by Faith Martin
‘Probably. It’s easier to just pigeonhole people,’ Clement said wearily. ‘Lallie was quiet and almost invisible – it was easy to assume he was a bit soft in the head. But in fact, I don’t suppose he was any less intelligent than anyone else in the village,’ Clement said.
‘So what exactly are we saying happened here?’ Trudy asked, looking around. Briar’s Hall stood with its solid, square Cotswold stone glowing mellow in the evening sunshine, and the flowerbeds growing ever more colourful and defined in the setting sun. A blackbird was singing from the top of a bush, and a yellow brimstone butterfly fluttered past them in search of nectar. It looked like a paradise on earth.
But of course, there was no such thing. ‘Lallie killed Eddie, didn’t he?’ she said simply.
Clement nodded. ‘I think that’s almost certain, yes. Until he regains consciousness and tells us his side of things, it has to be speculation. But I think it probably went something like this. Eddie and Emily found out about Oliver’s “wrestling lessons” and I think Eddie confided as much to Lallie. Perhaps because he saw wrestling as a man’s sport, and Emily soon lost interest in the spying game, he probably turned to Lallie to talk about it. Don’t forget, he was their “friend”. He made them a trolley to play on, and found bird’s nests for them. So why wouldn’t the boy tell him all about his discovery?’
Trudy shivered, but said resolutely, ‘Go on.’
‘Well, I think Lallie, who’d been in the war and was no innocent child, probably guessed immediately what the “wrestling” really amounted to. And once he knew where to look, it wouldn’t take him long to check out the visitors to the boathouse and see for himself how things were.’
Trudy nodded. ‘And he blackmailed him, didn’t he? Oliver de Lacey, I mean. That’s how he came to have all that money?’
‘Almost certainly, I think,’ Clement said. ‘And, if you look at things from his point of view, why not?’ the coroner said grimly. ‘He went off to fight for King and country and saw things that would turn anybody’s mind. A normal country lad, he couldn’t have been prepared for the slaughter of the trenches, or any of the other atrocities he must have seen. And when he finally comes home from all that horror, what does he get? A country fit for heroes? Does he hell,’ he said savagely.
‘He finds his old mum dead, and their cottage rented out to someone else,’ Trudy said emptily.
‘And the squire of the manor generously offers him a gazebo to live in. No running water, nothing,’ Clement agrees. ‘Oh, and a job that probably pays peanuts, working in the gardens. And he’s supposed to be grateful? No wonder he probably felt as if the de Laceys owed him. And when he discovered that Oliver wasn’t the ladies’ man he pretended to be – in fact, the exact opposite – the perfect opportunity to get some revenge was dropped in his lap. Not to mention a big pay-off.’
Trudy shifted slightly on the hard grass, but was too bone-weary to do much other than shift her position a bit.
‘And somehow Eddie found out about it – the cash he was accumulating, I mean,’ she said. ‘He must have, because at some point Emily’s little brother overheard he and Emily talking about money. It even makes sense why Emily should have said that the money wasn’t theirs – because it belonged to Lallie. I wonder how they found out about it?’
Clement shrugged. ‘If Lallie doesn’t confess, we might never know. But most likely, they were still playing spies and picked on Lallie to follow one day, and saw him either making a pick-up, or hiding his stash. I assume he left notes for Oliver to hide the money at various drop-off points around the estate. And then he’d collect it, once he was sure de Lacey had gone.’
‘Do you think he kept the money hidden in the shed?’ Trudy asked.
‘Could be. Or perhaps he had another hiding place, and they saw him go to it and were curious, and when he’d gone, found the “treasure” that George later heard them talking about.’
‘Do you think they took some of it?’ Trudy wondered out loud. ‘And Lallie noticed? That’s why he knew they were on to him?’
‘Perhaps. Or maybe Eddie just asked him about it. He was only 11 years old, remember, and he wouldn’t even know what the word blackmail meant. All he’d know was that his friend, the one who let him scrump the plums without chasing him, had an exciting hidden stash of money. He’d want to know all about it, and the simplest thing to do was ask.’
Trudy shuddered at the thought, just picturing it. So much innocence! The little boy, asking Lallie about the money, and perhaps wondering aloud what his friend was going to do with it. Was he going to buy a car or a boat or go somewhere special on holiday? And all the time, his excited babble was as good as signing his own death warrant. For Lallie would know that it would only be a matter of time before the boy talked. And then…
‘Lallie couldn’t afford to let Oliver de Lacey learn who it was who was blackmailing him, could he?’ she said. ‘He’d have gone out of his way to make sure that the squire’s powerful brother never knew who was fleecing him.’
‘Yes, I think so – because Lallie had seen for himself how things worked in this world. How it was always the officers who had the upper hand. And how easy it was for the rich and powerful to deal with the likes of himself. He’d have known that he’d be in danger if his identity were to become known. And the boy was in a position to tell.’
Trudy felt a tear trickle down her cheek. ‘So he lured Lallie to the well somehow that Easter Sunday. Probably with a note – that would have appealed to his sense of adventure, wouldn’t it? A secret code, asking him to meet by the well. And then… he just shoved him in?’ She could barely believe she’d just said those words. They seemed so heartless and cruel – all but unthinkable.
‘No,’ Clement surprised her by saying. ‘A soldier like Lallie would have been taught how to kill someone quickly and silently. I think he must have snapped the boy’s neck first. After all, if he’d just thrown the boy into the well, there was nothing to say the fall would be enough to kill him – or that he’d be knocked out and drowned. He could have survived and called for help, and been heard.’
‘Oh please, stop!’ Trudy wailed.
Wordlessly, Clement reached out and put his hand over hers.
For a while, they were silent again. Then, after a few minutes, they heard someone hail them.
It was the squire himself – Martin de Lacey. He was walking across the lawn, clearly having spotted the police cars still on the front drive, and then detouring as he spotted them. The bottoms of his trousers were wet, and Trudy remembered something about a tree coming down in a stream.
The poor squire. He’d returned home, expecting tea and a quiet evening, and instead he was walking into all this. But right now, she had little sympathy to spare.
Trudy groaned. ‘What do we tell him?’
‘The truth,’ Clement said flatly.
‘Do you think he knows his cousin is… you know?’
‘Oh yes,’ Clement said flatly. ‘And Oliver’s mother certainly knew.’
Trudy thought back to her interview with Sylvia de Lacey, and her agitation whenever ‘strange men’ wandering about the estate was mentioned, and silently agreed with him.
‘What’s going on here?’ Martin de Lacey called, but just then Jennings, of all people, came to their rescue. Hearing the voice, and guessing the man’s identity, the inspector quickly got out of his car and intercepted him. After all, here was a golden opportunity for him to shine and earn the approbation of an important man.
With a sigh of relief, they watched him intercept the squire and steer him back towards the house.
‘We’re going to have to talk to the Proctors, sooner rather than later,’ Clement said wearily. ‘Already word will be spreading like wildfire around the village that something’s up. The ambulance won’t have gone unnoticed. Or the fact that Oliver de Lacey was swept away in a big black car.’
Trudy nodded. ‘Do you think he really is a spy? Like Burgess or Maclean, I mean?’
/> ‘I doubt it. But that’s not really relevant is it?’ Clement sighed. ‘He was paying blackmail so that he wouldn’t have to go to jail or face scandal and become a social pariah. The fact that it made him vulnerable to the Soviets as well was just one more reason to make sure the truth never came out.’
Trudy nodded. ‘The Proctors’ house isn’t far,’ she said. But in truth, she felt so tired she wasn’t even sure she could stand, let alone walk to the village.
The coroner looked at her, and squeezed her hand. ‘We’ll talk to them in the morning, shall we?’ he said gently.
‘You’ll come with me?’
‘Yes. I’ll come with you.’
‘Thank you, Dr Ryder.’
‘You’re welcome, Constable Loveday.’
Epilogue
It was a big day in the Loveday household. The man from Rediffusion was bringing the television set, and Frank Loveday was looking at the newly bought television licence with satisfaction. Four quid it had cost him – all but a week’s wages! But it was going to be worth it.
He was looking forward to watching The Arthur Askey Show, and that Avengers programme that all his mates down at the pub were going on about.
Barbara was also excited. She’d rearranged the furniture countless ways until she was finally happy with where the new set would go. She suspected that her daughter would want to watch Dixon of Dock Green, but for herself, she would be happy to start following the doings of the people on Coronation Street.
*
But upstairs, lying on her bed and staring listlessly at the ceiling, television was the last thing on Trudy’s mind.
It had been three weeks since Lallie Clark had tried to kill her, and she still awoke in the middle of the night, sweating, knowing that she was going to die, all coiled up and just waiting for the glinting, slicing blade to decapitate her.
The bruises on her body had healed, but her mind was a long way from feeling whole and normal.
She’d been very careful to downplay what had happened that day at Briar’s Hall, telling her parents only that she’d had to arrest someone on suspicion of the boy’s murder.
Lallie Clark had regained consciousness and would be tried for the murder of Eddie Proctor. But there would be no public trial – afraid of what he might say in open court about Oliver de Lacey, the Home Office had made sure the trial would be carried out away from the public eye.
Little Emily de Lacey had been sent to a boarding school in Dorset. The family thought it best to get her away from the village for a while.
Marjorie Chandler, fickle to the end, had moved back to the States, taking her fortune with her.
And the Proctors… The Proctors had buried their son.
She turned restlessly on her bed and eyed the wallpaper morosely.
They’d solved the case, but Trudy couldn’t feel any sense of kudos or satisfaction, for neither she, nor Clement, had had any idea that Lallie was the killer. It wasn’t as if they’d reasoned it out and been rewarded by nabbing their man. The answer had just been thrust upon them – at the point of a scythe.
It all seemed so random, Trudy thought unhappily. If she and Clement hadn’t gone back to the Hall, or seen Lallie, or gone to the lake, or heard the shed door slamming – or any other number of things – then Lallie would have packed his suitcase, taken his blood money and disappeared into the evening.
But one thing was for sure. If Dr Clement Ryder hadn’t been there with her, she wouldn’t be here now. She wouldn’t be lying on her bed, listening to her parents below playfully bickering over what television programme they were going to watch first.
She would be dead.
For the first time since joining the police force, she had been forced to face her own mortality.
She’d always known that she wasn’t as clever as Dr Ryder. That she wasn’t as strong as Sergeant O’Grady, or as experienced as DI Jennings. But all these things could be overcome. With time, she would acquire wisdom and experience.
But the one thing she couldn’t do was make herself brave.
Somehow, she had to get over this setback and grow a backbone. Get back to her old confident self and do her job without second-guessing herself.
Otherwise her whole career would hang in the balance.
Desperate to know how Trudy will overcome her run-in with Lallie? If you want to be the first to know about the next gripping Ryder and Loveday case, sign up to Faith Martin’s email list here
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this book – we hope you enjoyed it! If you did, we’d be so appreciative if you left a review.
Here at HQ Digital we are dedicated to publishing fiction that will keep you turning the pages into the early hours. We publish a variety of genres, from heartwarming romance, to thrilling crime and sweeping historical fiction.
To be the first to hear about new releases, competitions, 99p eBooks and promotions, sign up to our monthly email newsletter.
Click here to sign up!
You can also join our community of readers by following us at:
: @HQDigitalUK
: facebook.com/HQStories
Are you a budding writer? We’re also looking for authors to join the HQ Digital family! Please submit your manuscript to:
[email protected].
Hope to hear from you soon!
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
Bay Adelaide Centre, East Tower
22 Adelaide Street West, 41st Floor
Toronto, Ontario, M5H 4E3
http://www.harpercollins.ca
India
HarperCollins India
A 75, Sector 57
Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201 301, India
http://www.harpercollins.co.in
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com
