The Inspector Ravenscroft Mysteries Box Set

by Kerry Tombs

  ‘Anne, you don’t have to do this. I’ll secure the services of the best lawyer in London, Mr Sefton Rawlinson. I’ll telegraph him in the morning. He’ll know what to say in your defence. We will say it was your illness that drove you to commit this desperate act. That you were not thinking at the time. Trust me, Anne. Is there no way, Inspector, you can help my daughter? You must be able to do something for her? God, man, we’ll do anything, but not this.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, but I have to uphold the law. It is out of my hands. If you would be so good as to accompany us, Miss Griffiths, when you are ready.’

  Later that night, Ravenscroft made his way back to the Cardinal’s Hat. It had given him little satisfaction to have arrested Anne Griffiths, but at least he had discovered who, and why, Ruth Weston had been killed, and that file could now be closed. He had eventually secured justice for the poor unfortunate woman whom he had engaged in conversation shortly after his arrival in Worcester, and he now knew that the two killings were not related to one another. There still remained, however, the murder of Nicholas Evelyn to be solved; the Whisperie had not yet been recovered and returned to its rightful place — and he was more than aware that time was running out for the truth to be finally unravelled.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘Nasty business, sir.’

  Ravenscroft looked up from his breakfast. The landlord of the Cardinal’s Hat was pointing to one of the pages in the local newspaper.

  ‘There’s never any good news in the newspapers these days,’ said Ravenscroft, placing a piece of sausage on the end of his fork.

  ‘Two of them killed on one night in London. First one apparently had her throat cut,’ continued the landlord dramatizing the scene. ‘Killer was likely to have done more to her, but was disturbed and ran off before he was caught. Then the fellow goes on to kill another woman an hour later; can you believe it? Cuts her throat and does horrible things with her insides, displaying them all out on the pavement for everyone to gawp at.’

  Ravenscroft returned his fork and sausage to his plate.

  ‘Mind you, I suppose those women got what was coming to them, if they will insist on carrying on like that. Still no one deserves to be cut up like that, and their insides taken out for all and sundry to view. Cut out her kidney as well, by all accounts, then, when he had satisfied himself there he had a go at her face. Cut her ear right off, he did. No need for that, was there? Breakfast not to your liking this morning, Mr Ravenscroft?’

  ‘I’m not particularly hungry, thank you,’ replied Ravenscroft, pushing his plate away from him.

  ‘The terrible things they get up to in London. Who’d live there?’ said the landlord picking up the plate.

  ‘Indeed. Who would? Is that the hour? Time I was on my way to catch my train. I might be back rather late tonight.’

  ‘Right you are, sir. Perhaps you would care for some reading matter on your journey? Read all the ghastly details like,’ said the landlord, smiling and holding out the newspaper for him to take.

  ‘I don’t think so, thank you all the same,’ said Ravenscroft, quickly making his way towards the door.

  ‘Don’t forget the beam, sir! Oh — too late!’

  Ravenscroft escaped from the inn, and rubbed his head as he made his way down Friar Street and along Foregate Street, in the direction of the railway station.

  After purchasing his ticket, he made his way up the steps and on to the platform. He checked his pocket watch with the large station clock and, realizing that his train would not be due for another ten minutes, pushed open the door to the waiting room. A number of people were sitting on the benches, some engaged in conversation, others reading, one or two staring vacantly before them. An old bearded man, wearing a large hat and a ragged overcoat, was sleeping in the corner. One lady, dressed in black, looked up from her reading and glanced at him as he made his way across the room.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Marchmont — or should I say, Mrs Kelly?’ said Ravenscroft raising his hat.

  ‘Inspector Ravenscroft. I thought it would not be long before we encountered one another again,’ she replied in a quiet assured voice.

  ‘May I join you?’ he asked, noticing that she seemed paler and more worn, than when he had seen her last.

  She nodded her approval, and Ravenscroft sat down on the bench beside her. ‘Are you waiting for the Hereford train?’ asked Ravenscroft, not quite sure what he should say in the circumstances.

  ‘London,’ she replied. ‘And yourself?’

  ‘I go in the other direction to Hereford and then on to Hay.’

  ‘Your investigations take you far afield,’ she said, in the same plain, matter-of-fact voice that he remembered from the previous year.

  ‘In this case, yes.’

  ‘I hear that you have arrested Miss Griffiths for being involved in her maid’s murder.’

  ‘News travels very fast in Worcester,’ answered Ravenscroft, beginning to feel uneasy in her presence.

  ‘In a small town such as Worcester, you cannot keep secrets for long. But presumably your investigations still continue, Mr Ravenscroft?’

  ‘Yes. The killer of Mr Evelyn is still at large, and the Whisperie has not yet been recovered.’

  ‘Ah, the Whisperie.’ She smiled briefly for the first time during their conversation.

  ‘You are familiar with the work?’

  ‘I have never seen it myself, but I am aware of its value to the cathedral.’

  ‘You seem well acquainted with Sir Arthur.’

  ‘I have met him on a number of occasions. He was very helpful to me in the administration of my late husband’s estate,’ she replied quietly.

  ‘I see.’

  ‘And you are wondering, Mr Ravenscroft, if I am not mistaken, as to why I am known as Mrs Marchmont, when my real name is apparently Mrs Kelly.’

  ‘I must admit that the thought had crossed my mind.’

  ‘Always the detective! Marchmont was my maiden name. After his death, and the disgrace he had brought upon us by his behaviour, I thought it prudent to revert back to my former family name. So you see, there is nothing at all sinister in my motives. I am sorry to have to disappoint you on this occasion.’

  ‘I had thought that there was a logical explanation,’ said Ravenscroft looking away. ‘Do you live in London now?’

  ‘No. I purchased a small property just outside Worcester, in the village of Hallow, after I left Malvern. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Last year, I thought I saw you in London — and you said you were waiting for the London train today.’

  ‘You must have been mistaken. I have not been to the capital for some years now. Today I am awaiting the arrival of the London train. I am meeting an old friend who is to stay with me.’

  Ravenscroft felt that she was not telling the truth, but knew that it would be futile to continue with that line of questioning. ‘And how is your situation now, since we last spoke?’ he enquired, without thinking what he was asking.

  ‘Are you asking, Mr Ravenscroft, if I still feel bitterness over the cause of the death of my husband and son? Of course: that pain can never go away. Why should it?’ she replied, a look of resignation forming in her eyes.

  ‘Then I am sorry,’ was all that he could say.

  ‘You might be interested to learn that Sir Arthur has asked me to marry him,’ she said suddenly.

  ‘I had no idea—’ said Ravenscroft, but she cut him short.

  ‘I think, Inspector, you are trying to be over polite. You have seen me there twice, at Sir Arthur’s house, and no doubt observed how the gentleman addressed me.’

  ‘And have you accepted him?’

  ‘Now you are being impolite.’

  ‘Forgive me, my dear lady,’ said Ravenscroft, uncomfortable and wishing that his train would arrive.

  ‘Sir Arthur is a good man. He is also very lonely since the death of his first wife. He thinks I could bring him happiness. In that, he is mistaken. To answer your question, Inspe
ctor — no, I will not be accepting his proposal. My destiny lies elsewhere. I am not well; the illness that struck down my husband and my son, has I fear, also begun to cast its shadow over me. No, please do not say that you are sorry for my condition. I would find such sympathy patronizing.’

  ‘I was merely going to say that it is a shame that you are unable to bring some comfort to Sir Arthur. Now that his daughter has been taken into custody, he will have need of friends, as indeed will you.’

  Mrs Kelly reached into the pocket on her dress, and in so doing a small packet dropped on to the floor of the waiting room, startling its owner as it did so.

  ‘Allow me,’ said Ravenscroft, leaning down and reaching out for the packet. As he grasped it, however, its contents — three brass rings — rolled away from his feet. He rose from his seat and, recovering the rings, wrapped them in the paper, and handed them back to their owner. The old man in the corner of the waiting room coughed and pulled his hat further down over his face.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Ravenscroft,’ she said, replacing it in her pocket, ‘I should take greater care.’

  Ravenscroft smiled — and wondered why she should be carrying three such items on her person.

  ‘And how are you?’ she asked quickly, breaking into his thoughts. ‘Do you still live in London?’

  ‘Unfortunately so,’ he replied, resuming his seat.

  ‘I think you would rather be here in Worcester — or Ledbury.’

  ‘I would indeed. Worcester is a pleasant enough city,’ he replied, wondering why his companion should have mentioned the latter place.

  ‘Then perhaps you should consider the change. I am sure you would be more content. Sometimes we need to put our fears behind us. Only by confronting our failures can we eventually hope to achieve our heart’s desire.’

  Ravenscroft smiled. The station master, outside on the platform, began to announce the arrival of the Hereford train. ‘I must go,’ he said, rising from his seat. ‘Until we meet again, Mrs Kelly, or should I say, Mrs Marchmont.’

  ‘I do not think that will be possible. Our paths go in different directions,’ she said, in a formal reassuring tone, which Ravenscroft found slightly unnerving.

  As the train arrived on the station platform, Ravenscroft hesitated, not knowing whether he should stay and prolong his conversation, or embark on his journey to Hereford and Hay.

  ‘You will miss your train, Mr Ravenscroft, and that will never do. There is someone, I am sure, who will be pleased to see you. Do not leave it until it is too late.’

  Ravenscroft nodded briefly and making his way out of the waiting room, boarded the departing train, deep in thought.

  ‘Good morning,’ said Crabb, boarding the train at Great Malvern station.

  ‘And to you, Crabb. We have chosen a fine day for our excursion, although I believe the forecast is not so good for the west of Hereford. There could be some rain later, but we must take it as it comes.’

  ‘I have sent a telegram to the local station in Hay, and someone should be meeting us off the train. We have to change at Hereford and on to the Brecknock Railway,’ said Crabb. ‘You look deep in thought this morning, sir, if you don’t mind my saying.’

  ‘I’ve just encountered an old acquaintance,’ replied Ravenscroft looking out of the window at the hills. ‘Crabb, I’ve decided to get off at Ledbury for a while; there is someone I need to see. You go on ahead, and I’ll join you in Hay off the later train.’

  ‘Very well, sir. I’m sure Miss Armitage will be pleased to see you again,’ replied Crabb smiling.

  ‘Of that I cannot be sure, but I am resolved to be bold.’

  ‘That’s always the best way. Why, if I had not been so bold with my Jennie, someone else would have snapped her up and no mistake!’

  ‘When you get to Hay see if you can find Radnor Lodge. See if the Tinniswood family is still there — or if not, find out as much as you can about them.’

  ‘Leave it to me, sir.’

  A few minutes later, the train drew into the station at Ledbury and Ravenscroft alighted from the carriage. Ignoring the waiting horse-drawn cabs outside the station, he set off at a brisk pace down the road that led into the centre of the town. Reaching the busy market place, he paused for a moment at the entrance to Church Lane, not knowing whether he should continue or retreat and retrace his steps back to the station. Perhaps he had been foolish to have broken his journey on what seemed little more than a sudden impulse. After all, he had been rejected once — why should he expect that he would succeed this time?

  ‘It’s Mr Ravenscroft, is it not?’ said a voice at his elbow.

  ‘Er, yes,’ he replied.

  ‘You probably don’t remember me, sir. I’m Miss Armitage’s maid,’ replied the young woman.

  ‘Yes, of course. Please forgive me. It has been some time,’ he apologized, looking anxiously all around in case the maid had been accompanied by her mistress.

  ‘That’s all right, sir,’ she smiled.

  ‘And how is your mistress?’

  ‘Miss Armitage is well, sir.’

  ‘And her son, is he well?’

  ‘Very well, sir. He can be quite a handful at times,’ she laughed.

  ‘I expect so.’

  ‘Will you be calling on Miss Armitage?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Perhaps another day,’ he replied, despising his lack of endeavour.

  ‘I’m sure she would be very pleased to see you. She often speaks very highly about you, sir.’

  ‘Does she?’

  ‘I’m just returning from market, if you would care to accompany me?’ said the girl looking up into his eyes.

  He hesitated, aware that he could still make his excuses and return to the station. Instead he nodded and followed the young woman up the narrow cobbled street.

  There was the snug little cottage, just as he remembered it, with its baskets of hanging flowers outside, and its prospect of an inviting interior within.

  ‘If you would care to wait here, sir, I’ll just tell Miss Armitage that you have arrived.’

  Ravenscroft forced a smile as the maid entered the cottage. He reached up to admire the flowers and looked up at the bedroom windows, half expecting to see a familiar face gazing down upon him from one of the leaded paned windows. He began to walk up and down outside the building for what seemed like an eternity, looking down the street one minute, staring at the closed door the next, removing his spectacles for the third time so that he might polish the lens. He wondered how shocked she would be to hear that he had returned, and what her reaction would be to seeing him once more. He could feel a cold sweat forming on his brow, and his stomach felt hollow and unsettled. Thoughts of abandoning such a foolish adventure flooded into his mind. He turned and resolved to leave quickly before the door reopened. There was still time to abandon his quest.

  ‘Miss says you are very welcome, sir,’ said the maid suddenly opening the door.

  ‘Thank you,’ he replied, quickly walking up the path, then pausing momentarily before stepping into the hallway.

  ‘Mr Ravenscroft, how pleasant to see you again.’

  She was just as he remembered her — the same striking appearance, auburn hair and welcoming smile that had remained in his thoughts since the first day he had seen her. ‘Miss Armitage,’ he said kissing her outstretched hand.

  ‘Do, please, come into the sitting-room.’

  He followed her and accepted the seat that was offered.

  ‘Would you like some tea?’

  ‘That would be very pleasant,’ he replied, looking around him, reassured that the room still retained its light, airy, homely appearance.

  Lucy gave instructions to the maid, who smiled, and left the room. ‘And what brings you to Ledbury today, Mr Ravenscroft? Are you here on police business? Will you be staying long?’ she asked, the questions issued in a formal but nervous manner.

  ‘I was invited to come to Worcester by the dean of the cathedral, to help solve a murder and re
cover one of their priceless books,’ he replied, the words displaying his uncertainty.

  ‘Your reputation is obviously well established,’ she said smiling.

  ‘I have been in Worcester for nearly three weeks now,’ he said quickly and, as she turned away, he realized that she would have been perhaps upset by the fact that he had not visited her during that time.

  ‘And have you caught your murderer?’ she asked.

  ‘Not yet. The case has been of a protracted nature, but I am hopeful that we may be able to bring things to a satisfactory conclusion. I am on my way to visit Hay-on-Wye to investigate a possible line of inquiry.’

  ‘So you thought you would break your journey in Ledbury.’

  He thought he detected a note of sadness in her voice, realized that he had hurt her, cursed his clumsiness and wished he was elsewhere. ‘I…er,’ he started to say, but was disturbed by the maid entering the room holding a tray.

  ‘Thank you, Sally. You may go now. How do you like your tea, Mr Ravenscroft?’

  ‘Just a little sugar, thank you.’

  ‘Of course, I should have remembered. How foolish of me to forget.’

  ‘It has been a long time.’

  He sat in silence as she poured out the tea and handed him the cup.

  ‘And how have you been Miss Armitage — sorry, Lucy.’

  ‘I have been well. Thank you.’

  ‘And your son, Richard, is he in good spirits?’

  ‘He is very well, thank you. He has grown such a lot since you last saw him. You would hardly recognize him now,’ she answered, smiling briefly as she did so.

  ‘That is good — and your brother, is he still at the almshouses in Colwall?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I trust he is happy in his work.’

  ‘I believe so. He still calls on me, once a week.’

  ‘That is good. I know that you and your brother are very close. And how are you finding things in Ledbury?’ he asked, sipping his tea.

  ‘I like Ledbury very much. The people have been very kind to us here, and the town has a warmth and charm that is very pleasing.’