by Kerry Tombs
‘Thank you. That would be most kind.’
Ravenscroft accepted the newspaper from the old woman and made his way across to one of the seats.
The Malvern News contained little to interest him — reports of Temperance Meetings, lists of important people visiting the town, the previous week’s Council meetings, advertisements for patent medicines and wine cellars — until a certain article caught his attention —
THE SHADOW OF THE RAGGEDSTONE
ANCIENT MALVERN CURSE
Our readers will be interested to know that the ancient legend of the curse of Raggedstone Hill has been revived in a new novel written by Doctor Charles Grindrod. The Shadow of the Raggedstone is based on the old monkish legend and the curse upon its shadow. Many of our older readers may recall the legend of the dying monk who had been turned out of his dwelling by the local people and who before dying on the slopes of the Raggedstone Hill cursed all that would for ever fall beneath its shadow. While we can inform our readers that there is little evidence to support the truth of the legend, we know of several of our more elderly readers who swear that they would never go anywhere near the hill. This reporter however can reassure his readers that he has walked both on the hill, and beneath its shadow, on a number of occasions, and that to date he has never met with any misfortune—
‘Good morning to you, sir.’
Ravenscroft looked up from his reading, to see the figure of Doctor Mountcourt standing before him.
‘I see you are studying our local paper.’
‘I was just reading about the curse of the Raggedstone Hill.’
‘Stuff and nonsense, sir! A mere folk tale written to scare the feeble minded away from the hills. Good to see you taking the waters before breakfast, Ravenscroft. Keep up the good work.’
Before Ravenscroft could reply, Mountcourt had resumed his walk, striding along the path, his cane tapping the ground at his side as he did so.
The doctor slowly disappeared from view. Ravenscroft continued reading the Malvern News before handing the paper back to the attendant.
‘Thank you for the newspaper. I have just been reading about Raggedstone Hill and the old curse. Where is the Raggedstone?’ he asked drinking his second beaker of water.
‘Over there,’ replied the old woman jerking her thumb in the air.
‘Do you believe in such things?’
The woman said nothing, instead turning quickly away and making her way back inside the building.
Ravenscroft downed his beaker of water before retracing his steps back towards the town.
* * *
Later that morning he met Crabb outside the Tudor.
‘Good morning to you, Mr Ravenscroft,’ said the constable in a cheerful manner.
‘And to you, Master Crabb. Where are we going first?’
‘I thought you might want to speak first with Mr Sommersby at Malvern College. If you would care to follow me, sir, you will find it to be about ten minutes on foot. That’s the trouble with Malvern — all hills. Easy enough going downhill; not so easy coming up.’
‘So I have observed.’
‘I have had a word with my superiors, Mr Ravenscroft, and they are more than pleased that you have taken an interest in this case. We are quite a small station here in Malvern and welcome any help we can receive.’
‘I am glad to be of assistance,’ said Ravenscroft warmly. He briefly wondered if he should inform the Commissioner of his secondment, but was soon distracted by matters at hand.
As the two men walked, Ravenscroft recounted his meeting with Susan the maid from the night before. Presently they approached an austere building, which bore the name ‘Malvern College’. Crabb rang the bell and the door was opened by a uniformed servant.
‘Good day, my man. We are here to see Mr Sommersby, if you please,’ said Crabb, stepping into the hall.
‘Please follow me, gentlemen.’
The two policemen followed the servant across the wide hallway, and along a cloister like corridor, until they reached a large oak door.
‘If you would care to wait here, I will see that Mr Sommersby is informed of your arrival.’
Ravenscroft and Crabb found themselves in a large library. Books adorned not only the shelves that ran around the walls of the room, but also occupied a number of tall bookcases in its centre.
‘Lordy me! They certainly likes their books here! Don’t think I have ever seen so many books before. Wonder they have time to read them all,’ said Crabb walking around the room. Ravenscroft looked through the leaded windows out towards the quadrangle and wished he had been sent to such a school as this in his youth.
The door opened and Sommersby strode into the room.
‘Mr Ravenscroft and Constable Crabb, I am sorry to have kept you waiting. Please sit down. We are very busy with examinations at the present time. I warn you that I can only give you a few minutes of my time.’
Ravenscroft was reminded of the academic’s dry, off-hand manner of the night before.
‘Thank you, sir. As you are probably aware, both Constable Crabb and I are investigating the death of Mr Pitzer,’ began Ravenscroft.
‘I would have thought there was little to ask about. Pitzer died of a seizure I believe,’ replied the schoolmaster, in a dismissive tone.
‘How long have you known Mr and Mrs Pitzer?’ asked Ravenscroft, ignoring Sommersby’s last remark.
‘I have known them for about thirty years or more. I am a native of Malvern, and when Mr Pitzer arrived here, he and his wife were most generous towards me.’
‘In what way, sir?’
‘The life of a schoolmaster can sometimes be a lonely one, Inspector, and Mr Pitzer and his wife invited me into their home and accorded me their kindness and hospitality,’ replied Sommersby, staring at Ravenscroft through the lenses of his pince-nez.
‘I believe that Mr Pitzer was a busy man and that he took a prominent interest in the affairs of the town?’
‘That is indeed so. He was a member of the town council, a prominent member in church circles, the local bank, temperance hall, Old Lechmere’s Almshouses, to name but a few. But really, I don’t see the relevance of all this. Poor Pitzer is dead and nothing will bring him back. Now if you will excuse me, I have a Latin examination class which I must invigilate,’ said Sommersby, rising from his chair.
‘We are here, Mr Sommersby, because we have strong grounds to believe that Mr Pitzer was poisoned last night,’ said Ravenscroft in a matter-of-fact voice.
‘Poisoned! That is quite ridiculous. Both Doctor Gladwyn and I are of the same mind that Pitzer—’
‘We found poison in a glass that Pitzer had been using,’ interjected Ravenscroft, leaning forwards in his chair.
‘This is quite terrible. Why would Pitzer take poison?’
‘He did not take the poison. He was given it. Someone killed him.’
‘But . . . I don’t . . . Pitzer never had an enemy in the world,’ stuttered Sommersby.
‘He certainly had one, sir,’ ventured Crabb, replacing one of the books on the shelves.
‘What time did you arrive at Pitzer’s last night?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘I arrived at a quarter past seven, a few minutes before your own arrival.’
‘And the Reverend Touchmore?’
‘He was there already.’
‘How did you travel to the house?’
‘I walked. Yes, I walked. It is not far from here. I left here just before seven, and walked through the wood, and across the common until I reached the house.’
‘Even although it was getting dark, sir?’ asked Crabb.
‘I know the path well. I have been that way many times, Constable. Now if you will excuse me,’ said Sommersby, recovering his composure. ‘I really do have to go.’ He walked over to the door.
‘One more question, Mr Sommersby. Did you see anyone either leaving the house when you arrived, or even anyone loitering in the near vicinity of the building?’
�
�No.’
‘You are sure on that point?’
‘Of course, I am not in the habit of telling untruths, Inspector. Now I wish you good day. I am sure you can make your own way out.’
‘We may need to see you again,’ called out Ravenscroft — but the schoolmaster had already left the room.
‘Well, he’s a fine fellow and no mistake,’ said Crabb, as the two men made their way back along the corridor.
‘I think our fine Mr Sommersby could tell us a lot more, Crabb. He was more than anxious last night to see that everyone should have assumed that Pitzer had died of natural causes.’
‘I think you rattled him, sir, with your questioning, if you don’t mind my saying so, sir.’
‘Well, we will certainly need to return to question him further. Where next, Crabb?’
‘I thought you might want to see the Reverend Touchmore at the Priory Church, sir.’
‘Then lead on. Upwards this time, I believe.’
‘Afraid so, sir,’ said Crabb, ruefully.
* * *
The church clock of the Priory church sounded out the hour of eleven, as the two policemen made their way through the churchyard towards an old building situated at the entrance to the site.
‘The reverend gentleman has his office up these stairs, sir,’ said Crabb, pushing open the heavy door. They made their way up the winding staircase until they reached a landing, where they found a doorway facing them.
Crabb banged his fist on the door.
‘Ah, Inspector Ravenscroft, the constable said that you would want to speak with me. Do please come in,’ said Touchmore ushering the two men inside. ‘I’m afraid you will have to take me as you find me. Paperwork, you know. Never-ending paperwork!’
The clergyman picked up a stack of old papers that had been placed on one of the chairs and threw them into a corner of the floor. Ravenscroft observed that Touchmore’s desk was littered with piles of books and ledgers; while other old papers, charts and artefacts seemed to be gathering dust in every inch of the room.
‘Do take a seat, Inspector,’ said the cleric, indicating the empty chair with one hand, while using the other to mop his sweating brow with a large red spotted handkerchief. ‘Dear me, there never seems enough hours in the day to fulfil all the tasks one has set oneself. Oh, my cane. I’ve been looking for that all morning. So that’s where it was all the time, on the chair under all those papers.’
Ravenscroft passed over the silver-handled cane to its owner and sat down.
‘I’ll stand, thank you, sir,’ said Crabb, closing the door to the room.
‘This is a very sad business. Poor old Jabez. He will be a sad loss to us all, a very sad loss,’ said Touchmore, sitting down behind his desk.
‘You had known Pitzer long?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘For nearly thirty years or more,’ sighed Touchmore, wiping the top of his bald head with the handkerchief.
‘Would you say that Mr Pitzer had made many enemies during that time?’
‘Good lord, no,’ replied Touchmore laughing. ‘Jabez had not an enemy in the world. Everyone liked him. Had he lived he would almost certainly have become mayor of the town in a few months’ time. No, in all my years I have never heard anyone say a cross word about him.’
‘He was very active in a number of spheres, I understand?’
‘Why yes. He had been a member of the town council for fifteen years or more. He was also one of our church wardens and was a prominent member of the vestry.’
‘Did Mr Pitzer have any other interests?’
‘Well, there was the Temperance League, the bank — and Mrs Pitzer, she also served on a number of local committees directed towards the welfare of our less fortunate citizens,’ replied the cleric, returning the handkerchief to his coat pocket.
‘But Mr Pitzer left all that side of things to his wife?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘Well, er, yes, I suppose so.’
‘Mr Pitzer himself was not involved in any kind of charity work then?’
‘No, I suppose not, — although he was a trustee, like myself, of Old Lechmere’s Almshouses.’
‘Old Lechmere’s Almshouses?’
‘Yes, they can be found at the nearby village of Colwall. One of the Lechmere’s, a local family, left a sizeable sum of money in the sixteenth century for the foundation and building of a group of almshouses for the aged and infirm of the village. There are a group of trustees appointed from amongst prominent persons in the area, whose duty it is to see that the almshouses are administered correctly.’
‘How long had Mr Pitzer been a trustee?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘For about fifteen years, like myself. Yes, I remember, we were both appointed at the same time. But can I ask, Inspector, as to the reasoning behind all these questions? They won’t bring back poor old Pitzer you know. It is my understanding that the poor man died from a seizure of some kind.’
‘We have reasons to believe, sir, that Mr Pitzer was poisoned,’ said Crabb.
‘Poisoned! Surely there must be some mistake? Both Gladwyn and Sommersby stated that in their opinion Pitzer had died as the result of a seizure,’ said Touchmore, retrieving his handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabbing it onto his reddened, perspiring face.
‘Both gentlemen were incorrect in their assumption. We believe that Pitzer was poisoned at around six thirty in the evening. At what time did you arrive at the house?’ enquired Ravenscroft rising and walking over to the window.
‘I, er —well — are you sure Pitzer was poisoned? Dear me, this is terrible. Who can have done such a terrible thing? The man had not a single enemy in the whole wide world,’ Touchmore repeated. ‘A terrible, unforgivable thing! But to answer your question, Inspector, I arrived at the house just after seven.’
‘Did you see any person leaving the building, or anyone lingering about in the neighbourhood?’
‘No. I don’t think so. I remember leaving the vicarage at around ten minutes to seven. The cab dropped me off at the end of the drive, as I said, just after seven. Really, Inspector, I cannot accept this at all. I can think of no reasons as to why anyone would want to kill Pitzer. I’m sure you must be mistaken. For all these years . . .’
As Ravenscroft looked out of the window, he suddenly noticed a familiar, black-attired figure walking up the path that threaded its way between the gravestones in the churchyard. The veiled lady of the train and the well house had reappeared yet again to distract his thoughts and to arouse his curiosity. He watched her for some moments, until she sat on one of the benches near the flight of steps leading up from the churchyard onto the upper terrace of the town.
‘Jabez and I had spent many a pleasant evening together.’ Touchmore was still recalling the past. ‘I can’t imagine how poor Mrs Pitzer must be feeling. She must be distraught, the poor lady. She will find his passing such a sad loss.’
‘I understand that the couple do not have any immediate family?’ said Ravenscroft, turning away from the window. ‘There were no children?’
‘Alas, no, it was a great sadness in their lives that they were not granted God’s gift. Mrs Touchmore and I had one child, a boy, but he died of the fever when he was quite young, many years ago of course.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you, Inspector. Is there anything else I can help you gentlemen with?’
‘Not at the present, Reverend, although we may need to ask you some more questions at a future time. Meanwhile, if you can remember seeing anyone near the house when you arrived last night or if you can think of anyone at all who might have had a grudge against Pitzer, or with whom he might have had a recent falling out, I would be obliged if you would let me know. I can be contacted at the Tudor or you can leave a message for Constable Crabb at the police station. I wish you good day, sir.’
Ravenscroft and Crabb turned to leave the room.
‘Well, I suppose there could — but no, that is foolish thoughts. Good day to you, gentlemen.�
�
‘There was something?’ enquired Ravenscroft, returning to the desk.
‘No. It is nothing.’
‘It may have some relevance, sir.’
‘Well, there has been a recent disagreement over the almshouses.’
‘Go on, sir,’ urged Crabb.
‘Recently the trustees and the warden of the almshouses have had — well, shall we say, a slight falling out or difference of opinion, over certain matters.’
‘A difference of opinion?’ asked Ravenscroft, sensing that Touchmore was clearly feeling ill at ease.
‘The warden, a young impulsive fellow by the name of Armitage, was appointed to the position at the almshouses about three years ago. If we had known at the time that he is of a radical, dissenting disposition, I’m sure we would never have appointed him, but then sometimes one is led astray in these matters. I know that Mr Pitzer in particular had taken a dislike to the fellow and that the two of them had disagreed over certain matters in regard to the financial affairs of the almshouses. Dear me, I have perhaps said rather too much. Ignore what I have said. I’m sure that Armitage was not the sort of fellow to kill Pitzer over such a trifling matter. Now if you will excuse me, I have to prepare for a service in the priory.’
‘Of course, Reverend, you have been most helpful.’
Ravenscroft and Crabb made their way down the stairs.
‘Quickly, Crabb, there is someone in the churchyard I caught sight of.’
The two men walked swiftly out of the building, and Ravenscroft led the way across the churchyard.
‘She was sitting on this bench, not five minutes ago.’
‘Whoever it was, sir, has flown the nest, as they say.’
‘Yes indeed.’
‘Who did you see, sir?’ asked Crabb, puzzled.
‘It is of no matter. Tell me, what did you make of our reverend gentleman?’
‘Well, sir, he seemed quite surprised when we told him that Pitzer had been poisoned.’
‘Yes, I think the two men were friends.’
‘The reverend is quite liked in the town, I believe. Been here almost as long as the church, I should think.’
