Chapter 5
Ralph heard the rumpus when a group of students ran past his office shouting that a skeleton had been found in the grounds. And being students they couldn’t resist turning it into a bit of fun.
“Might be some student who got so bored with the lectures that he fell asleep. Bet it was that bloke who teaches us Jurisprudence,” shouted one of the students.
A burst of ribald laughter just confirmed to Ralph the way students were unmoved by any level of tragedy as long as it didn’t impinge on them. But as he hurried down the corridor he hoped that whatever it was they had discovered was ancient rather than something recent, and hence more sinister. He met Rupert Granger at the top of the hall stairs.
“What the dickens is going on? Has someone been hurt or what? The last thing I want right now is any trouble. I’m trying to get some very important people to our Centenary and this is not a good time.”
Granger always managed to focus on his own plans and immediate concerns as though everyone else was an annoyance. Ralph waited until his boss pushed his way past and went to see what had happened. Outside it was a scene of pandemonium. The guy with the digger was ashen faced. It was probably the first time he had dug up anything so grisly, and furthermore he knew that they had been breaking the site rules by digging before getting clearance. Ken Roach was trying to clear the students away from the pit that had been partially dug by having his men put yellow tape and poles around the site. Jack Welsh was hovering, and Ralph couldn’t help noticing that he too was ashen faced, which he thought unusual for a hardened veteran who had experienced far worse in Bosnia.
Then Granger demonstrated why he was Head of School. Quite simply, he had the ability to bring order to chaos. He told the students to get back to their classes or their studies, that things were now under control and the show was over. Anyone not getting back to their studies right away would find themselves in his office for a serious chat first thing next morning. It worked. And what was even more galling to Ralph was that he did it in a way that sounded firm but friendly. Almost fatherly, thought Ralph. Ralph was genuinely surprised at his own feelings towards Granger at that moment. He realized for the first time that he actually respected the man and wanted to say well done. But he resisted the temptation.
“Ralph, who’s the poor bugger that they’ve found? Assuming it is a bloke.” Katie asked. She and Peter had been on their way to their lectures when they heard all the ruckus. Now they were both just as curious as everyone else to find out what all the fuss was about.
By now the crowd had thinned out and Granger’s secretary, following a quick nod of approval from her boss, had called the police. At the sound of a police siren everyone felt a bit uneasy. It was always the same when the police arrived at the scene of a crime. In this case it was Inspector Linham who walked up and surveyed the small group of academics who were trying to look as though this was a normal occurrence at the college.
“And what have we got here?” He asked of one of his constables who stood by the fluttering yellow tape as the light faded. “Better have this lot cordoned off properly. And we’ll need some lights. Put a tent up around the site. You know the drill, constable. Just get on with it.”
The case of the dead caretaker was still fresh in his mind. It rankled him that the case had been closed and filed as a simple accident. There was no way that a fit man in his 40’s would suddenly fall down the stairs. But no one had been charged. Here he was back at the same site and he just wondered if there was a connection between the two events. He was the sort of policeman who always suspects that, apart from the odd heart attack or stroke, people rarely die of natural causes when they are at work.
Inspector Linham met the forensic team as they pulled up in their vehicle just ahead of the police doctor. They knew each other well, and Linham called to his old friend.
“Well I can see we won’t want an ambulance for this one, Doc. He, or she, seems to be well dead. I suppose we will have to let the “A” team do their investigations before we move the body or what there is left of it?” He said.
The Inspector knew the routine off by heart and this little round of banter was well rehearsed between himself and the doctor and had become a form of ritual that they went through to hide any feelings that they might have when faced with a more horrendous situation. There had been plenty of those in his time with the force.
The police doctor was direct and to the point.
“A quick look indicates that you have a body here that has been dead for at least 80 or even 100 years. No pulse and quite cold.”
The doctor couldn’t resist tilting at Linham.
“By the look of the bones and the decomposition that has taken place you will need a forensic to find out who or what it is, and the possible cause of death. But it might be simply that someone had a family member that they just wanted to be buried and at peace near their ancestral home. No gravestone, so it might even be a vagrant who simply fell asleep on a cold winter’s night and never woke up,” said the doctor.
“Thanks Doc, trust you to have an imaginative mind. Now we will have to see what the boffins can discover. Meanwhile let’s secure the site and wrap things up so that I can talk to some of the people around here,” said Linham.
Chapter 6
Later that week Ralph’s secretary, Janice, told him that a Doctor Jane Ryman-Jones, from Reading University, was coming to talk to the Faculty as she had been appointed to lead the archeological investigations on the site.
“Did you say Jane Ryman-Jones?” Ralph asked. “I knew someone called Jane Ryman when I was at Cambridge, but it couldn’t be the same person.”
What Ralph hadn’t mentioned was that Jane Ryman had been the love of his life. The one he had let get away, and probably the reason he had never found someone to settle down with in all those years since. Now he felt a wave of apprehension. Suppose it was his Jane? As he made his way back to his office, he allowed his thoughts to linger on those long ago days when he had first met Jane, and how he had eventually lost touch with her.
In his final year at Cambridge, Ralph had met Jane Ryman, a second year archaeology student. He found that for the first time in his life here was someone that he felt truly relaxed being with.
On graduation Jane took a research post on an archeological dig on the Nile in Egypt. It was a two year posting, and although they tried to keep in touch, it was not long before Ralph opened his letterbox and found the ‘dear John’ letter that every man dreads but in truth expects to get sooner or later. Jane told him that she had formed a relationship with the Director of the project and felt it only fair to tell Ralph rather than play with his affections. Since then he had not heard from her.
But this is ridiculous, Ralph decided. There were probably any number of archaeologists with that name and there was no point in getting all worked up over it.
But of course his hunch had been right. And later that afternoon when the staff assembled to hear what the archeologist had to say about the dig and the site work, Ralph sat at the back and thought that Jane was still as pretty as he had always seen her. The same smile, the trim figure and a level of confidence that soon had the audience on her side. Ralph could hardly contain his happiness. Jane so close after all these years, and likely to be on site long enough for him to get to know her again. She had introduced herself to the audience as Miss Jane Ryman–Jones. He wondered if it was possible that she was still unattached.
” My job is to see if there is anything on the site that has an historical significance. That could take up to a month, and I realize that the developers have their job to do as well, so I will do everything I can to hurry things up so long as it doesn’t compromise our research. We have a 100 year old skeleton which has been removed for forensic work. That’s not my area of concern, and so I will now ask Inspector Linham to say a few words so that he can update you about what is going out in the Press and on the television tonight.”
Inspector Linham was his u
sual taciturn self as he addressed his audience.
“As you know we have carried out an examination of the remains found in the trench at the foot of the wall behind Kenry House. The forensic team concluded that it was the remains of a man aged around 25 to 30 years old, and the skeleton is about 100 years old. He died from a bullet wound to the head with the bullet still lodged in the skull, and forensic examination indicates that it was fired from an Mk VI Webley revolver.
The Inspector was now getting into his stride. He loved this level of detail and for a change he was dealing with facts instead of other people’s opinions. He continued.
“The Mk VI was issued only to Officers in 1915. It fired large 0.455 Webley cartridges of the type found lodged in the skull of the skeleton. The revolver itself has not been found. Fortunately for our investigation we were able to identify the victim by what you might now call a dog tag. The remains are that of a Captain Martin Bryman. He was reported absent without leave in the autumn of 1916. So to conclude, we are not closing the case, and it will remain on our unsolved cases file. It could have been suicide or something even more sinister, but I am afraid we will probably never know.”
Inspector Linham thanked everyone for their co-operation and expressed his hope that the University could now get back to normal. Then he and Sergeant Wilson left to return to the local police station.
As soon as the room started to empty, Ralph walked down the aisle to greet Jane. He spoke first.
“I always knew that we were destined to meet again. And here we are. You look wonderful.”
“Ralph, you haven’t changed a bit. In fact you look more handsome than ever, but I’m sure that all your students tell you that anyway,” she replied.
They both laughed to ease the tension as they were finding the sudden meeting a bit awkward.
“Look Jane, I’ve got some stuff to prepare for tomorrow and I expect that you’re busy settling in here, but why don’t we get together tonight for a drink in the staff bar? That is, if you don’t have anything else planned?”
Jane was quick to reply. “Well tonight’s a bit tight for me as I still have to sort out my digs and things, and I have to meet with my colleagues from the project tomorrow, so how about dinner on Friday night? That is, if you’re free?”
“I’ll look forward to it. I want to hear about everything you’ve been doing since those long ago days at Cambridge,” Ralph said as he took her hand in both of his. He was a bit disappointed that Jane hadn’t leapt at the chance to get together right away, but reminded himself that it had been a very long time since their last meeting, and perhaps she was in no great hurry to jump in at the deep end. Or perhaps she just didn’t want to appear over eager. Whatever the reason, Ralph couldn’t be happier that she hadn’t turned him down flat, and he was already planning how to make Friday a memorable evening.
Meanwhile, Jack Welsh had been loitering outside the hall where Inspector Linham had given his talk and wondered if his grandfather had taken a bit of license with his version of the story. Maybe the old man had killed the officer by accident when he was trying to discover where the gold and jewels were hidden? Jack had the revolver in his office drawer, still wrapped in oiled lint, and he knew that it was a Webley Mk VI. So he had the revolver that might be the murder weapon. But he was still no nearer to finding the treasure.
.”I’ve got to get a move on and find those bloody jewels before that Miss Double barreled whatever her name is starts digging around. I shall have to keep a close eye on what she gets up to,” muttered Jack as he pushed his way through the crowd in the hallway.
Chapter 7
It was Friday, and Ralph sat in his office finding it difficult to concentrate on preparing his next lecture with the thought of his date with Jane whirling around in his head. Just then Granger strode in.
“Good. I’ve managed to catch you at last.”
Always trying to put me on the defensive, Ralph thought. There was no answer for that sort of opening remark. In any event, Granger didn’t expect one. He was already on to his point for seeking Ralph out.
“I’ve been talking to the Vice Chancellor over lunch and he liked my idea of the marquee on the lawn and agreed with my suggestion that we link it to that business with the Army officers and Florence Nightingale. You probably don’t know, and why should you I suppose, that we’re in the process of signing a big contract with Saint Winifred’s Hospital in South London to let them have part of the new development to set up a School of Nursing. It all ties in, and to clinch the whole thing and get maximum publicity, we are going to link up with the French.”
Once Granger started talking there was no way anyone could get a chance to cut in. He ploughed on. “We want to set up some form of twinning and have made contact with a town called Perrone just outside Paris. The VC got to know it when he was a student over there and liked it, so we’re going to pop over and see if we can’t get them interested. The VC thinks that if we can get a few big French Universities to join in, then we can attract European funding through the Erasmus exchange programme.”
Ralph just sat back and let it all wash over him. He could see that Granger was on a roll, and was obviously using all his political savvy to show himself in a good light with the VC and give Ralph none of the credit .Nothing new there, he thought. Granger went on.
“Now this is where I want you to remember back to when you were studying history.”
Putting me down again, thought Ralph. How does he do it? Granger jolted Ralph out of his reverie.
“Well I want you to do some research on the town of Perrone and what’s around the area. You’ll need to get your facts right because you know the VC is a native of the area. Then write a short brochure or something so that it links in the campus history to the First World War and to our work here at the University and make it all part of the Centenary celebrations. Shouldn’t be a problem for you as you probably have most of the stuff ready somewhere. Don’t put in anything about the dead bloke in the grounds, though. We have enough bad publicity already. Let’s just bury that.”
He guffawed at his own pun, and with that he put in his last shot at Ralph.
“Look Ralph, this is important. I want a draft of what you come up with by Monday because I’ll need a bit of time to go over it and make the thing readable. Well you know what I mean. It has to be something people will want to read, you know.”
Ralph winced inwardly. There he was thinking about moonlight walks with Jane, and here was Granger trampling all over him. He thought of making a stand and challenging this oafish behavior, but he decided it wasn’t the time or place for a row.
“Okay Rupert. I’ll write something up and get Janice to tidy it up and pass it on to Margaret by end of work on Monday.”
With that Granger hustled out the door and on to his next victim. Ralph admitted grudgingly to himself that Granger was only doing what he did best. Simply making things happen.
Ralph finished preparation for his lecture and started to draft the outline for the brochure. He had some old texts that were left over from his Cambridge days and started by reading about Perrone in the 17th Century.
As he read through the well thumbed pages he gradually recalled the reason why Perrone was once hot news. A treaty had been signed there in 1641 that gave the principality of Monaco the protection of France from Spain and Italy. Cardinal Richelieu had negotiated the treaty just before his death, and Ralph recalled that he had received jewelry and gold treasure to seal the deal. That would give the article a nice twist.
Then something caught his attention. Perrone was on the Somme and almost in the epicenter of the key battles that had taken place in the First World War. That gave him a link to the hospital at Kenry House. And furthermore, the town had a museum that had been pillaged during that war and all of the relics, gold, and jewelry had been taken.
Ralph was now in full swing and his tendency to be fixated on the task at hand had kicked in. He picked up the phone and got the number
of the Hotel Saint Claude in Peronne. Ralph had spent several summers in France during his undergraduate days, and he spoke passable French. He soon managed to track down the curator of the local museum. The curator told him that it had once housed a collection of gold jewelry that had been part of the arrangement when The Treaty of Perrone was signed in 1641. The curator told Ralph that During the First World War it was all stolen by the Germans or the British armies. He went on to tell him that the Monacan Royal family had, in recent years, spent a lot of money trying to track the gold and jewels down, but to no avail.
Ralph roughed out a draft for Janice, confident that Granger would now have something to edit. Just then in walked Jim Stocker, a senior lecturer in economics. Stocker was not popular, and when he wasn’t being aggressive he would try to ingratiate himself to people. Leaning on Ralph’s desk and with a slight grin on his face he launched in.
”Not like you to be preparing for lectures. I always thought that you chaps who teach the soft stuff just went in there and winged it.”
Stocker always started out like this and Ralph had learned to ignore it. Instead he pointed to the papers on his desk and said, “I’m just getting something ready for Granger to do with the Centenary celebrations. He wants to explore the history of the Gypsy Hill site and possible links that we might have to a town in France. It’s a long story but there are some things that might spark some interest.”
Before long he was telling Jim Stocker about the treasure that was stolen from the museum. Stocker had a way of getting people to talk and he could be quite charming when it suited him.
“If you put in that bit about the treasure and tie it together with Florence Nightingale that should keep Granger quiet for a while,” Stocker said. “’Old Granger only goes for the big picture anyhow, and as long as it makes him look good he won’t care what else is in it.” Well, at least he and Jim Stocker had Granger pegged the same way, Ralph thought.
The Gypsy Hill Murders (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 1) Page 5
