by Kerry Tombs
‘You’ve lost me, sir.’
‘The choirboy hanged himself from one of the beams in the library — and it was Nicholas Evelyn who discovered the body!’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘So it would seem that Nicholas Evelyn had something to do with that choirboy who hanged himself in the library, all those years ago,’ said Crabb.
It was the following morning and the two detectives were on their way to see Dr Silas Renfrew.
‘I think it was more than that. The event had a profound effect on the rest of Evelyn’s life. He became a recluse, immersing himself in his books, spending his evenings alone in that awful room, making no friends and avoiding all company. Somehow he must have felt himself responsible for the boy’s death. He withdrew into himself. Then one day someone came along and threatened to disclose Evelyn’s involvement in the boy’s death unless he stole the Whisperie — and when he had carried out the task he was brutally killed and thrown into the river,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘Then Miss Weston found out who had killed Evelyn, and before she could tell, our murderer hired Billy to kill her as well,’ suggested Crabb.
‘It would appear to be that way.’
‘But how would our murderer have discovered Evelyn’s involvement in the boy’s suicide? After all there were no newspaper reports and there are no records in King’s School concerning the death.’
‘Which leads us to the conclusion that either our murderer was there at the time — in 1851 — or that he later became involved with the boy’s family and learned of the death that way,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘If he was around in 1851 that would rule out most of our suspects. Renfrew would have been too young and was living in America, and both Sir Arthur Griffiths and Cranston were either small children at the time or had not even been born.’
‘This case certainly throws up more possibilities the further we go back in time. Talking of Renfrew, here we are. Let us hope he has returned.’
The two men alighted from the cab and gave instructions that their driver was to wait for them.
‘No sign of the gardener today,’ said Crabb, lifting the large knocker and bringing it down on the wooden door. Almost before he had laid the knocker to rest, the door was abruptly opened by Georgio, the manservant.
‘Good morning,’ said Ravenscroft, ‘is your master at home?’
The Italian looked them up and down suspiciously, then remarked, ‘You a wait here,’ before opening the door wider, and admitting the two men into the hall.
‘Blimey!’ said Crabb observing the statue of the naked David at the bottom of the stairs, as the manservant disappeared into one of the back rooms.
‘Our doctor is a man of liberal tastes,’ smiled Ravenscroft.
‘Positively obscene I call it!’
The doors to the library opened and Renfrew strode out. ‘Good morning, Inspector. I see we meet again,’ said the American, offering his hand. As Ravenscroft shook it, he experienced the same iron grip as before. ‘Do please come into the library. Can I offer you a drink perhaps?’
‘No, thank you, sir. We won’t detain you long,’ replied Ravenscroft following his host into the room.
‘Dear me, Inspector, that all sounds very formal. Thank you, Georgio, you may leave us.’
The manservant gave a slight bow and stared at Crabb again, before leaving the room.
‘Now Inspector, have you called upon me to tell me that you have found the Whisperie?’ asked Renfrew, in his slow American drawl.
‘Alas, no, Dr Renfrew,’ replied Ravenscroft, as Crabb busied himself by casting glances round the room.
‘Then it must be concerning the Antiphoner.’
‘You are correct, sir.’
‘I knew that it would only be a matter of time before you returned, wanting to know more about my purchase of the work,’ said the American with confidence.
‘It might interest you to know, Dr Renfrew, that I have reason to believe that the Antiphoner was stolen some years ago from the library of Worcester Cathedral,’ said Ravenscroft looking into the American’s eyes to see if his sudden declaration had any noticeable effect on his host.
‘I see. Do you have any evidence to support this view?’ asked Renfrew unperturbed.
‘We examined the catalogue of the collection. The page which contained details of the Antiphoner had clearly been removed.’
‘Then this is of serious concern,’ replied Renfrew looking away.
‘You mentioned that you purchased the work from a New York auction house approximately five years ago, I think you said.’
‘That is correct, Inspector.’
‘Do you have any documentation to prove that you did indeed purchase it?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘Do you think that I took it from the cathedral library, or that I paid Evelyn to acquire it for me?’
‘I did not suggest that, sir.’
‘But you consider it a distinct possibility.’
‘I have to keep an open mind,’ said Ravenscroft, forcing a smile.
‘I think I have proof of purchase. If you will allow me time to search through my papers, Inspector?’
‘Of course.’
‘I know the purchase cost me a great deal of money. I had to sell a number of my American stocks to fund it,’ said Renfrew, opening the top drawer of his desk and taking out a folder of papers.
‘Perhaps you would allow me to show my constable the work in question?’
‘Please, feel free, Inspector.’
Ravenscroft and Crabb walked over to the glass cabinet which contained the Antiphoner.
‘Late fourteenth century, I think you said, sir?’ said Ravenscroft.
‘Yes,’ said Renfrew, going through his papers.
‘Don’t think I’ve ever seen a work as old as that before.’
‘Handwritten by the monks here at Worcester,’ added Ravenscroft.
‘Ah, here we are. I think you will find that this is in order,’ said Renfrew rising from his seat and handing over a sheet of paper.
‘Thank you. I see what you mean about a great deal of money.’
‘And worth every cent, I can assure you.’
‘This paper certainly indicates that you purchased the work in good faith from the auction house. Would you happen to know who the previous owner was?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘I’m afraid I can’t help you there. Most of these things are said to come from the “estate of an English gentleman”, which generally means that either some lord or other has died and his heirs are cashing in on his estate, or that some poor aristocrat has had to sell the family heirlooms to pay off his gambling debts.’
‘May I retain this receipt for a while?’
‘Certainly.’
‘You realize, sir, that if we find that the Antiphoner was taken from the cathedral, then the work will almost certainly have to be returned to the cathedral authorities,’ said Ravenscroft, neatly folding the paper and placing it in one of his coat pockets.
‘That I would be very loath to do — but then, as you say, Inspector, you have to prove that it was taken in the first place,’ replied Renfrew defiantly.
‘Oh, I think we might be able to do that, sir. In the meantime, I would ask you not to sell or dispose of it.’
‘I would be unlikely to do that. The Antiphoner is the pride of my collection.
I would be unwilling to part with it.’
‘Thank you for your time.’
Renfrew rang a bell. ‘Please feel free to call upon me at any time you so wish.’
The manservant entered the room almost immediately.
‘Georgio, would you please show these two gentlemen out.’
Ravenscroft and Crabb followed him into the hall.
‘Until next time, Inspector,’ shouted out Renfrew from the study.
The two men walked back to their waiting cab.
‘He seems very sure of himself, and he didn’t like it when he thought you might be taking the Anti
phoner from him,’ said Crabb.
‘Our Dr Renfrew has an answer for everything. I have the distinct impression that he either stole the book from the cathedral library, or purchased it from someone else who took it. In which case, this paper is almost certainly a forgery. Did you notice how quickly he found the receipt amongst his papers? It was almost as though he knew we would be arriving and had his story and this paper to hand,’ said Ravenscroft, patting the horse before climbing into the cab.
‘I can’t say I liked him much. He was too full of his own importance if you ask me. Don’t trust these Americans,’ said Crabb.
‘Where to now, governor?’ asked their driver cracking his whip.
‘Back to Worcester if you please.’
‘Didn’t like the look of that Italian fellow either. Looked a bit suspicious to me,’ added Crabb.
‘I agree. Not the kind of man you would want to cross swords with in a dark alley late at night.’
Ten minutes later, the two men alighted from the cab and made their way over to Glovers Lodging-house, where Crabb banged his fist on the door.
‘Lord above if it ain’t the peelers again,’ muttered Mrs Glover, reluctantly opening the door.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs Glover. We wondered whether Mr Cranston has returned from London?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘He came in about ten minutes ago.’
‘Then may we come in and have a word with him, if you please?’
The old woman said nothing, allowing them to enter and make their way up the stairs.
Ravenscroft knocked on the door to Cranston’s rooms.
‘Coming, Mrs Glover,’ shouted the voice from within. There followed a long silence, during which Ravenscroft shuffled his feet, as Crabb looked down over the banisters.
Presently they heard the sound of a key being turned in the lock. ‘Oh, it’s you again, Inspector,’ said Cranston, opening the door with a look of annoyance.
‘Good morning, Mr Cranston. May we come in? We won’t take up too much of your time,’ said Ravenscroft, trying to sound as polite as he could.
‘If you must,’ sighed Cranston turning away.
‘Thank you, sir, I see that you have just returned from London. I trust you managed to conclude your business to your own satisfaction?’
‘I’m sure that my business concerns are of little interest to you,’ replied Cranston, affecting an air of indifference.
‘Oh, that is where you are incorrect, sir. Your business affairs interest us a great deal. When we spoke the other day, you stated — unless I am mistaken — that before you came to Worcester you were employed by the Wedgewood Company at Stoke on Trent,’ said Ravenscroft, casting his eyes round the contents of the room.
‘That is so, Inspector, but I fail to see the significance of all this,’ replied Cranston irritably.
‘We have reason to believe that you lied to us, Mr Cranston.’
‘Now look here—’
‘It might interest you to know that they have not heard of you at Wedgewood. There is no trace of you having been employed by them.’
‘Then they must be mistaken. I was employed there for six years,’ replied Cranston adamantly.
‘That is not what they say.’
‘As I have just said, Inspector, they must be mistaken. Wedgewood are a large concern. There are a number of departments. I’m sure if you ask again, they will find details of my employment. Now, if you will excuse me, there is a great deal of paperwork that I must complete before the end of the morning.’
‘Do you mind if we take a look around your rooms, sir?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘I certainly do mind,’ replied Cranston angrily.
‘It won’t take a minute.’
‘The devil it will!’
‘I could return with a written authorization from my superiors, Mr Cranston,’ said Ravenscroft, trying to remain as calm as he could.
‘Then I suggest you do so,’ snapped Cranston.
‘I’m sure that if you have nothing to hide, you cannot possibly object.’
‘But I do object, most strongly — and no, I have nothing to hide. I regard all this as police harassment, and will be lodging a complaint with your superiors,’ said Cranston firmly, looking Ravenscroft in the eye.
‘That is your decision.’
‘I don’t like your tone, Inspector. I said all I had to say on your last visit here. I am not involved in the murders of either Mr Evelyn or Miss Weston. In fact I was not in Worcester on either of the two nights in question, facts that can be easily checked by reference to my employers, if you consider it worth the effort to do so,’ replied Cranston sarcastically.
‘You seem remarkably well informed about the events we are investigating for someone who is seldom in Worcester,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘I read the papers. I like to be kept informed. Now I think it is time you left. I shall be seeking legal representation in this matter and, as I said, I will be lodging a complaint. You have not heard the last of this, Ravenscroft.’
‘That sounds remarkably like a threat to me, Mr Cranston,’ said Ravenscroft firmly.
‘That is your interpretation. Now I suggest you leave, before you say something you may later regret,’ said Cranston opening the door.
‘Mr Cranston, I am not satisfied with your answers, and further investigation concerning the nature of your activities before your arrival in Worcester, will be conducted. I wish you a good day.’
The policemen quickly made their way down the stairs as the door to Cranston’s room banged shut behind them.
‘Nasty, unpleasant fellow!’ remarked Crabb.
‘My sentiments exactly. I tell you, Crabb, I was an inch away from instructing you to put the cuffs on him. Our Mr Cranston has something to hide. I am sure he is involved in these two murders.’
‘Shall we come back with a warrant to search his rooms?’
‘I doubt we would find anything. It would not surprise me, however, if we discover that Cranston is not his real name.’
‘You mean he could have been in prison before he came to Worcester?’ asked Crabb.
‘Most likely, I would say,’ said Ravenscroft reaching the lower floor, where an anxious Mrs Glover was waiting.
‘Have you finished then?’ asked the old woman.
‘For the present, thank you, Mrs Glover,’ smiled Ravenscroft.
‘I wants to let them rooms. We can’t be having two rooms empty where there is no one to pay the rent. Old Glover would turn in his grave if he thought there was no money coming in.’
‘I quite understand, Mrs Glover. I don’t think we will need access again to either Mr Evelyn or Miss Weston’s rooms, so, yes, do go ahead and secure new tenants if you so wish.’
‘Then you best have this then,’ said the landlady, leading the way into Ruth Weston’s old rooms. Ravenscroft followed on behind, wondering what it was that she wanted to give him. ‘You best have that. I’ve no use for it,’ she said, handing him the hand-embroidered tablecloth. ‘Lad might want it, when he’s older.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Glover. I’m sure he will,’ said Ravenscroft, folding up the cloth. ‘Thank you once again for all your assistance.’
The old woman showed them out, and the two men walked away from the lodging house.
‘I think our Mrs Glover will be pleased to see the back of us.’
‘Do you want me to take the cloth and give it to the lad?’ asked Crabb.
‘If you would be so kind; this was the tablecloth that Ruth Weston embroidered with the names ‘Arthur and Ruth’ — the names which I presume refer to herself and her son. Of course!’ said Ravenscroft, stopping suddenly.
‘What’s the matter, sir?’ asked Crabb.
‘ “One day my son will live in that house”, that’s what she said to me.’
‘Sorry, sir, you’ve lost me.’ said Crabb bewildered.
‘The day I met Ruth Weston she said to me that one day her son would live in “that house”. We w
ere facing Sir Arthur Griffiths’ house at the time. One day her son would live in the house. Come, Crabb, back to the Court offices before they close for the day. There are some more records we need to examine urgently!’
‘Yes?’ said the clerk appearing from the inner office. ‘Oh, it’s you again.’
‘We require some more information,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘We’re closing in five minutes,’ sniffed the clerk.
‘Then there is just time for you to bring me the Birth Registers, for the years 1881 and 1882, if you please.’
‘Might take me longer than five minutes,’ grumbled the clerk.
‘We are content to wait. I’m sure it will not take you long to find them,’ insisted Ravenscroft.
‘Better if you came back tomorrow.’
‘I don’t want to come back tomorrow.’
‘Suit yourselves then.’
‘Now look here, we are on urgent police business which can’t wait until tomorrow,’ said Ravenscroft, remembering his previous encounter with the clerk and becoming annoyed.
‘Better tomorrow,’ repeated the clerk, giving another long sniff.
‘See here, if you do not bring me the registers within the next five minutes, you will find yourself facing a charge of hindering the police in the pursuance of their duty. I need not remind you of the seriousness of this offence. You would almost certainly lose your employment as a result of facing such a charge. I trust I make myself clear?’ said Ravenscroft leaning over the counter in a slightly menacing way.
The clerk said nothing as he shuffled away.
‘Why do we need to look at the registers, sir?’ asked Crabb.
‘I hope we can find details relating to the birth of Ruth Weston’s child.’
The clerk returned bearing two ledgers which he banged down on the table. ‘Closing in two minutes!’
‘You take 1881, I’ll take 1882. Look for an entry for Weston,’ instructed Ravenscroft, ignoring the clerk.
The two men busied themselves in turning over the pages as the clerk stood in the corner of the room shuffling his feet, and giving the occasional sniff.
‘Here we are!’ exclaimed Crabb, after a few minutes.
‘Well done,’ said Ravenscroft, leaning over his shoulder. ‘Christian names — Arthur, Granville, Sackville, Boscawen, Griffiths. Name of father left blank. Name of mother — Ruth Weston. Informant — Ruth Weston.’
