The Inspector Ravenscroft Mysteries Box Set

by Kerry Tombs

  ‘Doctor says he should make a full recovery, so Mrs Chambers tells me,’ replied Rivers, continuing with his cleaning.

  ‘I am pleased to hear that. It was fortunate that we found him when we did. I doubt whether he would have survived another night in those conditions.’

  ‘You haven’t come here today just to indulge in idle gossip?’

  ‘You are very observant, Mr Rivers,’ said Ravenscroft, smiling.

  ‘You want to know where I was that night,’ said the gamekeeper, laying down the gun on the table and coming straight to the point.

  ‘You say you left Mrs Chambers in the kitchen at around a quarter to twelve?’

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  ‘Why did you not stay in the warm to see in the New Year?’

  ‘I’ve told you that already – I was out trying to catch poachers. We get a lot of that here. If you don’t keep a tight grip on it, we would have them all coming up from the town and helping themselves,’ replied Rivers, pushing past Ravenscroft as he replaced the shotgun in its case on the wall and took down another.

  ‘Surely you could have waited until you had seen in the New Year?’

  ‘And lost some of our best game in the process?’

  ‘And did you manage to apprehend anyone?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘Didn’t need to. As soon as folks know you are on the lookout, they quickly move on elsewhere.’

  ‘So you spoke to no one?’ asked Crabb.

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  ‘So we have no proof that you were in the grounds at the time Mr Montacute was being poisoned?’

  ‘Just my word for it,’ replied Rivers grudgingly.

  ‘Perhaps that won’t do?’

  ‘Best I can manage.’

  ‘There would have been ample time for you to slip down into the town after leaving the kitchen, enter the Feathers and slip poison into your employer’s glass,’ suggested Ravenscroft, becoming annoyed by the gamekeeper’s lack of co-operation.

  ‘Now what would I want to go and do that for?’ said Rivers, looking up from his work and staring full into Ravenscroft’s face.

  ‘I don’t know, Mr Rivers. Perhaps you could tell us the answer?’

  ‘This is all stuff and nonsense, Ravenscroft. Mr Montacute has always been a good employer – one of the best – and I had no cause to wish him ill. If you think I killed the master, then you best set about proving it. There are others who had more cause to see him dead than me.’

  ‘Who exactly?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘Not my purpose to say,’ replied the gamekeeper, turning away.

  ‘Come now, Rivers, you are playing loose with us. First you cannot provide us with a satisfactory alibi for your movements at the time of Mr Montacute’s death, then you say there are more deserving candidates, but won’t say who they are. This won’t do at all,’ said Ravenscroft forcefully. ‘Perhaps if you were to accompany us to the police station, your memory might be revived.’

  ‘Onslow for a start,’ snapped Rivers.

  ‘Major Onslow? Why would Major Onslow want to see your master dead?’

  ‘Arguing, they were.’

  ‘Could you elaborate?’ asked a frustrated Ravenscroft.

  ‘On the afternoon before Mr Montacute’s death, I was walking along the path outside the house and happened to look across towards the summer house. The major and the master were shouting at one another.’

  ‘Did you hear what they were arguing about?’

  ‘I didn’t catch much of what they were saying, but I do recall the major say he was damned if he was going to let the master get away with it.’

  ‘What were his exact words?’ asked an interested Ravenscroft.

  ‘“I’m damned if I’m going to let you get away with it. You’ve got away with it for far too long”. That’s what the major said and I remember he was shouting and raising his fist in the air.’

  ‘And what did Mr Montacute say?’

  ‘He said that the major was not to be so silly and that the matter would be soon resolved.’

  ‘Did he say anything else?’

  ‘No. They must have realized that I had just heard what they had been saying. The major muttered something under his breath and then strode away.’

  ‘What did your master do then?’ asked Crabb, looking up from his notebook where he had been recording the gamekeeper’s remarks.

  ‘Nothing. He just looked over in my direction and then walked away back across the garden and into the house, without saying a word.’

  ‘Was that all that happened between the two men?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘There was nothing else,’ replied Rivers, resuming his work.

  ‘Very well. We will leave you to your cleaning. If you think of anything else you think we should know, I would be obliged if you would tell us straightaway. It is a great pity you did not inform us about this disagreement between your master and the major some days ago. It may have been useful to us.’

  ‘It slipped my mind. Been rather busy,’ muttered the gamekeeper.

  Ravenscroft and Crabb walked away from the outhouse at The Gables and began to retrace their steps back towards the town.

  ‘Do you think he was telling us the truth, sir?’ asked the constable.

  ‘I don’t honestly know, Crabb. Either our Mr Rivers did witness such an argument between the two men or he has a guilty conscience and was making up the story in order to deflect suspicion away from himself.’

  ‘He certainly was not very forthcoming. Why did he wait so long before informing us about the disagreement?’

  ‘It could be as he says. He just didn’t think it was important enough until we started to put pressure on him.’

  ‘Can’t say I trust the fellow,’ said Crabb.

  ‘I think it is time we paid Major Onslow a visit, so we can discover whether Rivers was telling us the truth about the disagreement and find out what the argument was about. Do you happen to know where he resides?’

  ‘I think he lives in a large rambling house about a mile or so out of the town, along the Ross road,’ replied Crabb.

  ‘Then we will need to secure some transport.’

  ‘I’ll have that large piece of fish, if you please,’ said Lucy, addressing the tradesman in the marketplace. ‘My husband is rather partial to it.’

  ‘Good choice, madam. Freshly arrived in the town this morning, off the express train,’ replied the man, wrapping the requested item in a sheet of paper. ‘I trust Mr Ravenscroft is well?’

  ‘He is indeed, I thank you, although rather busy at the moment.’

  ‘That will be the Montacute case then?’ said the fishmonger, smiling.

  ‘Yes, I believe so.’

  ‘Terrible business. Who would want to go and kill Mr Montacute like that? Man did nobody any harm.’

  Lucy said nothing as she handed over a coin.

  ‘Thank you, ma’am, I hope the inspector enjoys his fish.’

  ‘I’m sure he will. Thank you,’ said Lucy, placing the package in her wicker basket before moving away.

  ‘Good morning. I could not help hearing the name Ravenscroft. Forgive me, my good lady, for my intrusion. You are, I assume, Mrs Ravenscroft?’ asked a clerical gentleman dressed in black attire.

  ‘Yes – and you are?’ enquired Lucy cautiously.

  ‘Father Bannerman at your service,’ replied the priest, raising his large black hat and nodding in her direction. ‘Are you in any way related by marriage to Inspector Ravenscroft, formerly of the Whitechapel Constabulary in London?’

  ‘My husband did indeed work in Whitechapel for a number of years before he came to reside in Ledbury,’ replied Lucy, her curiosity aroused.

  ‘I too resided in Whitechapel for a while, during which time I made the acquaintance of your husband upon several occasions. We would often meet in the evenings and enjoy a drink or two in one of the local taverns,’ said the gentleman, smiling and peering through his darkened glasses in Lucy’s
direction.

  ‘I will mention your name to my husband,’ said Lucy, anxious to move on.

  ‘I would be most obliged, my dear lady. Perhaps I might call upon you one evening, to renew my acquaintance with your husband?’

  ‘You say, Father, that you and my husband were great friends?’ asked Lucy, feeling uneasy in the stranger’s presence.

  ‘Acquaintances rather than friends, my dear Mrs Ravenscroft, but close acquaintances I would like to think.’

  ‘I will certainly inform my husband of our meeting, Father.’

  ‘Then that is all I can ask of you, my dear lady. I wish you good day, Mrs Ravenscroft,’ said the priest, again raising his hat and giving a slight bow in Lucy’s direction.

  ‘Good day to you, Father,’ said Lucy, moving away.

  The priest walked over to the other side of the road, and leaned forward to pick up a small leather-bound book which lay on one of the market tables. As he turned over the pages with his black gloves, he peered over the top of the volume and observed the policeman’s wife making her way back up Church Lane.

  Ravenscroft and Crabb found themselves in a large courtyard situated at the rear of an untidy, rambling house, which had the name ‘Bengal’ in large letters at its front entrance.

  ‘This must be where he keeps his horses,’ said Ravenscroft, looking across towards a stable block before pulling down the long bell handle at the back door.

  ‘Best keep a look out for the tigers,’ joked Crabb as they waited.

  Presently the door was opened by an Indian servant dressed in a turban and long flowing robe.

  ‘Inspector Ravenscroft and Constable Crabb to see Major Onslow, if you please. I take it your master is at home?’

  ‘Certainly, sir. If you would care to step inside,’ replied the servant, giving a bow and sweeping his arm before his chest as an indication that the two policemen should enter the building. ‘If you would care to wait here in the hall, gentlemen, I will see if the major is available to see you.’ He bowed again before disappearing from view.

  Ravenscroft looked up at the walls, which were adorned with animal trophies and faded photographs of groups of hunters and soldiers taken on what he supposed to be the Indian continent.

  ‘Looks as though the major was rather fond of the shooting when he was in India,’ said Crabb, shrugging his shoulders and looking up into the open mouth of a dead tiger.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Ravenscroft! What can I do for yer?’ said Onslow, suddenly flinging open one of the doors that led off the hall and striding forward to greet the detective. ‘Can’t give yer long, I’m afraid. Got to go hunting in a few minutes.’

  ‘I would have thought the weather was rather too cold for that kind of activity?’ suggested Ravenscroft, shaking the major’s outstretched hand.

  ‘Nonsense, man. Bit of cold weather keeps the foxes frisky! Makes the dogs all the more eager. Suppose yer best come in here, then.’

  Crabb gave Ravenscroft a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, before the two men followed their host into a large room, the walls of which were hung with numerous hunting prints and animal heads, and the centre of which was dominated by a horsehair sofa and a large glass case containing a stuffed tiger.

  ‘What do yer think of him then?’ said Onslow proudly, patting the top of the case. ‘A fine beast. Caught him in Bengal and had him stuffed and sent back here. Yer won’t find another one like it in all the county.’

  ‘Major Onslow, I’d like to ask you a few questions concerning the afternoon before Mr Montacute’s death. I understand that you and Mr Montacute had a heated argument?’ said Ravenscroft, ignoring both the animal and the major’s boast.

  ‘Yer don’t beat about the bush, do you? Like that, I do. Always best to come straight to the point, I say. I’ve got no time for those folks who mince their words. Glass of whisky?’

  ‘Not for me, thank you.’

  ‘Think I’ll have one. Need something warm inside me before galloping over them fences,’ replied Onslow, pouring himself a large drink from the decanter. ‘You should join us for the hunt, Ravenscroft. Good for the constitution and all that.’

  ‘What was the argument all about?’ asked Ravenscroft, trying to return the conversation to his line of questioning.

  ‘What argument? Don’t remember any argument. New Year’s Day, you say?’

  ‘No, Major, on the afternoon before Mr Montacute’s death. I have a witness who says he saw you and Mr Montacute in a heated exchange outside the summer house at The Gables.’

  ‘Can’t recall the occasion,’ replied Onslow, sipping his whisky and rubbing his forehead.

  ‘Constable, if you please,’ said Ravenscroft, turning towards his associate. Crabb took out his notebook from the top pocket of his tunic and began to read from one of the pages. ‘I saw Major Onslow raising his fist in the air and shouting, “I’m damned if I’ll let you get away with it. You have got away with it for too long.” To which Mr Montacute was heard to say, “Don’t be so silly, the matter will soon be resolved.”’

  ‘Well, Major, do you now recall your conversation?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘I remember that I did go to The Gables that afternoon to see Nathaniel, and that we did exchange a few words together outside the summer house, but it was not as you have just described.’

  ‘Would you like to tell me about the nature of your conversation?’

  ‘A few months before, Nathaniel had suggested that we should both invest in a small mining company in Southern Africa. He said the prospects were good and once the diamonds were located, shares in the company would soon double and we would get a good return on our investment.’

  ‘May I ask how much you invested in this company?’

  ‘The sum is none of your damned business, Ravenscroft. Suffice it to say that it was a sizeable investment.’

  ‘And how is the company doing?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘Not as well as we had hoped. Nathaniel said that it was early days, and if we held our nerve for a few more months we should both do well out of it. That was all our conversation was about.’

  ‘You were seen raising your fist in a threatening manner.’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense!’ retorted Onslow, becoming red in the face.

  ‘Do you deny shouting that Mr Montacute had “got away with it for too long”?’

  ‘Never said anything of the kind.’

  ‘That’s not what our witness said.’

  ‘Then yer witness is a damned liar! There was no shouting or anything of the kind,’ grumbled Onslow, taking a large swig from his whisky glass.

  ‘Why did this conversation take place outside in the garden, near the summer house? It was a very cold afternoon, if I recall. Surely it would have been more comfortable inside – or did you not want to be heard by the family and servants?’

  ‘When I arrived at The Gables, I found Nathaniel was out walking in the grounds. That’s why we had our conversation outside. Look here, Ravenscroft, this is all nonsense. Someone obviously saw us talking and has grossly exaggerated what they saw and heard. Nathaniel and I were on the best of terms. If you are implying that I wanted to see him dead, nothing could be further from the truth.’

  ‘I have to say, I am not satisfied with your account, Major Onslow, and that we intend making investigations into the deceased’s business affairs.’

  ‘Do as yer wish, Ravenscroft – and be damned! If you can’t believe the word of a gentleman against that of some snooper, then it’s a great shame. This has taken up far too much of my time. If you’ll excuse me – can’t keep the hunt waiting.’

  ‘Very well, Major. I will need to speak with you again later,’ said Ravenscroft, beginning to take his leave.

  ‘Ranjit, show these gentlemen out,’ snapped Onslow, turning his back on the detectives whilst pouring himself another whisky from the decanter.

  ‘Well, Tom, what do you make of our major?’ asked Ravenscroft as he and Crabb made their way back tow
ards the town.

  ‘Plays his cards tight to his chest, I should say.’

  ‘I’m inclined to agree with you. He certainly wanted to make light of his argument with Montacute. Either Rivers has deliberately made more of their encounter to draw attention away from himself – or the major and Montacute did really have a falling out. If Onslow felt that Montacute had given him bad financial advice then that might have resulted in him seeking his revenge. We need to dig further into the banker’s affairs and see what we can discover about this mining company in Southern Africa.’

  As Ravenscroft and Crabb arrived at The Gables, a light flurry of snow began to drift steadily downwards, giving a thin covering to the lawns and gardens of the big house. Ravenscroft rang the bell and, after explaining the reason for his visit, was shown into the study, where Maurice Montacute sat writing at his desk.

  ‘Mr Ravenscroft, what brings you to The Gables?’ asked Maurice, rising from his chair.

  ‘Mr Montacute, I’ll come straight to the point. Did your father ever mention anything about a mining company in Southern Africa? We believe he may have had shares in the enterprise,’ said Ravenscroft.

  ‘My father had many business interests in a number of concerns, but I’m afraid he said very little about his investments to me, unless of course the business enterprise involved the bank in any way.’

  ‘Nevertheless, your father did make a number of such investments on his own account?’

  ‘I would not have expected otherwise,’ replied the banker.

  ‘Where would your father have kept the papers relating to these business investments, Mr Montacute?’

  ‘In the small safe in the corner, I believe.’

  ‘May we examine the papers there?’

  ‘That may not be possible. The only key belonged to my father.’

  ‘And where would such a key be now, sir?’

  ‘I have no idea. I think my father always kept it upon his person.’

  ‘What happened to your father’s personal effects after he died?’ enquired Ravenscroft.

  ‘I think one of the servants collected everything together and placed them in an envelope.’

  ‘Where might we find such an envelope?’ asked Ravenscroft.