The following week with all the police enquiries that were going on, Ralph could hardly believe that all of this had happened so quickly. Inspector Linham was now treating it as an assault and interviewing everyone who might have any connections to the event. Ralph wondered who might have attacked Janice. Linham had told him that her lap-top computer was missing from the office and that it was nowhere near the site where she was found. His suspicion was that whoever Janice had disturbed that night had gone back into the office later and made it look like a burglary. It was little consolation to him now that he had kept a rough copy of his notes and could give them to Margaret to clean up for Granger.
Ralph, Peter and David met up for a coffee later that week. Peter as usual led with a provocative question.
“Whoever was involved in that incident with Janice obviously took her computer and the notes. But the question is what were they after?” Peter was in one of his constructive moods. For once he was being logical as he continued to pursue his theory.
”Ralph, you mentioned that the treasure stolen from that museum in France might have found its way into the hands of the Germans or even the British forces. So perhaps someone heard about it and thought that with your skills as a researcher you might have written something that would put them on the trail of the treasure.”
David liked a puzzle and even though he thought that Peter had phrased his comments in the form of a rhetorical question, he couldn’t resist answering back.
“That’s a bit farfetched, Peter. If someone had known about the existence of the treasure then they would also know. As Ralph said, the Rainiers had spent a fortune trying to track the treasure down after the war, and that had failed. Wherever the treasure is, I doubt if anyone would be fool enough to think that it was sitting somewhere waiting to be discovered. I think you musical types have too much imagination,” he said, hoping that would conclude a discussion that was in his view going nowhere.
Peter saw that it was not the time to argue with David and his immaculate logic.
“Okay, fair point, but it still leaves the question as to whether it was someone who works here on the campus, an outsider, or a casual burglar. If it was someone on the campus we must know them, assuming it wasn’t a student. On the other hand if it was a student, perhaps they were looking for the exam questions. If so, then academic registry will have your guts for garters if you left them lying around,” he said, trying to lighten the mood that was building.
Ralph felt that they shouldn’t be joking about what had happened while Janice was still in hospital recovering from a possible assault.
“Be serious, Peter,” Ralph said. “No one would go that far just for a stupid exam paper. I think that Linham has his suspicions, but he is playing his cards close to his chest. That previous business with the caretaker who died in Kenry House has got him going, and I think that he is trying to make some connections.”
Peter was not to be put off. It might have been the caffeine in his coffee, but he was going to have some fun with his friend.
”The trouble with you Ralph, is that your mind is still on that attractive girlfriend of yours. If you don’t get off the fence soon and decide to go for it, I just might make a move on her myself.”
Although Ralph knew that this was just Peter having a bit of fun at his expense, he did feel a pang of jealousy, and his remarks had their effect on Ralph. As he sipped his coffee he decided that he was getting tired of this banter and now was the time to cut to the chase with his pals.
“Well you loafers, I have some papers to finish off this afternoon, even if you don’t. And we need a change of venue, so let’s all go down to the Prince Albert for a drink after work. We need to get out of this place for a bit. It’s starting to give me the creeps. Now that’s agreed, I for one have to get back to work.”
Peter always enjoyed a good argument, and as he had started this one, he was determined to get in the last word.
“Only if you’re buying, Ralph, and David promises to be on time. And someone better tell Katie or she will get all bent out of shape.”
They all laughed as Ralph and Peter went back to their offices, and David rushed off to a lecture, late as usual. As he walked along the oak paneled corridor Ralph couldn’t work out if his new style had worked, but he felt that he had made a start.
Later that evening, as he walked past the car park, he saw Jane and called to her as she locked her car.
“Hi. I thought you had gone back to Reading to talk your work over with some colleagues. A few of us are going down the road for a beer a bit later. It would be great if you could join us.” Jane was quick with her reply.
“Well I’d love to, but I have something that I want to resolve tonight as it has been bugging me all day. I found this slate about 15 feet from where the skeleton was buried and it has some hieroglyphics on it that I want to try to translate. It’s not Roman and I have a feeling that it could be Arabic,” she explained.
Ralph was disappointed she wasn’t making him a priority and dropped back into a bantering style to hide his feelings.
“That sounds a bit far-fetched don’t you think?” he asked.
Ralph had studied Arabic and new that it was a far cry from Roman script. And he wondered what a slate with Arabic writing would be doing in the grounds of a Victorian house. Jane looked surprised at Ralph’s comment, but waited for him to explain his reasoning.
” Mind it might be a long shot, but if that officer whose skeleton was found had written on the slate in Arabic, that might make sense. In the First World War a lot of the officers had probably served in Mesopotamia and may have picked up a bit of Arabic. You know all that stuff about Lawrence of Arabia, or Lawens, as Omar Sherriff called him in the film.” Jane saw the logic in his thinking..
“You could be right, Ralph. But it is a long shot. When I get back to my office I’ll see what I can make of it. Perhaps that poor officer wrote a last wish as he lay on the ground?”
Ralph hoped she might ask him to help her with the translation, but he could sense that stepping over her professional boundary was not wise. He had noticed that she seemed to put up a barrier whenever he got close to talking about her work.
”Well wish me luck. And if I come up with anything, you’ll be the first to know,” she said laughing.
Ralph suddenly saw an image in his mind of poor Janice lying in the road.
“Oh, and take care where you walk, Jane. With everything going on here you can’t be too careful,” he said anxiously.
Jane reacted swiftly.
“Ralph, if I want a minder I’ll let you know. I have managed pretty well on my own so far,” she reminded him.
Ralph realized that he had crossed that line again and had got a brusque response for his troubles. He was tempted to give a sharp response back, but realized that she was no longer the shy young girl that he had first met at Cambridge. Just how tough she had become through her experiences in Egypt, he had yet to find out.
“Right. Good luck then, and let me know how it goes,” he shouted in what he hoped was his new bonhomie voice, as she strode off towards her temporary office in Kenry House.
Ralph made his way down the hill towards the Prince Albert pub. It was crowded, but he noticed that Jack Welsh and Jim Stocker were sitting over in the far corner having what appeared to be a heated exchange. His friends had taken a booth at the other end of the crowded room and he could see that they were already deep in conversation. Peter was the first to greet him.
“You missed all the fun. You should have come earlier. Katie here nearly got a date with Jim Stocker,” shouted Peter, above the noise in the crowded pub.
Katie was obviously furious and she scowled at Peter as she snapped back.
“That bloody fool Stocker tried to buy me a drink. In fact he was coming on a bit strong. He’s tried to chat me up- before so he should have known that he was wasting his time. I had already warned him that he was pushing his luck, and tonight I’m afraid he got b
oth barrels. The bugger won’t come near me again for a while, I can guarantee.”
Katie was obviously furious with whatever Stocker had said and Ralph could see that she was now sharing it with them so that she could put a final stamp on the incident.
David, trying to cool the mood, interjected.
“That Stocker is becoming a bit of a liability around here. One of these days he’s going to take a step too far and get himself into real trouble. I’ve tried to talk to him before about his drinking, because that’s when he gets into those moods. But I think that he’s probably a decent chap at heart.”
Ralph had his own views about Stocker.
“David you are always trying to find excuses for why people behave badly. Let’s face it. Stocker has probably been like that all his life and no amount of reasoning is going to change him.” As Ralph spoke he could see Stocker weaving his way to the bar. It was obviously his turn to buy another round. Just then he looked over and saw the group, and probably realized that Katie had told everyone what had happened earlier and was joking about it at his expense.
“Worth a try,” he muttered. “Just trying to be friendly and everyone gets their knickers in a twist.”
Stocker bought two pints of Old London Ale, a specialty of the Prince Albert, and two whisky chasers, before going back to join Jack Welsh, who was already looking as though he had had quite enough to drink already. When Stocker returned to his seat, Welsh carried on where they had left off.
“Look Jim, I tell you that archeologist dame is on to something and I want to find out what it is,” he growled, sucking at his beer.
Stocker had been finding it difficult to keep up with his drinking companion’s line of conversation. Welsh seemed to be in a state, and kept muttering about finding something that was rightfully his and that no one was going to get in his way.
Stocker was in a bit of a cleft stick with Jack Welsh. Some weeks ago he had got himself into a difficult situation with his gambling and somehow Welsh had found out about it. He was not sure how far he could trust Welsh not to spread stories about him around the campus.
By that time Welsh knew that he might be a bit worse for the drink, as his mother used to say when his father came home from a nights carousing at the pub. But dam it, he thought, I’ve got Stocker where I can call in a favour, and by God he’s going to help me, whether he likes it or not. As he downed half of his beer and followed it with his whisky chaser he savoured the event that had delivered Stocker neatly into his hands.
Maria, one of the student dormitory cleaners, the Italian one, had knocked on his office door and told him that she had been going in to check on one of the student rooms when she saw what she thought was one of the Professors in bed with someone. At the time it was the last thing that Welsh wanted to hear as he was trying to think through all of the trouble that he felt was now engulfing him. He told Maria that she had done the right thing in coming to him and that she should get off home and he would take care of things. When he got to the student residence halls he found Stocker sprawled out on the covers next to one of the students he recognized as a girl who worked part time in the student bar. He managed to wake Stocker up and suggested to him that he had better get out before someone came along and found him. At that point he had left Stocker to sort things out with the girl and got back to his office.
Neither Stocker or Welsh ever mentioned the incident, but there was a tension between them as always arises when someone is saved by a third party in embarrassing circumstances. It was this event that Jack was now going to use as a lever to get Stocker to help him find if Ryman-Jones had found out something that might help him find the jewels. He decided to put his proposition to Stocker.
”Look Jim, I need a favour,” he said, looking closely at Stocker to see how he would react to a direct approach.
Jack had decided that if he wanted Stocker to help him he needed to tell him a bit about his search, but he had no intention of telling him the whole story. Instead of telling him about the jewels, he would say he needed to get hold of a document left somewhere in the house. He continued while Stocker started on another beer.
“You see Jim, some years ago my granfaver was working ‘ere at Kenry House as an orderly back when it was an ‘ospital. Sort of looking after the wounded officers. Well one of ‘em told my granfaver that ‘e was so grateful for everyfing that ‘e ‘ad done for ‘im ‘e would leave ‘im some property or perhaps it was money or stocks and shares in his Will if ‘e died.” Welsh paused to gage the impact on his new partner in crime.
Stocker could hold his drink when it came to hearing a story of intrigue, so he made encouraging noises for Welsh to continue.
”Right, Jack. Sounds like the old man struck it lucky. How much did he get?” He hadn’t any real interest in what Jack was telling him, but if Welsh was willing to be his drinking partner for the evening, listening to his stories was a small price to pay. For Stocker it was just another chapter in a long line of drunken chats that he had engaged in over the years.
But Jack Welsh was ready to put in the punch line to his fabricated story.
“That’s the point. The officer died of ‘is wounds and never ‘ad time to tell anyone where ‘e ‘ad put ‘is Will. The family could never find any signs of it iver. And I fink that ‘e ‘id it somewhere in ‘is room so that the odd thief couldn’t get ‘is ‘ands on it and start to blackmail the family for its return,” he said, hoping that Stocker had swallowed the bait.
Stocker tried to focus on what his numbed lips were trying to annunciate.
“So your granddad got nothing and you think that Will has been lying around somewhere in the house all this time. I think that might just be a pipe dream, Jack. What with all the changes to the place when it became a college and all that, it isn’t likely a piece of paper someone left here some hundred years ago is still just sitting there waiting for you to find it, ” he said, hoping they could now talk about racing or something less complicated. His head was starting to spin.
Welsh continued.
“I know, but I fink there might be a chance that that archaeology woman has found somefin. And that bloody Professor Chalmers ‘as been sniffing around and all. I know ‘e wrote somefing about ‘ow things was when the place was an ‘ospital and all. An’ that ‘is secretary was typing it up the night she was attacked. Poor woman.” Stocker hoped that Welsh would get to the point soon.
“Okay, so what are you planning to do about it?” He asked more out of exhaustion than interest. “Besides, it can’t be worth more than a few quid these days. Not worth the bother, if you ask me.”
This was Welsh’s chance to go in for the kill.
“That’s where you come in, Jim. I want you to chat up that Ryman-Jones woman. Get her to fink you fancy ‘er and then try and find out what she knows and what Chalmers ‘as discovered. They seem pretty cosy, so I reckon whatever it is, they’re bof in on it. I ‘eard that she found some sort of slate or somefing. Got it from one of the blokes who’s ‘elping ‘er on that dig. My friend told me she’s trying to work out what it says, you know, to give a clue about what used to be down there and all” Jack knew that the ball was now in Stocker’s court. It was time to see if he would play.
Stocker was beginning to sober up and wasn’t particularly happy at the way Welsh had maneuvered him into being his accomplice in some harebrained scheme he had. On the other hand, he knew he had better tread carefully around him. He may be slightly tipsy, but he knew that what Welsh was really saying was that if he didn’t help him then the incident with the girl and his gambling forays would come back to haunt him. He wasn’t so drunk that he didn’t recognize that Welsh had him over a barrel, and a pretty damn awkward one at that.
“But it can’t be that the officer wrote his Will on a slate, Jack,” Stocker tried to reason. “I think your imagination is working overtime. Why not let’s have another pint and chill out a bit. Besides, it’s all I can do to put off that bloke who keeps asking after me
at the college. Had a bit of bad luck over at Sandown on the horses the other week and lost a packet on a bet that should have been a sure thing. Now they want their money and I need to keep a low profile for a while,” he said, with a pleading tone to his voice.
Welsh had no intentions of letting Stocker off the hook by sympathizing with his little problems. It was time to call in his own debt.
“Look I want you to get after that woman and find out what she knows. She ‘as an office upstairs in Kenry ‘ouse and I know she works there late some nights. So just pop round and see what she’s found out.” Jack felt the slight shift in Welsh’s voice and knew this was no longer just a casual request.
Jim managed to sober up enough to try and think of how to get out of what he saw as Welsh getting a touch of paranoia. He was more concerned over his gambling debts than over some caretaker who was not the sharpest knife in the box. Just then Jack Welsh delivered his trump card.
“I don’t want to get difficult Jim, but if you don’t do this for me, I’ll find some way of lettin’ old Granger know about your turning up drunk for lectures, which a little bird told me about, and about findin’ you in bed with that girl from the staff bar. And that’s about the size of it, mate. So now it’s payola time. And while you’re finkin over just ‘ow you plan to get close to that Ryman-Jones woman, you can be getting’ us anuver round before they close the place for the night.” He spat the last words out. Stocker was now his pawn in a game that would pay handsome dividends and soon.
Welsh felt that his story had been convincing enough to sucker Stocker in, and that if, as he suspected, Ralph and Jane had found out something that would lead them to discovering the gold and jewels, then he had to find out what it was and beat them to it. No way was his inheritance going to become treasure trove, or worse, go back to those bloomin’ Frenchies.
The Gypsy Hill Murders (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 1) Page 7
