The Blackwoods Farm Enquiry (An Ivy Beasley Mystery)
Page 17
“Oh yes. Wasn’t it them Blatches? Maybe the one who’s just died. She came from up north. Lincolnshire, I think. They’ll probably sell it off now. The young ones don’t want to go into farming these days. Anyway, the agents are round the corner, on the market square. You can’t miss it.”
Roy thanked the waitress politely. “I suppose Mrs. Winchen Blatch used to come in here for your excellent coffee now and then?”
“Once or twice, I think. It’s coming back to me now,” she said. “She came in one morning, years ago, when I first came to work here. She was looking very down-at-heel, and didn’t speak to anyone. I remember because she made a bit of a scene about the bill. And she lit up one of them cigarillo things, and our manageress asked her politely to put it out. She said she wouldn’t, and it was all very unpleasant. No law against it in them days. She never came in again, thank goodness!”
“How long ago would that be?” said Ivy quickly.
“Oh, years ago, dear. As I said, she never came in again. Now, is there anything else I can get you?”
Ivy shook her head politely, and when the waitress was out of earshot, she looked across the table. “Come along, Roy,” she said. “Time we went on our way. We shall be back next week, God willing.”
Once outside, with Roy safely back in his trundle, Ivy set off for the market square. With only fifty yards to go, they were quickly there. Roy climbed down to the pavement, and followed Ivy into the impressive offices of Botham, Son and Lords.
Roy’s old friend was in his office, and greeted them with pleasure. “Long time no see, Roy old man. And have I heard whispers that you are breaking the habit of a lifetime and getting wed soon? And this is your lovely fiancée, I presume.”
Ivy was introduced, and coffee was offered but turned down politely.
“Strange you should come in this morning, Roy,” said the agent. “I had a call from someone called Smith this morning, making preliminary enquiries about selling a farm in Barrington. Rickwood Smith, his name was. A new one on me. But I know the farm. Blackwoods, isn’t it? Old Ted Blatch ran the place very well, but he died years ago, and I believe his widow died in unusual circumstances recently?”
After more reminiscing, the agent said he planned to go and have a quick look around the old place this afternoon. Perhaps he could meet Ivy and Roy there?
Ivy explained her brief acquaintance with Rickwood Smith, who would also be there, and the expedition was confirmed with another telephone call.
Thirty-five
“YOU’RE NOT GOING out again, Miss Beasley? Wouldn’t you like a quiet afternoon by the fire? I have collected some new magazines, and I’m sure there will be one or two to interest you. And you, Mr. Goodman?”
Before Ivy could get in a tart reply, Roy thanked Mrs. Spurling kindly, and said they were only going as far as Blackwoods Farm, where Rickwood Smith had agreed Botham’s could have a preliminary look around. Ivy had also given him a quick courtesy call to check that he was happy about them going round the farmhouse with the agent.
Rickwood had agreed. There could be no harm in it. He had asked local cleaners to go through the house and leave it all clean and tidy, and they had once more achieved wonders. He was not at all decided on what to do with the house and land. He might very well choose to stay there himself. But a valuation could do no harm.
The fire escape, which had been left open when Eleanor had been found, was shut off with padlocks and warning tape wound around it. And the little room, where he knew his aunt had occasionally had a quiet smoke, was also locked, on his own orders.
Now Roy set about placating Mrs. Spurling. “I am enquiring on behalf of my grandson, Anthony,” he said. “At present, he lives in the West Country, but is interested in buying a property over here in Suffolk.”
“Very well, then. But do try to be back here before the sun goes down and the east wind takes over.”
As Ivy and Roy set off for Blackwoods, they discussed the interesting snippet they had heard from the waitress in Oakbridge. “If Eleanor was looking witchy,” said Ivy, “then the relationship with the lodger must have broken down some while previously.”
“Deirdre said Eleanor hadn’t been seen for years. Certainly not in town, smoking a cigar in a café.”
“Next time we have coffee, we’ll ask the waitress for more details.”
• • •
THE AGENT JUMPED out of his car and advanced on them, hand outstretched. “Hello again, Miss Beasley, Mr. Goodman, lovely Saturday afternoon now, isn’t it?”
“Shall we go and have a look around?” said Ivy.
“As I told you, we are interested on behalf of my grandson,” added Roy, “and there’s Mr. Smith waiting for us.”
They opened the yard gate and walked in. “We’ll go in the back way,” said Rickwood. “The front door is temporarily stuck. Easy to fix, though, I can assure you.”
“I should get it fixed if I was you,” Ivy said. “Makes a bad first impression, doesn’t it?”
The house was cold, but there was a pleasant smell of air freshener. The police had, of course, been in, carrying out extensive tests, but the furniture was still there as Eleanor had left it. Ivy walked over to the window overlooking the yard. It was muddy and untidy, as if half the village had been in, helping themselves to anything of use.
“Upstairs, then,” she said. “Anthony has a family, and so will want several bedrooms.” The agent went up first, and began with the main bedroom.
“Very nice,” said Ivy. “Good view over the yard and the field beyond. Now the others, please.”
The smaller ones, including the one which Gus had occupied, were examined.
“Plenty of room for a family,” said the agent, smiling at Ivy.
“And the other one?” she said.
“Sorry?” said Rickwood.
“The other bedroom, along there. I’ll go and see.”
Before the agent could reply, she was off, heading for the dark chamber.
“It’s locked,” she said, returning quickly. “Can I have the key?
“Mr. Smith?”
“Sorry, Miss Beasley. We seem to have lost the only key. I shall have to find a locksmith.”
“May I try my magic opener, Mr. Smith?” said the agent.
Rickwood reluctantly agreed, but the magic did not work. “It’s only a glorified broom cupboard, anyway,” he said, “where the bed linen used to be kept. Let’s go down now, and have a quick look round the farmyard. Then you can make a report to your grandson, and he can ring me any time if he is interested.”
The yard was of no interest to Ivy. All the outbuildings must have been searched by the police. Roy went straight to the barn, and saw that the Ferguson tractor was still there.
“I’d like to put in a bid for that tractor,” he said. “I expect there’ll be a yard sale?”
“And how about that old sheep?” said Ivy. “Does it go with the rest?”
The agent laughed. “I am sure it will be taken care of, one way or another,” he said with a knowing look.
Ivy did not laugh. “It would make a nice pet for someone,” she said. “Needs to have a comfortable billet for the rest of its life.”
The agent sighed. “Of course, Miss Beasley,” he replied. “Now, are we all done? The sun has gone, and it’s getting really chilly. I am sure you two will want to be getting back home. Shall we meet tomorrow to inspect the broom cupboard?”
He could not quite keep the irritation from his voice, and Ivy stared at him.
“Of course,” she said. “Anthony will want to have a complete report. Good afternoon. We shall see you tomorrow.”
• • •
LATER THAT EVENING, Gus telephoned. “Good stuff to tell you,” he said to Ivy, “but we plan to come home tomorrow, so it’ll be best to keep it till then. Sunday tea at Springfields?”
“Oh yes, certainly. And I noticed the fire escape, too. Remember? Why?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” said Ivy. “And make sure you drive carefully. Bye.”
Thirty-six
AT ROY’S INSISTENCE, he and Ivy decided on Sunday being a day of rest. It was also a good opportunity for Ivy to do some serious reading of her course work. She was not usually one for spending hours with a book, preferring to be on her feet doing something practical. Long years of her mother asking her what she thought she was doing sitting about had engrained the habit.
Now, at the beginning of a new week, she was pleased to see a bright sun shining through her curtains. “Fine before seven, rain before eleven,” she said, adjusting the old saying to suit herself, and then remembered she had two walks to make today. Up to the Manor House College, meeting Rickwood for a peep into the dark chamber—if he had found the key—and then across the field behind Blackwoods Farm with the other students, and to discuss what they had seen. She planned to walk back to Springfields for tea. She sat up in bed, and then lowered her legs to the floor. She pulled up her nightdress and examined her calves and feet. Not too many knotty veins, and her ankles, her best feature, were as slender and trim as ever. So were they up to tramping across fields?
“Of course they are,” she said. She stood up and walked round the room. All muscles working well. She must select a good pair of walking boots, and nice thick stockings.
A tap at the door heralded Katya with morning tea. “Up already, Miss Beasley?” she said.
Ivy returned as athletically as possible into bed and said she was looking forward to early-morning biscuits and a cuppa. She had been searching for a pair of woollen stockings, she said. “I have quite a lot of walking to do today, and my feet will need support!”
“The forecast is for rain this afternoon, so don’t forget to take a brolly. And your mobile phone, so that we can come and get you if you’re miles from home.”
“Oh, I shall be only as far away as the college.”
“Morning, Ivy!” said a voice from the landing. Roy stood there grinning at her, and looking rather handsome in his paisley dressing gown and velvet slippers, his silvery hair pleasantly tousled. “Nice legs, if you don’t mind my saying so, Miss Beasley,” he added.
“Roy! How long have you been standing there?” Ivy quickly pulled the covers over her lower half.
“Long enough, my love. Morning, Katya. I shall leave you two ladies to your machinations, and see you at breakfast very shortly.”
• • •
“PERHAPS YOU SHOULD call your Mr. Smith and see if he’s found the key,” said Roy, greeting Ivy from the breakfast table. “If not, we won’t waste any more time with it. You won’t want to miss the field walk with the other students. We could perhaps meet the agent at lunchtime at Blackwoods, and then you could be in time for the walk. Or will that be too much for you? Do you know, it’s at times like this that we could do with another seat on the trundle.”
“I shall be fine,” said Ivy, silently agreeing with him about the spare seat. “I’ll give him a ring straight away.”
“Lovely morning, Roy!” said a voice behind them as they set off to meet the agent. They turned to see Gus and Whippy standing in the road.
“Hello, old chap! Safely back home, I’m glad to see. Sorry you couldn’t make tea yesterday! And Whippy, too. Good dog, pleased to see her master!”
“I’m taking her for a long walk, Roy, and thought I’d have a look, from the outside, of course, at Ivy’s college in daylight. I haven’t seen it since it was all finished, up and running, apart from under Rubens’s burglarproof spotlight the night we found Whippy.”
“We’re meeting the estate agent, and hope he has found the key to the dark chamber. Eleanor’s nephew, Rickwood Smith, claims it is a broom cupboard and not important. I think we know otherwise. Do you fancy joining us?”
“Does he think you might buy? I really had no idea that Rickwood Smith was in a position to be selling it. Is he now the rightful owner?”
“Not sure. He seems to be acting in lieu of, if you know what I mean.”
“So we still don’t know who owns it now? It really would make a difference to our enquiries. If inheritance was the motive for her murder, and it proved to have been murder, then our Mr. Rickwood Smith is not looking good.”
“I agree,” said Roy. “Perhaps Deirdre could help there? She is well in with Inspector Frobisher, and could wheedle some information from him. Could you ask her, Gus? That is definitely what we have to find out.”
“Yes, indeed. I know absolutely from personal experience that the dark chamber is a small bedroom, recently occupied, and with a fire escape outside. We can point out that it would be very unusual to have a fire escape going down from a broom cupboard.”
“Ivy and I had coffee Saturday in Oakbridge, Gus, and happened to have a waitress who had known the village, and remembered Eleanor Winchen Blatch. Also remembered that Eleanor had once gone into the café on her own, looking like a tramp, and had argued about the bill, and refused to put out her cigar!”
Whippy, losing patience, started to pull on her lead, whimpering. “Right, dog, off we go.”
• • •
AS GUS WALKED up the road towards the college, he thought he might have a quick preliminary look at the Ferguson tractor. He was as keen as Roy to rescue it, but when he approached the barn, he saw that the bar was down and padlocked.
He turned around for a last look at the field, and by then it was empty all but for the lame ewe munching sheep nuts from an old bucket that Gus could have sworn was not there when he first walked into the yard. More evidence of Mr. Smith as owner?
Thirty-seven
IVY HAD ALREADY told the college she would not be in on Monday mornings, but she would be there for the afternoon walk, she had said, and added that she hoped everyone would enjoy it. Rickwood the tutor had mapped out the morning’s work, which was to consider how well students looked around them, noting down what they saw.
By the time Ivy, Roy and Gus arrived outside Blackwoods Farm, the agent was waiting for them.
“Good day, sir,” said Gus. “I see you’ve brought your brolly. The weather’s a bit uncertain today.”
Roy smiled. He could see that Ivy was impatient to get on and into the farmhouse, so he said nothing. Rickwood took charge, and after one or two more pleasantries, they walked into the yard and up to the back door, which he opened with a flourish.
“Here we are again, then,” he said.
“I am assuming,” said Ivy, following into the kitchen, “that you have the key to the little chamber? Otherwise, I know you were going to cancel this meeting.”
Rickwood looked uncomfortable, and pulled a large bunch of keys out of his pocket. “I am reliably informed,” he said, “that the key to the broom cupboard is among this lot. I’m afraid I haven’t had a moment to check, but I am sure we shall find it.”
Gus raised his eyebrows. “I do hope so,” he said. “You wouldn’t have wanted to waste three people’s time, I am sure.”
“Perhaps you would like to have another quick look at the rest of the house, before we open the cupboard?”
“No, thanks,” said Ivy. “Straight upstairs, if you please.”
They trailed up the stairs and stopped outside the dark chamber. Rickwood fumbled amongst his keys, until Ivy got cross and said he clearly had no intention of finding the key.
“Shall I have a go?” said Gus, and Rickwood handed over the keys. In very little time, the key was found and put smoothly into the lock. Then Gus pushed the door. It remained shut, and he pushed again, this time with knee and shoulder. It remained shut.
“L
et me try,” said Rickwood, but he, too, had no luck.
“Bolted inside the door,” said Ivy. “We’ll have to force it.”
“I think not, Miss Beasley,” Rickwood objected. “There is a fire escape leading to it, and I am prepared to go up and see what I can find. If it is only a walk-in cupboard full of sheets and pillowcases, as I think, I hope that you will be happy with leaving the bolted door until I can arrange for professional help.”
Gus cleared his throat. “Mr., er, Smith,” he began. “I myself, in my right mind, and in broad daylight, have seen the interior of this room, accessed by this door, and the exterior fire escape, locked top and bottom. I suggest you believe me, and arrange for someone to show the interior to Miss Beasley and Mr. Goodman as soon as possible.”
While the others were walking back along the landing and downstairs, Ivy bent down with her eye to the keyhole. Nobody there, then. She continued to look for a few seconds, but there was no movement detectable inside the chamber, and she followed the others downstairs and out into the yard.
• • •
RICKWOOD SMITH SAID an edgy good-bye to Roy and shook hands with Gus, and said he would be in touch as soon as he had freed the door into the broom cupboard. He called the college office and reported that he and Miss Beasley would be returning straight away for the field expedition.
Ivy said good-bye to Gus and Roy, and walked away to join the students gathering outside the college. The sun was again struggling through the clouds, and it looked promising for what Rickwood the tutor insisted on calling their “Awareness Experience.”
Thirty-eight
SOME TIME WAS spent, once all the stragglers had been accounted for, going from one empty stable to another. The big barn was still locked, Ivy noticed, so Gus’s tractor was safe from marauding vintage Ferguson fanciers. She had decided to hang back, in order to encourage the students to be first through the gate and into virgin territory.