolversdale? Surely Luke must have taken some precious family heirlooms with him. The Vice-President might still have some family treasures which can be linked to Pike Hill Farm.’
‘But if our Luke and his Luke are one and the same person, it’s not going to be very pleasant for the Vice-President to learn of his grandfather’s guilty secret.’
‘At this stage, Lorraine, we’re not sure whether his grandad had a secret, are we? It’s speculation on our part. And I would never reveal anything that was grossly embarrassing without consulting the Chief Constable first — and he’d have to have words with someone in high places before we presented any unsavoury facts to the great man.’
‘When shall I make those enquiries, sir?’
‘In duty time, Lorraine! What are you doing tomorrow?’
‘I’m on standby, sir. Just hanging around here, in other words.’
‘Find yourself a quiet office, then charm Mr Dunnock into telling you all about the Vice-President, and follow it up by ringing a few people, starting with the Maritime Museum in Liverpool.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Well, I’m off to bed and then, tomorrow, if there’s nothing to keep me here, I’m going to visit George Hartley at Pike Hill Farm. It’s time I talked to him at length. I’m sure
he must know something about his family’s past.’
Next morning, Friday, 8th July, Detective Inspector Paul Larkin assured Mark Pemberton that he was quite capable of coping with any matter which might arise at Thirklewood Hall. Mark therefore drove out to Wolversdale, having first telephoned the Hartleys to make an appointment. George said he would be around the farm buildings all day and told Pemberton he could come at any time during the morning. Half-past ten was suggested because that was ’lowance time, when the farmers and their staff take a break for their allowance of sandwiches and cakes with tea or coffee. Alark arrived at twenty-five past ten. He drove into the well-kept and very spacious yard, noting the rugged stonework of Pike Hill farmhouse ahead of him. To his left, however, was a brick-built bungalow standing on land which had once been a paddock at the west end of the house. This was now the home of George Caleb Hartley and his wife. Mark went to the kitchen door where he was met by Mrs Hartley, a stout happy-faced lady with red cheeks and short grey hair.
‘He’s in the sitting-room,’ she said, ‘waiting. I’ll fetch your ’lowance through, Mr Pemberton.’
‘Thanks.’
The spacious sitting-room was sumptuously furnished with a pair of matching three-piece suites, a thick carpet rich in autumnal shades and lots of original watercolours around the walls. As Mark entered, his eye caught one of the paintings and Hartley spotted his interest.
‘Our Maria did those,’ said George. ‘Sold a fair lot, she did, and had exhibitions. She liked the moors, you see, Mr Pemberton, and allus painted scenes with heather in.’
‘They’re good.’ Pemberton found them attractive. ‘She’s captured the feel of the heather.’
‘Aye. She got the purple just right — not many folks can do that. They either make it too red or too blue, but not our Maria. She was good with her purple.’
Family Ties (The Mark Pemberton Cases Book 1) Page 10
