The Inspector Ravenscroft Mysteries Box Set

by Kerry Tombs

‘We must hurry!’ she cried out in the dark.

  He led the way along the path, which appeared to wind its way round the side of the hill before rising steadily upwards.

  ‘Where?’ shouted Lucy in desperation, looking all around her in the darkness. ‘Where is this cottage that you speak of?’

  ‘It’s just over there, ma’am. You can see the light shining from one of the windows,’ he said, pointing.

  They ran towards the distant light, Lucy tripping over a branch in her haste.

  ‘Let me help you up, ma’am.’

  They raced forwards again, Lucy reaching the cottage first. She flung open the door and rushed into the room.

  ‘Where? Where is my husband?’ she cried out, looking frantically around the empty room. ‘Tell me where my husband is!’

  Monk slammed the door behind him and let out a loud laugh.

  It had all been so easy – so very easy.

  ‘Firstly may I thank you all for being here tonight,’ said Ravenscroft, addressing the group of people who were seated round a large rectangular table situated in the centre of the ballroom at the Feathers hotel.

  ‘Bit theatrical all this, Ravenscroft,’ grumbled Onslow.

  ‘The reason why I have bought you all here tonight will soon become apparent,’ said Ravenscroft, continuing. ‘By the end of the evening, I believe we will have arrived at the truth, and the poisoner of Nathaniel Montacute will be unmasked. However we first have to ask ourselves the question, why was Mr Montacute killed? In my experience people are usually murdered because of one of two reasons: money or revenge. If we look at the second area first – who hated Nathaniel Montacute enough to want to see him dead? Clearly you, Mr Catherwood, would fall into this category. Many years ago, shortly after your arrival in this town, you were persuaded by Mr Montacute to go into partnership with him in a number of financial enterprises, whilst at the same time forming a strong attachment to his second wife, Enid Montacute. Mr Rupert Montacute was the result of that liaison, and it soon became evident to me that once Nathaniel had discovered the truth about his supposed son he quickly set about gaining his revenge on you by ruining you as best he could. But instead of leaving the town you decided to remain, where you could continue your discreet association with Mrs Montacute whilst keeping a watchful eye on your true son. It must have been very frustrating for you, Mr Catherwood, to see the woman and son you loved still living under the same roof as your enemy.’

  ‘Who would have thought it,’ uttered Mrs Chambers.

  Catherwood said nothing but turned his head away as all the people around the table looked in his direction.

  ‘You had good cause to see Mr Montacute dead. His death would allow you at long last to acknowledge your true son, whilst no doubt giving you a great deal of personal satisfaction.’

  ‘You’re forgetting one thing, Ravenscroft. I was nowhere near the Feathers that night,’ said Catherwood indignantly. ‘I was at home minding my own business.’

  ‘So you say – and who are we to prove otherwise? So who else hated Nathaniel Montacute enough to want to see him dead? Certainly there was no love lost between Nathaniel and you, Rupert. Not only did he keep you short of money but he also appears to have actually disliked you.’

  ‘Bravo, Inspector! Yes, I hated the old skinflint – and yes, I’m glad he’s dead. He never did me any favours but I didn’t kill the old miser. Though on reflection I wish I had!’ said Rupert, throwing back his head and laughing.

  ‘Be quiet, Rupert. You don’t know what you are saying,’ reprimanded Maurice.

  ‘Then there was you, Major Onslow – supposed friend and business associate of Nathaniel Montacute. Did you hate him enough to want to see him dead?’

  ‘Look here, Ravenscroft, this is all rather stupid. Montacute and I had been friends for years. I had no cause to see him dead,’ protested Onslow, becoming increasingly red in the face.

  ‘You and Mr Montacute were major shareholders in the Colesberg Mining Corporation. The shares must have cost you a great deal of money, Major Onslow. Perhaps you overextended yourself? Apparently the company is doing rather badly. Is that what the argument was about, on the afternoon preceding the murder? Had you discovered that Nathaniel Montacute had sold you shares in a worthless company? If so, that would have been a good enough reason for you to want kill the banker.’

  ‘This is all stuff and nonsense! Nathaniel and I were on the best of terms. The mining company is currently looking for diamonds. When it finds them, I shall be rich. Best thing Nathaniel ever did for me. No, Ravenscroft, you’ve got hold of the wrong stick there!’ laughed Onslow.

  ‘But according to Mr Rivers here, you were having a rather unpleasant disagreement with Mr Montacute,’ said Ravenscroft.

  ‘Rivers don’t know what he’s on about!’ protested Onslow.

  ‘I knows what I saw and heard,’ mumbled the gamekeeper.

  ‘Mr Rivers, were you on good terms with your employer?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘The best of terms. I have worked for the Montacutes as man and boy, as my father did before me.’

  ‘Ah yes, so you keep telling us, but perhaps there had been some recent irregularities in your conduct?’ suggested Ravenscroft.

  ‘Irregularities? What irregularities? Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ snapped Rivers, looking uncomfortable.

  ‘Perhaps everything was not as well as it should have been on the estate – and your employer threatened to dismiss you after all these years?’

  ‘Absolute nonsense, man. You’re just making all this up. It has been obvious from the start that you have been trying to put the blame on me.’

  ‘The other person who hated Montacute, of course, was Joshua Leewood, the escaped convict,’ said Ravenscroft.

  ‘Now yer talking!’ exclaimed Onslow, banging his fist down on the table. ‘Why the devil ain’t he here tonight?’

  ‘Leewood has been sent back to Hereford gaol, where he will continue to serve out the remainder of his sentence. He, more than anyone else, wanted Nathaniel Montacute dead. Sentenced for a crime he believed he had not committed, he protested his innocence only to be sentenced for a further term. He must have spent many a long hour in his prison cell plotting his revenge. Then one day he escapes and hides up in the hills in the old workmen’s hut. At first it seemed to me that given his reduced circumstances, Leewood would have found it extremely difficult to have procured the poison, and for a while I even considered the possibility that his mother may have obtained it for him. After all, she has admitted that she was outside this room on the night in question.’

  ‘Then why have you not arrested her?’ asked Doctor Andrews.

  ‘Because the more I considered that possibility, the more unlikely it seemed to be.’

  ‘Why ever not?’ asked Maurice.

  ‘The Leewoods are poor people, and revenge can be a costly business.’

  ‘I’d still put my money on this Leewood character,’ added Onslow.

  ‘You mentioned a moment ago, Inspector, that money can be an important motive for the cause of crime,’ said the solicitor, adjusting his spectacles.

  ‘That is indeed so, Mr Midwinter. I next asked myself who stood to gain the most from Mr Montacute’s death. Although both you, Major Onslow, and you, Mr Midwinter, had been left money in Nathaniel’s last will, it did not seem to me that the amounts were enough to justify murder. The same applies to you, Mrs Chambers, and you, Mr Rivers, both left small legacies in gratitude for your long and loyal service. Neither Mr Catherwood nor you, Master Rupert, had been left anything in the will. Even you, Mr Maurice, had been left very little by your father, only his interest in the bank which was yours partially on your own account. No, the only person who stood to gain financially from Mr Montacute’s death was you, Mrs Montacute.’

  ‘Now see here, Ravenscroft, what are you implying?’ asked Maurice indignantly.

  ‘It’s all right, Maurice, let the inspector continue,’ said Edith, placing a ha
nd on the banker’s arm.

  ‘Thank you. As I was saying, you, Mrs Montacute, stood the most to gain by your husband’s death, but the more I considered that possibility the more it seemed implausible. You, after all, came from a rich landed family, the Henshaws of Cheshire, and had money left to you by your family in your own right. You had no need to kill you husband for financial gain.’

  ‘I am very relieved to hear you say that, Inspector,’ said Edith.

  ‘Then I wondered whether Mr Montacute had made an earlier will, and if so, whether it differed in any way from the last will. After all, if there was someone who stood to benefit from the former will, he or she may have committed the crime under the impression that they still stood to benefit. You may recall, Mr Midwinter, that when I inquired into the nature of the earlier will, you replied that the terms were practically identical to the later version, except in one or two respects,’ said Ravenscroft, turning towards the solicitor.

  ‘That is indeed so.’

  ‘Perhaps you would enlighten us, Mr Midwinter?’

  ‘Yes, of course. The minor bequests to Major Onslow, Mr Rivers, Mrs Chambers, myself and to St Katherine’s were identical in both versions of the will. In the earlier will Nathaniel had provided for his then wife, Mrs Enid Montacute, and in the last will he provides for you, Mrs Montacute. The other difference is the clause relating to you, Mr Maurice. In the earlier will you had been left The Gables and more of your father’s property but in the last will these clauses are no longer there.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Midwinter. Can you think of any reason, Mr Montacute, as to why your father had changed his will, in respect of yourself?’

  ‘I hope you are not suggesting, Ravenscroft, that I killed my father because I was under the misapprehension that I stood to benefit under the earlier will?’ said Maurice, his face turning ashen in complexion.

  ‘Perhaps you could answer that question for us, Mr Montacute?’ asked Ravenscroft, facing the banker.

  ‘When my father drew up his earlier will, some ten or twelve years ago, I had only just entered the bank. I was very much a junior, not even a partner then, and had a great deal to learn. I had very little money on my own account at that time. My father was merely safeguarding my interests. Since then I have become a full partner in the bank and over the years have benefited financially through a number of fortunate investments. When my father drew up his latest will, he knew that I was already well provided for, and quite naturally wanted to protect the welfare of his new wife. In fact, I remember my father discussing this with me when he drew up his last will, and I told him I had no objections,’ replied the banker, recovering his composure.

  ‘But of course, Mr Montacute, we only have your word that such a consultation ever took place at all,’ said Ravenscroft.

  ‘That is so, but you have my word as a gentleman of honour that this conversation did indeed take place,’ said Maurice firmly.

  ‘I want to turn to the night when Mr Montacute was poisoned, here in this very ballroom. Whoever killed Nathaniel Montacute knew the exact nature of what would take place at midnight; the lights would be extinguished, the room plunged into darkness, and the opportunity would arise to pour the poison into the glass before the lights were relit. Whoever killed the banker could have easily undertaken the crime at an earlier time and in another place and still gone undetected, but by committing the crime in a crowded ballroom the killer was deflecting suspicion away from him or herself by ensuring that there would be more suspects than ever. And so it proved. Many of you were present on the night in question, and in the ensuing darkness any one of you could have slipped the poison unnoticed into the glass. But then what if the murderer had only been in the room for a short while? It only took a few seconds for the poison to be placed in the glass, and by the time the lamps were relit the killer could easily have slipped away. Mrs Leewood stated, however, that she saw no one enter or leave the room either shortly before or after the poisoning – but then there was the other small door at the back of the room. Although it opens out on to the landing, where Mrs Leewood was situated, it is nevertheless far enough down the corridor for her not to have noticed anyone entering or leaving, particularly if she was being distracted by what was going on inside here in the room. The only people not here at the ball that night were Mr Catherwood, Mr Rivers and Mrs Chambers.’

  ‘Lord above, he thinks I killed the master!’ cried out Mrs Chambers.

  ‘All this speculation is getting quite out of hand, Ravenscroft!’ said Onslow, glaring at the policeman.

  ‘Any one of you could have slipped into the room by the back stairway. Mrs Chambers, you still say that Mr Rivers left the kitchens at a quarter to twelve that evening?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied the cook.

  ‘I was out catching poachers. I’ve told you that already,’ said Rivers forcefully.

  ‘Indeed you have – but again we have only your word for it. There would have been ample time for you to run down to the Feathers, poison your master and return to The Gables unnoticed in the darkness – after all, the lamplighters had put out all the lights in the town. What wonderful cover the darkness could have provided for our killer.’

  ‘I’ve told you before to arrest me if you have any evidence. I’ve had enough of this nonsense,’ said Rivers, angrily rising from the table and beginning to walk across to the door.

  ‘Mr Rivers, I advise you to sit down. My constable has instructions to prevent anyone leaving this room,’ said Ravenscroft firmly.

  The gamekeeper stared wildly at Ravenscroft before resuming his seat.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Rivers.’

  ‘Look here, Ravenscroft, is this going to go on all night? Seems to me yer just going round and round in circles, man!’ said Onslow irritably, shuffling around in his chair.

  ‘I agree. I think it is time we all left. We don’t appear to be getting anywhere with all this conjecture,’ added Doctor Andrews.

  ‘On the contrary, it is only by going over the evidence again that one can eventually arrive at the truth. Already I have established that one person in this room tonight has lied to us,’ said Ravenscroft, pausing for the full effect of his words to register with the assembled group.

  ‘Well, go on then. Get on with it, man!’ snapped Onslow.

  ‘When I first began my investigations, I was under the impression that I was dealing just with one murder – that of Mr Nathaniel Montacute – but then we found a second body in the woods – the coachman. For a while it seemed as though the two deaths were linked together, and even more so when I eventually discovered that the coachman was none other than Mr Montacute’s long departed brother and that he had returned to the town of his birth with the intention of depositing a packet of great importance with you, Mr Midwinter. It clearly seemed that whoever killed the coachman, Robert Montacute, must have also killed his brother, Nathaniel – but that of course was nonsense. The killer of Robert would have no cause to kill Nathaniel, for at the time of the banker’s death Robert Montacute’s murderer would have been completely unaware of the relationship between the two men, let alone knowing where the packet was lodged. No, the murders of the two brothers, although close together in time, had no connection with one another.’

  ‘It does not take a genius to work that one out,’ said Catherwood.

  ‘Indeed so, Mr Catherwood. So we are then left with two separate murders – or so it seemed – but the more I considered this case, the more I came to the conclusion that there were not just two murders to solve but three!’

  ‘Three? I’m at a loss, Ravenscroft,’ said Maurice, looking bewildered.

  ‘Why, yes. There had always been three murders in this case. The first murder had been that of Enid Montacute!’

  ‘But that is a ridiculous statement to make, Ravenscroft. Enid died of a fever,’ interjected Catherwood.

  ‘A fever, yes. That is what everyone said. Enid died quite suddenly as the result of a fever. I have forgotten how many times that re
mark has been said to me during the past few days, but I believe that Enid Montacute did not die of natural causes. She was in fact cruelly murdered!’

  ‘Go on, Inspector,’ said Catherwood, leaning forward.

  ‘When Mrs Montacute fell ill, she was attended by you, Doctor Andrews, I believe?’ said Ravenscroft, turning in the doctor’s direction.

  ‘That is correct. I was called to Mrs Montacute’s bedside when she fell ill,’ replied Andrews.

  ‘So you said, Doctor. I recall that you also said there was little you could do for your patient.’

  ‘That is indeed so. The fever was quite advanced when I was called into attendance. I was powerless to save her. She died two or three days later. There was nothing out of the ordinary regarding her death. The fever was quite prevalent in the town at that time. I don’t know what you are implying, Ravenscroft.’

  ‘Doctor Andrews, it might interest you to know that I have examined the burial registers for the time of Enid Montacute’s death. There is no increase in burials at that time to suggest that there was an epidemic in the town.’

  ‘I don’t know how, and when, she contracted the condition. She was in the habit of attending the sick and the poor. It would have been quite easy for her to have become infected with cholera,’ said Andrews, looking uneasily around the room.

  ‘You wrote out the death certificate, I believe?’

  ‘Of course. I was the attending physician at the time of her death.’

  ‘Look here, Ravenscroft, you say Enid was murdered? What evidence do you have?’ asked Catherwood.

  ‘I have no evidence at all—’ began Ravenscroft.

  ‘Well, there you are, then,’ said Andrews, throwing up his hand and relaxing back into his chair.

  ‘However, I believe Mrs Montacute was poisoned. I have today applied for an exhumation order for the recovery and examination of Mrs Montacute’s body!’

  ‘Good God, man! You can’t do that. She’s been dead for nearly three years!’ exclaimed Maurice.

  ‘Arsenic poison preserves the body, I believe,’ announced Ravenscroft.