James reached across and massaged his shoulder. George raised his eyebrows at this latest revelation. He heaved a sigh. ‘The entries that James has spoken about refer to taking revenge. Whoever had written this diary spoke about putting things right. He’d served alongside your grand-dad. It suggested revenge. If you saw these diaries, Adam-.’
|He stared at them. ‘Revenge for what? I don’t know anything about that. All I know is that he served with the Pals but I don’t even know where they fought. Well, I do now because Mr Simmonds told me last week.’ He stared at James. ‘I didn’t do anything. I didn’t kill anyone. I don’t know about any diary. I couldn’t take another person’s life; not for something I don’t know anything about. Grand-dad lived in a different time, there were loads who were shot who should’ve been given help. I can’t change things, I can’t bring grand-dad back – what good would killing someone do?’
‘What reason did your parents give for your grand-dad’s name not being on the memorial?’
‘Simply that he wouldn’t have liked it and that they wanted to respect that wish.’
George sat up straight and made himself big. ‘Adam, look at me.’
The young man did as he was told.
‘Did you poison Olivia Dupree and John Carlton and did you kill Cynthia Carlton?’
Adam gritted his teeth. ‘No. I did not. I swear on my mum and dad’s lives. I never touched them.’
After some moments of silence, George announced that he’d send in some fresh tea. He signalled to James that it was time to leave.
‘What about me?’ said Adam. ‘What can I do to prove you’ve got the wrong man?’
George opened the door and called out for some refreshments. He turned to Adam. ‘I’m going to call in and see your mum and dad. Just want to check up on a couple of things.’
This didn’t appease the young waiter one iota; if anything he looked more anxious than before. James asked George to hold on.
‘Is everything all right, Adam?’
He explained that his parents were proud people: the thought of their son being hauled in for questioning over a murder would fill them with shame.
‘George will speak to them with sensitivity, Adam. Try and keep your chin up. Is there anything you need?’
‘If it’s not too much of an imposition, have you got some biscuits? I missed breakfast and I’m starving.’
James smirked as George raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s not a ruddy hotel, Adam.’ As they left the room, he turned. ‘I’ll get the constable to bring some.’
He closed the door. They wandered through the corridors to the main entrance. ‘What d’you think, James?’
‘Unfortunately, I can’t sway myself from thinking the best of people. Adam could easily have found out about his grand-dad from the Pals or even from his grandmother’s letters. If William Carlton is the man who shot cowards, it could have triggered something in him. His family are good people, George, and I can imagine they’d want to put anything like this in the cupboard and lock the key. If it gets out that Adam is here in a cell, it will horrify them.’
‘Well apart from me and Collins only you, Harry and Beth know.’ He opened the main door to the entrance and pondered. ‘To save their sanity, I’m going to suggest something that would enrage my superiors if they knew. And that upstart, Inspector Collins, is not my biggest fan because I let you stick your nose in; but in this case, I think it’ll help.’
James raised his eyebrows.
‘Why don’t you pop round to his parents with Beth and Harry now? Make out you’re doing some research on the Pals and that Adam mentioned letters and would they mind if you see them – that sort of thing.’
‘What if there aren’t any letters?’
‘Then ask some tactful questions.’ He prodded him. ‘You know what to do.’
James had a good idea. ‘I’ll toddle over there now and call you. If everything is tickety-boo will you release him?’
‘I’m not promising anything. Go on; the sooner you report back, the sooner I can go home.’
James collected Beth and Harry and gave them a bite-sized version of events and their task ahead. Beth spoke about how to approach Adam’s family and Harry looked at them in amazement.
‘I can’t believe that my parents are investigating a murder for the police!’ James unlocked the car. As Harry got in, he continued, ‘And I can’t believe that I’m really enjoying this. Does all this come with the job of running Harrington’s?’
They all laughed as James put the Jaguar in gear and sped toward Cavendish.
Mr Roy and Mrs Sue Franks were an unassuming couple. If you passed them in the street, it would be unlikely you’d remember them. Mr Franks wore grey trousers and a grey sweater and Mrs Franks wore a dull blue dress with a cardigan and a floral apron. James’ arrival took them by surprise and no amount of reassurance from James, Beth and Harry settled them. Mr Franks dashed about and tidied newspapers off chairs and Mrs Franks reached far inside a cupboard for the best crockery. Once tea was served, Beth spearheaded the conversation. ‘You really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. We’re here because we’ve taken a real interest in the Pals regiment.’
James observed the couple tense. He put his cup and saucer down.
‘Charlie Hawkins gave us some photographs to hang up in Harrington’s for some of the ex-soldiers who’d attended our dinner last weekend. They spoke about why they joined up and, although it was an awful time, we heard some wonderful stories of camaraderie and brave deeds.’
Harry agreed. ‘I thought it might be a good project for my brother, Oli. You know he wants to be a teacher. It’s good for the children to know what their ancestors went through. We know that Adam’s grand-dad was in the Pals so we thought we’d pop in and find out what his story was.’
Mr Franks remained tight-lipped. His eyes darted here and there as if seeking help from an invisible angel. James felt for them. They knew. They knew Roy’s father was shot for desertion. Mrs Franks twisted the hem of her apron.
‘We don’t talk about him, I’m afraid. We should do because he was a lovely man; but we have bad memories and he suffered terribly. He wouldn’t want us to tell anyone. He was a brave and honourable man.’
‘I’ve absolutely no doubt he played his part, Mrs Franks. We simply wanted to get an overall picture of what the Pals went through. Adam mentioned some letters his grand-dad had written.’
Mrs Franks softened. ‘Oh yes, lovely letters. They’re in the cupboard here. They’d been married several years. He was a bit older than the rest of the Pals. They had a special love, Lord Harrington, like they were best friends. We were thinking about donating them to Professor Wilkins’ museum but we think they’re too personal really.’
Professor Wilkins ran the Cavendish museum from his cottage and had dedicated two of the rooms to displays.
‘Does Adam know much about his grandfather?’
Mrs Franks sat back and let her husband take over. ‘He knows the truth about his grandfather and we leave it at that. I’d be obliged Lord Harrington if your interest in the Pals didn’t include Archibald. He was a proud man, didn’t like any fuss.’
‘Of course. We have no wish to upset you or the memory of Archibald. Thank you so much for your time.’
‘Did you want the letters? I can get them for you,’ said Susan.
‘Would you mind if I had a quick peek?’
She got up and rummaged around in the back of a cupboard and bought out an old shoe box. The envelopes inside were small and the ink on the paper faded. She handed them to James. Beth and Harry steered the conversation toward Christmas and general conversation while James skimmed through half a dozen letters. After ten minutes he packaged everything back and thanked Mrs Franks.
‘I think Wilkins would love to display these. He certainly appears to have been a devoted husband and father.’
Mr Franks agreed that he was.
Outside, James put his gloves on and motioned Bet
h and Harry toward the car. Harry got into the rear seat and rested his arms on the front seats.
‘Well, that was a waste of time. And why didn’t you take the letters? There could have been something there that you’ve missed.’
‘On the contrary, Harry. If you’re to sleuth with me, you need to read between the lines and I’m satisfied that Adam is innocent.’
‘I agree,’ Beth put in, adding that her decision was based on instinct alone.
James pulled across to the first phone box he found and called George. After going through his findings and answering a few questions, George said he’d release Adam on the understanding that he didn’t disappear. James confirmed his waiter wouldn’t be going anywhere and that he’d keep an eye on him.
On the drive back, Harry insisted on knowing what he’d missed.
‘His father said that Adam knows the truth about Archibald and they left it at that. His body language, tone and the words he used suggests that the family have known for years. If William Carlton was the man who shot his grandfather, Adam could have killed him years ago. Carlton only lives the other side of Horsham.’
‘And,’ said Beth, ‘Adam is too fond of us and Harrington’s to carry out something so unsavoury at the house.’
James reminded Harry that Adam had a soft spot for Beth. ‘He wouldn’t do something like this because he knows it would upset your mother too much.’
Harry grinned. ‘You’d better watch your step, Dad, you have a rival. He’s a good-looking chap.’
Beth gave a knowing smile and asked James to continue.
‘Mrs Franks also offered the letters up freely. She’s more than happy to part with them so there is nothing incriminating. They are exactly what she says they are. Words of love and hope to a wife he adores. And the handwriting is not the same as in the diary extracts.’
He went on to explain the body language and how Mr Franks had flinched and appeared strained. ‘He knows that we know. In his own way, he was requesting a plea for silence. They’re a proud family who have not judged Archibald but are fearful that everyone else will.’ He turned the car on to their drive. ‘And I believe Archibald is a fighting man. One of those letters speaks of his impatience when sitting in the trenches, wanting to get out and fight. That doesn’t strike me as someone who is cowardly.’
On stepping out of the car, Harry frowned. ‘But how can the villagers not know about Archibald? If his name isn’t on the memorial and he served alongside those Pals at the dinner, there must be a huge cover up going on.’
‘It’s probably the one piece of information that is awry. Adam mentioned that they didn’t want his name up there. I think his grandfather would have been proud to have the Franks name listed so I believe they’ve created that lie. The Pals speak of their comrades as brave and professional soldiers. If there was a coward among them, I hope they would have said so. There is a cover-up, I’m sure, but who is behind it, I can’t say.’
‘Sweetie, this is getting so complicated. Could the group at the reunion be responsible?’
James opened the front door. ‘It’s improbable that the whole group is involved. They have a memory and a connection to a comrade; but would that lead to murder? And why so many years later? The Pals are all local. Why now?’
‘What about Alfie Stone?’ said Harry as they wandered into the hall. ‘This is the first time he’s been back. He could have killed Mrs Carlton and now he’s going after the Major.’
Beth frowned. ‘But he wasn’t in the country when Olivia Dupree was poisoned. And those other Pals who were at Stephen and Anne’s table only arrived from the North that morning. And they weren’t mobile enough to carry those crimes out.’
James heaved a sigh. ‘I believe we are terribly close to an answer but it simply isn’t showing itself.’
The phone rang and Harry picked it up. James watched with concern as his son’s brow knitted together. He put the phone down. ‘George has been rushed into hospital.’
‘Oh goodness,’ said Beth.
‘Did they say which one?’
‘Yes, Haywards Heath. Do you two want to pop down there?’
Beth was already shrugging her coat back on.
In half an hour they were at George’s bedside to find him propped up reading a magazine. A doctor was completing notes on a chart.
Beth rushed to him. ‘Oh, George, how are you? We were thinking the worst.’
James pulled up a chair for her. ‘Did you see Jackson when you were supposed to?’
George shook his head and explained that he hadn’t had time. ‘They’re taking me down to do some tests but they think it’s an ulcer.’
The doctor explained that George would have to eat only light meals and spend a few days resting. ‘His lifestyle and working hours are a contributory factor,’ he said. ‘If he’s going home, he needs someone to play nurse. He’s not to do anything for the next few days.’
Beth instantly confirmed that this wouldn’t be a problem and that they would make room for him.
George wore a pained expression. ‘Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude. It’s Christmas.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Beth. ‘We have Juliet and Harry staying. One more won’t make any difference. Besides, Christmas is still over a week away.’
‘I was supposed to be taking John Carlton over to his dad’s place tomorrow. I’ll have to get a constable to do that.’
James felt the familiar surge of adrenalin. ‘Have you discussed that with Inspector Collins?’
‘No, I haven’t. Why?’
‘Well, why don’t we do that for you? We were thinking of taking a spin out with the Merryweathers tomorrow. We haven’t seen them much and they’ve freed up the morning. We could meet John and make it a little less formal.’
George’s jaw dropped. ‘This is police work. I can’t have you and the Merryweathers trampling all over the Carltons’ house. I should instruct Collins to sort this out.’
‘But you can’t stand the man.’
‘That makes no odds, James. This is police work not a spy novel.’
James reminded George that he was to keep calm and assured him it would be low key. He reiterated the fact that John would be more comfortable with him rather than the police.
‘Tch, everyone’s uncomfortable with the police. That’s not an excuse.’
‘And the Merryweathers are a great comfort when there’s been a death in the family.’
George glared.
‘Now don’t get yourself worked up, George. You know what the doc said; have your tests and take it easy. We’ll report back to you and you can feed it back to Collins if you must. We’ll come and pick you up when you’re done here.’
His friend groaned. ‘I can’t stop you. I’ll leave Collins to make his own decisions. If you are going, look for an address book and see if you can find something to show why Cynthia Carlton changed her behaviour. You report straight back to me when you’re done.’
With arrangements in hand and an exciting morning ahead, James and Beth returned home. Harry lounged in the living room chatting with Juliet Brooks-Hunter. They were both quick to enquire after George. Satisfied that all was well, James prepared four glasses of whisky and ginger.
‘Bert called while you were out,’ said Harry.
‘Oh?’
‘He’s found a few men who served around the area where the Pals were and he’s having a word with them.’
James turned to Beth. ‘Another one for dinner tomorrow?’
Beth always welcomed Bert but reminded him they’d have to cater for George. ‘I’ll get some smoked haddock; that’s easy on the stomach.’ She picked up her glass before opening the door to the hall. ‘I’ll call the Merryweathers to arrange a time for tomorrow morning. Where will I find Bert?’
Harry swigged his whisky. ‘He’s at the Sussex Arms in Brighton. The number’s by the telephone.’
‘What about John Carlton? Where do I find him?’
Juliet answered. ‘H
e’s back with Mrs Keates. I met him in the village earlier – he said he was stopping on one more day and going to his father’s early tomorrow morning.’
Beth confirmed she would make the necessary phone calls.
Juliet revealed she’d read through ‘Rider’ Appleton’s diary and reported that there was no mention of Captain Carlton. ‘I returned them to Mr Appleton. He is not your man.’
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
James steered the Jaguar to a parking place in the main street in Hazeldon-upon-the-Mole.
It was a quaint village about twenty miles from Cavendish. The Mole was a small stream that meandered through the village green. Small, ornate, stone bridges crossed from one side of the stream to the other although, in fairness, one could easily jump across. As in Cavendish, the green was surrounded by a pub, a church and shops, including the butcher, greengrocer and newsagent. Surrounding the green and in roads branching off were whitewashed cottages with tiny windows, and strands of smoke trailing from the chimneys.
The pale sun struggled to throw out any warmth so the pavements remained icy. A Christmas tree stood by the vicarage at the far end of the green and a number of people were making their way toward it.
Getting out of the car, James, along with Beth and the Merryweathers, buttoned up their coats and put their scarves and gloves on. James checked his watch.
‘Looks like we’re in time. Shall we get a hot toddy before it begins?’
During Beth’s telephone conversation with him the previous evening, John had mentioned a carol service due to take place around the Christmas tree. It was a tradition in the village and was scheduled to begin at eleven o’clock. Keen to make the most of their morning out, James suggested they join in with the carols before going on to meet John at Major Carlton’s house.
Lord James Harrington and the Christmas Mystery Page 14
