by Ann Granger
I was now really angry. Cora Dawlish knew where to find my husband, indeed had a very good knowledge of his movements, whereas I did not. Cora and her sister seemed to know everything. In fact I suspected the pair of them knew a great deal more about everyone’s business than they chose to tell. That is the base of their power, I thought. No wonder the villagers are in awe of them.
‘I am on my way to the post office,’ I said. ‘Good day to you, Miss Cora.’
The village, when I reached it, seemed to be deserted, but for a few urchins loitering around the pump. Doors and windows were all fast shut. Not a face looked out as I walked by. The sense of fear was almost palpable. I posted my letter in the box, and turned to go when something flew past me and rattled along the ground. I looked down just in time to see a pebble come to rest.
I turned angrily, even as a second missile came hurtling towards me. I managed to jump aside and avoid it. The urchins round the pump had formed up in a little phalanx, facing me. Among them I recognised the tousle-headed lad in the overlarge hand-me-downs whom I’d previously seen holding the bridle of Harcourt’s horse. He seemed to be the ringleader, although he was now empty-handed. Others had armed themselves with stones, as I saw from clenched fists. Well, those young hooligans were mistaken if they thought me an easy target. I strode wrathfully towards them. Their bravado crumbled in an instant; and they scattered in every direction, running between the buildings and vanishing like rats into crannies. Their tousle-headed ringleader ran faster than the others. He’d seen the recognition in my face when I saw him.
Foiled in my vengeance, I could only turn back and start off again. But a man in blue-and-red uniform had come out of the post office. I recognised Charlie, the postman, who had brought letters to The Old Excise House.
‘Born to be hung!’ said Charlie cheerfully, shaking his head. Presumably he meant the children. ‘Not harmed, Mrs Ross, I hope?’
‘Their aim was poor,’ I replied angrily. ‘But their intention was at best ill-natured. At any rate, it was an assault. Where do I find the nearest constable?’
‘Oh, now, you don’t need to trouble old Gosling,’ said Charlie placatingly. ‘I’ll take care of it for you. I’ll speak to their parents. You’ll have no more trouble of that sort.’
‘I should not have been subjected to it in the first place!’ I stormed. It wasn’t Charlie’s fault and he was trying to pour oil on troubled waters. But I was in no mood to settle for less than some sort of vengeance. ‘And I’ve seen the ringleader before. He has hand-me-down clothes and fair hair.’
Charlie leaned towards me. ‘If I might offer a word of advice, ma’am? Meaning it for the best, you understand? Let the matter go. I promise you, there will be no more trouble.’
My anger was subsiding. ‘Very well, Charlie, I’ll leave it in your hands,’ I told him.
‘That’s it, ma’am. You do that.’ He smiled and nodded, his dark little eyes twinkling in the way I remembered.
‘Charlie!’ I asked suspiciously. ‘Your surname wouldn’t be Dawlish, would it?’
He looked shocked. ‘Bless you, ma’am, no! I’ve got nothing to do with that pair of old crows. It’s what you mean to ask, isn’t it? Whether I’ve got anything to do with the aunties, sitting up there on their bench, day in day out? You’ll have passed them, I dare say, on your way down to the village and back.’
‘It is. Everyone seems to be related to everyone else around here. Even Wilfred, the stableman at the Acorn, is a Dawlish.’
‘Take no notice of those two old biddies,’ said Charlie earnestly. ‘They might scare some folk but not me. Bats in the belfry, that’s what they’ve got.’ He grinned and tapped his forehead meaningfully. ‘And they’re no kin of mine. As for Wilf Dawlish, he’s a good fellow. He can’t help his relatives, any more than anyone can. There are plenty of folk who’ve got someone in the family who is dotty.’
‘And Davy Evans, who lodges with the sisters? Is he connected to that family?’
Charlie pursed his mouth. ‘I wouldn’t know anything about that. I stay away from Davy and, if I might be so bold, you and the other lady staying up at The Old Excise House might be advised to avoid him. By all accounts, Davy is a useful sort of chap, there’s no denying it. But I wouldn’t go buying any bottles of French brandy from him.’
Startled, I said firmly, ‘I have no intention of buying any brandy from Davy or anyone else!’ It was time to change the subject. ‘You have heard the news of Mr Harcourt’s riding accident, I dare say?’
‘Yes, ma’am. ’Tis very sad.’ Charlie shook his head mournfully. ‘A fine man, Mr Harcourt.’
‘News travels fast around here. Did you also hear it from Davy Evans?’
‘No, ma’am, I fancy I heard it from Jacob Dennis.’
‘Jacob Dennis!’ I exclaimed. ‘But he is at The Old Excise House, gardening.’
‘He was down here in the Black Horse public house, less than an hour ago,’ said Charlie. ‘Very likely he’s gone back home now.’
Then the news would have travelled ahead of me there and Mrs Parry would know all about it.
‘I must get back, Charlie. I’m obliged to you over the matter of those hooligans.’
‘You want me to send someone to walk with you, ma’am?’
But I had already set off making the best speed I could, although the return walk was uphill. I called back over my shoulder to say I needed no escort. When I reached the sisters’ cottage, it was to see that Aunt Tibby had joined Aunt Cora. The pair of them sat there, watching me puff my way along. I fancied they were enjoying the sight. But my legs were aching and my feet sore.
I halted in front of them long enough to snap, ‘I’d be obliged to you both if you’d stop telling everyone in the village I bring death with me. If you don’t, I shall count it as slander and put the matter in the hands of the law.’
I did not wait for any reply but marched on. As I feared, when I got home I found Mrs Parry in a fine state of panic.
‘Where have you been, Elizabeth! I have been worried quite out of my wits. I told you not to go wandering about out there alone. But you would not take my advice. There is murderer on the loose and poor Mr Harcourt is dead.’
‘I heard the news in the village but my understanding is that it was a tragic riding accident,’ I replied.
‘It makes no difference,’ she retorted. ‘He is dead, poor man, and I don’t believe he would be if poor Sir Henry had not been killed first.’
‘We have no evidence it has been anything other than a riding accident,’ I maintained stubbornly. But, in truth, privately I was inclined to agree with her.
‘We should go back to London!’ declared Mrs Parry. ‘I’ll tell Nugent to pack.’
‘You will return if you wish, of course,’ I said. ‘But I shall stay here while my husband is here.’
‘But Inspector Ross is not here!’ argued Mrs Parry. ‘He’s staying at that inn, what did you say it was called? The Acorn, that’s it, and there is little protection he can give us from there. Why can’t he come and stay here at The Old Excise House?’
‘Because it would not be practical for him, Aunt Parry. He is here on official business.’
This argument did not impress Aunt Parry, who simmered in silence for a few moments before a new idea struck her. ‘Perhaps we all should move to the inn.’
There was a moment while I quite enjoyed imagining the scene in which Aunt Parry and I, with Nugent and all our baggage, arrived to confront Ben at the Acorn. I dismissed it, but it had served to lighten my mood. I did my best to look stern.
‘You would not be comfortable there, even if the inn could accommodate us all, and I dare say it could not. At any rate, I shall stay here.’
‘You were always a very difficult, headstrong girl when you were my companion,’ stated Aunt Parry. ‘And I am sorry to say that marriage has not improved your disposition.’
She sulked until we sat down to dinner. I realised that she was genuinely frightened, a
nd felt a little guilty at being so unsympathetic. To make amends I offered to play cards for the rest of the evening, and she cheered up a little. A drawer in the little study proved to contain packs for Bezique. That was one of Aunt Parry’s favourites and she beat me soundly.
Chapter Fourteen
Inspector Ben Ross
The Berlin rumbled to a halt before the Acorn at five minutes past eight the following morning. I had made my arrangements with Mrs Garvey the evening before, so I was ready; I dashed out of the door and leaped in before Pelham could realise what was happening and demand to accompany me. Even so, he had heard the rumble of wheels. I had a fleeting vision, as we rattled and creaked our way out of the inn yard, of Pelham in his shirt, leaning out of an upper window. The expression on his face was one I would cherish. It would not have surprised me if he had shaken his fist. When I returned later, he would be waiting for me and then we’d have some sparks flying.
Mrs Garvey had made me coffee. I drank it so fast I nearly scalded my throat. She’d also kindly put up a ham sandwich for my breakfast. I munched it as we lurched along the road to the Hall.
When I reached my destination I found there were four horses saddled and ready, waiting for us. Beresford was grim-faced. Davy Evans was there as I’d requested, and skulked in the background. There was no other way to describe it. He avoided my eye and stared sullenly at the ground. I suspected he’d had a dressing down about taking the horse to ride off and spread the news. There was also a man I’d not seen before, having the appearance of a groom. He must be the man sent to fetch Evans to the Hall.
The horse made ready for me was a larger animal than Firefly and I felt a little apprehensive as I scrambled into the saddle.
‘Don’t worry, sir,’ said young Joe, who held the animal’s head. ‘She’s a quiet beast.’
‘How long will it take us to get to the spot?’ I called to Beresford.
‘No more than fifteen or twenty minutes,’ he called back.
I took that to mean he could have ridden there in fifteen minutes or less. Extra time was being allowed to take account of my limited equestrian skills. I was glad I’d done some riding about the countryside and was not a complete novice.
It did take us twenty minutes to reach the wood through which ran the path taken by the unfortunate Harcourt. I slid from the saddle and set off with Beresford towards the trees. I was aware of Davy Evans behind us, keeping his distance. A log barrier had been rolled across the entrance to the path through the copse, as Beresford had warned me. He now signalled to the groom to remove it and Evans came forward to help. In all this, Evans avoided my gaze; no doubt aware I had a close eye on him. The path was narrow and the trees and banks of bracken crowded in upon it on either side. Nettles poked up among the fronds. Foxgloves raised their heads in splashes of purplish pink; otherwise it was a gloomy tunnel into which we walked.
After two or three minutes, Beresford halted. ‘Here!’ he said briefly.
Even without his having spoken, I would have known this was the place. Just ahead of us, the bracken and foxgloves on one side had been crushed into a flattened carpet of vegetation. That was where the horse had landed when it had been brought down on its side. Immediately before us, and just before the damaged undergrowth, the path was churned and stamped by the boots of those who’d retrieved the body. The small rock, or large stone, mentioned by Beresford was still there. I picked it up, examined it carefully and set it down again. I turned to Evans, who had been watching uneasily.
‘Show me exactly where the body lay,’ I ordered him.
He came forward silently and pointed down at the ground.
‘I need to know exactly,’ I snapped. ‘Get down and show me the position.’
He’d not expected that and he didn’t like it. But he dropped to his knees and stretched out to show how the body had lain.
‘All right,’ I told him. He scrambled to his feet with alacrity. But I hadn’t finished with him yet. ‘You saw no wire?’
‘No, sir,’ he said.
‘Then we must search for where it was fixed.’
It did not take us long. The groom called out, ‘Here, Mr Beresford, sir!’
He had located a sturdy sapling around the base of which, about ten inches above the ground, the bark was scored with incisions that resembled the cuts on the legs of the horse as I’d been shown them the previous evening. A search, on the exact opposite side of the path, revealed similar traces of wire around another young tree trunk. But of the wire itself there was no sign. We searched in the undergrowth around for several minutes in case whoever had removed it had simply tossed it away. But we had no luck. Our killer – and there was now no doubt we had a murder on our hands – was a careful planner.
‘Now then, Evans,’ I said to the fellow. ‘Tell me again exactly why you took this path and what you saw.’
‘We were sent out to search for Mr Harcourt, after his horse came home riderless,’ Evans replied promptly. ‘We knew where he’d been going. He was making a round of the tenant farmers. I knew the route the rest of the search party was taking, but I decided to go round in the opposite direction. I’d reckoned that, if he was visiting Honeywell Farm, Mr Harcourt would take this way through the wood, either going or coming back. So I came here – and I saw him.’ He pointed at the path. ‘Lying there dead, like I showed you.’
‘On your way here, did you look out for him? He might have been walking home on foot, having been thrown for some reason.’
‘Of course I looked out for him!’ Evans raised his voice truculently. ‘I didn’t know then he was dead, did I? I kept a sharp lookout but didn’t see him, nor any other living soul.’
‘Then you entered this copse?’ I prompted.
He drew in a deep breath. ‘Yes, sir, like I told you.’
‘And the very first thing you saw was…?’
Evans paused and frowned. ‘Hoofmarks,’ he said. ‘In the mud. It’s generally pretty muddy, this path. The sun don’t get through the branches and dry out the ground. The prints showed an animal going at some speed, so I went in very slow and saw there was something on the path ahead. I dismounted, hitched my horse to a branch and came along here on foot. There he was, Harcourt, stretched out dead, like I showed you. I knelt over him and checked he was a goner.’
He pointed to twin indentations, round in shape and side by side. ‘There, that’s where I knelt! Them’s my knees made those holes in the mud. And them, over there, that’s where I knelt just now, to get down and lie flat, as you told me to. Anyway, I thought to myself, do I go back straight away to the Hall and tell someone? But I knew Mr Beresford was out with the search party. So I reckoned, as I’d not seen him on my way there, he must be working his way round the circle the opposite way, and would be calling at Honeywell Farm last. I turned back to remount and ride on to Honeywell, but I heard voices and hoofbeats coming from that direction, towards me, and sure enough it was Mr Beresford and his party coming towards the wood. I ran out, waved to stop them and told them what I’d found. That’s it!’ he concluded defiantly.
‘What about the large stone, or small rock, if you prefer, that lies by the body?’
Evans looked startled. ‘What of it?’
‘You saw it. It’s that one, I fancy, lying there.’ I pointed at it.
‘Oh, aye, I saw that. Paid little attention to it. I suppose he might have hit his head on it.’ Evans shrugged.
‘There are no similar large stones around, just the one there. Why is that, do you think? The soil around here is peaty, not rocky.’
‘No idea, sir.’ Evans had regained his calm. ‘But you do find an odd one like that, here and there, in the undergrowth.’
‘And you saw no one else around at the time? You heard no one, in the undergrowth, or noticed any movement among the trees?’
‘No, sir, not a living soul, nor beast, neither.’
‘But this wood must be full of wildlife?’
‘Aye, but it’s shy. When men
are moving around here, they make off.’ Evans indicated the woodland and brambles around us. ‘Do you hear or see anything now? You won’t, because we’re here.’
He not only sounded confident, but also slightly superior. I was a townie, ignorant of the ways of woodland creatures. I gave him a nod, which he took as dismissal. He looked relieved and turned to walk away.
Beresford, who had been watching and listening, now asked, ‘Well?’
‘The undergrowth must be searched for the wire. Obviously someone removed it from where it had been tied across the path, and removed it quickly. This may be the work of one pair of hands, but it’s also possible there are two people involved: one who set the trap and a second one, hidden nearby, who scurried out and removed the wire immediately, before making off with it. Also, we must alert them at Honeywell Farm. If anyone, living or working there, comes across a tangle of discarded wire anywhere, they should let us know – or let you know – at once. Then you can send word to me. But we must find that wire. It is important evidence and the coroner will certainly ask if it’s been found, and if not, why not. We must make every effort.’
‘Do I leave the path open now? Or put back the barrier?’ he asked. ‘I can’t promise someone won’t move it. It will be an inconvenience to local people.’
‘You can leave it open now. But we’ll take that large stone with us.’
‘Why are you so interested in that?’ asked Beresford curiously.
I glanced around to ensure no one overheard us. ‘Because we know this is no accident. We have clear evidence that the horse was brought down by wire. As for the stone, I suspect that was brought here, either by the person who set the wire; or by the accomplice who waited to remove it. Had Harcourt’s horse been brought down and Harcourt thrown, but not killed, only lying dazed and possibly with other injuries, the setter of wire, or an accomplice hiding in the trees nearby, would have been ready to finish him off with a blow from this stone.’
