The Gypsy Hill Murders (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 1)

by P. J. Thurbin

  Ralph was thrown by Katie’s outburst and realized that she was only having a go at him to hide her feelings about her grandmother’s story. Probably adding some of her own grief as the circumstances surrounding her first husband’s death had been even more tragic, in its way. After a few moments of awkward silence between them Katie continued.

  “So apart from all that, what have you decided to do about this Centenary business? It sounds to me as though you have gone off at a bit of a tangent with all that mystery stuff.”

  One thing that Ralph liked about Katie was her speed of recovery. One minute upset over her grandmother and the next no problem. Katie had now reverted to his stereotype of all Australians. Firm, but at the same time demonstrating a slightly wry, sense of humour. She continued to push him with her questioning style.

  “I think one of the first things you need to get sorted out is that head caretaker. You know what an awkward bugger that Jack Welsh can be. He likes to hold court over his lackeys and if you want him to cooperate in setting things up, then you’d better sit him down over a beer and do some buttering up. Not your favourite style, I know, but you have to do it if you want his cooperation.”

  Ralph had always felt that Jack Welsh was someone who could swing either way. He could be a big help, if he had a mind to, or if not, he could decide to prevaricate, just to hold things up.

  ”You’re right, Katie. I’ll corner the bugger in his office and see if he’s going to go along with my ideas about priority car parking and tidying up the place.”

  Katie was always able to get the concluding remark into an exchange.

  “And whatever you do, don’t mention anything about that business with the caretaker who was killed. Don’t mention his being at the student bar or anything else about that night. If you want to stay on his good side, watch what you say.”

  Ralph had never heard that Welsh had been at the student bar, but if it was true then that would at least give Welsh an alibi or reason as to why he was there that night. Now he wondered why Welsh hadn’t mentioned it at the time.

  Jack Welsh was always easy to find. He had been appointed only a short time before the incident with Bob the caretaker, and had since then taken it upon himself to act as the godfather to his staff. He liked to hold court with one or other of his underlings and you could hear him sounding off as you walked by the reception area.

  Following the death of the caretaker it became University policy that from six till 10 at night a senior member of the academic staff had to be on duty in case of an emergency. Ralph remembered the first night that he had been on duty and he wondered what he might have to deal with. It was a warm evening and as the light faded he heard some shouting coming from the roadway outside his open office window. Just as he was thinking of investigating, there was a knock on the door and in walked Jack Welsh with a large baseball bat tucked under his arm.

  ”Just thought I’d let you know, Professor Chalmers, sir, that if there are any disturbances you don’t need to bother yourself. This is the night when the Pakistani students ‘ave full use of the bar and ‘uvver facilities on the campus; the Indian students ‘ave their night tomorrow. It’s best to keep them apart, sir. Sometimes they get the nights confused and the odd row might break out. If it does then I ‘ave my means of dealing wiv it, and they soon clear off when they see me swinging me bat. Not that I would ever use it for real of course, sir, but the secret of that is wiv me. It’s a trick I learned in the Army. So never fear sir, you just carry on wiv your work and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Ralph remembered that at the time he was very relieved that he was not going to be called on to sort out a row among a mob of students. He wondered if he should confront Welsh about his having made what might be construed as racist remarks about the students, but the moment was lost. He had heard that Welsh had been a Regimental Sergeant Major with service that took him all over the world before he was pensioned out and took this job. Perhaps that was the way that all RSM’s worked their trade. But all of that had happened in the past, and now he had to face up to talking to Welsh. He made his way to the head caretaker’s office. The door was open so he knocked and walked in.

  “Hi Jack, I wanted to have a chat with you about what we can do for the Centenary celebrations that the Vice Chancellor wants to put on here at the site.”

  Ralph wanted to make sure that Welsh had little room to maneuver, and he hoped that mentioning the VC’s involvement would do the trick.

  Welsh was quick to come back.

  “It’s not up to me to tell you what to do sir, but I think that the biggest problem is the site developers. They’re planning to start work ‘ere next week and your celebration thing will be stuck slap bang in the middle of a lot of digging and banging. Not a good way to show the place in its best light, in my opinion,” he said, with a tone that smacked of authority.

  Ralph could see the point, but recognized that Welsh was playing games with him. He was putting up a lot of barriers that only he was in a position to take down. The underlying condition was that there would be a price to pay for his cooperation. Ralph knew that it was only a matter of time before Welsh would show that he was really in charge of what happened around the college grounds.

  ”What you have to consider sir, is that anyfing to do with Kenry House, the old stables, and the Victorian ice ‘ouse is a non starter. My advice would be to set up a big marquee on the lawns outside Coombe Hurst and make that your centre piece. You could also use the music practice rooms in Coombe Hurst if you can get all them music students out. I expect the break from all that piano bashing and scraping on those violins would be good for everyone. Well that’s what I fink is the solution. Who you decide to invite won’t care where they are as long as you can give ‘em a good feed and a chance to strut their stuff. Well you know what I mean, sir.”

  It irritated Ralph to see how easily he was being out maneuvered, but then what Welsh suggested did make some sense. The lawns outside Coombe Hurst were just as beautiful as when Florence Nightingale used to stay there with her aunt back in Victorian times. And the house was still magnificent inside, with wood balustrades and fine carvings. It also had a paved patio outside the French windows that ran the whole length of the back of the house. Ralph was no fool. He wasn’t going to thwart Welsh’s suggestions just because he didn’t like the way he was being manipulated.

  “Sounds like some good suggestions, Jack, and I see your point about keeping away from the development and construction works. I’ll think about it.”

  But as he left and walked up the narrow stairs to his office it suddenly struck him that Jack Welsh had gone to some length to make sure that the three areas he had wanted to keep off limits during the Centenary preparation had all been involved in the accident with the caretaker, and the possible shooting of an army officer. Was there something that RSM Welsh wanted to protect or leave undisturbed? He wondered.

  Ralph wandered down to the bar to see if any of his pals were looking for a bit of a chat and perhaps a chance to make plans for the upcoming Oxford versus Cambridge annual rugby tournament at Twickenham later that month.

  When he got there he could see that David was leaning on the bar engaged in a serious looking conversation with one of his doctoral students. It was a typical scene and would probably mean that David would be tied up for most of the evening. But Peter was in full swing and regaling some of his music students with jokes about top pianists who had lost their concentration half way through a performance. Ralph strolled over in their direction as Peter recalled one particular moment for his young audience.

  ”I remember seeing Lang Lang doing his theatrical bit, playing The Yellow River at last year’s proms. Suddenly he must have been thinking of something else and missed a whole section of the score. Probably wondering what Mao would say if he saw how the arts had thrived since the so called cultural revolution. I thought that the game was up, but with no more trouble than you and I would have if we forgot to blink, he cam
e right back in and carried on playing. I thought afterwards that there were probably more notes left out than he had played, but it just goes to show that if you are smart enough, you can get away with murder.”

  The idea of murder and accidents had been playing on Ralph’s mind all afternoon, and for a split second he hesitated. Peter seized on the pause to put the final touch to his story.

  “We can see by the response given by Professor Chalmers that I have made my point. If I may make so bold, Professor?”

  With that Peter laughed at his own joke and the students, who wanted to keep up their course averages all laughed along with him. Peter waved the students off to their studies and offered to buy his colleagues a round of drinks. Katie seized the opportunity to bridge any awkwardness between her and Ralph that might have arisen from her outburst earlier that afternoon. She stood up to make sure that she had their attention.

  “Don’t mind Ralph, he’s had quite a day of it, and by all accounts is ready for some relaxation and a chance to unwind. I hear that the developers are having great arguments with the powers that be over work they want to do to prepare for digging the foundations for the new buildings. Seems as though the local authority guys and the heritage protection agencies are up in arms about any threat to the retaining wall at the back of Kenry House. Some ancient relics were found there some years ago and they’re talking about holding up the works until a proper archeological survey has been carried out. Who knows, they might even find the odd Roman Centurion; you never know what is going to be dug up around here. Hope you guys don’t have any skeletons that they might unearth.”

  Chapter 4

  Jack Welsh was brought up in a family that had for generations been soldiers. Not very noteworthy ones, by all accounts, but they had filled the ranks of the infantry for over 100 years. Jack was the best loved son of the family, as he had risen to the rank of Regimental Sergeant Major, and he had given the army the best 40 years of his life. But he had always been a bit of a gambler and a notorious drinker. These two characteristics had carried him through a lot of scrapes and won him a few medals over the years, but now he was past his prime. He found himself with a life style to support that was becoming increasingly difficult since his winning streak on the horses seemed to have dried up.

  It wasn’t by chance that Jack had got himself the job as head caretaker at the University. It was all part of a plan that he had been hatching for some years, and he now saw his chance of turning them into a reality. As he drifted off to enjoy one of his afternoon naps, hidden away in a room in the basement of Kenry House, he could hear his old granddad telling him about his exploits in the First World War and how he always knew that his favourite grandson would one day strike it rich. His grandfather, Sergeant John Ridgeway was 86 years old at the time and wanted to pass his secret on before it was too late.

  “Listen son I was 20 when the Great War, broke out. My lot got shipped over to France and we saw action in Belgium and France. It weren’t ‘til July 1916 that I found myself fighting on the Somme. Two officers, Captain Bryman and Captain Renlow got badly wounded. Me an’ my mate were told to get ‘em to a nearby ‘ouse what the Frenchies told us was a museum in the ‘otel de Ville, It was in a place they called Perrone. We got ‘em to the place and found that ‘oever were supposed to look after it ‘ad done a bunk. Me an’ my mate Tom went in ta one of them back rooms to ‘ave a look round and found this great big safe. Well it didn’t take us long to put an ‘an’grenade alongside it and bang, inside were stacks of gold and jewelry. O’course the officers ‘eard the bang and told us they would take care of every fink an’ give it to the auforities. We did as we was told and put the whole bloomin’ lot in Captain Bryman’s bags. Well we got split up a’ter that an’ it was only a couple o’ weeks later that I copped one in my rifle shoulder so I got my ticket to blighty an’ lived to tell the tale.”

  Jack remembered that the old soldier had got up and shut the door. Then he continued.

  “Listen Jack this is the important bit. I got shipped back to be patched up in the Souf African ‘ospital in some big park outside London. But I ‘eard that there was a nuvver place down the road where some of the wounded officers was. So I got sent over there to ‘elp out takin’ officers for walks in push chairs. Then I sees Captain Bryman and Captain Renlow. They don’t recognize me and I wonders what they done wiv the jewels. An’ one night I ‘eard ‘em ‘avin a flaming row. It seems Bryman ‘ad managed to ‘ide the jewels somewhere in the ‘ouse afore his legs got so bad. They said ‘e was likely to lose bof legs afore long. Renlow shouted that they should sell the lot and give the monies to the wives and families ov the wounded. Well Bryman weren’t ‘avin it, said it was ‘is pension if ‘e were goin’ to be a cripple for the rest of ‘is life. Then I ‘eard a shot an’ a day later when they went to make up Bryman’s bed he was missin’. Renlow got arrested but as they couldn’t find no dead body, ‘e was in the end sent back to France. Yu’ see if Renlow ‘ad shot ‘im by accident in the scuffle, ‘e would ‘ide the body to cover up the jewel business an’ the disgrace what would follow if they was found out to ‘ave nicked the stuff.”

  Then Jack remembered the old man getting up and taking something from a drawer in the bedside table.

  Then he handed Jack a Webley Break-Top service revolver wrapped in oiled lint.

  “Take this. It’ll ‘elp you remember that somewhere those jewels are still ‘idden in that damned ‘ouse. You wait your time an’ when you’re out just get an excuse to be round the place and find those bloody jewels. They’re your in’eritance for all what this family as give’ for our country.” Jack had wondered at the time how the old man had come by the revolver as these were only issued to officers, but he hadn’t asked.

  Jack woke with a start as a rat the size of a dog ran across his foot. He needed to remember to put out some traps and seal off any access points. He would have preferred to just use rat poison, but what with all the new Health and Safety regulations he had to settle for trapping the vermin instead. One thing he knew for sure, he had to speed up his search for the jewels before someone else stumbled on them.

  But both of those pursuits would have to be put on hold for the minute. Ken Roach, the Project Manager who was overseeing the developments planned for new student teaching halls on the site wanted to meet with him, and he was already five minutes late.

  At the meeting Jack was soon on the attack.

  “Right. What’s all this about you causin’ a rumpus with the local aufority boys?” It was his usual frontal approach to what he saw as a tricky situation. An approach that marked him out as someone you had better tread carefully around.

  Jack continued to hussle Roach.

  “Look if you want to get fings done around ‘ere then you would be wise to talk it over wiv me first.” He was determined to keep Roach away from the areas where the jewels might have been hidden.

  Ken Roach was a tough character and 40 years in the construction business with experience of working in some tight spots around the world had hardened him to people like Jack Welsh whom he knew he could chew up and spit out without blinking. But his aim was to get ahead with the trenching work on the site, even if it meant letting Welsh think he was the one calling the shots.

  “Right, Jack. Let’s see what you want and how you can help me get my job done as quickly as possible, no muss no fuss. I want to start digging over by that foundation wall so we can see how deep we’ll have to go for the pipe work. I know what I can do, and safety is not a problem if I can just get on and do my job.”

  Jack knew instinctively that he had to be direct with this one.

  “That’s fine. But you need to keep your blokes away from anyfing inside or outside Kenry ‘ouse, the old stables where the Law School people hang out, and over by the ice ‘ouse. Understood?”

  They were at a bit of a stand-off, but each one had something the other one needed, so they agreed to grab a beer and see if they could find a satisfactory solutio
n for all concerned.

  “You just keep your people out of those areas I told you about and I’ll see if I can keep people out of your ‘air when it comes to you wanting to do fings quickly,” said Welsh.

  Ken Roach was a man of action. He called up his people to get the digger on site as soon possible to start excavations behind the retaining wall. There was a small enclosed garden by the wall that would be ideal for an exploratory dig to see how far down the layer of clay extended.

  The digger had been going for only a few minutes when the operator shouted to his boss that he had uncovered what looked like human bones. A quick inspection confirmed it was possibly a human skeleton. Roach realized that not only was he in some trouble for not clearing everything with the English Heritage people ahead of time, but this might put a major stop on the whole site development. He had been in the business long enough to know that the police would have to investigate. And if it turned out to be some ancient relic then he would have to give the archaeology bods time to undertake a dig. Either way It could mean he might risk losing out on his bonus if the development work was not completed on schedule.