The Inspector Ravenscroft Mysteries Box Set

by Kerry Tombs

  ‘I don’t believe so.’

  ‘It is very important, sir. Whilst you were down at the river-side did you hear or see anything unusual at all? Was there anyone else down there?’ persisted Ravenscroft.

  ‘No, Inspector, I saw no one — although — yes, I remember now. I was about to make my way up the steps from the river when someone collided with me.’

  ‘Did you happen to see who it was?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘No. He just muttered some words of apology, and then continued on his way along the side of the river. If I remember correctly. I think he went in the Diglis direction,’ replied Edwards, scratching his head.

  ‘Doctor Edwards, do you think the man could have been Evelyn?’

  ‘I don’t know, Inspector. It was very dark and he had his face covered, but I suppose it could have been Evelyn, although I would not like to swear that it definitely was him.’

  ‘Tell me, Doctor, when you reached the top of the steps and made your way back to your house—’

  ‘You seem particularly well informed with regard to my movements, Inspector Ravenscroft,’ said Edwards, becoming slightly annoyed.

  ‘The three Miss Tovey sisters saw you come up the steps, and return to your house.’

  ‘Ah, that would explain things. There is not much that those three sisters miss regarding the affairs of the cathedral and its inhabitants. But I think you were going to ask me whether I saw anyone else during my travels — and the answer is no.’

  ‘You did not see a monk leaving the cathedral?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘I have already said that I saw no one else that night,’ replied Edwards firmly.

  ‘Thank you, Dr Edwards. You have been most informative.’

  ‘Glad to have been of service, but if you will now excuse me gentlemen, I have a Latin class to take.’

  ‘Of course, sir,’ said Ravenscroft, then adding, ‘we may have need to speak with you again,’ as the master strode down the nave.

  ‘I think we may have annoyed him, sir,’ said Crabb closing his notebook.

  ‘That’s as may be, but we are investigating a possible murder, and the disappearance of a valuable book. Now, it is my intention to call upon Sir Arthur Griffiths. He is the Member of Parliament for Worcester and resides in one of the houses in the Close. Can you go to the Worcester Library and find out all you can about him? There are no doubt a number of reference books you can consult. Whilst you are there, you might as well see if you can find any entries for the Master of King’s, Dr Geraint Edwards. I will see if I can locate any of the monks who frequent the cathedral. One of them might be able to recall the events of the night Evelyn disappeared.’

  ‘Right, sir. You might even be able to find out which one of them was prowling around the cathedral that night.’

  ‘We can but hope, Crabb. I’ll see you in the Old Talbot at lunchtime.’

  ‘I look forward to some more of their excellent cheese, sir,’ said Crabb.

  Ravenscroft made his way around the near empty cathedral, pausing now and again to study one of the worn effigies, or to read one of the numerous plaques, that had been placed by succeeding generations, on the walls of the building. Now that the choirboys had left, he found the silence of the holy place almost overpowering and, looking upwards at the mighty roof, he felt the sudden insignificance of his own transient existence.

  ‘My son.’

  The voice made him turn.

  ‘I did not mean to startle you.’ The speaker was a tall, thin, elderly monk.

  ‘I was admiring the Chantry,’ said Ravenscroft.

  ‘Ah, Prince Arthur’s Chantry. You know the story?’

  ‘No. I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Prince Arthur was Arthur Tudor, eldest son of King Henry VII and brother to Henry VIII. Unfortunately he died before his father, and therefore never ascended the throne. Had he survived, there would probably have been no Henry VIII and no English Reformation. The whole course of English History might have been totally different — no Mary Tudor or Queen Elizabeth, perhaps not even the Stuart succession. Strange how these things turn out.’

  ‘Indeed so,’ replied Ravenscroft, observing that the monk spoke in a quiet, almost musical tone of voice.

  ‘But I sense that your interest lies not completely in admiring the cathedral architecture.’

  ‘You are correct in your assumption. I have been called in by the cathedral authorities to investigate the disappearance of the Whisperie.’

  ‘Then you must be Inspector Ravenscroft. My name is Jonus, Brother Jonus.’

  ‘I am pleased to meet you,’ said Ravenscroft shaking the other’s hand. ‘Are there many monks still associated with the cathedral?

  ‘There are only a handful of us left now, but we still seek to worship here, and to uphold a number of the ancient services. Would you care to take a walk with me round the cloisters, Inspector?’

  ‘That would be most welcome,’ replied Ravenscroft.

  ‘I understand that you have found the body of the librarian,’ said the monk leading the way.

  ‘Yes, we recovered Nicholas Evelyn from the River Severn.’

  ‘The poor unfortunate man, I will include him in my prayers tonight.’

  ‘You knew him well, Brother Jonus?’

  ‘As well as one can know another. He was a very private man.’

  ‘So we are given to understand.’

  ‘He was also a very sad man.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘He seemed to be haunted by something from his past.’

  ‘Do you know what that was? Did he ever confide in you? I know that you are not permitted to disclose anything that might have been said to you in the way of a confession, but—’

  ‘No, Inspector, he never sought to speak to me. I knew, of course, that he was greatly troubled, and I prayed that he might one day seek to relieve himself of his burden — but he did not, and now it is too late. I hope that God will forgive him, and that his soul may now rest in peace. Ah, here we are at the cloisters.’

  There was something in the monk’s quiet way of speaking, and the religious man’s calm dignity, that Ravenscroft found reassuring. ‘Did you see him at all in the cathedral that night?’

  ‘I did not see him, Inspector Ravenscroft, but I was aware of his presence.’

  ‘Could you explain further?’

  ‘It is my custom to offer up prayers in one of the side chapels each night, before the other monks enter the cathedral at twelve to conduct the midnight mass. I was in the chapel as usual. I could sense that he was passing by on his way up to the library.’

  ‘You did not think it strange that he should have been out at such a late hour?’ asked Ravenscroft, as they began their walk.

  ‘We are a cathedral, Inspector, and as such we must accommodate all those who wish to come and worship here, no matter what time of day or night they choose to seek salvation.’

  ‘Then the doors are not kept locked at night?’

  ‘The main doors at the entrance to the cathedral are generally locked after nine in the evening, but it is always possible for someone to enter through one of the many other side entrances to the building.’

  ‘Tell me, Brother, did you also see — or rather sense — when Evelyn left?’

  ‘Yes, it was some minutes before twelve o’clock.’

  ‘And what did you do then?’

  ‘I continued with my devotions until I joined the other brothers for the midnight mass.’

  ‘This is important, Brother: do you know whether all the brothers were there that night for the service?’ asked Ravenscroft eagerly.

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘But you are not sure?’

  ‘There are only six of us left now. I would have known if one of my other five brothers was missing. Why do you ask?’

  ‘A person, wearing a monk’s habit, was seen leaving the cathedral shortly after Nicholas Evelyn left. We believe that this person could have followed Evelyn dow
n to the river.’

  ‘I see,’ said Brother Jonus deep in thought. ‘Well I think I can give you my assurance that it was not one of my brothers — and I saw no one else in the cathedral that night.’

  ‘You saw no one at all?’

  ‘No one, Inspector.’

  ‘Is there any way that someone could have entered the cathedral, unnoticed, earlier in the evening, before your arrival?’

  ‘That is a possibility.’

  ‘It would have quite easy for such a person to have remained hidden for some time?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘There are certainly many places within the cathedral where such a person might be concealed.’

  ‘Could someone acquire a monk’s habit similar to your own?’

  ‘We usually have two spare robes hanging in a cupboard in the Chapter House,’ replied Brother Jonus.

  ‘I wonder whether we could go there now, to see whether one of them has been taken.’

  ‘Of course, Inspector, if you would care to follow me.’

  Ravenscroft followed the monk out of the cloisters, and the two men made their way across to the Chapter House. Entering the room, Jonus opened the door of the cupboard — to reveal a single robe hanging on one of the pegs before them.

  ‘It seems you are right, Inspector.’

  ‘You would definitely say that one of these robes has been taken?’

  ‘We always have two hanging here. Of course it is possible that one of the brothers might have taken it, to replace his own if it were soiled. I could make enquiries should you so wish.’

  ‘I would appreciate that, Brother Jonus. You have been most helpful, but I must leave you now, if you will excuse me. If anything else occurs to you, I would appreciate it if you would get in touch with me.’

  ‘Certainly, Inspector: I do hope that you will be able to recover the lost book, it means so much to us all here in the cathedral. You see it is part of our legacy, and it is our duty to see that it is cared for and passed down for future generations. It is as though we have all lost a child,’ said Jonus.

  ‘I will certainly do my best to find and return the Whisperie,’ replied Ravenscroft with confidence.

  ‘When you have time my son, it will be good for us to speak again. You know where to find me. I sense that there is something disturbing you. It often helps to confide in another,’ said Brother Jonus, giving a gentle smile as he closed the door to the Chapter House.

  ‘Thank you, Brother Jonus. I will remember that,’ replied Ravenscroft as he walked away, deep in thought.

  ‘Well, Crabb, tell me the fruits of your research at the local library this morning?’ asked Ravenscroft, helping himself to a large slice of ham at lunch at the Old Talbot.

  ‘Quite a great deal concerning our Member of Parliament; not so much about Dr Edwards,’ replied Crabb, taking out his pocket book.

  ‘Tell me about Edwards first.’

  ‘Born 1828 in Cardiff. Educated at some private school in Bangor — the name of which I can’t pronounce — then studied for a degree in Latin and Mathematics at Cardiff University, after which he undertook a number of teaching appointments in Wales, before becoming assistant master at Monmouth College. He was appointed Master of King’s School twelve years ago, and has a wife and two grown-up children. He has also written three books on Latin grammar, and a book about Welsh Druids. That’s about all. Pretty dull fish, if you ask me, sir.’

  ‘And Griffiths?’

  ‘Sir Arthur Granville Sackville Boscawen Trevor Griffiths — quite a mouthful that, sir — born in 1840, second son of Gaspard Boscawen Griffiths of Chester. Educated at Rugby School before going on to Queen’s College, Oxford where he gained a degree in History and Politics. Whilst at Oxford he was President of the Oxford Union. He is a member of two London clubs — The Athaneum and Carlton. Also owns another house in London, in Kensington Gardens, I believe. First contested Tunbridge Wells for the Tory Party in 1865, where he was unsuccessful, but later contested Worcester, which he won in a by-election in 1870, and has remained the member ever since. He was knighted three years ago, for services to the party.’

  ‘Any family?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘There was a wife, Cecily, but she died about ten years ago. He does not appear to have remarried, and there is one child still alive from his first marriage, a daughter, I believe.’

  ‘Yes, Ruth Weston, the parlour maid, mentioned her. She apparently runs the house for her father. Did you find anything else?’

  ‘No, sir. I think that’s about all. Oh, I did take the trouble to look up your Dr Silas Renfrew whilst I was at the library. Born in New York in 1842, son of wealthy American parents; he came over to England about four years ago. He has quite an important collection of early English books and manuscripts, and has written one or two of books on the subject. Belongs to a number of learned academic and literary societies in both America and London,’ concluded the constable.

  ‘Well done, Crabb.’

  ‘And how was the rest of your morning, sir?’

  ‘I had a good look round the cathedral, and encountered one of the monks, a Brother Jonus, who remembers Evelyn both entering and leaving the cathedral on the night the book was taken. However, he cannot recall anyone else being there at the time — but we did find that one of the monk’s habits had been taken from a cupboard in the Chapter House.’

  ‘So whoever killed Evelyn and took the book from its hiding place, disguised himself as a monk, so he would not be recognized?’ remarked Crabb taking another drink of his ale.

  ‘It seems that way.’

  ‘But why kill Evelyn, once he had the book?’

  ‘Because he wanted to make sure that Evelyn would not talk about his role in the theft. Also he wanted to create the impression in the eyes of the world, that Evelyn had taken the book, and that it had been lost in the river when Evelyn was drowned.’

  ‘Very clever, seems we are dealing with quite a ruthless person!’

  ‘And we have to find out who this person is, so that we can recover the book. Drink up, Crabb, it’s time we called on the household of our Member of Parliament, to see if its occupants can shed any more light on this matter.’

  A few minutes later found the two men making their way across the Cathedral Green, until they arrived at an imposing Georgian residence, the outside of which bore a brass plaque bearing the words — SIR ARTHUR GRIFFITHS, MP.

  Crabb rang the doorbell.

  ‘Good afternoon, my name is Inspector Ravenscroft. This is Constable Crabb. Is your master at home?’ said Ravenscroft, addressing the maid who opened the door to him.

  ‘I’m afraid Sir Arthur is busy at the moment, sir. Perhaps you would care to make an appointment and call back later?’ replied the girl.

  ‘Could we see Miss Griffiths? I understand she is the lady of the house. Perhaps you would be kind enough to give her my card,’ said Ravenscroft, taking it from his pocket and giving it to the maid. He had half expected that Ruth Weston would have attended to them, but then he concluded that Sir Arthur would probably have more than one maid in such an imposing residence.

  ‘If you would care to wait in the hall, sir, I will see if Miss Griffiths is free to see you.’

  ‘Thank you. Could you say to your mistress that the matter is of great importance.’

  Ravenscroft and Crabb stepped into the hall, as the housemaid walked away with Ravenscroft’s card on a round silver tray.

  ‘Well, this looks a fine place and no mistake,’ whispered Crabb looking around the hall with its ornate furniture and fine paintings. ‘Worth a shilling or two this lot, I’d be bound.’

  ‘Our Member of Parliament certainly seems to have done well for himself,’ replied Ravenscroft smiling, as he looked at a set of hand-coloured political satires on one of the walls.

  The sound of a man’s voice could be heard talking in low tones from behind one of the doors.

  ‘Sir Arthur?’ said Crabb in a whisper.

  ‘Possibly,’ repl
ied Ravenscroft.

  ‘Always makes me feel uncomfortable, places like this,’ said Crabb in a slightly louder voice.

  ‘Miss Griffiths will see you now, sir,’ said the maid, returning from the drawing-room. ‘If you would care to follow me, gentlemen?’

  The two policemen followed the maid into the room.

  ‘Inspector Ravenscroft, miss, and er—’ began the maid.

  ‘Constable Crabb.’

  ‘—and Constable Crabb, miss.’

  ‘Gentlemen, do both please take a seat.’

  Ravenscroft observed that the speaker was of a tall, thin stature, her black hair contrasting with her pallid complexion. He estimated her age as being not much above twenty.

  ‘Thank you, Miss Griffiths. I very much appreciate you seeing us without an appointment,’ he began, seating himself on one of the drawing-room chairs, as Crabb took out his pocket book and stood by one of the bookcases.

  ‘I am sorry that my father cannot see you. He is a very busy man, as I am sure you will appreciate. He is with someone now in his study, one of his constituents, I believe. How can I be of assistance to you?’ she replied somewhat nervously.

  ‘You have probably heard about the death of the librarian at the cathedral, Miss Griffiths, and the disappearance of one of the old books from the library. We are making enquiries into both these concerns. As your house overlooks the Green, and has a fine view of the cathedral, I would be obliged if you would answer a number of questions for us.’

  Their hostess smiled, but said nothing.

  ‘Nicholas Evelyn, the librarian: did you ever have cause to speak with him?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘No. I knew of him, of course. I have often seen him entering the cathedral in the mornings, but I have never spoken to him,’ she answered, a puzzled expression on her face. ‘I think the same would apply to my father,’ she added, placing her hands neatly in her lap.

  ‘Have you ever visited the library, Miss Griffiths?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘No, I don’t believe that I have ever done so. My father and I always worship at the cathedral on Sundays, of course, but we never visited the library. We had no reason to do so.’

  ‘Can I turn to the night of the theft of the Whisperie. Did you happen to see anyone entering or leaving the cathedral late that evening?’