by Kerry Tombs
‘You seem to have it all worked out,’ answered Ravenscroft.
‘Then in a month or two’s time that idiot Touchmore will meet with a fatal accident. I haven’t quite decided how he will meet his end. Something religious, I think. Maybe a loose step on the way up to the church tower, a piece of falling masonry — that would be poetic justice indeed. Then I will claim the tontine inheritance, and nothing will stand in my way!’ said Mountcourt, becoming increasingly agitated, as he paced up and down.
‘You are quite mad, Lambert!’ said Ravenscroft.
‘Mad!’ snarled Mountcourt. ‘You dare to call me mad! What I have done requires sheer genius. It is such a shame you won’t be able to tell the world about your little adventure up here,’ he said pulling on the handle of the walking stick. ‘Quite a neat little addition I think you would agree. When my father had this stick made, he decided to have this fine blade fitted inside. I am so sorry Ravenscroft. You were such a worthy opponent, but you must know that after all that I have told you, that I cannot let you go,’ he said brandishing the blade and advancing towards him.
‘And you do not think, that I would have been so stupid as to have come up here alone,’ said Ravenscroft, standing up and facing his opponent.
‘Oh, my dear Inspector, it is futile for you to pretend. At this time of the evening the hills are quite deserted. You forget that I followed you up here from the well house up another path. There was no one behind either of us. There is no one that can come to you aid. It is all over with you, Ravenscroft.’
Ravenscroft took out a whistle from his pocket and gave three short blasts.
‘You silly man,’ laughed Mountcourt. ‘No one will hear that down in the town. I’m sorry, but it really is the end for you!’
‘Put down that blade or I will fire!’ shouted the voice of Crabb.
Mountcourt paused, a look of anger enveloping his face.
‘I knew, Mountcourt, that you would not resist the temptation to follow me. At this moment my constable has a loaded revolver pointing at your back. I also have three other police officers waiting behind the other side of the rock. I would advise you to lay down your blade as my constable instructs. It is all over now, Lambert, you have nowhere to go,’ said Ravenscroft, drawing himself up to his full height.
‘Damn you, Ravenscroft!’ yelled Mountcourt, rushing towards Ravenscroft with a look of intense loathing. ‘Damn you!’
‘Crabb!’ shouted Ravenscroft.
The shot rang out.
Mountcourt staggered forwards, clutching his chest and dropping the blade at Ravenscroft’s feet.
‘Quickly, grab him, men, before he goes over the edge,’ yelled Crabb.
But it was too late, for as he fell, Mountcourt’s feet slipped and with one last cry, he disappeared from view over the side of the rock.
‘Are you alright, sir?’ enquired Crabb as the men rushed forwards.
‘I’m fine, thank you, Crabb. Quickly, grab Mountcourt!’
Ravenscroft and the men rushed to the edge of the rock and peered over the side. The body of Mountcourt could be seen dropping down the long slope of the hill, until a clump of trees in the distance appeared to halt its descent, finally hiding it from view.
‘I don’t think he will be bothering us again, sir,’ said Crabb.
‘I tell you one thing, Crabb. You’re a damn fine shot! Thank God!’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The following morning found Crabb and Ravenscroft standing on the crowded platform of Great Malvern station.
‘Well, sir. I will be sorry to see you leave,’ said Crabb, looking a little downhearted.
‘Unfortunately, I have to report back for duty tomorrow, Crabb.’
‘I guess you never did get to Brighton, sir. There is always next year. Thought you might like to know, the men recovered Mountcourt’s body from the valley this morning.’
‘He managed to escape the gallows in the end. That leaves the Reverend Touchmore as the only surviving member of the tontine,’ said Ravenscroft. ‘I wonder what he will do with all his inheritance.’
‘Rumour has it that he will give some of it towards the restoration of the church.’
‘Then at least some good may come out of all this. No doubt another buyer will come forward to purchase the Tudor and who knows? One day it may be restored to its former splendour. Well, it is time I boarded the train. It has been a pleasure working with you, Crabb. Should you ever decide that you would like to work in London, I would be more than happy to put in a good word for you,’ said Ravenscroft shaking hands with his constable.
‘That is uncommonly good of you, sir, but to tell you the truth, me and my Jennie quite like it here in Malvern. We reckon there could be nowhere finer, sir, to bring up children,’ said Crabb opening the carriage door.
‘Perhaps one day, we may have the opportunity to work together again, on some particularly baffling case, or other.’
‘I would look forward to that, sir,’ beamed Crabb.
‘Give my best wishes to your wife.’
‘I will, sir. Oh, that reminds me. Jennie and I were talking together last night, and we thought we would ask you, if you would kindly see your way, to being a godparent to our child, when it’s born, like,’ said Crabb somewhat awkwardly.
‘My dear Tom, you do me a great honour! I will be more than delighted,’ said Ravenscroft shaking the other’s hand vigorously.
‘That is uncommonly good of you, sir. Jennie will be well pleased. And what will you do on your return to London, sir?’
‘Oh, I will go back to the dark alleyways of Whitechapel, where no doubt I will endeavour to apprehend a few more criminals, while attempting to keep as far away as possible from my superiors,’ laughed Ravenscroft, boarding the train.
‘Well, sir, if you should ever find yourself in Malvern again, you will always find a warm welcome awaits you in Westminster Road,’ said Crabb slamming the door of the compartment to, as the guard blew his whistle.
‘Thank you, Tom. I will certainly remember,’ said Ravenscroft leaning out of the carriage window, as the train started to move forwards.
‘And don’t forget, sir, there is always a certain young lady in Ledbury, who would no doubt be more than pleased to see you, should you find yourself in the neighbourhood,’ shouted Crabb.
‘I won’t forget,’ smiled Ravenscroft, waving his hand at the decreasing figure of Crabb, as the train drew away from Great Malvern Station.
EPILOGUE
LONDON 1887
‘London! Paddington! All Change!’
Ravenscroft awoke with a start — and realised that he had been asleep since the train had left Oxford.
His journey back to the capital had been uneventful, and as he had sat back in his seat, he had been surprised by how tired he had now become. Malvern had already become like a distant dream to him, so much so, that for a moment he had begun to wonder whether he had really been there at all. Perhaps Pitzer, Sommersby, Gladwyn and the old beggar were still alive, and Lambert still practicing in Grange-Over-Sands? Perhaps Lucy Armitage still sat in the tiny cottage in Ledbury, and her brother continued to look after the welfare of the inmates of Old Lechmere’s Almshouses? Perhaps the events of the previous two weeks were still waiting to unfold, and he had yet to encounter the mysterious woman in black? But now, as people began to leave the train, he knew that the great City of London would be seeking to encompass him once more.
He stepped out onto the platform. After the peace and quiet of Malvern, the noise and bustle of the crowded terminus came as a rude shock to his system.
Carrying his suitcase in one hand, and his newspaper in the other, he made his way along the platform, rubbing shoulders with the other passengers, who were all busily engaged in going in the same direction. The reality of his present situation began to break suddenly over him, and he felt a sickly emptiness in the pit of his stomach. He knew he would now attempt to secure a cab from outside the station; a cab which would take him back
to the grey dismal lodgings where he resided, overlooking the tree lined square in an unfashionable suburb of the capital. He knew that in the morning he would climb the stairs at the Yard, where he would report for duty. No doubt his superior would again reprimand him, before sending him back onto the streets — they were too short of officers to dismiss him from the force! Then the pattern of his life would be resumed, as it had before, and he would again seek out the vagrants, pickpockets and thieves from the darkened alleyways and dens of Whitechapel.
He made his way out of the station and onto the forecourt, where a large number of cabs stood waiting in the rain to transport the new arrivals to all four corners of the metropolis. He joined the line of prospective customers, as it shuffled forwards.
‘Where to, Madam?’ shouted out one of cabmen.
‘Whitechapel!’ came back the reply.
The sound of the woman’s voice bought Ravenscroft to a sudden standstill, and he felt a cold shiver run down his spine.
Surely not? It could not be possible?
He looked upwards and saw a familiar, black veiled, figure climbing into the cab.
He pushed forwards, crying out, ‘Mrs Kelly!’ — but before he could reach the rank, the driver had cracked his whip, and the vehicle had driven away at high speed.
Ravenscroft stood watching the cab as it reached the end of the road — and for a brief moment thought its occupant had turned in his direction, and had raised her hand in a form of recognition — before it turned the corner and disappeared from view.
The events of the past few days seemed suddenly to crowd in on him. As the line of waiting customers surged forwards, he could feel his lungs tightening and his brow becoming wet with perspiration.
‘Where to, guv’nor?’
‘I’m sorry—’ he mumbled, in a voice that seemed not like his own.
‘Where do you want to go to?’ shouted the cab driver again, in an irritable manner.
‘Nowhere,’ replied Ravenscroft.
‘Then why are you wasting my time governor?’
‘I don’t know. I’m sorry,’ he said walking away, hearing the driver cursing him from behind.
Ravenscroft made his way back into the station, and after a moment’s thought, strode toward the ticket office.
‘Can I help you, sir?’ asked the clerk.
‘When is the next train to Ledbury?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘In about fifteen minutes, sir. Would you like a single, or a return?’
Ravenscroft thought for a moment.
‘A single, please. That will be fine. A single to Ledbury.’
THE END
Book 2:
THE WORCESTER
WHISPERERS
A captivating Victorian murder mystery
Kerry Tombs
To Jess and Ted, my parents
— who gave so much to me and to Worcestershire
PROLOGUE
She paused beneath the archway of the old building, drawing the veil slowly down across her face, seeking to distance herself from the world into which she now entered.
This was not her first visit. During the past year she had ventured into the labyrinth of streets and alleyways on numerous occasions, seeking out the information she had required, fitting the fragments of the past together, ever discarding the lies and the deceitful, and always seeking to understand why it had come to this.
She remembered the first time she had entered this other, strange place, with its loud noises and never-ending activities, its overcrowded hovels, its lingering smells of decay and death; places where the thick sickly air had sought to encompass her within its darkness and choking vapour. On that first visit she had been easily repelled and had fled quickly from its streets, gaining the sanctuary and relief of the countryside, vowing never to return, and deciding to relinquish her quest before it had begun.
But then as the months had passed, she found herself unable to rest, and the old desires had come once more to play upon her mind, eating into her very soul, until she had felt compelled to accept the inevitable — and knew that she would have to renew her journey, before she could ever hope to be at peace with herself.
At first she had only dared to return to the area during the day, attempting to gradually familiarize herself with the streets and buildings, the shops and drinking places, the markets and cheap lodging houses — and always changing her appearance so that she would not become noticeable, or thought different from those around her. Then as she had become familiar with her new surroundings, she had returned during the hours of darkness, walking the narrow alleyways, always seeking to converse with those who lingered beneath the shadows of the crippled buildings to slowly gain their confidence. When she had learnt all that she had sought, she had withdrawn into the dimly lit corners and doorways, where unnoticed by all those around her, she had begun to watch those who now interested her.
Now she knew that the time had come.
She waited anxiously. Somewhere in the distance she heard a clock chime the hour. Perhaps the boy would not come after all? He had taken her money — perhaps he would have decided that the prospect of further recompense was not worth the effort. She would have to find someone else who could lead her to the man whom she now sought above all others.
She paced back and forth, straining to peer through the lingering fog at any noise she could hear, waiting to commence the sequence of events for which she had planned for so long. The idea that she had come so far, and that she might yet be turned away from her purpose, was a thought she could not bear to countenance.
‘Miss!’
It was the voice of the child. So he had come after all. Money was always the persuader.
‘Miss!’
The speaker emerged before her; a ragged child not above ten years of age, but no doubt far more knowledgeable, above his years, in the ways of the street.
She felt in her purse and took out the shilling.
‘Take me to him — and there will be more,’ she said holding out her hand.
The child seized the coin from her outstretched palm, and looked up at the strange woman who was dressed entirely in black from head to foot, and whose face he could barely see from beneath her veil.
‘Follow us, lady,’ he said, turning away.
She nodded and followed the boy down the dark alleyway.
They made their way down a succession of streets and narrow twisting walkways, the boy pausing momentarily now and then to glance behind him, to see that he had not lost his companion in the darkness of the night.
Their journey took them past a number of drinking dens where the noises of the revellers and the songs of the piano escaped through the open windows before drifting upwards into the enveloping fog. Then onwards past the rows of squalid houses with their ever-changing smells and decaying fabrics — until she began to realize that they were gradually making their way out of the streets with which she had become so familiar during the previous months.
Now they appeared to be walking into an even darker unknown world, where the sounds of the night seemed to fade away into nothingness, until all she could hear was the noise of her own boots on the cobbled pavements. She began to feel afraid that perhaps the child was taking her to a place from where his accomplices might be lying in wait for her, and from whence she might never return. Her own life was of little consequence to her, but it was the sudden realization that her mission might then come to nought that now increased her anxiety.
‘How much further?’ she asked, seeking to regain her breath.
The child said nothing — and continued on his way.
She paused for a moment. She told herself that there was still time to put an end to it all, to abandon this mad desire, that she should retreat from the darkness, and return once more to the world of purity, light and sunshine, and to the hills which she had known for nearly all of her life.
‘Down ’ere!’ said the boy, breaking into her thoughts, and suddenly turning off the alleyw
ay. ‘Mind the water miss.’
She realized that they were now walking by the side of a canal. She could hear the gentle lapping of the waters as she pressed her handkerchief close to her nose in a vain attempt to extinguish the smells that rose from the decaying waterway. Occasional glimmers of light from the hanging lanterns of the barge boats lit the cobbled towpath before them, making their way easier.
Suddenly the child led her away from the canal and down a narrow passageway where the darkness seemed to close in around them once more.
‘Monk, up there!’ The boy pointed upwards towards a light that flickered at the top of a flight of steps, which led from out of the yard in which they now found themselves. ‘He be expecting you, miss.’
So this was where he had brought her, to a lonely warehouse in this dark forgotten corner of London. She felt inside her purse and took out the crown. As she placed the coin in the child’s hand she could see the light reflected in his eyes as his fist closed greedily around the coin.
‘You must wait for me here,’ she began, but the child turned on his heels and ran quickly down the alley, leaving her alone at the foot of the steps. Had he taken her to this lonely place merely to abandon her? Clearly he had been only interested in her money. She could have expected little else. Perhaps the man she sought was nothing more than a figment of the child’s imagination, but then she remembered it had been she who had learnt of his arrival in the city and who had instructed the boy to find him.
