by Bill Kitson
An even darker thought also came to mind as I thought of that long-dead soldier. As his time approached, did he or any of those close to him glimpse the dread vision of those blood-bespattered children of ill-omen? Would they know what the sight of those children foretold? Did they perhaps hurry home to check that their nearest and dearest had not suffered some tragic misfortune?
As chance would have it, almost sixty years had passed before some at least of those mysteries would be revealed. For the other part, I can offer no logical explanations for those apparitions. And perhaps it is better so. Only those who claim to have seen them can vouch for their existence. As at last I drifted off to sleep I decided it was certainly a subject I preferred not to dwell too long on.
Chapter Twenty-one
Getting inspiration during the early hours was beginning to become a habit, but certainly not one I was keen to encourage. My sleep had been fitful, wracked by a strange dream. It was inspired by Barbara’s tale of walking to church and her admission that, as a small child, she found the experience terrifying. Quite how this reminiscence of her childhood translated itself into the nightmare I suffered, I’m not sure. Barbara certainly hadn’t mentioned anything about huge, misshapen, and revolting-looking ogres haunting the graveyard, flitting in and out of their places of concealment; the one purpose behind their presence being to mock my ignorance and stupidity.
Once again I awoke far too soon, this time with one word racing around in my brain. I tried not to disturb Eve, but that was difficult, as her arm was across my chest and she was lying so close to me that her hair was tickling my cheek. She sensed that I was awake, and asked with a sort of long-suffering drowsiness, ‘What is it this time?’
‘Gravestones,’ I told her. ‘Captain Matthews’ gravestone, to be precise.’
I didn’t need to explain further. ‘Of course! The inscription will tell us what we need to know, along the lines of “Harold, beloved husband of Ermyntrude and dear father of Peregrine”.’
‘His wife’s name was Frances.’
‘Don’t be so pedantic, you know what I mean. If we have that information it would give us a starting point, certainly, but depending on when the child was born we might still have to trace another two generations to bring us up to date.’
‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. At least we have something to work on, which is more than we did a few hours ago.’
I began to caress her, and Eve turned towards me. Later, as we snuggled down to sleep, Eve murmured, ‘Your sense of timing is lousy, Adam, and your idea of foreplay is the weirdest I’ve ever heard of.’
Breakfast that morning turned out to be less of a meal, more of a business meeting. Naturally, we were keen to share our idea of the gravestone with the others. Although they were clearly interested by it and prepared to join in the discussion over the mysterious rhyme left by Everett Latimer, it was clear that Brian had something else occupying his mind.
Eventually, I asked what was troubling him. ‘Nothing,’ he replied, ‘not troubling me, at any rate. I’m still getting accustomed to sleeping in a bed again; last night I was wide awake by three o’clock. I went for a walk round the house to try and settle myself and visited parts of the building I haven’t been in for close on twenty years. I even went into my old bedroom. I haven’t felt much like going in there since I returned, but when I did, I found this.’
He held up a piece of paper, which I could see contained names and numbers. ‘Do you remember when I told you my father had given me that gold coin as a twenty-first present? You said it was an odd sort of gift, as I recall. Well, that wasn’t the only strange present he gave me. This was the other one. Or rather,’ he corrected himself, ‘these are the details of it. This is a list of companies. My father bought shares in each of them, putting them in my name. He told me he’d chosen companies that he thought would provide good long-term investments. I’d forgotten all about them until I saw this. Now, I’m wondering if they’re valuable or worthless.’
‘Do you still have the share certificates?’
‘I certainly hope so. I used some to raise the funds I needed when I left for America but I lodged the rest with my bank in Thorsby. Here, take a look.’
He passed me the sheet of paper. I glanced at it; my interest sharpening with each name I recognized. One thing was certain, I thought, the money Rupert Latimer had made on the stock market had owed little to chance. The investment portfolio he had bought for his son read like a roll of honour of British industry and the overseas companies were equally illustrious. Granted, the shareholding in each of those companies was not huge, but even without precise details to hand I could tell the value was substantial.
‘Are you still keen to find that gold?’
Brian frowned. ‘I suppose so. Why do you ask?’
‘Because I don’t think you need the money. I’d say these shares will make you extremely well off, should you decide to sell them. I wouldn’t like to guess how much they’re worth, but I think you can look at somewhere close to seven figures. And that’s without the money your father might have left you. At a guess I’d say he might have had at least the same amount of shares in his own name.’
‘Good Lord, I never thought of that.’
‘How does Rupert Latimer’s will affect Brian’s claim?’ Eve asked.
‘If I remember the wording correctly from when Barbara showed us her copy, the opening clause read something on the lines of, “In the absence of a next of kin” and ends up with, “The claim of a living relative would take precedence over and nullify all other claims on my estate”. It was dressed up in legalese, but that’s what it meant.’ I looked across at Barbara. ‘I’m afraid Brian’s reappearance will result in you losing the bequest of Linden House.’
‘I already guessed that. Why do you think I agreed to marry him? And that was before I knew he was worth a fortune. Now he’s got no chance of getting away.’
To be fair, the way Brian was looking at Barbara, I think escaping the bonds of matrimony was the last thing on his mind.
The plan was for us to return to Linden House, where Brian would contact the solicitor handling the estate as well as attempting to get the phones to the Hall reconnected. I agreed to speak to Detective Inspector Hardy, who, I warned them both, would doubtless need to take their statements with regard to the murders as soon as possible. ‘Not as suspects,’ I reassured them, ‘he’s already made it clear he doesn’t regard you in that light. More for background, I reckon.’
‘I need to see to my horses,’ Barbara added. ‘I’ve a runner at Catterick in a couple of days, and although my lads are capable enough, the owners would be far from happy if they got to know that I’ve been neglecting their valuable investment.’
The roads had cleared of snow, so the short journey presented no problems. On our arrival, Barbara found the phone number for Norman Rhodes, the solicitor, and handed it to Brian before she and Eve departed for the stables. He dialled the number, and after a brief verbal tussle with the receptionist, who seemed to believe her job was that of a goalkeeper rather than a facilitator, he got through to the partner.
I listened to Brian’s half of the conversation as I made coffee. He didn’t seem to be making much headway in his attempt to persuade Rhodes that he was the rightful heir to Rupert Latimer’s estate. From what I could hear, or guess, it seemed as if the solicitor was being deliberately obstructive. Perhaps that was my hyperactive imagination, I thought. Possibly he was treating Brian’s miraculous and timely reappearance from the dead with understandable suspicion.
When Brian put the phone down, it was clear that he too was less than happy with the solicitor’s attitude. ‘He doesn’t believe me. He’s demanding all sorts of documentary evidence to confirm I am who I claim to be. He cited a birth certificate, my passport, and a driving licence. I had to point out that the driving licence had been stolen in America years ago and that I had never got round to replacing it.’
‘Have you got t
he other stuff?’
‘Oh yes; I’ll even show him my discharge papers from the US Army.’
I blinked in surprise, almost spilling the coffee I was passing him. ‘I didn’t know about that. How did you get them? I thought you came home without contacting them.’
‘No, that was the story I was asked to tell anyone who asked. The truth is that I got fed up of roaming around and surrendered myself to their embassy in Rome. They flew me back to the States where they interrogated me for ages. It took a long time for me to convince them I was who I claimed to be. I believe they thought I was some sort of secret agent bent on infiltrating them. In the end, it was my fingerprints plus the physical evidence of the torture that convinced them I was telling the truth.’
‘How did you manage to get to Rome? It’s a long way to swim.’
‘Eventually, I managed to scrape enough money together to bribe the captain of a cargo vessel, bound for Italy, to let me stow away.’
‘Why the need for secrecy over the way you returned then?’
‘They asked me to keep quiet about what had happened to me. Their reasoning was that it wouldn’t have been good for relatives of other US personnel who had been listed as MIA, sorry, missing in action. If they believed there was a chance that their nearest and dearest was still alive it would give them false hope.’
‘I can see that. So what actually happened?’
‘They let their shrinks loose on me for ages, and in the end the doctors reported that they believed the best thing for me would be to return home to England. Their opinion was that I stood a better chance of recovering from the nightmare of my ordeal at the hands of the Viet Cong within my own environment rather than thousands of miles from home, amongst strangers.’
Brian smiled. ‘For a long time it had the opposite effect and I was beginning to doubt the wisdom of agreeing to return here, but then I saw Babs and everything started to come right from that moment on. I knew my feelings for her were as strong as ever, and I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to. Then I found out she felt exactly the same about me.’
‘Better not tell Hardy that. He’s not a bit like Ogden, but even he’d be bound to see that as a reason to get rid of Lewis. Does Barbara know the truth about how you got back home?’
‘Of course she does. I would never hide anything from her. I asked her to tell the other story because of the promise I’d made to the Yanks.’
Getting the telephone line to Rowandale Hall reconnected was easier than proving Brian’s identity. Or at least it would have been, had it not been for the trifling detail of payment. Eventually, he promised to send them a cheque to enable reconnection. Having got that sorted out, which would involve using Barbara’s cheque book, he passed the phone to me so that I could inform Inspector Hardy of the fugitives’ whereabouts.
Hardy’s first question was, ‘Have you found Latimer?’
‘Of course I have, Inspector, as you expected me to.’
‘Where was he?’
‘At Rowandale Hall, where you expected him to be.’
I could hear the laughter in Hardy’s voice as he asked, ‘And was Mrs Lewis with him?’
‘Naturally, as you expected her to be.’
‘When can I interview him?’
‘Why don’t you ask him yourself? He’s standing only a couple of feet from me. I’ll pass the phone to him, if you want.’
Brian explained that the meeting would have to take place at Linden House. ‘I’m staying here for the time being. It’s more convenient until I can take formal possession of the Hall and get things like the phones back on.’
The meeting was scheduled for later that afternoon. I was on the point of telling him I was going to do some shopping, when Barbara and Eve returned with bad news.
‘Two of my lads are down with flu,’ Barbara told us as they entered the kitchen. ‘That’s bad enough, but to add to it, I’ve had to send the other one home. He’s coughing and sneezing all over the place and he’ll end up infecting us.’
‘I can help you with the work,’ Brian offered, ‘but what about riding out?’
‘You might have to do that as well. It won’t be ideal, you’re a bit on the heavy side for a jockey. Eve and I can ride two of them, but it would be better if we can take three at a time up to the gallops, which only leaves either you or Adam.’
‘Count me out,’ I responded. ‘I know which end of a horse is which, but I’ve never been on one in my life. I wouldn’t know where to start.’
‘You could be useful in other ways,’ Barbara told me. ‘In the stables, for example. As I remember it, the last time my father tried to get Brian involved in working there he spent most of the time trying to grope me.’
‘I don’t recall you objecting too strenuously, and it’s obviously stuck in your mind.’
‘That’s beside the point; it didn’t get the work done.’
Brian told them about his phone call to the solicitor, and how difficult he had been. He also explained that DI Hardy would be visiting.
Later, as we awaited Hardy’s arrival, Rhodes phoned back. He informed Brian that if he was in a position to present the necessary documentary evidence, the solicitor would be prepared to grant him an interview in a couple of days’ time at his office in Leeds, during which he would assess the validity of Brian’s claim. ‘Those were his words, not mine,’ Brian explained, ‘he made it sound as if he was doing me a great favour.’
‘When is that meeting exactly?’ Barbara asked. ‘I mean, what time of day?’
‘Three o’clock in the afternoon.’
‘Damn, that’s the day I’m at Catterick races. Blenheim Boy’s running and he stands a really good chance in the big hurdle race of the day. I can’t miss out. I was hoping Eve would come with me to help get the horse ready. He’s a bit of a handful at the best of times, but he seems to respond better to women than men.’
‘I’m sure Adam could take Brian through to Leeds; then I can come to Catterick with you,’ Eve said.
I picked up on Eve’s point. ‘That’s a good idea. We could set off early and go through to Halifax first. Brian and I could inspect that gravestone and that way we get everything sorted out in one trip. It isn’t as if you and Eve will need us at Catterick, by the sound of things.’
The interview with DI Hardy, although to all intents and purposes purely routine, proved more difficult than anticipated in certain parts. Our problem lay in trying to explain Matthews’ interest in trying to acquire the Rowandale estate, without revealing the existence of the gold.
It was helpful that Hardy didn’t object to Eve and me being present when he spoke to Brian and Barbara, and this gave me a chance to lead him to the belief that the reason was purely to do with the proposed trunk road and the chance for profit the scheme would provide to the estate owner. Hardy seemed to accept this at face value, and also appeared to go along with the couple’s version of events surrounding Barbara’s absence and Brian’s reappearance. The gist of his questions and the relaxed nature of the interview confirmed my earlier statement that they were no longer being treated as suspects.
Once he declared himself satisfied, Hardy asked me to walk out to the car with him, as he needed a little extra information from me. I walked alongside him, with the young DC, who had apparently survived the reallocation of duties, trotting along behind us.
I asked Hardy what had happened to his predecessor. ‘Transferred to traffic division,’ he told me succinctly, ‘which isn’t good news for motorists. I wanted a word because I’m by no means sure I’ve heard all there is to hear about Latimer. That’s why I wanted to get you on your own. I can see how the land lies between him and Mrs Lewis and that would have got Ogden all hot under the collar. However, it’s clear you don’t believe either of them has done anything wrong, so what’s the story? I got the impression that Latimer was only telling me as much as was strictly necessary. I know I ought to question him in greater depth, but for some reason you, Mrs Lewis, and Miss Samuels seem
keen to protect him. What do you make of him? Is he sound in body and mind, or should I revert to treating him as a suspect?’
‘I suppose we have been a little protective. Not in the physical sense. Brian Latimer is more than capable of taking care of himself there, but his state of mind is fragile. Hence his need to escape the confines of a prison cell. To understand that without becoming suspicious of him, you have to know the circumstances. It’s a long story, and I think it would be better if I was the one to tell you it. What’s more, I think I should do so away from here, where there’s no chance of us being interrupted.’
Before he left, we’d arranged to meet at Thorsby police station the following morning, when I would be in town on the pretext of shopping for food.
My decision to fill Hardy in with the details of Brian’s past all but caused a row with Eve. Luckily, I was able to convince her that it made sense for us to cooperate with the police. ‘At the moment, Hardy doesn’t suspect either Brian or Barbara. However, if we don’t explain the background and he works out that Walter Armstrong and Mrs Matthews were probably killed because they witnessed Lewis’s murder; that might change. Telling him everything we know maintains our credibility, which might be extremely handy. For example, if at some point we need information that would be much easier for the police to obtain than us, it would be useful to have them on our side. Above all, if we are lucky enough to be able to identify the killer, we’ll need Hardy around to make the arrest.’
Eve accepted my reasoning, having thought it through, but with one reservation. ‘Do you intend to tell Hardy about the gold?’
‘Not in so many words. All I was planning to say was that Brian found some papers of his grandfather’s that mention the name Matthews and it seems a curious coincidence that Trevor Matthews is so desperate to get his hands on the estate. Hopefully, that will plant the seed of suspicion without giving too much away.’
