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

by P. J. Thurbin

  He could see Welsh mulling things over before he spoke.

  “Look Jim, if we’re to do this, it’s me what’s got to get the jewels from that lock up, and it’s me what will ‘ave to sell ‘em and that’s goin’ to be risky what wiv the police sniffin’ around. And now I fink of it, was it you what ‘it me on the ‘ead and tried to drown me in that cellar?”

  Jim Stocker had not heard about Welsh being found in the cellar and wondered how he had got to know that the treasure was hidden in the ice house. Perhaps Jane had told someone else about her map and Welsh had somehow got to know of it and gone searching.

  But now he was starting to feel a bit nauseous from the pain killers the doctors had been giving him and just wanted to go to sleep. He raised himself up in an attempt to assure Welsh that he wanted to reach an agreement on what to do next.

  “Look Jack I don’t know what you’re on about. I never hit you, and if I had you’ve got such a thick skull it would probably have bounced off anyway.”

  His attempts at humour were lost on Welsh. Welsh just wanted to get down to business. He could see a chance of not only getting his hands on the jewels, but cutting Stocker out completely.

  “Okay Jim let’s do this togever. Only this time don’t try to cheat me, or I can promise that you’ll be bloody sorry. Just tell me where the key is and I’ll get over to that lock-up at ‘eafrow and get the stuff sold before the police or someone else starts sniffin’ ‘round. This time you’ll ‘ave to trust me and just keep your mouf shut with the bloody police.”

  Jim Stocker could see that he had little choice. Welsh was the best of a bad deal. He was still anxious that someone might have been trying to get hold of the key when he was in Peronne and Monte Carlo, but he had been trying to rack his brains to figure out who could have known about it. So far he had not come up with an answer. There was probably a simple explanation to the whole affair and he needed time to chill out and think it through.

  ”Oy, don’t you fall asleep on me.” Welsh’s voice pulled him back from the brink of the deep sleep that he was craving. Jim tried to pull himself together.

  “Look Jack, take the back off my camera, it’s in the cupboard. It’s an old camera that takes film and so I took the flash battery out and taped the key in its place.”

  It didn’t take Welsh but a few seconds to have the camera out and the key safely in his pocket.

  “Right, so that’s us set my old mate. I’ll get off to the airport to get the stuff safe then find the best place to sell it on. I’ve got a few contacts who don’t ask questions on deals like this. But just remember, Stocker, don’t get fussed if it takes a while. And don’t say anyfing to the police or anyone else about it. Believe you me, you’re

  in enough trouble as it is, and your best chance is that I get out of ‘ere now and try to fix fings.

  Jim saw Welsh leave through the side door as the nurse came along the opposite corridor. He sank in to a deep sleep and his last thoughts were that he had nothing to lose. He had made sure that his wife and kids were secure and he had paid off his gambling debts. Anything that he got from Jack Welsh would be a bonus.

  ***

  Breakfast for patients in the private wing of the hospital was usually a quiet affair. But this Monday it was shattered by a scream from one of the nurses when she saw her patient slumped across the side of the bed with blood coursing onto the polished floor. It appeared that Jim Stocker had been right in thinking that someone meant him harm. Luckily the nurse had managed to stop the blood flowing from the wound in his chest, and as it was normal procedure at the hospital for hip replacements and other procedures scheduled for the day to start early, so when Stocker was rushed to the operating theatre two surgeons were already scrubbed up and ready. It would now be up to the surgeons to determine if he would live to find out who wanted him dead.

  An emergency call from the hospital alerted Inspector Linham to the shooting and within a short while he was surveying yet another incident linked to the college. The police had been quick to act and had cordoned off the crime scene in order to give the forensic team an opportunity to collect any evidence that the assailant might have left behind.

  “Well this looks like more than a casual burglar looking for a chance to get their weekly drug fix,” said Linham.

  The first police officer to arrive on the scene had smelled cordite, and a quick inspection of the wooden floor beneath the bed indicated that a heavy bullet had buried itself in the polished pine. The forensics team had already managed to dig it out and bagged it prior to taking it off for lab tests. The police doctor had been called but had little to do since Stocker had been removed to the operating theatre before he had arrived. But he had noticed blood on only one side of the pillow.

  “Not my area Linham,” said the police doctor. “But it seems to me that the shot went through the pillow before it hit the guy. Someone tried to deaden the sound, but they couldn’t have known much about gun shots as it would have made little difference.”

  Inspector Linham was still trying to put together in his mind any reason why someone would want to shoot Stocker. He shared his thoughts with Sergeant Wilson.

  “If Ralph Chalmers was telling the truth and Stocker had paid off his debts, that rules out the heavy mob. Whoever it was who fired that shot knew Stocker and was either trying to stop him from telling us something, or maybe were being blackmailed by him. Or it might be that Stocker had something that they wanted. Whoever did it must be getting pretty desperate to do something like this and hope to get away with it. If Stocker dies, then we have a murder on our hands.”

  Having made sure that the crime scene was secure, Inspector Linham went to speak with the hospital manager, whom he found talking to one of her nurses. He introduced himself and began his questioning.

  “A terrible shock for everyone, I am sure, but I need to know when Mr. Stocker was last seen before he was shot.”

  The nurse had been the person in charge of that wing of private rooms and had checked the records kept by the night staff. The hospital manager knew that the question was aimed at her, but he answered for her to make sure that no blame could be put on the hospital management.

  “Our records show that the nurse spoke to him at eleven last night. And then the aide who delivers the breakfasts saw him lying across the bed at around six this morning.”

  Linham managed to hide his surprise.

  “So you are saying that no one looked in to see how Mr. Stocker was, or heard any sounds of a shot from between 11 at night till six this morning?”

  The hospital manager could see the inference behind the question. He thought carefully before he answered.

  “Well Inspector that is quite normal practice. We had been given no instructions from the doctor on duty that Mr. Stocker needed to be watched in any way. He did of course have a bedside bell if he needed anything.”

  Linham’s mind drifted back to when he was a child in hospital and the comforting thing to him then was that at the end of the ward he could look up and see the duty night nurse sitting there under her lamp writing notes or perhaps knitting. But at least there was always someone there. But now was not the time to show that he was probably looking at the hospital through a very old set of lenses. So he decided to move on with his enquiries.

  “I understand. Can you make sure that we are kept up to date on Mr. Stocker’s progress? We will of course have an officer watching over Mr. Stocker from now on. That it is normal procedure in such cases.”

  He and Wilson left the hospital and as they drove towards the town Wilson could see that his boss had made a decision.

  “Right Wilson, we need to find out just where our Mr. Welsh was all last night. We also need to find out if Professor Eggleton and Doctor Cavendish are back in the UK, and if they have an alibi for their whereabouts last night. I have a feeling that one of them is going to have a pretty good story ready, and this time we are not going easy on them. Too many attempted murders and too many assaults
. We have got to find out who is behind all this and stop them.”

  Wilson had been puzzling over what he had seen at the hospital.

  “But what I don’t understand, sir, is that if someone had wanted to kill Stocker, then why not just suffocate him with the pillow? He was obviously pretty groggy from all he’d been through and could hardly put up a fight. And he must have known or recognized his assailant or he would have shouted out for help straight away. I think that he was talking to someone when things got out of hand. They could have been threatening him or trying to get back something he had.”

  Linham was always prepared to acknowledge when Wilson demonstrated what he saw as a policeman’s logic.

  “You’re right, Wilson, whoever it was must have wanted something that Stocker had, and pretty badly, too, by all accounts. If it was simply a case of revenge then whoever we are looking for is a pretty cold blooded fish. The sooner we find them, the quicker we can put a stop to all this mayhem.”

  When Linham went to interview Jack Welsh he was nowhere to be found. He had not been seen at the college since the previous morning, and when they checked at his lodgings his landlady said he was out. Inspector Linham had a search warrant and they found that Welsh had taken his suitcase and appeared to have left in a hurry. Back in the car Linham made sure that there was an alert set up at all airports and docks in case Welsh tried to leave the country. He also put a watch on his lodgings in case he came back for something.

  Inspector Linham did not call ahead to the college. He didn’t want the two lecturers to have time to prepare for his questions. In cases like this he knew that a surprise visit always paid dividends. He went straight to the Department of Music at Coombe Hurst, where he hoped to find Peter Cavendish. He found him talking to a group of students.

  “Professor Cavendish, if it’s convenient I would like to ask you a few questions?”

  He noticed that Cavendish was looking particularly anxious and had quickly broken away from his students. He showed the two policemen into his office. Linham gave him no time to settle down.

  “Professor Cavendish you have probably not heard yet, but early this morning one of your colleagues, Doctor Jim Stocker, was found shot at the hospital, and is now in intensive care. The doctors have told us that he is in a coma and they are not sure if he will survive. Where were you between 6pm last night and 6 am this morning?’

  He knew that if Cavendish was involved in any way then a direct approach was a sure way of breaking down his defenses. Only a hardened criminal would be quick enough to avoid giving themselves away. He could see by Cavendish’s response that he had shocked him.

  “I can’t believe that this has happened. I just saw Jim Stocker a week ago in Peronne. I only got back home yesterday afternoon from Paris, and it was only when I came in to college this morning that I heard about his accident in Monte Carlo. I can’t believe all this is happening. It’s terrible.”

  The Inspector followed up with what he knew would be a dangerous question and not quite to the rule book. But he needed to push Cavendish as hard as he could to get at the truth.

  “Well not to put too fine a point on it sir, we know that Stocker and yourself had been in a row or at least you were not best friends. Were you threatening Mr. Stocker and was he blackmailing you over something that you wanted to keep quiet about?”

  Peter Cavendish looked stunned. He hesitated before answering.

  “Whatever happens in my private life is my business and if you are prepared to listen to college gossip then that’s your choice. I don’t see why I should have to sit in my own office and answer such absurd and deeply offensive questions. Alright so I am not one of Jim Stocker’s fans, but I would never dream of shooting anyone.”

  Linham wasn’t going to be put off so easily.

  “Well sir I have to remind you that I am conducting an enquiry into what looks like attempted murder, and obstructing the police in their enquiries is an offense.”

  Cavendish just sat there staring out of his study window at the peaceful swath of green lawn that ran down to a lily covered pond. He could hear a student practicing a piece by Saint Saens and reflected on how his peaceful life in academia had been shattered.

  Linham could see that he was not going to get much further with Cavendish, at least not for now.

  “You didn’t’ answer my question, sir, about where you were in the last 24 hours.” Cavendish came out of his reverie.

  “I told you. I only got back from Paris yesterday afternoon and went straight home. Then I came into college about 10.00 this morning.”

  “We can get your wife to corroborate your story then?” Said Linham.

  Cavendish looked anxiously at the two policemen before he spoke.

  “My wife decided to carry on from Paris to a business engagement in Rome, so I’m afraid you will just have to believe what I have told you.”

  He wondered what the policemen knew about his fight with Stocker when he had discovered him with Marcia. Could it be that Ralph had told someone about their conversation in Peronne or perhaps Stocker had told the police to deflect attention away from himself? Whatever had happened, he knew that the police would not be satisfied with what he had told them.

  As the two policemen walked down towards Kenry House for their interview with Professor Eggleton, they agreed that Professor Cavendish still had a lot of questions to answer.

  They found Katie Eggleton in her office.

  “Good morning Inspector. The last time we met I must admit that I over-reacted to some of your questions about my life before I came to England. I realize now that you were only doing your job. Please accept my apologies. What can I do for you today?”

  Linham was struck by her approach as he had not seen Professor Eggleton as someone who would readily step forward to apologise about anything. He had made it a rule never to respond to or acknowledge an apology. It was his job to ask awkward questions and if people were offended, then that was their problem, not his.

  “So Professor Eggleton can you tell us about your whereabouts over the past 24 hours?”

  She replied with a smile and a wave of her hand.

  “That’s an easy one Inspector. I came straight back from Paris where I spent a few days with my husband. I have been working at home marking some exam scripts. You can see by this pile of work that it has been time well spent.”

  Linham had not yet played his ace.

  “I presume that your husband will be able to confirm that Professor?”

  He could see that she was shaken and the calm and controlled façade that she had projected earlier was replaced with one of anger.

  ”Look Inspector if you really must know, my husband has not been in this country for the last two years. He has been working on a confidential government project in Somalia and we only occasionally can find time to meet in Paris. If you want to check, then I have a number at M.I.6 that you can call. I’m sure they would be prepared to give you enough information to satisfy even your level of suspicion.”

  This was a line that even Linham, in all his years of policing, had not heard before. He knew that the CIA was involved in some pretty covert activities in foreign countries, but he had always assumed that M.I.6 was a lot more genteel.

  “Thank you Professor, but are you telling us that you do not have an alibi for your movements over the past 24 hours?”

  The professor had recovered her composure.

  “It looks that way, Inspector. I’m afraid that you will just have to believe me.”

  Just then the office phone rang. It was for Linham from Police Headquarters. It took him a few minutes to digest the message. The results had come back from forensics and the bullet that they found in the floor at the hospital had been fired from a Webley Revolver, and that the bullet was a large 0.455 Webley cartridge, a perfect match to the one taken from the skeleton of Captain Craig Bryman found in the grave at Gypsy Hill.

  Having concluded a somewhat unsatisfactory interview the two po
licemen tried to put the pieces together.

  “So if you believe in ghosts, Wilson, then we have one from the First World War who is going around shooting anyone who tries to get their hands on that treasure from France. But if you are a cynical old sod like me you will be looking for an old soldier with the name ‘Jack’ tattooed on his mother’s arm. We have to find that bugger before he manages to join the foreign legion or something more bizarre. Oh yes, and don’t forget to make that call to M.I.6 and check on our professor’s story about her husband.”

  Chapter 16

  London Heathrow, like airports world-wide, is a good place to be if you want to get lost among a crowd. Jack Welsh found the locked luggage facility in Terminal 1. For once Stocker had not misled him. Opening locker number 32 he found the bulky travel bag and without taking the time to look inside he quickly slipped it over his shoulder and closed the lock up door. He was starting to sweat and decided that he needed to find a quiet spot so that he could take a look at what might be his inheritance, and the chance to get away from his job and start a new life somewhere.

  He managed to stay calm and made his way to the roof top car-park. There was no one around. On opening the bag he was stunned at the beauty of the jewelry that had at one time been the possession of some ancient king or prince. It was a dull grey day but the jewels still managed to sparkle.

  Jack knew that he needed to contact an old army contact in London, who might be able to help him to turn this lot into cash. He decided that the best way to get to London without attracting any attention was to catch the National Express Bus to the London Victoria coach station.

  Before he boarded the coach he phoned and arranged to meet Major Bill Caruthers from his old regiment who had organized a money laundering scheme that Jack had got involved in while they were serving in Bosnia. The scheme had gone wrong and the Major had been cashiered out of the army. Jack knew that Caruthers was hard up and would do anything to make money. They met in the Black Swan, a back street pub just off Leicester Square.