The Inspector Ravenscroft Mysteries Box Set

by Kerry Tombs

  ‘Very well then. You better come into the dining room,’ sighed his wife.

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Ravenscroft as he and Crabb followed the couple down the long corridor and into a large room.

  ‘You best take a seat,’ instructed Mrs Talbot indicating one of the chairs gathered round a large mahogany table.

  ‘Thank you. What a pleasant room,’ lied Ravenscroft glancing around at the simple furniture and drab wallpaper, before looking up at the large faded print, depicting a battle scene, that hung above the fire place.

  ‘Inkerman,’ pronounced Mrs Talbot observing Ravenscroft’s interest. ‘Tell them, Talbot, you was there.’

  ‘You were at Inkerman?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘Go on tell them,’ instructed the landlady.

  ‘I am sure that the inspector has not come here today to talk about the war, my dear. How can we help you?’ asked Talbot, hastily changing the subject.

  ‘I wonder if you could tell us something about your late guest, Mr Talbot?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘Very little I’m afraid, inspector. Mr Jones was not with us very long. He arrived just over a week ago. He was not a man of many words. He kept very much to himself,’ replied Talbot.

  ‘Can you describe him for us?’ asked Ravenscroft. ‘Unfortunately Mr Jones was buried before we could inspect the body.’

  ‘Well I suppose he was quite ordinary really, probably forty years of age I would say—’

  ‘More like fifty, Talbot,’ interrupted Mrs Talbot.

  ‘Fairly stout in build,’ continued the lodging-house keeper.

  ‘Rather thin.’

  ‘Fairly reddish, with a fresh-faced complexion.’

  ‘Very grey-looking surely, Talbot.’

  ‘Did this Mr Jones come alone to your establishment?’ interrupted Ravenscroft realizing that the couple would never agree in their description of their former lodger.

  ‘Yes, he came alone,’ said Talbot.

  ‘How long did he intend staying?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘When he arrived did the gentleman tell you how long he intended staying with you?’

  ‘He said he would probably stay for two or three weeks; he could not be sure,’ replied Talbot.

  ‘There was something rather strange about him now I come to think of it,’ said Mrs Talbot.

  ‘Yes, go on,’ encouraged Ravenscroft.

  ‘He did not appear to have much luggage with him. No trunks or large cases, only a small bag not much bigger than a Gladstone. I remember remarking to Talbot that it seemed a bit strange at the time.’

  ‘I see. Do you still have this bag, or any of the deceased’s possessions?’ asked Ravenscroft hopefully.

  ‘Burnt them all, didn’t we, Talbot?’ remarked the woman.

  ‘I see,’ said a disappointed Ravenscroft. ‘I wonder if you could describe the contents of the bag?’

  ‘Nothing much, mainly old clothes, a bible and such like.’

  ‘Was there anything of a personal nature — letters, papers, a diary perhaps?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ replied Talbot looking up at his wife.

  ‘An engraved pocket watch or knife?’

  ‘No, there was nothing of that nature,’ said Mrs Talbot starting to busy herself in laying out the cutlery on the table.

  ‘Strange,’ said Ravenscroft. ‘I wonder if you would be so kind as to describe the events of the evening, before everyone fell ill? I understand you ate a meal of Brown Windsor soup, pheasant pie and cheese. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes. They said it were the Brown Windsor that made everyone ill, but it weren’t my fault, and it’s no use you suggesting otherwise,’ said Mrs Talbot resuming her defensive manner once more.

  ‘Nothing wrong with Mrs Talbot’s cooking,’ said Talbot springing to the defence of his wife.

  ‘It were that meat. We always have the best cuts for our guests, but that silly girl Maisie, she went to the butchers who sold her that old meat. I thought it looked a bit strange at the time, and before I could do anything about it she had mixed it all up with everything else in the pot,’ continued the landlady looking away sheepishly.

  ‘And did everyone partake of this soup?’ asked Ravenscroft leaning forwards.

  ‘Yes, I believe so,’

  ‘Even the deceased gentleman?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied a hesitant Talbot.

  ‘Mrs Talbot?’ asked Ravenscroft addressing the woman.

  ‘Yes, but it weren’t my fault if he ate too much. We was not to know that he would go and die on us like that,’ said Mrs Talbot. ‘We was not to know that he had a dicky constitution, were we?’

  ‘No, of course not. Tell me, were all your guests present at this meal?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what happened when you had all dined?’

  ‘They all went back to their respective rooms,’ answered Talbot.

  ‘And when did you begin to feel unwell?’

  ‘Two or three hours afterwards. It weren’t till the morning of course that we found that all the others had been unwell as well.’

  ‘Could you tell us the names of your guests, and how long they have been with you?’ asked Ravenscroft. ‘Crabb, make a note if you please.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Crabb removing his pocketbook and pencil from the top pocket of his tunic.

  ‘Well. There is the old Jewish Professor, Jacobson, he is in number one, with his wife. They have been with us for nearly five years now. Strange couple: he must be three times the age she is. Then there is that nice gentleman Mr Cherrington in number five. He has only been here for the past three weeks: a perfect gentleman, quietly spoken, no trouble at all. Count Turco, he is a musician from Italy, bit excitable like all them foreigners, always playing that violin of his, but such beautiful melodies, I could listen to them all day I could,’ said Mrs Talbot relishing the opportunity to tell Ravenscroft all that she knew. ‘Then there are the Misses Fanshaw in number four, two respectable ladies in their seventies who have been with us for over ten years. In number three there is Mr Claybourne. He is what you call a commercial gentlemen. He spends only two or three days with us every week during his travels. I believe he lives mainly in London. That is all I should think.’

  ‘You have forgotten Miss Martin,’ said Talbot hesitantly.

  ‘Ah yes, we should not forget Miss Martin. Would that we could. Would that we could, Talbot. I’m sure that you would like to if you had half a chance,’ said the woman rising to her full height and giving her husband a disapproving look.

  ‘Now then, Letita my dear, that is all in the past,’ said Talbot looking down uneasily at the floor.

  ‘And is there anyone else who resides in the house, who was there that night?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘Only Maisie, the housemaid. You saw her when you came in,’ replied Mrs Talbot continuing with her table laying.

  ‘And you say that everyone ate the soup, and that you were all ill afterwards?’ asked Crabb looking up from his pocketbook.

  ‘That’s what we said, young man. Why don’t you listen? Why do you have to keep going on about it,’ snapped the landlady.

  ‘Well thank you, Mrs Talbot. We may need to question your guests later. We won’t take up anymore of your time. We can see you are busy,’ said Ravenscroft standing up. ‘Oh, one more thing just before we go. I wonder if we might see the room where the late gentleman resided.’

  ‘What you want to do that for?’ asked Mrs Talbot.

  ‘It may be of assistance to us.’

  ‘We ain’t cleaned it yet,’ protested Talbot.

  ‘That is of no consequence, but I can see you are both busy people, so perhaps your housemaid could accompany us there,’ suggested Ravenscroft.

  ‘Suppose it won’t matter. Maisie! Maisie!’ shouted Mrs Talbot. ‘Where is that idle silly girl?’

  ‘Sorry Mrs Talbot,’ said the maid rushing into the room holding a cleaning cloth.
/>   ‘Maisie, show these gentlemen Mr Jones’s old room,’ instructed the landlady.

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ said the maid. ‘If you would care to follow me, gentlemen.’

  Ravenscroft and Crabb followed the girl up two flights of a narrow creaking staircase, until they reached a small landing with two doors facing each other.

  ‘In here, gentlemen,’ indicated the maid opening one of the two doors.

  ‘Thank you. Who occupies the room opposite?’ asked Ravenscroft as he and Crabb entered the bedroom.

  ‘Miss Martin, sir.’

  ‘I see. Come in, Maisie, and close the door behind you if you will.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied the girl complying with Ravenscroft’s request.

  ‘Now then Maisie, you know why we are here?’

  ‘’Cus Stebbins told you what I said.’

  ‘And what exactly was that Maisie?’ asked Ravenscroft giving the girl an encouraging smile in an attempt to put her at her ease.

  ‘That the gentleman did not eat the soup, sir,’ said the girl looking down nervously at her feet.

  ‘Are you sure Mr Jones did not consume any of the soup? Both Mr and Mrs Talbot have led us to believe that he did.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Gent didn’t eat any of it. I served out the soup for everyone, but when I collected up the bowls I noticed that his was still full. He hadn’t taken so much as a spoonful.’

  ‘Oh, why was that?’

  ‘Don’t know. Perhaps he didn’t like to taste the Windsor. He was very quiet like. Didn’t say much. Seemed miles away,’ continued the maid.

  ‘I see. That is interesting.’

  ‘Didn’t eat much at all.’

  ‘And what happened after the meal?’

  ‘They all went back to their rooms.’

  ‘We understand that it was you who found the deceased?’

  ‘Yes, sir. When the gent didn’t come down for breakfast, master sent me up to knock on his door and see if he was all right, especially as we had all been ill in the night.’

  ‘And what happened next?’ asked Ravenscroft encouragingly.

  ‘Well it were all quiet, sir, so I opened the door, and that’s when I found him. He were dead, sir. Lying on the bed. It were horrible. Horrible. Can I go now, sir? I don’t know anything else,’ replied the maid anxiously turning to leave the room.

  ‘One more thing, Maisie, just before you go,’ said Ravenscroft. ‘Who cleared out the dead man’s possessions?’

  ‘Mr Talbot. sir, after they had taken the body away.’

  ‘Thank you, Maisie, you may go. Constable Crabb and I will make our own way out in a few minutes.’

  ‘Did I do right, sir, in telling Stebbins?’ asked the maid looking anxiously at Ravenscroft.

  ‘You did absolutely right, Maisie. Thank you.’

  The maid curtsied and left the room closing the door behind her.

  ‘Well, Tom, what do you make of all this?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘Looks as though he didn’t have the soup after all.’

  ‘Yes, she was quite clear on that point, despite what the Talbots said. So I think we can assume that it was not the soup that caused the poor man to die. If only we had got here yesterday we could have seen the body. Now we have no way of telling whether he died from poisoning, or from natural causes. If he was poisoned, then we have to ask ourselves, how — and why.’

  ‘Can’t see why the Talbots would have had any cause to kill him,’ suggested Crabb.

  ‘No, I cannot see any reason either. In fact why would any of them in this house have wanted to poison him? The man had only been here for just over a week. Nevertheless, I think the Talbots are hiding something from us. I don’t believe they destroyed all the dead man’s possessions, as they claim they did. Then there is all that nonsense about Talbot being at Inkerman in the Crimean War. He might be of the right age, but a man of his stature and character would have been of little use to the British army. Let’s have a look round this miserable room.’

  ‘Just a bed, table and chairs,’ said Crabb. ‘Pretty drab sort of place if you ask me.’

  ‘Nothing of a personal nature at all. Partial view of the garden through the window. Otherwise there is nothing left to suggest that it was occupied by anyone at all. Have a look under the bed, Tom. Something may have dropped on the floor.’

  Crabb got down on his knees and stared into the darkened space beneath the mattress. ‘Can’t see anything here, sir. No, yes, what is that? Small piece of paper, sir.’

  ‘Let me see, Tom.’

  Crabb handed the small fragment to Ravenscroft.

  ‘S. WORCESTER. SEPTEMBER 12. 3 p.m.’ read Ravenscroft. ‘Looks as though it has been torn from part of a letter. I wonder what that means? Place and time probably. Could be referring to a meeting of some kind.’

  ‘Might have been there for years, sir. Could have come from some other guest,’ suggested Crabb.

  ‘You’re probably right, Tom. Still I’ll keep it just in case,’ said Ravenscroft folding up the paper and placing it inside his wallet.

  ‘What now, sir?’

  ‘I think we should visit this Doctor Homer. He examined the deceased man, so perhaps he can throw some light on this affair.’

  * * *

  ‘I don’t really see how I can help you, inspector,’ said the grey-haired general practitioner. ‘It was perfectly clear to me that the man had died from eating the Brown Windsor soup. I believe that everyone in the house had also been ill.’

  It was a few minutes later and Ravenscroft and Crabb were standing in the dimly lit surgery of Doctor Homer, which was situated in a Georgian house lower down the main street of the town.

  ‘But they did not die,’ said Ravenscroft.

  ‘No, but the poor man must have eaten more than the others. Then again perhaps his constitution was not as it should have been.’

  ‘Forgive me, doctor, but did you not think it prudent to refer this man’s death to the local coroner?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘May I ask why not?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘Simply because I could not see that there was any foul play involved. As I have just said, everyone in the house had apparently also been ill from drinking the soup and this man must have eaten more than the others,’ replied Homer showing signs of annoyance.

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Now if you will excuse me, I am already late for my rounds,’ replied the doctor picking up a black bag that had lain on the desk.

  ‘Just one more question, Doctor Homer — did you notice any bottles or any other kinds of medication in the bedroom?’

  ‘No. There was nothing on the bedside table, not even a glass. Will that be all?’

  ‘Yes, thank you for your time. We will not detain you.’

  Ravenscroft and Crabb made their way back up the main street of the town towards the waiting trap.

  ‘Well, Tom, it would seem that we have been wasting our time after all. In view of the fact that we don’t even have a body to examine, and as we have conflicting evidence as to whether the deceased did, or did not, consume the soup on the night in question, I don’t see how we can proceed any further. In addition to all that, we have no personal items remaining to tell us more about the said gentleman, nor can we find out whether he was poisoned or just died of natural causes. Then there doesn’t seem to be any reason why anyone would have wanted to have killed him. He had only recently arrived here, and was alone, and apparently kept very much to himself.’

  ‘I’m inclined to agree with you, sir,’ said Crabb.

  ‘Then let us return to Ledbury. No body, no personal possessions, no evidence, no motive. There just doesn’t seem to be any kind of case for us to investigate. None at all.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  LEDBURY AND PERSHORE

  ‘I’m afraid it was a complete waste of time, our journey to Pershore yesterday,’ said Ravenscroft tapping the top of his egg with his spoon.

  ‘So you keep saying, Samuel,’ rema
rked Lucy.

  ‘I’m sorry. I was not aware that I had mentioned it this morning — but then I expect you are right. It must be because I have nothing to interest me at the present. I think all the criminals have left town for the fruit picking on the nearby farms.’

  ‘Would that we could leave as well,’ sighed Lucy. ‘It seems ages since we went on holiday. I think the children might enjoy a few days at the seaside.’

  ‘Anywhere in particular?’ asked Ravenscroft trying not to sound too enthusiastic.

  ‘I hear that Weymouth is very pleasant at this time of the year.’

  ‘And what are the attractions of that particular place?’

  ‘I believe it is quite fashionable. It has a splendid promenade and harbour, and the beaches are quite extensive. I think we could both do with a change, and the children would so enjoy it, I know,’ said Lucy optimistically.

  ‘I see that you have been fruitful in your research, my dear. I suppose I might be able to arrange a few days away from this den of criminality.’

  ‘Oh Samuel, how splendid!’ exclaimed Lucy.

  ‘I am due some leave, and as I said there is nothing much happening in the town at this time of the year. I’ll have a word with the Superintendent and see if we could go next week for a few days. I’m sure Tom would be able to keep an eye on things,’ replied Ravenscroft warming to the idea.

  ‘I shall need a new dress.’

  ‘Of course, new dresses are always required for excursions to the seaside.’

  ‘Ah, Susan, you have bought us the post,’ said Lucy acknowledging the entrance of the maid.

  ‘Just the three this morning, ma’am,’ said Susan placing the silver salver on the table.

  ‘It is to be hoped that they are not accounts to be settled. I do not think I could face another demand at the present when there is a new dress to be purchased,’ teased Ravenscroft as he dissected his egg with a spoon.

  ‘This one must be for you, Samuel,’ said Lucy passing over a small blue envelope to her husband.

  ‘Interesting. I don’t believe I recognize the hand. It just says ‘Ravenscroft. Ledbury.’ Quite poorly written with an unsteady hand. Posted yesterday,’ said Ravenscroft examining the outside of the envelope.

  ‘Why don’t you just open it and see,’ instructed Lucy.