The Dudleys of Budleigh

by P A Nash

  “I thought there was someone with us in those woods!” groaned Ella.

  “Right, let’s clear up the formalities.” WPC Knowle turned to her colleagues. “There’s no way either Mr or Mrs Raleigh could have murdered Mr Buckerell. The toxicology report came in today and it makes very interesting reading.”

  “OK, WPC Knowle.” Sergeant Cornworthy looked at Frank and Ella. “We will not be taking this matter any further. You are free to go.”

  “Oh no, they are not free to go.” WPC Knowle retorted. “We need to have a brainstorming session and we’re going to use this room. Lizzie, can your colleague rustle up any tea?”

  “No tea, please. We’ll both have coffee.”

  ***

  WPC Knowle explained what conclusion the report had reached. “It seems he died from the administering of a poison called Thamacin.”

  “But how? We were both there.”

  “True. However, he wasn’t poisoned in the cell. He was poisoned two days earlier. Let me read you the history of Thamacin and you’ll understand.”

  She got out a piece of paper from her pocket and began to read.

  “Thamacin is extracted from a plant with a Latin name of Cleistanthus nux—vomica commonly called Ottan Ettinareem. The plant and its poison is only found in South East Asia. Europeans first discovered it when a Jesuit priest called Father Amuccin was travelling in Siam in South East Asia in the early twentieth century. It was originally intended to be used as a natural herbal bodybuilder. It was meant to build up muscle fat. It was also used to promote good health when the body was poisoned.

  Father Amuccin, the discover of the poison, took it to prove it had no ill effects. The tribes where the plant grows know that it has to be boiled in spring water for three days to bleed all the poison out of it. Father Amuccin only boiled it for two. Nobody mentioned that to Father Amuccin. Two days after drinking it, he died.

  A small tablet of Thamacin kills exactly two days after digestion by means of clogging up the arteries to the heart and causing a heart attack.”

  “Exactly two days?” Ella asked.

  “Yes, strange but true.”

  “So when our murderer sent the message about dying…‌”

  Frank quoted the seventeen words as if they were etched on his heart. “You will die in the seventh hour of the night on the seventh day of the year.”

  “Dudley, our murderer, must have known about this time—lapse and poisoned the solicitor exactly two days previously,” WPC Knowle concluded.

  “Dudley Weston?” asked the policewoman called Lizzie.

  “Maybe. However, we’ve discovered four Dudleys who each had a grievance against Anthony Buckerell.”

  “And,” Frank added, “who were each being blackmailed by the solicitor.”

  “Well, at least, three of them were,” interrupted Ella. “We haven’t spoken to the last Dudley yet.”

  “That’s going to be our next interview, I think.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want police support? I could ask PC Hydon to go with you.”

  “No,” said Ella quickly, “he may frighten the final Dudley from talking. PC Hydon can be quite intimidating sometimes.”

  “What about the Doctor?” asked WPC Knowle.

  “He’s not called Dudley. And he was in Thailand on holiday. You checked with Heathrow.”

  “Yes, I wasn’t happy with that,” mused WPC Knowle. “Don’t disregard him. You may want to interview him as well. Just to be on the safe side.”

  “It’s interesting that so far our suspects all have an enthusiasm for exotic plants!” Ella voiced the thought that Frank had been considering.

  “South East Asia, you said. The poison came from there?”

  “I wonder if it’s found anywhere else in the world?”

  “It didn’t say so. But it’s worth checking.”

  “Right,” said WPC Knowle, “a plan of action is coming together. You will both carefully and politely interview both the last Dudley and the good doctor. Don’t upset them or scare them. There’s a good chance they’re innocent! I’ve got to get back to East Devon. We’re so busy at the moment.”

  “Thank you for coming down here to help us out,” said Ella.

  “Not a problem. How are you getting back to Otterbury?”

  “Our car should still be at Staverton Station. Can we scrounge a lift back to the car?”

  PC Tigley coughed and ventured, “I think we can help there. Show us where Dudley Weston is living now. I want to have a word with him. For my own peace of mind. You stay in the car and I’ll drop you at Staverton after my quick word.”

  Sergeant Cornworthy nodded her approval.

  ***

  They soon found their way to Staverton and with the help of a large scale Ordnance Survey map, they managed to find the cottage at the end of a long muddy track. It was locked and deserted. There was no answer despite loud hammerings on the doors and windows by PC Tigley. Frank and Ella were not surprised.

  They made their way back to their car parked under the trees on the road by Staverton Station.

  As they reached the level crossing, they saw a figure crouched by the car.

  “That’s Dudley Weston!”

  PC Tigley brought the car to a screeching halt. Dudley turned towards them.

  “Police! Police! Here’s the escaped criminal’s car. I’ve found it!”

  PC Tigley, Frank and Ella got out of the car.

  “You’ve caught them already!”

  “Dudley, what were you doing?”

  Dudley ignored the question.

  “Officer, they’re out to get me. They’ve killed once. Don’t let them kill again.”

  “Sir,” shouted PC Tigley. “Stand still. I want a word with you!”

  “No chance. Not with them around.”

  Dudley Weston turned away and ran down the road. PC Tigley gave chase. Dudley dodged into the woods surrounding the road hoping to evade capture but there was no evading PC Tigley. He was a very fit and proficient athlete. In no time at all, PC Tigley had brought Dudley down with a stylish rugby tackle. Frank and Ella ambled behind but were close enough to see and hear Dudley’s cries.

  “Get off. It’s not me you should be chasing.”

  PC Tigley lifted Dudley to his feet whilst keeping a firm hand on his collar.

  “It’s those two back at the car.”

  Dudley wriggled and squirmed but was unable to escape.

  “They’ve probably halfway to Exeter by now!”

  “Actually we’re not. We’re standing right behind you.”

  Frank and Ella stood there looking down on him. “You caught them? Well done. They won’t dare run away from you!”

  “Be quiet, sir!” commanded PC Tigley.

  ***

  Dudley was guided, by PC Tigley, back down the path from which he’d been chased. Frank and Ella followed behind.

  As they walked, PC Tigley informed Dudley that he, PC Tigley, knew, for certain, that Frank and Ella Raleigh did not commit the murder. They had a cast–iron alibi. They had not even met Anthony Buckerell until the day before he died.

  Frank noticed that PC Tigley did not add that Frank had not met Anthony until the day after he was poisoned!

  “I am completely satisfied that those two are innocent.”

  “Hmpph!”

  “Unlike your good self, Mr Weston. You appear to be trying to desperately shift suspicion away from you. Are you hiding something?”

  “Me? I’ve told my story to these two. I told them the truth.”

  “Have you ever travelled to South East Asia?”

  “No, don’t be silly. I’ve never even been out of this country.”

  “What about your exotic plants? Are they from South East Asia?”

  “No. They’re from New Zealand. And most of them are not exotic. I collect ferns that are native to New Zealand. My piece de resistance is Myosotis traversii. It’s thought to be extinct. I may have the only one of its species outsid
e of the Orokana Ecosanctuary. It’s not poisonous. It’s a harmless rare fern.”

  “And what about your kidnapping?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You kidnapped Mr and Mrs Raleigh. You held them against their will.”

  “I thought they were murderers. I’m still not one hundred per cent convinced.”

  “Well, sir. I’d like to hear more about your reasons for keeping Mr and Mrs Raleigh captive. And I’d be happy to provide you with further proof concerning Mr and Mrs Raleigh’s innocence. So, either I arrest you or you can volunteer to accompany me to the police station in Totnes?”

  “I’ll come quietly. I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  “No, sir. You don’t.”

  Back at Staverton Station, Frank and Ella checked their car but could find no evidence of any damage. The car started first time, as usual. PC Tigley took a quick but thorough look under the bonnet and suggested they drive carefully back to their home. Frank and Ella both thanked him for his help.

  PC Tigley and Dudley Weston got into the police car and drove away to Totnes.

  ***

  When they reached home, they showered, changed clothes, had a hearty meal and settled down to some escapism on the television.

  Next afternoon Frank informed Ella. “I’m just going to phone Mrs Weston. Ask her if she’s alright,” said Frank.

  “Is that wise?”

  “I’ve lost any sympathy that I ever had for Dudley Weston. He deserves an angry wife!”

  As Frank expected, the phone was answered by Mrs Weston. He turned the phone to loudspeaker mode so that Ella could hear both ends of the conversation.

  “Thank you for phoning. Yes, he arrived home today just in time for his dinner. I made him his favourite. He’s so pleased to be home. And I’m so pleased to have him home. I do love him!”

  “Tell him we’re glad to be of help.”

  “Thank you, I will. Goodbye.”

  Frank put the phone down. Frank and Ella looked at each other. No words were necessary.

  Chapter 13 – The Insurance Company Payout

  “Dudley Musbury,” announced Ella. “His address is here on the copy of his letter of complaint.”

  Yesterday’s escape and arrest seemed a lifetime away. Both Ella and Frank wanted to complete the interviews so that they could gather all the evidence together and start to formulate some answers to the questions surrounding Anthony Buckerell’s murder.

  So they set off for the Musbury residence located in one of the roads leading off Greenway Lane in a quiet residential area of Budleigh Salterton.

  They decided not to phone ahead and just hoped that Dudley was in.

  Frank theorised. “Don’t give him time to prepare himself and we may get more of the truth.”

  Dudley’s house was a modest Edwardian terrace stacked alongside many others in one of a number of cul—de—sacs. A brick wall topped with railings separated this cul—de—sac from a modern, sterile housing estate. It caused a startling clash between two distinct architectural styles.

  Ella looked at the difference. “I think I prefer the older buildings. They seem to be more Devonian somehow. Those modern houses could be located anywhere in the British Isles.”

  “I take your point. I guess there are replicas of those same houses in many an edge of town estate.”

  “Phone App working?”

  “Yes, all switched on!”

  “Fully charged?”

  “Of course!”

  They rang the bell and a round—shouldered man about Ella’s height answered the door. Ella recognised him from the funeral. She could also see that, recently, he had been crying.

  “Yes, can I help you?” His voice was quiet and morose.

  “I certainly hope so.” Frank smiled. “We’re helping Anthony Buckerell’s secretary to sort out a few loose ends concerning his will.”

  “Now’s not a good time.”

  “We won’t take up too much of it, then. We need to ask you some questions about his will.”

  “So how does that affect me?”

  “Well, we don’t know yet. That’s why we’re here!”

  “Well, as long as you’re quick, I suppose, you’d better come in. Please keep the noise down. My wife is asleep upstairs and I don’t want her disturbed.” He sniffed into a tissue before throwing it away into a small, overflowing waste paper bin perched beneath the telephone table in the hallway.

  They went into the back room and Dudley Musbury invited them to sit down at the table. Ella noticed that the wooden chairs were reminiscent of the ones in Dudley Weston’s cottage at Staverton.

  “How can I help?” He continued to speak in a quiet, monotoned voice.

  Ella smiled in a friendly manner and began. “Mrs Aylesbeare, Mr Buckerell’s secretary, showed us a letter of complaint that you wrote to him. I was interested in why you wrote it?”

  Dudley put his hands together as if playing a game of cat’s cradle. He didn’t look at either Frank nor Ella as he answered the question.

  “That’s an easy question to answer. I’d written that letter in ninety—nine different ways over the years and never sent it. The hundredth time I plucked up enough courage to send it. I wanted something on the record.”

  “Why?”

  “We had a meeting in his office a couple of months ago.”

  “Sit down, Mr Musbury.”

  He had such a smarmy smile when he knew you couldn’t touch him. Condescending little oik!

  “I haven’t got much time. I’m due at the theatre in about half an hour. Rehearsals. I’ve got a small part in the new production.”

  “Yes, we all know. I’m not needed until later this month.”

  “Behind the scenes staff never are. Now, how’s your lovely wife?”

  “She’ll never be the same!”

  “Well, at least, you’ve got the insurance payout. Thanks to me.”

  “What’s left of it. There’s wasn’t much once you’d taken your slice.”

  “Excuse me, I did a lot of work on your behalf. And don’t forget that certain facts that the police never quite learned about it…‌.”

  “That’s why I’m here!”

  “Certain facts would have caused you to receive no payments whatsoever.”

  “But enough is enough. Most solicitors charge a set fee. It’s a once–only payment. You’ve taken your fee every year.”

  “Well, if you’re not happy, you could always go to another solicitor. I’d be most willing to pass on your information — all your information — to your new solicitor. And, of course, to the police.”

  “That’s blackmail!”

  “No, it’s not. I’m doing it for your own protection. Your wife’s protection. For both of your continual protection. That’s why I charge a fee each year.”

  “You know, Mr Buckerell, one of these days…‌”

  “I hope you’re not intending to threaten me. Let me remind you. On that night you were driving the car. You were too busy talking lovey—dovey to your wife instead of concentrating on the road.”

  “You don’t need to remind me.”

  “It was your fault you left the road. It was your fault you hit the tree. It was your fault that your wife is in a wheelchair.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware of that.”

  “You and only you are to blame! Not the wet road. Not the phantom other driver that nobody managed to track down. You!”

  “Yes, I know!”

  “And I have made sure that the funding for your wife’s health—care comes through each month. I make sure your insurance company pays you that regular amount. Even though, if all the facts were known, they should not be paying out. Should they?”

  “No, but…‌”

  “There’s are no buts. You are a very lucky man to have me around to help you. A very lucky man!”

  “To have a maimed wife? To have nightmares most nights? To be unable to work and provide for my darling wife? Very lucky indeed!!
I ought to run you over and see how you feel!”

  “Now, that would be a very silly idea. I keep meticulous records on all my clients. The police would soon find out about you. Now. I don’t want to be late for my rehearsal. I have a part to prepare for in our new production. This meeting is over.”

  ***

  Dudley Musbury sat there, hands still cradled, tears rolling down his sad, colourless face. The effort of recalling the meeting with the solicitor was almost overwhelming.

  Ella passed him a tissue from her handbag.

  “Thank you, Mr Musbury. That must have been a difficult story to tell?”

  “No, it’s good to get it off my chest. It doesn’t matter now anyway.”

  “Now that Mr Buckerell’s dead and buried? But your confession…‌?”

  “My confession? That’s what doesn’t matter.”

  “Why, I’m afraid I don’t follow?”

  “It’s my wife. Her life has been worse than useless this last year. On top of the injuries from the accident, she’s been diagnosed with severe rheumatoid arthritis. It’s like she’s dying. Slowly dying. She’s been begging me to give her an overdose for the last few weeks. And so, just before you rang the bell, I did!”

  Chapter 14 – You’re Sitting Opposite the Star

  Frank immediately phoned for an ambulance and quickly explained the situation. Ella, meanwhile, contacted the police. Dudley Musbury just sat there at the table with his hands still cradled staring at the patterned wallpaper.

  They arrived together. Two paramedics in green coveralls raced upstairs. PC Hydon followed them to check on the state of Dudley’s wife whilst WPC Knowle went into the back room and sat down next to Dudley. They conversed in silence.

  A couple of minutes later, Mrs Musbury was carried gently in the arms of PC Hydon down the stairs and out into the ambulance. There were gasps from a couple of neighbours standing outside on the pavement. The paramedics quickly made Mrs Musbury comfortable in the back of the ambulance. One stayed with her and the other climbed into the driver’s seat. Ten seconds later the ambulance drove off. PC Hydon stood there on the pavement listening to its siren becoming fainter and fainter as the vehicle sped along the Newton Poppleford road towards Exeter.