With the evening in full swing, James and Beth settled down to mingle with their guests. In between the traditional Halloween games, the children played chase, hide and seek and found a long piece of damp rope to skip with. The band belted out dance melodies, Scottish stomps and Morris tunes, while Bob Tanner called out the steps to those who didn’t have a clue what to do and, judging by the hilarious chaos on the dance floor, that pretty much covered everyone.
James winced as he overheard the escapades of one boy’s mischief night adventures earlier in the evening. ’Yeah, we smeared golden syrup over everyone’s car handles and let Mrs Simpson’s tyres down…’ The surrounding children giggled helplessly as James rolled his eyes. Bert planted a glass of warm cider in his hand.
‘Little bleeders,’ he said. ‘Glued a peacock feather to my hat. Only put it down for five minutes.’
James did his best to suppress a laugh, but failed miserably. ‘I would imagine you were a proper Herbert in your day.’
‘Too right I was,’ Bert smiled, his eyes twinkling. ‘Got a good turnout tonight, Jimmy boy.’ He gestured to the far end of the field. ‘I didn’t know Ian Connell had kids. Is he married?’
‘No, no, he’s not. They’re not his children. I believe Philip said they were cousins, or niece and nephew, or something. They’re staying for the weekend to attend our little gathering.’
‘Seems to spend more time in this village than his own. Mind you, ‘e’s living in Loxfield, isn’t ‘e? I think I’d spend more time ‘ere if I lived at Loxfield.’
‘Yes, never seems a terribly welcoming sort of place. I only met Ian the other day, actually. The morning that Grimes died, as a matter of fact. He’d gone over to meet him with the design for the work he’d wanted.’
‘Poor geezer. Must take ages to draw up plans like that. He’s just finished doing some work for the old Professor.’
‘Really? What’s he had done?’
‘New roof on the museum and some new glass units inside. Done a good job, too, from what I ‘ear. You might wanna give him a shout for the patio work you want done.’
‘Well, he certainly seems to have made himself at home here. Nice that he joins in our little shindigs. Wonder how much Grimes owed him for those plans?’
‘Not enough to murder him, I shouldn’t think, Jimmy boy,’ Bert said with a smile. ‘I’m off to get some apple crumble.’
Across the field, through the couples dancing Strip the Willow, he saw Dorothy Forbes with her husband and grandchildren talking with Philip Jackson, the doctor. Philip had his wife, Helen, with him - a homely woman, who liked nothing more than to be a wife and mother. In the middle of them stood his pretty little daughter, Natasha. No doubt the single ladies attending would be a little put out that he’s brought his family, James mused. Beth sidled up to him.
‘Everyone seems to be having a good time,’ she said, ’and the apple crumble is another roaring success.’
He snaked his arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head. ‘Yes, it’s all going pretty well, isn’t it? Any hiccups your end?’
‘No, I’m mingling in the places you’re not and viceversa, and everyone seems happy. Mrs Jepson and her husband aren’t here yet, though. They normally arrive dead on seven.’
‘Oh, I think they’re coming with Peter Mitchell,’ said James. ‘He’s going to pick them up. He promised to drop off some apples, so he offered a lift as well.’ He gave her a squeeze. ‘Good of Oli and Harry to pop down.’
‘What a lovely surprise and the children so adore them.’
James agreed as he watched the twins wrestling with a group of young boys. He sipped his cider. ‘Best circulate again. I’ll go clockwise and catch up with you across the field.’
‘Oh James, did you know that Keith Grimes’ old teacher is here?’
‘Really? Who’s that? ’
‘Mr Chrichton. He’s teaching at the infants’ school now, but he was at the grammar school at Haywards Heath when Keith was there. Remembers him very well, I’m told.’ Beth raised her eyebrows and wandered off toward Philip and Helen.
James glanced around for Mr Chrichton, but couldn’t see him. As the evening went on, the light from the fire and the pumpkins faded a little and the darkness made recognition impossible from any distance. He meandered over to the trestle table with the apple crumbles on. Graham Porter stood by, eagerly spooning some custard into his bowl, while his wife and children played snap-apple.
‘Having a nice time, Graham?’
‘Right good, thanks. The kids are loving it, of course. Nice to be able to do something for ‘em. Times are a bit hard at the moment.’
‘Really? I thought you said you had quite a bit of inheritance?’
‘Oh, I have’ replied Graham. ‘It’s just all tied up at the moment. I put a load into different investments. Too much, really. I should’ve kept some by. You know, rainy day money. Of course, if Alec had bloody paid me back, it would’ve been easier. I s’pose that money’s gone forever.’
‘Well, not necessarily,’ commented James. ‘There’s his son, Keith, so perhaps have a chat with him? You may be able to sort something out once they lay their hands on the will.’
‘Bloody hell!’ said Graham. ‘I’d forgotten all about him. Is he here?’
‘No, we’re trying to track him down. I’d certainly have a chat with him when he does arrive.’
‘Don’t you worry, I will. I rue the day I ever agreed to that deal. Bloody cheating git. Sorry, I know he’s dead an’ all, but it bloody annoyed me, him not paying me back. Not a penny. I wonder if he ever was gonna pay me? Good job Ian didn’t get involved. He’d have done all that building work and never got paid.’
The pair jumped as Ian suddenly appeared next to them. ‘Oh, I would’ve got it,’ he said as he helped himself to apple crumble. ‘I’ve always got my money. One way or another, even if it’s a barter agreement of some sort. Nice crumble, James.’ He wandered off.
James watched as Ian ambled away and then recognised Mr Chrichton making a beeline for the hog roast. He excused himself from Graham and strode across to him.
‘Mr Chrichton?’
The teacher glanced up and held out a hand. ‘Lord Harrington. Thank you so much for inviting me. The children enjoyed doing the pumpkins this year.’
James judged him to be in his fifties. A tall thick-set man with a pleasant expression.
‘Yes, they did a splendid job, didn’t they?’ replied James. ‘I was going to ask the cubs and brownies to do it, but I understand they were on an adventure trip last week.’
‘That’s right, with the scouts and guides.’
‘Excellent, I’m sure they had a wonderful time.’ James steered him to one side. ‘Mr Chrichton, may I pick your brains?’
‘Well, of course.’
‘Do you remember Keith Grimes?’
‘Keith Grimes? Yes, yes I do. I heard about his dad. Is Keith coming home for the funeral?’
‘Well, we’re trying to track him down at the moment. I understand that he didn’t get on with his father.’
Mr Chrichton grimaced and shook his head. ‘I only met Alec Grimes once and I could have killed him there and then. Sorry, that sounds very melodramatic, but he was what I’d call a very uncaring man. He never came to any parents’ evenings, or sports days - nothing. Keith was only at my school for about a year. I understand that Mrs Grimes died young. That’s what I heard, anyway. That was before Alec even moved into this area. I suppose he was probably struggling. But the way he treated Keith… well, it was criminal.’
James frowned and asked him to explain what he meant.
‘Your Lordship—’
‘Please, call me James.’
Chrichton acknowledged him with a smile. ‘James, I know when a child is being mistreated or bullied, and I would bet my life on it that Keith was beaten regularly.’
‘Good Lord!’
‘Keith never said a word to me about it, but he always had a fearful look
if you asked him about any bruises. I tried going round there to sort it out. That was the one time I met Alec. Asked him to tell me what was going on with Keith. Asked him outright if he was beating him. Well, he came at me with a pitchfork, threatening all sorts of things.’
Chrichton sipped his cider before continuing. ‘I don’t mind telling you, I feared for Keith Grimes that night. I wish I hadn’t gone round because I’m sure I made it worse. I’m sure he took it out on the boy.’
‘Nasty piece of work, eh?’
‘The worst. I don’t blame Keith for leaving when he did. If he’d have stayed I reckon there would have been murder in that house.’ He waved to Stephen. ‘Excuse me. Just want to catch the vicar about the Christmas festivities at the school.’
‘Of course,’ James replied stepping aside.
Donovan Delaney, who had overheard the conversation, stepped over to James. ‘Speak to your man, Pete Mitchell – I heard the two of them were in the same class.’
‘Really?’ replied James. ‘Right, yes, I will. Although, from what I’ve heard, I can’t see Keith pitching up at the funeral.’
‘Did you know that I put Alec in hospital once?’ said Donovan smugly. ‘Punched his lights out, I did. Knocked him out cold. Out for two days, he was, with concussion, and I don’t mind telling you. I don’t regret a bit of it!’
James gawped at Donovan and, in the back of his mind, could well believe it. Donovan was not a small man and he couldn’t imagine trying to pick a fight with him. The big Irishman put his hands in his trouser pockets, looking almost pleased with himself.
‘Very insulting to the wife, he was,’ he continued. ‘In my pub as well. So I told him, you don’t be doing that in here, you walk out now or get carried out later. Started pointing his finger at me, telling me I was irresponsible serving alcohol. I ask you, what else d’you serve in a pub! Anyway, I punched him hard, and down he went.’
Donovan’s son, Josh, ran up and tugged at his sleeve. Donovan let himself be dragged away and shouted back to James. ‘Won’t be many people sad to see him buried.’
James looked on, a little bewildered by the information that seemed to be coming to him from all directions, but quickly snapped out of his daydream after being grabbed by Beth for a dance.
As an interlude to the jaunty jigs and reels, the band launched into an unusual folk rendition of Glenn Miller’s ‘In the Mood’. The dance floor cleared as he and Beth jived and bopped to the swing classic. He drew her close as they swirled romantically to the rhythm and beat. As the last chord sounded, the villagers showed their delight by shouting encore and giving them a generous round of applause. James kissed her gently on the lips and whispered ‘I love you’ as the band launched into another reel.
The games, dancing and eating continued through the evening and James took immense pleasure simply by looking on. The children, thrilled at being allowed to stay past their bedtimes, raced around the field. The men hovered in a group around the diminishing hog roast, where Harry held court. The women chatted, exchanged news, and planned their involvement in the forthcoming play as well as the arrangements for Bonfire Night. Villagers mingled with one another, people came and went, and the band played on without a break.
Stephen, swallowing the last of his soul cake, wandered across to James, who had been watching Donovan and Philip providing piggy backs to the children. He then spotted Bert and gestured for him to come over and join them.
‘I say, you wouldn’t believe the bad press Alec Grimes has with the people here,’ he told them. ‘He sounds a rotten egg. Did you know that Delaney put him in hospital?’
Stephen’s jaw dropped and cake crumbs fell from his lips.
‘Get away,’ Bert said. ‘What for?’
James led them to a less crowded area, where he was quickly interrupted by the orchard grower, Pete Mitchell.
‘Sorry I’m late, your Lordship.’
‘That’s all right, old chap. There’s plenty of nosh left. Just take yourself—’
‘Something funny’s going on,’ Mitchell said with an anxious look.
‘What’s up, old man?’
‘Well, first, I went to pick up Mr and Mrs Jepson, but there was no-one in. The house is in darkness. I tried round the back and nothing. Looks like the whole place has been battened down for the winter. Second, earlier this evening, I had to swing by the other side of the village to make an apple delivery and I went by Grimes’ farm.’
James listened to what Mitchell had to say and asked the others to wait while he searched for Beth. He finally spotted her bent over double in a line of people, trying her hand at passing an apple from chin to chin. He bounded across to her and leant over to whisper in her ear.
‘Hey sweetie,’ she mumbled, desperately trying to keep her apple secure. ‘Are you having a good time?’
‘I’m having a wonderful time, darling,’ replied James. ‘But I’m afraid I’ve got to pop out for half an hour.’
‘What for?’
‘Mitchell’s just shown his face. The Jepsons are missing and he saw a torchlight being flashed about over at the Grimes place. We’re going up there to take a look.’
Having passed her apple on, Beth stood up with a concerned look. ‘Who’s we?’
‘Bert and Stephen are coming with me.’
‘You be careful. Why don’t you call George?’
‘Because he’ll think I’m completely wasting his time. I don’t want to go to him unless I have something conclusive to give him.’
Beth pulled him close. ‘The slightest hint of anything untoward, you go straight to the nearest phone box and call him. Promise?’
‘Promise. Keep the party going, darling. I’ll be back before you know it.’
On his way to Stephen and Bert, he tugged at Oliver.’ Get a drink for Mitchell, will you, sport? He’s only just arrived.’
James weaved his way back to Bert and Stephen and the three of them opened the back gate and marched to the garage. Beth watched them disappear with more than a little trepidation.
CHAPTER NINE
The dark October night descended menacingly as James drove past the village green and out toward Grimes’ farm. The noise and jollity of the Halloween party faded soon after driving off and the myths surrounding this devilish night took on a reality as the spindly branches of trees and shrubs cast eerie shadows across the road. Those villagers who hadn’t taken advantage of the Harringtons’ hospitality stayed huddled around their hearths, snug in their living rooms listening to the wireless or, by this time, retired to their beds.
Mitchell had arrived at the manor house at just gone 10pm and appeared agitated from the start. James knew Mitchell well enough to know that he wasn’t a particularly dramatic individual, so his behaviour did suggest that something was amiss. As always, James couldn’t help bombarding himself with questions and they lined up in such a rush he couldn’t think straight.
Where had Mr and Mrs Jepson disappeared to? They’d both confirmed they’d be at the Halloween celebrations, yet now they’d disappeared. They’d been coming to this function since he could remember and never missed one.
Mr J had visited Grimes the morning he’d died. And Mrs J suggested that he’d had an argument with him. Was it more than just a social visit? Had he killed Grimes and realised what a fix he’d put himself in? Perhaps Mrs J had found out and rushed to her husband’s side?
He grimaced. God no, that really didn’t sound like Mrs J. But then, how well did he really know his cleaner? How well did he really know anyone in the village?
Bert, sitting in the passenger seat, tugged his gloves off, searched his inside pocket and brought out a tin of Old Virginia tobacco and some cigarette papers. He began rolling his own and offered the tobacco around.
‘Anyone else?’
James and Stephen shook their heads.
Stephen leant forward from the back seat.
‘You-you don’t think this is something s-sinister, do you?’
Bert
struck a match and lit his cigarette. ‘Prob’ly poachers or something. In fact, I’ll bet you ‘alf a crown it’s poachers. Season’s on a roll for rabbit. A lot of ‘em about at the moment.’ He glanced at James. ‘C’mon Sherlock, what’s your take on all this?’
James smiled as he concentrated on the shadowy road ahead. Clearly, Bert felt his claims of foul play were a little over-zealous.
‘I don’t have one, to be honest’ he replied. ‘You may well be right, Bert. In which case, I will give you half a crown with interest. The fact that you’re here, though, proves you’re as interested as I am.’
‘Just making sure you don’t get up to no mischief, Jimmy boy.’
‘Actually, the thing that I find more concerning is the mysterious flight of the Jepsons. Where d’you think they’ve migrated to? They never go anywhere.’
Bert shook his head. ‘Now that, my friend, is a mystery. P’haps we should be snooping around their place instead of ‘ere.’
The headlights picked out the muddy grass verge to Grimes’ farm. James pulled across and turned off the engine and lights. The scene in front of them was silent, empty and dark with no sign of life.
Bert sighed. ‘I’ll tell you something for nothing. This ‘ouse don’t look like a welcome in the hillside at the best of times, but it looks bloody depressing when it’s black as my mum’s coal cellar.’
James leant across Bert and opened the glove compartment. He took out a couple of small torches and glanced across at his companions.
‘Only two torches, I’m afraid.’
Bert dug deep in his pocket and brought out his own. James smiled and wondered if his friend ever carried out any burglaries. He certainly gave the impression that he’d be well-prepared for such things. He passed his spare torch to Stephen.
‘H-have you got any W-Wellingtons?’
The groans that followed this question confirmed to James that they hadn’t thought things through very well. The farm sat on land within a natural dip. The rain from the previous day would have settled and, although the frost had returned with a vengeance, what with all the activity that had taken place, the mud looked sticky and gooey around the house.
LORD JAMES HARRINGTON AND THE WINTER MYSTERY (Lord James Harrington Mysteries Book 1) Page 9
