by Kerry Tombs
Crabb returned to the room. ‘Well, sir, we didn’t get much out of him.’
‘No, our Mr Troutbridge seems very reluctant to tell us what we want. Whatever he is hiding must be of great importance to him. Time we had some words with young Armitage,’ said Ravenscroft, trying to put a brave face on it. ‘Go and bring him in, Crabb.’
Crabb returned a few moments later with Armitage. Ravenscroft looked across the table at his prisoner, who was still attired in the same clothes he had seen him wearing on his first visit to the almshouses. In fact, the warden’s unkempt, bedraggled appearance gave the impression that the man had not changed his clothes for several days. Ravenscroft knew however that his line of questioning with Armitage might even prove more difficult than his interrogation with Troutbridge. The warden might turn out to be a more intelligent, cunning adversary.
‘Well, Mr Armitage, this is a right mess you seem to have got yourself into,’ began Ravenscroft. ‘Let us see where we can begin. Ah, the accounts. When we last spoke, you mentioned that you kept the accounts of the almshouses with your sister in Ledbury. I have to tell you that we have visited your sister—’
‘You leave Lucy out of this. She has nothing to do with my situation,’ protested Armitage, glaring at his questioner.
‘I would hope not. While at your sister’s, we went through the accounts and we found that they made interesting reading. Every month you were paying the sum of one pound and ten shillings to Mr Troutbridge — regular payments, every month. What were they for?’
‘Mr Troutbridge provided the almshouses with food. I paid him every month. There was nothing wrong with that.’
‘He denies knowing anything about such payments. Rather strange I should think, don’t you, that he should say that if there was nothing to hide?’
Armitage stared down at the floor and said nothing.
‘Why did you leave the almshouses so suddenly after our visit?’
‘I had business to transact in Hereford for a few days. On the way back I stopped off at Troutbridge’s to discuss our order for next month and as it was so late in the evening, he suggested I stopped the night with him. I had just woken up, when you entered the bedroom. I was still half asleep. I panicked and ran down the stairs,’ said the warden, running his hands through his untidy hair.
‘I’m afraid I don’t believe a word of that, Mr Armitage. Troutbridge says you had been at the farm for several days, and that in fact you paid him to stay there for the week,’ said Ravenscroft leaning forwards.
‘Troutbridge has a vivid imagination,’ mumbled Armitage.
‘What do you know about the new Tewkesbury to Leominster Railway Company?’ asked Ravenscroft, deciding to change his line of questioning.
‘Nothing; I have no interest in railway companies.’
‘When we searched your cottage, Mr Armitage, we found an old copy of the Malvern News. An article in one of the issues had apparently caught your attention. So much so, that you had even drawn a line all round it.’
‘Please continue, Inspector, I am fascinated by all this,’ said Armitage, recovering his composure and adopting a more defensive posture.
‘The article mentioned that the new railway company intended constructing the line through Colwall. When we made further enquiries, with Mr Clifford the agent at the Malvern Reading Rooms, we discovered that the almshouses would have to be demolished if such a line were to be built.’
‘Then this is a serious matter, of which I was not aware.’
‘Apparently you and Mr Pitzer had words over the new scheme,’ said Crabb.
‘I am sorry, gentlemen, you have completely lost me. What does Mr Pitzer have to do with this new railway company?’ asked Armitage, appearing to grow in confidence.
‘I think Mr Armitage that you know perfectly well—’
‘I assure you, I know nothing of what you speak,’ interrupted Armitage.
‘Mr Pitzer was one of your trustees?’
‘Yes.’
‘He was also a director and a major shareholder of the Tewkesbury to Leominster Railway Company. He would have stood to gain quite a great deal of money had the scheme gone ahead, whereas you and the residents of the almshouses would have been out in the street.’
‘All this has come as a great shock, Inspector. Had I known what Mr Pitzer was involved in, I would certainly have taken it up with him — but as I said before, I knew nothing of his involvement, or indeed anything about this new railway company of which you speak.’
‘Then how do you explain the fact, sir, that the article in the newspaper had been so marked?’ asked Crabb.
‘I don’t, Constable. This is the first I have known about it. Ah, of course. The residents often give me their old newspapers to read, after they have finished with them. One of them must have marked the newspaper. Yes, that would explain how that came about,’
Ravenscroft smiled and leaned back in his chair. It was as he thought — the warden had proved himself to be a man of endeavour and deception. ‘I must congratulate you, Mr Armitage, on your inventions.’
‘What I am telling you is the truth, Inspector. It is not my fault that you choose not to believe it,’ replied Armitage, a touch of arrogance creeping into his voice.
‘Is that why you killed Pitzer?’ asked Ravenscroft leaning forwards again and folding his hands neatly in front of him on the table.
‘Oh come, Inspector! You surely cannot think that I killed Pitzer?’
‘You wrote Pitzer a letter, making an appointment to see him alone in his study on the night he was killed.’
‘This is nonsense,’ replied Armitage, turning away.
‘It would have been quite easy for you to have gained entry to his study unannounced, from the garden, where you administered the poison.’
‘Absolute nonsense! This is all conjecture.’
‘And is it also nonsense that you killed Mr Sommersby?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘Sommersby? What is this about Sommersby?’ Armitage looked shocked.
‘Come now, Mr Armitage, I’m sure our friend Troutbridge told you of our visit to his farm, when we mentioned we were investigating the death of Mr Sommersby?’
‘He mentioned nothing of this to me. How did Sommersby die?’
‘He was hit on the back of the head with a blunt instrument and a heavy bookcase was pulled over on top of him, to make it look like an accident. But I’m sure you know all this, Mr Armitage? Where were you when Sommersby was murdered?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘As this is the first I have heard of Sommersby’s murder, and as I am therefore completely unaware of what time the schoolmaster was killed, I am unable to say where I was at the time of his death — but as I have told you already Inspector, I have been away in Hereford for a few days. I only returned to Mathon last night.’
‘And what precisely were you doing in Hereford?’
Armitage said nothing.
‘Well, Mr Armitage, your answer if you please. What was the nature of your business in Hereford?’ continued Ravenscroft, wondering what line the warden would come forth with now.
‘It is of a delicate nature,’ replied Armitage moving uneasily in his seat. ‘I was visiting a lady friend.’
‘Her name, please, sir?’ asked Crabb lifting up his pencil.
‘That I am not prepared to disclose. It is a question of honour. The lady is married. If I were to disclose her name, the knowledge would bring disgrace, not only upon her but to all her immediate family as well,’ replied Armitage, looking distressed.
‘How very convenient, Mr Armitage. If you were to tell us the name of this lady, I am sure that such a lady could confirm your presence in Hereford. You would then be released from all suspicion, but you seem unwilling to do that.’
‘I am sorry, I cannot disclose her name. Her husband holds high office.’
‘Come now, sir. This is all nonsense, as you well know. You and I both know that you never went to Hereford. I caught sight of you the other day
when we visited the farm, looking out of the window. You have been at Troutbridge all the week,’ said Ravenscroft, adopting a slight mocking tone.
‘You were mistaken, Inspector. It must have been someone else you saw. I have told you I was in Hereford for most of the week,’ replied Armitage irritably.
‘Did you use Troutbridge to help you kill Sommersby? It was a big bookcase to move on your own.’
‘How many more times do I have to tell you — I was in Hereford all week,’ replied Armitage.
‘Enjoying the pleasures of a lady,’ said Crabb.
‘For whom we have no name,’ added Ravenscroft.
Armitage let out a deep sigh, shook his head and looked out of the window.
‘Tell me, Mr Armitage, are you familiar with Raggedstone Hill?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘I have been that way one or two times. Why do you ask?’
‘Were you there the other day when Doctor Gladwyn was murdered?’
‘Gladwyn, murdered! What is this?’ asked Armitage anxiously.
‘You do not know that Doctor Gladwyn was murdered at a cottage near Raggedstone Hill?’
‘No, of course not!’
‘Hit on the temple, here, with a stone,’ said Crabb, pointing to his forehead.
‘This is terrible!’
‘Three prominent citizens of Malvern; all trustees of the almshouses; all known to you,’ began Ravenscroft.
‘Look here, Ravenscroft, you have to believe me when I tell you, that I did not commit any of these murders. I am completely innocent of these crimes,’ protested Armitage becoming agitated. ‘You have no evidence to link me to any of them.’
‘You know Old Penny?’ asked Crabb.
‘Old Penny? Who in blazes is Old Penny? You are not going to tell me he is dead as well, and accuse me of yet another murder?’
‘Tell me, Mr Armitage. Do you own a walking stick?’ asked Ravenscroft ignoring the last comment.
‘A walking stick? What has my walking stick got to do with all this?’
‘Answer the question please, Mr Armitage.’
‘Yes, I have a walking stick. I use it when I go out walking on the hills.’
‘Describe it to us, if you please,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘Well, it’s just a walking stick. It’s made of wood,’ replied a bewildered Armitage, becoming more frustrated.
‘Does it have a handle, a silver-topped handle?’
‘No. It’s all wood, as I just told you. What is all this?’
‘Do the initials M.W.B. mean anything to you?’
‘M.W.B.? No, should they?’
‘Those initials appear on the handles of the walking sticks that belong to both Mr Sommersby and Doctor Gladwyn.’
‘Well, I don’t have a walking stick with an engraved, silver-topped handle, and the initials M.W.B. mean nothing to me,’ said Armitage defiantly.
‘Mr Armitage, I have to tell you that we are not satisfied with what you have told us this morning,’ said Ravenscroft, standing up and pacing the room. ‘In fact, I do not believe one word of your story about a lady of honour in Hereford. I think you and Troutbridge are mixed up in something together, and I mean to get to the bottom of it. I believe you have been at Troutbridge’s farm for several days now, and furthermore that you know a great deal about the murders of Mr Pitzer, Mr Sommersby, Doctor Gladwyn and Old Penny. You are in very serious trouble. You will shortly be up before the bench on four counts of murder. You can still save yourself, man. I advise you to tell us the truth, Mr Armitage, before it is too late,’ pleaded Ravenscroft.
‘I have told you all I know,’ replied Armitage, looking away in a defiant mood.
‘Very well, Armitage. I am detaining you on suspicion of the murders of the said four gentlemen, while we continue with our investigations. Take him away, Crabb, and lock him up in the cells.’
Crabb took a sulking Armitage back to his cell. Frustrated, Ravenscroft stared out of the window. Tired of the warden’s theatricalities and his continually changing story, he had encountered one obstacle after another. The truth remained as far away as it had seemed an hour ago.
‘That man knows a great deal more than he pretends,’ said Ravenscroft, as Crabb returned to the room.
‘Neither he nor Troutbridge seem willing to tell us anything. Do you think they committed the murders together?’ asked Crabb.
‘To tell you the truth, Crabb, I don’t honestly know. We seem further away from ever solving these murders. There is one person, however, who could provide us with the answers we require, who could shed a great deal of light on this relationship between Armitage and Troutbridge.’
‘And who might that be, sir?’
‘A certain young lady in Ledbury; I am convinced that it is she who holds the key to this mystery. It is time I visited Lucy Armitage again.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ravenscroft hesitated, looking across at the little black and white cottage in Church Lane, with its neat hanging baskets of early spring flowers. He knew that inside he would in all probability discover the answers to the mystery that bound Armitage and Troutbridge together — and that such knowledge might even lead him to catch the killer of the four men — but he was also aware that such disclosures might cause more pain for its occupier than perhaps he could dare inflict.
Somewhat reluctantly he made his way up the path and rang the doorbell. The maid opened the door to him but before she could speak, Lucy Armitage herself appeared in the hallway. ‘Mr Ravenscroft. I hope you have news of my brother. I have been so worried,’ she said, anxiously beckoning him inside.
‘Your brother is quite safe, Miss Armitage. He is at Malvern Police Station as we speak,’ replied Ravenscroft, stepping into the hallway and handing his hat to the maid.
‘Oh thank God. I thought that something terrible had happened to him.’
Ravenscroft could see that she had been crying but that her face was now full of relief as she led him into the drawing room.
‘Miss Armitage, we discovered your brother hiding at Mr Troutbridge’s farm over at Mathon. Do you know why he should have been there?’ asked Ravenscroft, sitting beside her on the sofa.
‘No. I am not aware of anyone called Troutbridge.’ Ravenscroft knew that she was lying, and that he would have to be more forthcoming if he was to obtain the truth.
‘Miss Armitage — Lucy — I’m afraid I have to tell you that your brother is in custody on suspicion of murder.’
‘Oh no!’ she said. ‘There must be some mistake. My brother would never hurt anyone. He is a peaceful, considerate man.’
‘Your brother tried to escape when we discovered him at Troutbridge’s farm. Hardly the behaviour of an innocent man. However, your brother states that he was in Hereford at the time of the second and third murders.’
‘Then that must indeed be true,’ protested Lucy. ‘If my brother maintains he was in Hereford at the time, then why do you not believe him?’
Ravenscroft moved uneasily in his chair, and looked away, knowing that his next remark would cause distress. ‘Your brother has told us that he was with a certain lady, a lady with whom he was conducting an affair. The lady in question is apparently married, and your brother is unwilling to disclose her name.’
‘No. I do not believe that, Mr Ravenscroft,’ replied Lucy becoming upset. ‘My brother would never do such a thing!’ Ravenscroft noticed that her hands were tightly clutching a handkerchief in her lap and that her eyes were seeking not to be in contact with his own.
‘Your brother never spoke of such a lady?’
‘No. Never.’
‘Do not distress yourself, Lucy,’ said Ravenscroft, moving forwards. He reached out and placed a hand upon her clenched wrists. ‘If it is any consolation to you, my dear lady, I do not believe that your brother has a mistress in Hereford or that he even went anywhere near the town.’
‘But then that would mean—’ began Lucy anxiously.
‘Yes, it would mean that your brother w
ould not be able to account for his movements at the times of the murders. Did your brother ever talk with you about a railway company that had recently been formed, the Tewkesbury to Leominster Railway Company, to be precise?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you remember what he said to you? It may be very important,’ said Ravenscroft, removing his hand and resuming a more formal manner.
‘James said to me one day that he had learnt that the railway company had been formed, and that the new line would result in the almshouses being demolished. I remember he was very upset about it. The inmates would be evicted from their homes. He said that they would all be put out on the street; they would have no homes. He said that there were people in Malvern who were behind the venture; people who put money and self-interest before philanthropy and consideration. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. I had never seen him become so angry before.’
‘Did your brother ever mention any names of persons, who might be connected to this company?’
‘Yes. He mentioned Mr Pitzer, who apparently was also one of the trustees of the almshouses. James could not see how anyone could be both that and yet at the same time a director of the new railway company. He could not understand that. He called it an act of betrayal.’
‘Lucy, think carefully before you answer. Did your brother ever issue any threats again Mr Pitzer? Did he ever say, for instance, that he would confront Mr Pitzer or that he would get even with him?’
‘No. Never! My brother was angry but he knew there was little he could do. He said the men in Malvern were too powerful; that they all occupied positions of importance and that they could never be touched. He felt powerless against their designs. Oh, Mr Ravenscroft, you cannot believe that my brother is capable of these crimes. Tell me you believe he is innocent?’ said Lucy tearfully.
Ravenscroft wanted to reach out to her, to place his hands round her shoulders, to comfort her, to offer her reassurance, to tell her that her brother was innocent, but he knew that he could not, and so remained aloof.
