by David Beard
‘The nearside front window had been smashed I understand.’ She thought for a moment. ‘He didn’t say anything was stolen. He just said he thought it odd. If I remember, he said that the passenger seat had been pushed back on the adjustment and the carpets had been flung out onto the drive. I think he thought it was just a bloody nuisance. He didn’t seem very perturbed about it. I think he was more concerned about our unfinished business.’ She looked Smalacombe straight in the eye, challenging him to show some discomfiture.
Smalacombe got up from his seat, which was the signal for Tiley to close his notebook and follow suit. ‘Thank you, Mrs. Spicer. You have been very frank and very helpful.’
‘Not at all, Chief Inspector. If there is anything more I can help you with?’
‘I’m sure we have everything we need at the moment, we’ll see ourselves out.’
As Smalacombe sat in the car by the roadside waiting for Tiley to shut the gate he felt impatient to get on with things as the case was beginning to take shape. Whilst Tiley settled into his seat and before he had buckled up Smalacombe was already pulling away.
‘Change of plan, Clive.’
‘My thoughts entirely,’ Clive responded. ‘We’ve got to see Hempson first.’
‘It’s going to be long day, but a good one I reckon.’
To their relief, Hempson’s vehicle was parked in the yard of his premises adjacent to Longtor Manor. Smalacombe pulled up alongside it. When the engine stopped they could hear hammering coming from one of the barns on the far side, so they walked over to the noise. Hempson was using a cold chisel on a shaft of a baler machine. He looked up when he saw his visitors.
‘Always goes wrong when you need it. Bloody key’s seized up and I can’t get the pulley wheel back on.’
‘Couldn’t you call the engineers out?’
‘At this time of the year? You must be joking. They’re working twenty five hours a day as it is.’ Smalacombe concluded it was typical of farmers, as the machine should have been looked at three months ago in preparation, but he let it pass. ‘I take it you’ve been to see Imogen,’ he said and Smalacombe nodded. ‘So! She confirmed what I told you?’
‘She did indeed Mr. Hempson. What a lucky man you are.’ Hempson did not respond but he showed a stern face and great displeasure at Smalacombe’s remark. This was exactly what the chief inspector wanted; the less in control, the greater the likelihood that Hempson would be off guard. ‘But she also told us your vehicle was broken into that night.’ Smalacombe’s eyes followed Hempson’s every movement; he was keen to see what his body language would reveal. If Hempson had something to hide he gave nothing away.
‘What of it? It was of no consequence, nothing was taken. That’s why I never reported it.’ He put down the tools on the side of the machinery as if he had now resigned himself to having to spend more time with the police than he had intended.
‘Did you see who did it?’
‘No. I chased after him but I heard his car going up the road.’
‘Why didn’t you continue to pursue him?’
‘Because, in the first place I was in my pyjamas, I had gone to bed when I heard it…’
‘And you were on the phone,’ Smalacombe interjected.
‘What’s that got to do with anything? Look, by the time I got down, he was legging it down the drive. Then I ran back to get the keys and I couldn’t bloody find them…’
‘All right, all right, we get the message.’
‘I was bloody annoyed, well who wouldn’t be, but it didn’t seem to me to be of much consequence.’
‘What? You just come back from your married lover, you had just picked up an old acquaintance who was shit scared of something, then someone burgles your property at four in the morning and you thought it was inconsequential? Come on, how long do you think I’ve been in this job?’ Hempson picked up his tools to restart his repairs in the hope that Smalacombe would get off his back. ‘No, no, Mr. Hempson, don’t start hammering again, it gives me a headache. Have you got the keys to your car?’
‘Not without a search warrant I haven’t.’
‘Well, we can soon organise that. Get on the phone, Sergeant.’ Tiley moved away and keyed in a number on his mobile. Smalacombe smiled and raised an eyebrow.
‘All right, what do you want with them?’
‘By what I’ve been told, it seems to me that whoever it was, he or she was looking for something. My guess is, it’s still there, unless of course they did manage to find it or you’ve been using your spare time hoovering.’
‘I haven’t cleaned it for months.’
‘So, let’s have a look then.’ Tiley had discreetly put his phone away and the three walked over to the vehicles. Pieces of glass were still lying around on the inside and as Hempson had intimated there was enough debris for Smalacombe to start a compost heap for his vegetable garden. Clive Tiley donned a pair of latex gloves and began to make an organised search around the passenger seat area. It had occurred to him that the garage that repaired the window may have done some cleaning up and what they were looking for had already been removed.
‘Who did the repair, Mr. Hempson?’
‘It was a couple of lads in Ashburton who specialise in body repairs.’
‘Would they have cleaned up in here do you think?’
‘No, definitely not. I just wanted a quick repair as I needed to get on. They fitted the new window whilst I waited. I told them I would clear up the mess afterwards.’
‘And you didn’t.’
‘Well, I took the worst of it out as you can see. I mean, nobody wants to sit in shards of glass do they? But, no, I didn’t clean it as such.’
Tiley had moved his attention to the seat. He pushed his hand down between the squab and the cushion; an area notorious for devouring anything that falls from pockets and usually a good place to search for a coin or two when short of change for a parking meter.
‘Chief Inspector, I think I’ve found what the thief was looking for,’ Tiley said with great satisfaction. He stood at the side of the vehicle and held out his hand. Resting in his palm was a gold ring with an inlaid diamond. ‘Do you recognise it, sir?’
‘I certainly do. What about you, Mr. Hempson? Have you seen this before?’
For the first time Hempson looked uncomfortable. ‘Of course not. I don’t usually keep valuables down the back of my car seat. I have no idea where it came from or whose it is. It looks like a piece of quality though.’
‘It certainly is, so let me enlighten you,’ Smalacombe began. ‘The reason you didn’t report the incident is because you knew who it was who had smashed the window.’
‘How could I? It was pitch dark and four in the morning.’
‘You heard his car pull away.’
‘So?’
‘All cars have a distinctive sound and you knew whose vehicle it was.’ Smalacombe waited for a response but none was forthcoming. ‘It wasn’t a car was it? It was a pick-up. Eli’s pick-up.’
Hempson thought for a long while whilst he considered the options. ‘I had no idea what he was looking for. But, I did think he was up to his neck in something and I didn’t want to make things worse.’
‘I’m not saying you were involved, Mr. Hempson, but it seems to me that this ring fell out of Eli’s pocket on the way home. When you dropped him off he soon realised that one was missing, so he came back to retrieve it.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, Chief Inspector, how would I know that that was the reason behind his escapade?’
Smalacombe considered his position carefully. Either Eli had told Hempson and Hempson was lying or he had no knowledge of the rings in which case he was in the clear. It then occurred to Smalacombe, if Hempson considered Eli was “up to his neck in it” as he put it, then he must have known what he had seen that evening because at that time Eli was totally unconnected with the incident. Although it was incriminating, Smalacombe decided the case would be better served if he did not pursue it further for the time bei
ng. ‘It would have saved us a lot of time if you had reported this incident,’ he said with a hint of exasperation in his voice. He checked his watch and realised they were way behind schedule. The only certain time to catch Eli Crouche was during the lunch hour at the Dog and Rabbit. Hempson was left to pick up his hammer and chisel and the detectives roared off in an effort to get to the pub in time.
The Dog and Rabbit came into view. Smalacombe glanced at the clock set into the car’s dashboard by the radio. ‘Five to two, we’ve just made it,’ he said with relief. ‘We’ll just sit in the car park and wait.’ He parked up next to Eli’s unkempt pick-up, the back of which was loaded up with the paraphernalia of a country odd job man. There were hessian sacks, a shovel, two forks, bits of wood, much sawdust, oily rags and cans tied in one corner with binder twine. On the seat in the cab was a chainsaw: the same as before, when Smalacombe checked. Shortly after two, Eli appeared and walked unsteadily to his vehicle. Smalacombe jumped from his car and stood by the pick-up holding the driver’s door handle.
‘I don’t think you should get in there Eli,’ he said officiously, ‘I might just have you for drunk driving.’ Eli looked to both men in turn. ‘Aw, cum on,’ he said, ‘I ban’t doin’ no ‘arm out ‘ere. Tid’n bloody London is it?’
‘Third offence! You’d lose your licence for a very long time. How would you get by then?’
‘I bloody would’n an’ you knows it. ‘Twas difficult enough las’ time.’ Eli swayed a little and adjusted one foot to secure his balance.
‘Well then, best for us to give you a lift.’ Tiley opened the car door.
‘I ban’t gittin’ in there.’
‘Suit yourself, got your mobile, Sergeant?’
‘Wait a minute, wha’ the bloody hell’s this all about?’
‘Just want a chat Eli, that’s all. Now if you know what’s good for you, you’ll hop in and we’ll take you home.’
Eli sat in the back in sullen silence and only answered perfunctorily with words of right or left to questions of direction. He lived in an isolated cottage at the end of a long rough lane. From the outside it looked like a haven of self-sufficiency. Nothing appeared to be well cared for apart from a vegetable plot to the side, which was clearly very productive. Behind it was a ramshackle cage with a few hens pecking away inside it, which was attached to a henhouse, made from irregular pieces of wooden plank and galvanised iron. On the other side of the dwelling Smalacombe saw the remains of a grey Ferguson tractor, now streaked with green mildew, covered in brambles in a lean-to that had fallen into disrepair. By the cottage’s front door a border collie slept on the door mat. Eli let himself out of the car without a word and walked unsteadily up the path. Tiley followed him. ‘Aren’t you going to invite us in then?’
‘No, I bloody id’n,’ came the response, as he unlocked the front door. As he opened it Tiley put his boot in front of it and proffered his hand. ‘After you,’ he said.
Inside, the austerity that greeted the two detectives took Smalacombe back to his childhood and to some of the moorland homes he had visited. There were just four sticks of furniture; a Windsor chair filled with coats and fishing bags, two rickety dining chairs by a huge pine table that dominated the room. But, unlike those houses he recalled, this was a mess. It was fortunate that there was only one small window that had not been cleaned for years. It let in insufficient light to see across the room, even in such a bright summer’s day, otherwise it would have been possible that the sight and the smell would have driven them out before they had had time to interview the occupant. The open hearth was filled with ashes that spilled out onto the floor. The table was heaped with Eli’s belongings; newspapers, fishing tackle, cartridges. Cartridges? Mugs and plates galore, some with half eaten food congealed on them and cider bottles too numerous to count.
‘This place is yours then, Eli?’ Smalacombe asked, now resigned to the fact that he would have to remain standing.
‘Duchy.’
‘Oh, Charlie comes to stay once in a while does he?’ Eli didn’t answer. ‘That’s his cartridges, I suppose. Well, they couldn’t be yours could they?’
‘What cartridges?’ Eli asked playing the innocent. He looked across to the table. ‘Bloody ‘ell, dawn know where they come from. I ebm seed they afore.’
‘That’ll be hard to believe when we find your prints all over them,’ Tiley said, as he took a plastic bag from his pocket.
‘Well, we’ll come back to that in a minute. What I want to know is what you were doing down the river on the night the girl was found down there?’
Even in the fog of six pints of cider bought in the pub and three bottles before he went up to the Dog and Rabbit, Eli had worked out that Smalacombe knew he was there, so there was no point in denying it. ‘I went for a walk in the moonlight.’ He stumbled and leant sideways against the wall by the door.
‘Writing poetry, I suppose.’ Eli snorted at the remark. ‘Or perhaps it was with a beautiful girl, until she got killed.’
‘You knows who done that. ‘Twad’n me.’
‘No, but you found her.’ Eli hesitated which enabled Smalacombe to press on. ‘More to the point, you saw them dump the body.’
‘I bloody didn’t.’ An ear-rending belch followed this denial, which left Smalacombe wondering what was to come next. He need not have worried.
‘Can you open the bloody door, Sergeant? I think I’m goin’ to pass out in a minute.’
‘I’d ‘ave got the maid in to clean up if I knowed you was comin’.’
‘So, why did you drive off to Ashburton and break into Johnnie Hemspon’s vehicle?’
‘Didn’ know tha’ I did.’
‘Oh, yes you do,’ Tiley jumped in.
‘Wha’ is this? A bloody pantomime?’ He swayed some more and looked at the floor just in front of his feet.
‘Look, don’t piss me around,’ Smalacombe said with much more authority than before, ‘Hempson has told us he picked you up at the bridge and took you home.’ Eli thrust his hands in his pockets and continued to avoid eye contact with them. ‘You lost one of the rings didn’t you and you went back to retrieve it?’
Eli stood away from the wall for a moment but found the effort of independent balance too much and he fell back again, this time letting both shoulders take the weight. ‘Well, they wadn’ no use to ‘er no more, was ’em.’
‘Thought you could make a bob or two?’
‘Something like that.’
‘They’ve turned up in Newton Abbot,’ Tiley advised him.
‘I didn’ know that. I ebm bin to Newton for bloody ages.’ He closed his eyes as if in thought. ‘You goin’ to let me go for a piss.’
‘There’s plenty of room here. Carry on.’
‘Fuck off.’ Eli straightened himself up and zigzagged across the room, opened the front door and urinated on the door step. The dog judicially moved away, just in time, clearly aware of what was about to follow. Tiley looked anxiously to his superior.
‘Don’t worry, he’s going nowhere,’ Smalacombe assured him. When Eli finished, he turned and clobbered himself against the jamb and then weaved his way back to his original position by the other door. He had failed to do up his flies properly and his shirttail poked through in an obscene manner. There was much evidence of dribbles that had deepened the colour of his overalls down one leg.
‘So what did you do with them?’ Smalacombe asked when Eli had returned to the front room and took up the same position by the door as before. He looked confused, he had already forgotten what they were asking him before he went outside.
‘The rings, you daft bugger.’ Smalacombe was losing patience but for the first time he was relieved to note that Eli looked very uneasy. He detected it wasn’t just the question that was worrying him, but something else. The idea that he had disposed of the jewellery seemed to have taken him completely off guard. ‘Well, now, I’m waiting. If you didn’t take the rings to Newton, then who did?’
‘I sold ‘em off.
’
‘Who to?’
Eli hesitated again, this time for a very long while as he stared at nothing, two or three feet in front of his waistline. After more promptings from Smalacombe he finally said, ‘I sold ‘em, to a bloke in a pub.’ Both detectives laughed. ‘You don’t really expect us to believe that.’
“Tis up to you. ‘Tis true.’
‘Can you give us a name?’
‘Course I can’t. What do ‘ee reckon, ‘ee paid by cheque? Don’t be bloody daf’. Just a bloke I met. I said, did ‘ee want a ring or two…Oh, fuck me, can I sit down?’
‘It’s your bloody house. Help yourself.’
Eli staggered across to the Windsor chair and sat heavily on top of the coats and bags of fishing tackle. He looked distinctly uncomfortable but relieved to have given his legs a rest.
‘Which pub?’
‘Oh I can’t remember, Buzzard’s Nest out Tavvy way I think or it might have been the Woodcutters, I dawn’ know.’
‘Sure it wasn’t the Dog and Rabbit?’ Tiley noticed that Eli blanched at this. There was something he was afraid of.
‘Could ‘ave bin. I can’t remember.’
‘Well, you’d better remember and quick, because if you don’t, I’ll have the traffic cops outside the Dog and Rabbit every day for a month. Got it?’ Smalacombe had heard enough and didn’t feel able to stay in the room any longer. Tiley walked to the table and carefully placed the cartridge box in the plastic bag. ‘I’ll take these. They’re no good to you without a gun anyway.’
‘Bannee goin’ to charge me then?’
‘Of course we are. We wouldn’t want to leave you out. There’s stealing the rings, illegal possession of cartridges. That’ll do for a start,’ Smalacombe said, after a little consideration. ‘I reckon there will be a few more things we can get you for later on. In the mean time, Sergeant, make it official and he can spend the night in the nick.’
‘Bastards.’
‘Yea, I know; clever ones though.’
Tiley opened his note book to the back page in order to get the wording correct. ‘Eli Crouche I am charging you…..’
